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You’d been facing the ceiling for an hour and a half, sprawled on your bed, hair fanned out on the pillow underneath you, your hand buried between your thighs. Your laptop sat nearby, the muffled sounds of some porn video on loop, the speakers shoved into the sheets as you maneuvered your body, searching for the right position, the correct angle. Your eyes were screwed shut, not in pleasure, but in frustration. You had been at it for so long, and you still couldn’t seem to make yourself come.

It was four months since the breakup. The discovery. The horrible, sudden realization that your boyfriend, who you’d actually started to see a future with, had betrayed you. And it wasn’t even an interesting betrayal; cheating was the most cliche devastation you could think of. It would have been boring if it hadn’t thrown you into a downward spiral.

You’d spent the last three months rebuilding your sense of self, piece by piece, first because you had gotten tired of sobbing all the time, and then out of a burgeoning sense of spite. You were ready to reclaim this part of you too—or at least, you had thought you were, until you actually lay back to try.

Now all you felt was annoyance. Your fingers just wouldn’t do it, couldn’t find the correct angle. Maybe they were too short? Every time the pads of your fingers circled your clit, it just made you mad. You weren’t even horny anymore, just committed, like you weren’t going to let your own damn body betray you too. But nothing, nothing was working.

You were so focused on willing anything to work that you didn’t hear the front door of your apartment opening. Didn’t hear familiar footsteps approach your bedroom door. Didn’t hear anything until Hyunjin’s voice floated in ahead of him: “I’m starving, think we should order—Jesus Christ, y/n—”

You yelped and pulled the bedsheet over yourself. “What are you doing?” you shrieked at him.

“Me? What are you doing?” he replied, frozen in your bedroom doorway.

“I’m in my own apartment!”

“You gave me a key!”

“That was for when I was having an emotional crisis and couldn’t reliably get to the door!” you snapped. “Not for whenever you want to waltz in!”

“You knew I was coming over tonight!” he said. “Do I have to pretend you didn’t give me the key? I didn’t know I needed to make sure you were clothed before I entered your apartment at the appointed time of our hangout!”

“What time is it?” you said, glancing at your clock. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Yeah,” he said, “because you were... busy.”

Your face reddened. “Shut up. Don’t remind me.”

Now that you weren’t both yelling at each other, he gave a half-grin. “Having too good of a time? Lost track of time?”

You let out a frustrated breath. “I wish.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Haven’t fucking orgasmed in four months, and now I can’t even...” You trailed off, clearing your throat. “Anyway. Can you close the door so I can put some clothes on?”

He didn’t move from his position. “You can’t make yourself come?”

You glared at him. “If you turn this into a joke, I will implode.”

He considered you carefully, eyes sweeping over you, almost clinically. Then, with a tiny one-shoulder shrug, he said, “Want help?”

You gaped at him. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, leaning nonchalantly against your door frame with his lithe body like he hadn’t just said something insane. “Haha, very funny,” you muttered, pulling the sheet up higher.

“Not a joke,” he said. “Maybe you just need one to get yourself... restarted.”

“It’s not like jumping a car,” you said, the irritation bleeding through your tone.

He eyed you for a moment longer, then just shrugged, reaching for the doorknob. “Okay, forget I said anything.”

The door was mostly closed when you said sharply, “Wait.”

This was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. But letting you lie there frustrated seemed like a worse idea at the moment than offering himself up. He knew he could make you feel good. He’d imagined it, fantasized about it, craved it so badly that the idea itself was enough to make him half-hard already. He’d been good, agonizingly good, tucking those feelings away where they couldn’t reach you, even when you were sobbing your eyes out over your rat bastard of an ex and he wanted to burn the whole world down for you. But right now, with the image of you sprawled out that had just been handed to him instead of conjured from his imagination, he couldn’t remember exactly why this offer would be a bad idea.

You fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “What would that... mean.”

He willed the most calm he’d ever possessed into his voice. “Wouldn’t have to mean anything,” he said. “Just a friend helping another friend out.”

“You make it sound like you’re helping me move,” you said flatly. “Won’t it be weird? I don’t want to... ruin our friendship.”

“Friends hook up sometimes,” he said. “But we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I just thought I’d offer.”

You exhaled. He watched the sheet atop you sink over your skin, imagined it was him instead of the sheet, hoped against hope that you were seriously considering this.

“Okay, but...” You cleared your throat. “We’re not doing this only in one direction. I’m not a charity case. Orgasms for everybody.”

His knees nearly buckled. “You don’t have to—”

“Shut up,” you said, face flushing furiously red. “I will die of embarrassment if I’m the only one having fun here.”

There was no good way to tell you that if he was allowed to have his hands on you, it wasn’t going to be a problem, so he just nodded. “Okay. Deal.”

“And if you hate it then we can laugh about it and you can warn all my future boyfriends about my lack of sexual prowess.”

Luckily, you didn’t seem to want a response, because what was he supposed to say? That it was physically and spiritually impossible for him not to enjoy your touch? You jerked your head sideways to motion him into the room. He took a few cautious steps forward, mind spinning. Was he dreaming? He dug a single fingernail into his hip to check, the sting dragging him to the present moment.

He stood there awkwardly next to the bed above you. You still clutched the sheet to your naked chest.

“I feel underdressed,” you said, huffing a laugh. “Could you...”

He shed his shirt in one smooth motion, discarding it to the floor. Your eyes widened. “Fuck,” you breathed.

“What?” he said, suddenly alarmed.

You glanced back at his face, embarrassed. “No, you’re fine. Gym really makes a difference, huh?”

He watched your eyes roam his chest, his shoulders, his arms, his torso. Everywhere your gaze landed, warmth bloomed under his skin.

You scooted over on the bed toward the wall, leaving room for him to sit. He moved slowly, trying not to startle you, in case you might see him coming toward you too quickly and change your mind. But you were barely looking at him now, eyes trained downward, face red.

“If it’s too weird—” he began.

“No, no, we can do it. I’m just trying to figure out how to start,” you said.

“I could kiss you?” he suggested, trying to keep his tone light. “Doesn’t have to be on your mouth. Could be on your cheek?”

“Okay,” you said, voice barely audible.

His heart was pounding out of his chest. He leaned in very close and carefully, as softly as he could, pressed his lips to the curve of your cheek.

You inhaled just a little, sharp.

“That okay?” he said quietly.

You just nodded, still not looking at him.

“Okay. I’ll keep going,” he said. “Tell me if you want me to stop, or slow down, or speed up, or change anything, okay?”

You nodded again, more firmly this time.

“Use your words if you’re still with me.”

You huffed, shoulders sagging a little. “Yes. Just... keep going.”

You hadn’t realized how horrifically touch-starved you’d been until he kissed your cheek once, twice more, and then slowly trailed down to your jawline. One soft press of his lips just along your jawbone had your skin buzzing, and another press, this time to your neck, made you gasp. “That good?” he murmured against your skin.

“Yeah, it’s... it’s good,” you breathed. “Keep going.”

Encouraged, he reached forward and brushed your waist gently over the sheet with one hand. His mouth continued a soft, slow path down the column of your neck, and you tilted your head on instinct to allow him greater access. His pace was dreamlike, one brief point of contact melting into the next, making your eyes flutter closed so you could concentrate on each one. He paused at the curve where your neck met your shoulder and ran his tongue over the skin there, hot and wet, before continuing downward to your collarbone. He cataloged every soft breath you released, noting exactly how your muscles relaxed by increments, and when your next gasp sounded more like a whimper, he whispered, “Lie back for me.”

Gently, he guided you onto your back, laying your head carefully on the pillow. Your grip on the sheet had released, and he eased one hand around the edge. “Can I?” he said.

“Okay,” you said, sounding far away.

He peeled it down your body, exposing your chest to the air, and lowered his mouth to one nipple, sucking it gently. The gasp that spilled from your mouth was electric, making him tense against you.

“Sensitive?” he said, teasing, nearly panting from restraint.

“Fuck—Jin—”

He flattened his tongue against it, then lightly grazed it with his teeth. Your back arched, pushing your chest into him, as you huffed out something between a laugh and a moan.

The sound went straight through him. He was getting dizzy with arousal already, and he had to rein it in. One wrong word and he was going to ruin this for both of you.

He moved to your other breast, curling his lips around the nipple, bringing his hand up to roll and pinch the first one between his fingertips, trying not to let himself realize the gravity of what was happening. You were breathing heavy, every other breath coming out a whimper, your eyes shut like you were concentrating on every sensation.

“Don’t go quiet on me,” he murmured against your skin. “Let me hear you.”

You opened your eyes just as he grazed your second nipple with his teeth, making a quiet little ah-ah-ah fall from your lips.

“There we go,” he said, satisfied. “Gotta tell me what you like, hm?”

He swirled his tongue around it once more before trailing down to the underside of your breast, then slowly, very slowly down your torso, placing little kisses as he went, every so often grazing with his teeth to hear you gasp again. When he reached the top of the blanket, which covered you from the waist down, he put one hand on your hip and drew a soft, comforting circle with his thumb. “Doing okay?”

You nodded, your breath hitching. “Good. Really good.”

“I’m going to take this off now, okay?” he said, as steadily as he could manage.

You nodded again, and he very slowly slid the sheet away.

He managed not to look directly at your pussy at first, mostly because he wasn’t sure he could swallow the very embarrassing sound he was sure he’d make on instinct. Your legs were very slightly open, your body sinking into the mattress, but he rolled to the side and trailed a line of kisses over your hip and down the outside of your thigh, carefully, while he braced himself. When he reached your knee, he planted one kiss directly on your kneecap, and then he reached down and took one knee into each hand, spreading your legs wider so he could settle in between them.

The smell of your arousal hit him like a freight train. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he let out a strained, “Fuck,” without meaning to.

You looked down at him. “What?”

He just shook his head, trying to recover. “You’re so wet,” he said, eyes glued to your soaked core. “It’s hot as fuck.”

You smiled and exhaled, half a laugh, before lying back on the pillow again. He kissed your inner thigh lightly, making your breath hitch again, and then he kissed it again, a little firmer this time. You sighed shakily above him. He ran his tongue all the way up your thigh, getting close to your core, and then pulled off and did the same on the other side. You laughed breathlessly, and he thought he heard you say, “Fucking tease,” under your breath, before he licked a stripe up your folds, making you gasp loudly. It sounded like heaven.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he murmured, feeling a little crazed, before taking your clit into his mouth. He turned all his concentration to this one point, alternating between flicking it with his tongue and sucking on it, until your breath was coming in ragged gasps and your hips started to roll against his face.

“Use me, come on, just like that,” he groaned as you reached down to grip his hair, anchoring yourself to some semblance of reality. Your thighs started to close around his head, and he thought for a second that if you smothered him, he would die happy. But instead of letting you, he reached up and pinned one leg to the mattress, holding you open so he could slide a finger through your folds and inside you.

You cried out, hips bucking hard, but he kept you in place, sucking on your clit and stroking you until he found a gummy spot inside that made you choke on a scream.

“Fuck, Hyun—”

“Right there, yeah?” he said, looking up at your face, his lips swollen and his chin glistening. He stroked it again and watched your eyes roll back, and he felt his cock jump at the sight. He wanted to keep you there, in that fog of pleasure, as long as he could, but he also remembered his purpose. Another finger joined the first, and you bit off a moan.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Pretty pussy like a vice, taste so good, fuck,” and then his mouth was back on you, working you in tandem with his fingers.

Your walls began to flutter erratically, and he committed to his pace, listening as your moans began to increase in volume and your hand tightened in his hair. The pull grounded him, tethered him to his goal.

“Hyun,” you whimpered, sounding near tears, “Hyun, I’m gonna—”

His answering groan reverberated through you and pushed you over the edge. You came hard, thighs closing around his ears as they shook, your cries echoing off the walls. He worked you through every wave. As you came down, he craved to keep going, to eat you out until you were overstimulated and crying, but he dug his nails into his own thigh to drag himself back to reality and instead sat back as your legs fell apart.

You lay on the bed, boneless and spent, as he crawled up next to you, leaving a few inches of space between you so you wouldn’t feel crowded or obligated to curl into him. Everything inside of him was screaming to touch you, to grab you and mark you and take you again, but he wouldn’t survive ruining this and scaring you away with every filthy thought in his head. So he lay there, studying your face, as you both caught your breath.

“Fuck,” you breathed finally, turning your head to look at him.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Good. Really good.”

He felt an insane swell of pride in his chest, and he had to swallow again. He wasn’t in his body anymore; all he could feel was a floaty euphoria, severed from any physical sensation. He’d done good, he’d made you feel good, he’d done what he’d promised, and you’d—

You sat up suddenly, and dragged him up with you. “Okay, your turn. Sit up.”

“What—”

You pulled him to the edge of the bed and dropped to your knees in front of him, and he was violently pulled back into his body, the sudden sensation of being hot, sweaty, and rock-hard in his pants. He wasn’t sure how he had managed not to come. “Hang on—”

“This was the deal,” you said, eying his bulge. He was going to die of mortification any second now. Then you looked up at him. “Unless you don’t want to.”

His mouth went slack as he tried to form any sort of response to that. Unfortunately, the only thing that his brain would supply was a steady pounding of I-love-you-I-love-you along with his heartbeat, and he couldn’t let it slip through his lips, so he just made a vague sound and nodded, hoping you’d take the hint.

You rested your hands on his knees, and he had to brace to keep from whining. “Jinnie? Do you want me to stop?”

This he could answer honestly. “No.”

You nodded, looking more determined than anything, and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants. The blood rushed in his ears as he lifted his hips to help you.

You wasted no time once his pants were off, and he felt a pang of vague gratitude that you weren’t going to tease him or work him up, as painfully hard as he already was. His hands gripped the sheets behind him as you sat back on your heels to look at him, flushed and dripping. A faint bloom of mortification unfurled in his chest—could you tell that he was more turned on than he could ever remember being in his life? Were you going to read into it? Carefully, you leaned forward and took him in the palm of your hand.

Electricity shot up his spine as you stroked him, spreading his pre-cum all up his length to smooth your motions. His head lolled, the muscles in his neck no longer responding to him. “Feels good,” he mumbled, concentrating on not coming immediately.

“Yeah?” you said, and the teasing in your voice made his eyes flutter.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

You leaned even closer and pressed a soft kiss to his tip, making his jaw drop. “Fuck, fuck,” he said as you took the tip into your mouth and swirled your tongue around it, mapping its ridges slowly. “So good—so good—your mouth—ah, just like that, ah—”

You took him deeper, inch by inch, bobbing your head gently, pulling back every so often to pace yourself. Hyunjin mumbled through it, trying to stay present. “Fuck, your mouth is so hot—stay here forever—god, you look so hot with your mouth full of me—I’m not gonna last—”

Your hands slid up to his thighs as your nose met his hipbone and his tip hit the back of your throat. You gagged lightly, sucking in a breath through your nose, and Hyunjin whined high in the back of his throat. Then you swallowed around him, and he saw stars.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, his head thrown back, “that’s it, choke on me—”

You bobbed your head around him in earnest, and he choked on his next breath. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna come, let me—”

He scrabbled blindly toward your nightstand, hoping there would be a handful of tissues he could grab to contain his mess, but you clamped his thighs to the mattress. He looked down at you, hazy and confused, and at the look you gave him through your eyelashes, heavy and burning and pinning him in place, he came immediately.

Curses spilled from his lips as you swallowed him down, his thighs quaking in your hold. His arms gave out and he collapsed backward onto the bed, moaning, as he spilled into your mouth. You stayed through the aftershocks, lapping up everything he gave you, until he eventually stilled, his chest still rising and falling like he’d sprinted a mile. He felt you slide off him with a pop, and he heard you lick your lips clean of his cum. Obscene. He grinned helplessly, an arm thrown over his face.

You crawled onto the bed behind him and curled up on the far side. He looked at you upside down from his position and laughed, exhausted.

“Give me a second,” he said, words a little slurred.

“Take your time,” you said, a grin in your voice. “You good?”

It took him a moment to sort through answers he felt he could give to that question. “Very,” he said finally.

“You sure have a mouth on you,” you said as he pulled himself all the way back onto the bed, eventually managing to situate his head on the other pillow, facing you. “You always talk like that in bed?”

His face heated. “Sorry, I—”

“No, don’t apologize,” you said. “It was good. Very hot. Sounded like you were into it. It helped.”

He opened his mouth, found he had nothing he could possibly say to that, and closed it again.

You grinned, satisfied, and your eyes closed. He studied your face, his heart racing. He’d just done that, and now it was ingrained in his mind forever. He had to hold on to every second of it. He wanted to memorize it, paint it, live in it. The worry that he’d let you both take it too far buzzed around the edges, but it couldn’t touch the fireworks in his chest. Not yet.

Eventually, your eyes opened, and you reached out to grab his hand. He offered you the clean one. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He just nodded, unable to speak.

You sat up then, running a hand through your hair. “Okay, I’ll shower, then you can, and then we have to order food. I’m starving after all that.”

He nodded again wordlessly as you hopped out of bed, casual and naked, like nothing had changed. And nothing had changed, he reminded himself. This was a friend doing another friend a favor, and that’s all it was. When the door to the bathroom shut behind you, he rolled over onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself. “What did I just do.”

a/n: I'm currently working on part 3 so the wait for the rest shouldn't be too long. Thanks for reading!

He takes over your vision, hiding the view of your ceiling with his shoulders, and you're blinking stupidly up at him as he gives you a charming grin in greeting.

That's when he leans down to give you a kiss, wiping any thoughts from your mushy brain as he rolls his tongue over yours before trailing his kisses down your body with slow precision.

He kisses the marks he's littered all over your body, all the way down to your sternum, and then that's where he stays. He weighs his body down on top of yours, making a home between your shaking legs, and it's like you have whiplash when he gives you a loving stare from his big brown eyes.

He doesn't have to speak for you to know what he's thinking; his fingers that caress your hips and up your ribcage tell you that he's a little worried he was a little too rough this time around, but you're humming with satisfaction, combing your fingers through his hair as he rests his head over your stomach, holding you like you're his personal teddy bear, cuddling you close as he tells you he loves you.

JEONGHAN - Jeonghan kisses each of your wrists with soft kisses before he rubs his palms up your arms. He knows your arms have to be sore because he's held them behind your back most of the night.

Your legs are still trembling when he finally slips away from you, and you're barely hearing the soft noises he coos as he gets you to roll onto your back. You're marked all over, and Jeonghan is almost tempted to take a photo of how pretty you look with his teeth marks on your breasts and bruises on your inner thighs, but it's more important to him that you focus your pretty eyes on him.

Your eyes are a little glossy, and it's truly his fault, but his grin says he's not remorseful in the slightest. Instead, he lies on his side, cuddling into you as he traces his fingertips up and down your body.

"Did so well for me, my love." He praises, and you're all but putty in his hands as he brings you from your gooey thoughts. Actually, it's more like no thoughts because that's usually how he makes you when he's finished, and when you're finally blinking up at him, his smirk is soft - loving - as he hums. "There's my love. You feel good?"

JOSHUA - Joshua pulls you to his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses your forehead softly. "You did so good for me," he murmurs, and his fingers run down your back in slow swirls as you snuggle in closer after hearing the praise.

His touch becomes softer, gentler, the complete opposite of what it was mere minutes ago when he had fingers in your hair and a rough grip on your hip to keep you in place.

Now, his hands massage your muscles, holding you close as he gives you kiss after kiss on your lips, your cheeks, your forehead. It makes you feel warm from your head all the way down to your toes as you tilt your head up to look at him.

And when he says "I love you," you can see it in his eyes, the way they soften as his nose nudges against yours while you meet him halfway for another slow kiss.

"I love you, too." You murmur and feel the way he tries to pull you closer, like somehow you weren't already more intertwined than you could be.

JUN - Jun peppers you with kisses, praising you in between each one he places on your lips, your cheeks, and your forehead. The once strong grip he had on your ankles all but disappears as your wobbly legs slip from his shoulders, and the smile he gives you should give you whiplash.

Jun has gone completely 180 from fucking you stupid to doting on you like the sun actually sets on you, as you come down from your latest orgasm. Your thighs won't stop trembling, and your tongue feels stuck to the roof of your mouth, but Jun's hands work your muscles like he's a professional masseuse.

He's careful not to touch the marks he's left on you, and when the ringing in your ears subsides, you realize he's blabbing praise to you as he lifts your leg up to gently kiss your inner ankle.

It makes you clench around nothing pathetically, and you're all but pulling him back over you as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Your actions make him laugh softly, and he doesn't get to see you blush as you bury your face in his chest, but that's fine because he simply rolls you both to your sides, keeping you close against him as he kisses the top of your head, murmuring a sweet, "I love you" into your hair.

HOSHI - Soonyoung's touch becomes gentle almost instantly, even before his cock has had the chance to soften up inside of you. He lets go of your wrists he's had pinned above your head, and instantly rubs his palms down your body like worship.

His fingertips trace the curves of you, the little bite he placed on your shoulder, another bite mark just under the swell of your breast, and his eyes seem a little glossy with admiration and love as he praises you. "You were made for me, my love." He states it as a fact, and your legs twitch around his waist as he squeezes your hips like a stress ball, the cute aggression too much to handle for him. "Fuck, you're perfect."

The words make you laugh, and your hands push on Hoshi's chest as he gives you a big smile. "Shut up," you dismiss, but Soonyoung doesn't allow it.

"No. I mean it: you're perfect, perfect to me." He doubles down on the praise, and before you can process it, he's rolled you two around so he's splayed on his back with you on top of him. He wraps his arms around your back, forcing you to cuddle him, and another giggle escapes you.

"I love you." You giggle, and Hoshi makes a noise while he pinches your side with an incredulous huff.

"Hey, that's my line!"

WONWOO - It's dark in your bedroom when Wonwoo's touch becomes softer. He still grabs you firmly, pulling you into him with the sheets wrapped around your waist, but he follows the action with a sweet kiss to your lips. "You did so good for me," he praises low against your lips, and a shiver runs down your spine in response.

Your body is soft, thoroughly spent, and pliant as he pulls you to lie half on top of him. You're both breathing a little hard after your latest orgasm, and if the lights were on, you'd see that one of the pillows is on the floor, and his forehead is lined with sweat as your body hums a frequency that makes your toes tingle.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough, my love?" Wonwoo asks while his hands map their way down your body with soft squeezes that end up making you giggle because it would be Wonwoo who would fuck you like he hated you, only to end up caressing you like you were his alter he chose to worship at.

"Yes, and yes." You muse, and Wonwoo's hands pull you closer, his mouth finding yours even in the darkness of the night. "I loved it, though. Do you feel better letting it all out of your system?"

Wonwoo answers your question with another kiss, his hands already pulling you the rest of the way on top of him as a response.

WOOZI - Woozi isn't a man of many words; his love comes from his actions, so when you two catch your breath, he's gentle as he pulls away from you. His eyes are soft and full of love as he gives you a kiss before he goes to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth.

When he returns, you're still lying there, perfect as ever, and he tells you as much when he leans down to give you a sweet kiss.

He makes sure you're okay by cleaning up the mess he made of you with a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. He gets to watch the blur in your eyes clear up as time goes on, and he gently drags the washcloth over your body, taking note of the finger-shaped bruises he made on your thighs and on your hips.

After he throws the washcloth into the hamper, he holds you close, tucking your head into his chest while his fingers card through your hair.

You two lie together, with you cuddled into his side as you listen to his heartbeat steady. Thump, thum-thump, thump. You feel the way your heart rate syncs to his, your head rising in time with each breath he takes, and the silence you two share is soothing. There aren't many words exchanged in the silence, but Woozi holds you protectively, tracing the unspoken words of "I love you" along your back, making you feel warm all over.

MINGHAO - "Don't move," Minghao orders, and he all but tucks you into him like you could somehow feel your legs after what he's done. Your body hums like an electrical current, and your eyes blink the blurriness you've got away as Minghao's chest presses into your back.

Both of you are breathless, and you aren't sure if it's his heartbeat that you can feel racing or if it's your own. All you do know is that you feel sore in the best way possible, and you're smiling stupidly because of it.

You know the blankets are somewhere on the floor in a heap, and your legs tangle with his as you feel his head rest on the back of your shoulder, and you don't move.

Instead, you focus on the way he kisses the back of your neck softly, the way his hand snakes up to cup your neck again. He doesn't grab it roughly like he did minutes ago when he had your eyes rolled to the back of your head; this time, it's softer, resting gently so he can feel your racing heart sync to his, and he repeats himself again. "Don't move."

He says it tenderly, quieter, almost like a plea, and you don't have to look over your shoulder to know he's smiling before he places a kiss on your shoulder, holding you close as you snuggle back into him.

MINGYU - Mingyu's entire body weight sinks on top of yours, and both of you groan in unison before laughing a little. You feel like you've run a marathon, and you might as well have, with the way Mingyu tossed you around the last few hours. Actually, you're not sure how long, but you know your body is still vibrating from the way Mingyu manhandled you mere minutes ago, and now that Mingyu's rolled to the side, you shiver in pleasure as he pulls you to his chest with ease.

"I love you," Mingyu confesses with a grin, and you roll your eyes playfully as he looks at you with his big, sparkly brown eyes. He looks at you like he's falling for you for the first time all over again, and his hands that were once holding you down now rub your back with soft swirls, soothing you, coaxing you to tilt your head up.

When he dips his head down to give you a kiss, you're already meeting him halfway, and you kiss him back slowly, melting into his arms as you tell him "I love you" in between the shared kisses. Your cheeks are rosy, your mind is warm and fuzzy, and Mingyu has you flushed against his body as he squeezes you by the hips.

He continues kissing you, murmuring praises against your lips, and you're putty in his hands, preening under his sweet words as he holds you close.

DK - When you've all but melted into the bed underneath you, Dokyeom's following suit, instantly softening his touch as you tremble underneath him from your latest orgasm.

His hands let go of your waist, moving up to settle on the bed right by your head, and you watch his head lower with a breathless laugh when you give him a playful hair tug. He's caged you between him and the mattress, pressing his chest against yours, and the once-roughness with which he handled you is gone as he kisses the curve of your neck with small adoring pecks.

You two try to catch your breath in the aftermath, and your ears stop ringing just enough for you to hear him as he apologizes with a bashful tone.

He's back to giving you soft eyes and a sheepish smile as he traces his fingertips down your sides, mapping out the marks he's left all over you in the heat of the moment, and you're quick to pull him into a kiss to let him know it's okay.

You two continue to kiss as he settles back over you, grounding you to him while your tongue rolls over his. And you two stay like this for a long time, cuddling close while wearing matching smiles as you take your time to say "I love you" in between the sweet kisses you two share.

SEUNGKWAN - Seungkwan's roughness immediately softens the moment your body melts into his.

Your thighs tremble, your hands shake, and his arms wrap around your back to keep you flush against his chest as he talks you through it. He murmurs praise low in your ear, placing kisses wherever his lips can reach, and you're clutching onto him as he says, "That's it, let it all out for me."

His fingers card through your hair, softly but firmly, massaging your head, and your body hums pleasantly as he places a kiss on your forehead before dragging his palms down your sides. You can feel the little ache on your scalp from where your hair was pulled, and the bruises that will form on your hips from where he held you earlier, but none of that matters when he pulls you into a loving kiss.

His hands massage your thighs lightly as you smile between the shared kisses, and when he tells you he loves you, you can feel it in the way he holds you closer, giving your hips a gentle squeeze as he cuddles you closer.

VERNON - "You're okay, right?" Vernon asks as you run your fingers along his scalp, massaging his head as he tucks himself into your side.

His fingers are tracing a bruise that's blooming on your hip, and you watch the way his eyebrows furrow a little in concern. The bruise is shaping to the size of his fingertips, which shouldn't be surprising since he was the one who made them when he had you on your hands and knees.

"M'little sore," you muse, and Vernon's kissing your collarbone as he squeezes your thigh, bringing it over his hip as you continue. "But the good kind of sore, an ache that's wanted."

Vernon moves on to kiss just above your breasts, making his way up to your neck as you lightly tug his hair, an indication you don't want him to stop.

When his lips brush along your jaw, your eyes are already closed, and your lips are curved up in a beautiful smile. It makes him pause, his own lips tilting up as he takes you in. "Yeah? You feel good, my love?"

He says it with a playful tone that makes you roll your eyes playfully in response, and you giggle when he pulls you closer, bringing you flush against him.

DINO - "I love you," Dino confesses, breathless and with an exhausted smile. His chest heaves with a full heart dedicated to you, and you're boneless underneath him, much to both of your amusement.

The sheets tangle just as you both do. Dino hooks your leg over his, and your head rests on his bicep, and neither of you comments on the fact that you should probably change the sheets and take a shower.

You're both covered in sweat; he's got red angry lines down his back, and you can feel the bruises forming on your thighs, but it's okay, it's good, even. The kind of good you know you'll feel days later.

Dino wraps a heavy arm around your waist, anchoring you to him, and his nose nudges your chin while his dark brown eyes look up at you with a reverence that should make you blush - but from what you two just finished doing mere minutes ago, you're already rosy in the cheeks, so you settle on a bashful smile that makes his grin grow bigger.

"I love you," he says again and again, kissing his way up to your lips as you melt into his embrace, loving that he repeats it until you're giggling and softly saying it back to him.

대박 - you made it to the end.

Tell me about it.

Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated ♡ . Tumblr is based on reblogs, not likes, and that helps writers like me reach more people. Thank you for your support!

His breath fans on your skin. Warm. Teeth dig into the curve of your neck, his palms soothing the dip of your waist.

“Hyune…” you hitch at the sting of his canines sinking deeper into the flesh, pushing his shoulders in a poor attempt of creating some brief distance.

To knock some sense into him.

“Should we be doing this here–,” you blurt out, wet lashes fluttering to shake the water off them. The boys had just moved inside, leaving you and Hyunjin on your own, giving him the opportunity to pounce on what was his.

That is, you.

Hyunjin's lips press against the mark swelling red, plump lips gliding to your collarbone in light pampers. He hushes your whines, drinking where water had splashed on the smooth skin. “Who cares?”

You huff.

Who cares?

He should. Considering that no one is aware of this thing you two have going on — especially after they each promised to keep their dicks tucked in their pants, only for Hyunjin to break the oath the second you decided to look at him with those pleading eyes. How could a man refuse such an offer? You did this to him.

“They won't know if you keep it down,” his gaze drifts, meeting yours amidst the heat of his tongue grazing the curve of your breast. He grins, cocky. “Can you at least do that?”

Your eyes roll, pinching his arm with a flush creeping up your neck. He winces, kicking the bottom of the pool to lift himself up. “Don't be stupid… if they catch us then–”

“Then what?” he interrupts, tone challenging. “They find out that you're mine? Good, they were starting to piss me off.” he says and you blink, a question dying in your throat when he steps closer, forcing a proximity where his forehead bumps into yours. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed?” He hooks a finger around the loop attaching your bottom, watching the confidence in your body morph into compliance the closer he gets to taking what he's been craving all night. “You're denser than I thought.”

“What–”

“I thought,” he says, blown out pupils staring right into yours. “That you would be able to tell when a man wants to fuck you…” his palms stroke your thighs, parting them further. 

“When he wants to keep you wide open for him.” Hyunjin guides you towards the edge of the pool with his words and your back curves to the shape of it. “Making you arch for him… hand pressed to your spine.”

You yelp when he abruptly pivots you, maneuvering your body with practiced ease. His mouth makes contact with your ear, voice unbearably hot in a whisper, “Bending you over to split your tiny cunt on his cock. Dripping and cum oozing out after he's done.”

“Hyunjin…” you beg, fingers clamping down on the hard border.

“That's how they look at you,” his hand runs lower, teasing the edge of your bikini. “Don't you think it's my right to take you right now, right here. Let them find out, I don’t give a fuck.” He doesn't wait for a definite answer, because your silence speaks louder than simple words, quietly offering yourself to him just how he loves it. “Hm, that's what I thought.” he coos, hand finally gliding underneath the bottom. His fingers find your slit, drawing the cutest gasp from your throat.

“Easy now,” he inches lower, feeling the dampness that isn’t from the ripples crashing against your bodies. Cursing under his breath, he rolls his middle finger over your clit. Teasing, tempting you to whine into the movement. You do, shamefully so, encouraging him to do more. Give you more.

Insatiable.

He holds a laugh, lips wrapping onto your earlobe while his other hand holds your jaw tight, urging soft sighs from you. “Come on, show me how badly you want it,” his words goad you, meek hands gripping his arm, diving him deeper towards your heat. He hums in approval when your hand snakes above his, showing him the spot of your desire.

Hyunjin spreads your folds with two fingers, movement fluid against your wetness. He wastes no time in giving you what you're begging him for, hearing the plates in the kitchen clank and chairs scraping. There's scarcely any time left before you're interrupted. “Arch for me,” he instructs. You obey, perking your rear onto him, grinding onto his erection. He sucks in a breath, the intrusion of his fingers has you biting your bottom lip, two thick digits rubbing against your walls in slick ease. “God,” he slaps a palm over your mouth, muffling your growing moans as he hits the spot that melts the rigidity in your body.

“Hyunjin…” you mumble onto his skin, thighs wrapping themselves around him. He licks your flesh, the sweat cracking at your back sweet on his tongue, sucking the area just above the strap of your bikini. Paying you no mind, the water engulfs the otherwise loud squelches of his fingers ramming inside of your pussy. “Hyun–,” you try to warn, a knot coiling embarrassingly fast. Every simple touch is enough to have your stomach contracting, muscles spasming, beginning to tremble underneath him.

He notices, attention perked. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles and it sends you to the edge. Biting onto his thumb, he pushes it past your lips, amused with the drool that spills past the bruised tissues. “You good?” The smirk is evident in his tone.

You wish you had the strength to punch the smugness out of him. However, he flips you to face him and his dark expression folds you. Heart squeezing almost immediately. The strain in his swim shorts brushes your knee, leg purposely grinding on him. He groans, forehead creasing into a pleasured frown. He brings you closer, nose ghosting on yours, “Open.”

You do. God, you do.

Lips parting just for him, a high pitched noise leaves him, tongue darting out to dance with yours. Obscene. The kiss is lewd and full of need. Throwing your arms around his neck, his fingers entangle in your wet hair, pinning you to the edge of the pool. He takes what he wants, rolling his pants to free himself, he eggs your bottom to the side. “Don't make a sound,” he warns, grinning into the kiss, “–unless you want everyone to know about our dirty secret.”

There's nothing delicate in the way he steadies your hips, grasping you with a barely controlled touch as he forces you down on his cock. Fully bottoming out in one go, stretched beyond limit in a wet burn. Your cry is swallowed by his searing mouth, sharing your moans with your tongues. You're hardly kissing back, mouth wide and open for him to use while he jerks his hips towards you, tip probing at your cervix from how big he is. “s' big…” you sob, tears swelling up your eyes.

Hyunjin gentles you, pampering kisses alongside your cheek, a deep contrast to the harsh pace of his cock into your poor pussy. “Baby don't cry…” he soothes. An act. Mockery hidden underneath the sweet words he reassures you with, great satisfaction filling him the second your teeth bite into his shoulder, trying your best to keep quiet. How endearing.

The door cracks open, a voice emerging from it. “Hey guys, dinner's ready–,” Felix informs, pausing as he realises the strange proximity between you two. “What's going on?” he asks and you freeze. Big eyes lifting to meet Hyunjin's in a panicked daze, ears flushed. Hyunjin blinks, way too slowly for someone in his current position, muscle nudging at the inside of his cheek.

Cock still pulsating inside of your cunt.

He doesn't bother to pull out, merely opting to cradle your cheek in fake concern. “She had something in her eye. I was blowing it out, look at her poor tears.” he says, smiling wide and innocently. “Isn't that right, yn-ah?”

“Huh–” your vision drifts to Felix who is staring, then back to Hyunjin's unbothered expression, involuntarily clenching on him as he decides to pinch your sensitive nub, face contorting to one of brief pleasure before you can catch yourself. “Yes!” you hitch. “My lashes flew into my eye… we'll come soon– ah…” the last syllable fades into a distant moan, praying that Felix doesn't pick up on what is going on underwater.

“Right…” he replies, nodding in a skeptical glance but he doesn't push further. “Hurry up or it'll run cold.” The door clicks shut and you exhale. A huge one, an expression of displeasure washing over you as you hit an amused Hyunjin.

“Are you serious–?!” you scold and he shrugs.

“With what?” he jokes, rolling his hips into yours. “This?”

“Hyunjin, fuck– don't do that again…” you hope to sound threatening. You really do but it's futile, the sentence comes off as a plea. A plea that opposes the threat.

“It sure seemed like you liked it though,” he replies, bumping your clit. “You were clenching down on me like crazy. Think I couldn't feel you getting wetter?” he tilts his head, lifting your chin in a search for your abashed expression. “Don't act coy now, let's finish this upstairs yeah?”

Where he's got you to himself. Uninterrupted.

—

“Honey!” He called out as he peeked an eye open. He let out a horrified gasp at what he saw.

Your side of the bed is empty. You’re nowhere to be found. He knows you’re off today, too. 

Chan sits up quickly. The KIDS! They must have you. It makes sense. Obviously, they stole you away. Oh, those demons. How unfair; just because he was asleep doesn’t mean they can kidnap you. 

The man flung the covers off his body and got out of bed. He grabbed the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around himself. He slowly walked to the bedroom door and opened it. He stepped out into the living room and looked around. You weren’t there.

Chan pouted and made his way to the kitchen. The bottom of the blanket dragged on the floor behind him. He could still smell chocolate. As he entered the kitchen, he instantly relaxed. There you were. Putting something into the oven. 

He watched you close it before turning to the baked goods on the counter: gooey chocolate cookies, Butterly Fairy cakes, strawberry tarts, marshmallow brownies.

Chan walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He lowered his head to nuzzle the crook of your neck. He was practically wrapping you up in the blanket with him. “Honey. Why aren’t you cuddling me?” He asked you curiously as he pressed a kiss to your neck.

You get out a giggle. “Chan-ah, I was craving something yummy and just started baking. I have a chocolate cake in the oven right now.” 

He looked around the kitchen for a moment. No one else seemed to be here. “Are you live? Where’s Innie?” He asked you, his voice tiny and full of sleep.

You smiled up at him over your shoulder. “I finished my live like five minutes ago. And Innie is having a Maknae day in the Happy Dorm. MaknaeLine only. Changbin pouted about it, but he, Min and Jinnie decided to go out for food instead.” 

Chan slowly nodded as he squeezed your waist slightly. “So, no one tried to kidnap you?”

“Nooo.” You laughed as you organised the treats into the containers on the counter. Each container was a different colour. One for each member. “Minho did ask if I wanted to join, but I told him I wanted to spend my day with you.”

You poked his nose before kissing his cheek gently. You then turned around and continued organising the treats. 

Chan laid his chin on your shoulder as he watched you. “Can I have an extra strawberry tart?” He asked you curiously. 

You nodded lightly as you put another strawberry tart in his container. “You can have anything you want, my love.”

The Australian grinned at that. “Does that mean I can have you back in my bed?” 

You looked up at him over your shoulder. “I suppose so. But only once the cake is done. I know you, once I’m back in bed, you’re not gonna let me get up. And I’d rather not burn down our kitchen.”

Chan let out a whiny grunt. “It is a nice kitchen.” He pouted. He shook his head. “It’s okay, I’ll buy us a new kitchen!” He quickly decided. He knew you were thinking of remodelling the kitchen anyway. 

You let out a gasp. “Chris!” You turned around in his arms to look up at him. You placed your hands on his chest. “You can’t buy a new kitchen just so I’ll snuggle with you.”

Chan let out a huff, clearly not happy that he wasn’t getting his way. “Why not? I like spoiling you. If I had any say in it, you’d never spend a single penny from your own bank. I find it entirely unfair that you won’t use my card.” 

You looked up at him in shock. “Chan, you pay for everything when we go out. I look at anything online or just window shopping, and the next thing I know, you’ve bought it for me. I can’t decide on something. You buy me both. You spoil me enough.” You explained as you squeezed his chest slightly. 

Chan watched you with a sleepy look of amusement on his face. “I don’t spoil you enough. I wish you’d use my card more.” 

You scoffed at him. “Channie, I made a lot of money. The group, the royalties on the songs I helped make, the ambassadorships, plus everything else I’ve done. It would be nice to spend some of my own money, ya know?” 

The Australian let out a small hum. “You do spend your money. On the house and the kids.” 

You shook your head at him and continued to sort out all the treats. You picked up a brownie and shoved it into his mouth, causing Chan to let out a happy groan as he ate it. 

Chan held onto you as you sorted out the treats; every so often he’d comment how he CLEARLY deserved more cupcakes than Minho, or more cookies than Jisung or ugh, how dare you attempt to put an extra brownie in Felix’s box. That should be HIS brownie.

You smiled, you teased him, you mimicked him. But all the while enjoying his whining. 

Once the cake was done, you got it out of the oven and placed it somewhere safe for it to cool down. 

Once Chan saw that the oven gloves were off your hands and you took off your apron, he stepped forward and wrapped his blanket around you. He picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder, and retreated to the bedroom.

“Channie!” You squealed out in surprise as you reached down to slap his ass. 

Chan opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. He closed it behind him. He walked over to the bed and set you down before immediately climbing onto the bed and pulling you close to his chest. 

“Mine. We’ll stay here all cosy and together, and no one can take you because you're mine and you're pretty and you love me.” He rattled off as he closed his eyes and nuzzled his nose into the crown of your head. 

You giggled and snuggled closer to him. “I do love you.” You told him; your voice came out quiet but sincere. In a way that made Chan’s heart skip a beat. He knew you loved him. This wasn’t the first time you’d told him, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

But sometimes, hearing you say it took his breath away. Like he was being reminded that, hey, the woman he had been crushing on since he was like fifteen or sixteen loves him. The woman who had seen him through everything. The darkest parts of his mind, the happiest parts of his soul. The widest smiles and heartbreaking sobs. 

It had always been you. The one he planned a life with. Not just a dream future but a joint reality that you both wanted and were working towards, no matter how hard or easy it was at times. 

“I love you.” He whispered into the room, letting it settle. 

He held you tight, and you both slowly fell asleep in each other's arms, Chan’s heartbeat easing you into dreamland as he held you in a secure but soft grip, keeping you close as his eyes closed and he fell back asleep. 

Jeongin came home sooner than expected, simply to grab something he had accidentally left behind. The dorm was quiet. He checked every room for you and Chan, only to find you both tangled up in each other's arms, fast asleep in your bed.

He couldn’t help but smile. You both looked so soft and cute. The way Chan held you close, protective even in sleep. He melted at how you nuzzled closer to Chan in your sleep. 

The Maknae pulled out his phone and took a picture before stepping out of the room and quietly closing the door behind him. 

 He went to his room to get what he needed before sending the picture to the group chat.

Choney Child🦊: Sent 1 image. Choney Child🦊: Look at them! They’re so cute! It’s disgusting! And I’M the only one who got to see them in person. Cry about it! FlowerTot🥺: THEY ARE SO CUUUUTE! I’m keeping this picture. NinjaCat🍮: Good for them. They need the sleep.  Buff Bunny💪: Screenshotting this. HAirJin🥟: They’re so precious! I wanna squish their cheeks! They are so soft. I love them! I love their love!  Sunny Dope🐿: Who changed my name again? Sunny Dope🐿: How can I squeeze my way into their cuddles? Puppy⚾: No, you leave them alone! Let them sleep. They need this. No one bother them until they text us first. Got it? Sunny Dope🐿: Who made you the boss? Choney Child🦊: Got it. HAirJin🥟: Got it. Buff Bunny💪: Got it. NinjaCat🍮: He makes a good point… got it.  FlowerTot🥺: Got It! No complaints here! They’re so cute!!!!!!! Puppy⚾: Got it, Jisung? Sunny Dope🐿: Fine…got it.  Sunny Dope🐿: But no seriously, who keeps changing the names in the group chat?

Jeongin chuckled and shoved his phone into his pocket as he entered the kitchen. He cleaned up and shook his head. He didn’t mind cleaning up the mess; you normally did it, but he thought it would be a nice thing for you to wake up to. 

He then put away the containers of treats. Except for his and the Maknae lines. He shoved them in his bag and walked towards the hallway. He put on his shoes and left the dorm quietly. A pleased smile on his face as he locked the door behind him. 

Of course, you and Chan were none the wiser, still dead to the world in your bed. Wrapped in the warmth that is each other. 

Thank you for supporting me.

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The streetlights hummed their steady orange glow over the quiet neighborhood, casting long, ordinary shadows that did nothing to soften the knot twisting tighter in your chest with every step. Your sneakers hit the pavement in sharp beats — thud, thud, thud — matching the rhythm of thoughts you couldn’t shut off.

Months.

You’d been letting him have you — fuck you — for months, skin on skin, his mouth hot against your throat. You let his hands map every inch of your skin like he owned it. And still he’d pull back afterward, breath ragged, murmuring the same tired line: ‘I’m not ready for a relationship. Let’s keep things casual.’

Casual.

As if swallowing your feelings every time was simple. As if the way he’d text you at 2 a.m. just to come over meant nothing.

Hypocritical motherfucker.

You gripped the spare key he’d given you weeks ago — just in case, he’d said, like that small gesture balanced out the rest.

Jacob’s face flashed in your mind, the way he’d lit up talking about Lily last month, shy and hopeful. And now? Jungkook was dating her. Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Why her? Why now? The questions burned, low and vicious. Why could he commit to someone else when he’d been buried inside you, whispering your name like a secret he couldn’t quite let go of? Why Lily, of all people — your mutual friend, the one who knew pieces of your tangled history without knowing the full truth?

You were tired. Bone-deep tired of being the convenient shadow in his life. The one he reached for when it suited him, then pushed away with pretty excuses.

Tonight, that ended.

Cuz you're going to fuck him up.

The apartment building came into view, its familiar glass doors reflecting your flushed face back at you. Then with no hesitation , you let yourself in with the key, the lock turning with a soft click that felt louder than it should. The hallway air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of his laundry detergent from the neighboring units. Your pulse hammered against your ribs as you climbed the stairs, thoughts sharpening into blades.

Why her and not me? After everything — after the nights you stayed over, the mornings you made coffee in his kitchen like it was yours — why could he give that to someone else? Was he playing you? Is he fucking with you?

The door swung open under your hand. Darkness greeted you first, broken only by the faint blue glow of the city filtering through half-drawn blinds. You didn’t even bother with lights.

“Jungkook?” Your voice cut through the quiet, edged and raw. “Where are you?”

Silence answered. No footsteps. No low hum of his voice calling back.

The living room was empty, takeout containers still on the coffee table from some earlier meal. Your anger flared hotter— he hadn’t even texted you today. Not even once. While he was out solidifying whatever this was with Lily, you’d been left wondering, scrolling through those texts with Jacob until the words blurred.

You moved deeper inside, shoes silent on the hardwood. “Jungkook, I know you’re here. We need to talk. Now!”

Still nothing. The bedroom door was ajar at the end of the short hall. You pushed it open without knocking, the wood whispering against the frame.

There he was.

Jungkook laid sprawled across the bed in the dim light, one arm flung over his head, the other resting on his stomach. His chest rose and fell in the slow, peaceful rhythm of deep sleep, his lips slightly parted. The sheets were tangled around his waist, hoodie discarded on the chair nearby. He looked... untouched by any of it. Serene. Like the world outside his eyelids didn't matter.

Your breath caught, fury and something sharper — hurt, maybe betrayal — coiling so tight it hurt to inhale. It's late night, and he was sleeping like a man with nothing on his conscience.

No texts, or explanations. He was just sleeping like the piece of shit he is.

You stayed there in the doorway, fists clenched at your sides, the key still warm in your palm from the walk over.

You stood there another moment longer, the sight of him so peacefully unaware fueling the fire until it roared. “Wake up,” you snapped, voice cracking through the stillness like a whip. “Jungkook, motherfucker, wake the fuck up right now!”

He stirred faintly, a low, sleepy groan escaping him, but his eyes stayed closed, lashes fluttering without focus. Deep in sleep, lost in whatever dream didn’t include the mess he’d made.

“Wake up, you hypocritical piece of shit!” The words burst out louder, and raw with everything you’d bottled until now. You crossed the room in two strides and yanked the blanket off him with a vicious tug, the fabric ripping away to expose the rumpled t-shirt and shorts underneath.

Jungkook jolted upright, eyes flying open, disoriented and wide. “Nooo— what?” His voice was thick with sleep, hand rubbing at his face. “What the fuck? What are you doing here? When did you come here? How— What happened?”

The confusion on his face only made it worse. You laughed, bitter and sharp, the sound foreign even to your own ears. “What happened? Are you fucking serious right now?” Your chest heaved as the dam broke, words tumbling out in a torrent. “You’ve been fucking me for months, Jungkook. Months. Sneaking me in here, pulling me close like I was yours, telling me over and over you’re ‘not ready’ for anything real. And now? Now you’re dating Lily? Lily? The same girl my best friend’s been crushing on for weeks? How could you do this to me? Do I mean nothing to you? Am I just some convenient warm body you hit up when you’re bored or horny or whatever the fuck runs through that selfish head of yours?”

You paced the small space between the bed and the dresser, hands gesturing wildly, the key still clutched in one fist like a talisman of betrayal. “I let you in. I gave you every part of me without asking for labels because you made it sound so fucking reasonable. ‘Keep it casual,’ you said. Casual! While I sat there swallowing my feelings every single time you pulled away. And meanwhile, you’re out there committing to her? Just like that? Like it’s nothing? Like I haven’t been the one dealing with your moods, your late nights, your stupid excuses? You’re such a goddamn hypocrite. A lying, two-faced asshole who couldn’t even text me today while you were probably out solidifying whatever bullshit this is with her.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

explicit warnings: manhandling, public sex, rough sex, hair/head pulling, oral (m rec), choking, cowgirl, spitting, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, breast play, fucking an ex.... lol, multiple orgasms, the chains stay on, hella backshots, emotional sex, creampie OOP, club sex, reader is bad, yoongi loses his gd mind, couch sex, wall sex, chair sex, umm yeah alexa play like animals thanks

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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. 

-

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fin :)

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hi lovelies what did we think !! | main masterlist

a/n: so don't ask how i managed to write all of this in a single day (now two) lol i think this madrid yoongi broke me. anyways, here's the sidequest that became the main quest for a bit! i'm back to writing three tangerines so 3tan13 will be finished here real soon :D thank you all for reading and i hope you enjoyed this irresistible ex turned lover yoongiiiii :DD did i cry? yes. can you prove it? no!!!!

a/n 2: as always, reblogs and comments and asks are always super appreciated! i love sharing things with you guys and a big part of that is getting to hear what you all liked and what you're excited about. happy to chat, and thank you for reading!

++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here!

✧

✧ 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧

Seokjin had always been the dramatic one, the member who could turn even the smallest inconvenience into a full theatrical performance.

But when it came to you, his secret love, that drama wasn’t just for show—it masked something much deeper. He was head over heels, the kind of love that kept him up at night thinking about your laugh, your voice, the way you looked at him when no one else was watching.

You two had agreed to keep it hidden for now, protecting the relationship from the intense spotlight of idol life. Still, every time someone else stole your attention, it hit him harder than he let on.

The backstage area buzzed with pre-concert energy. Staff members hurried around, stylists adjusted outfits, and the members stretched or reviewed last-minute details. Seokjin lounged against a table, flipping through his phone with practiced nonchalance, but his eyes kept drifting to you across the room.

You were chatting with one of the newer lighting technicians—a friendly, outgoing guy who had been making everyone laugh all week. The technician leaned in closer as he explained some technical detail, gesturing animatedly, and you smiled at him, nodding along.

Seokjin’s fingers paused on his screen. He forced a smile, but inside, irritation prickled. It’s just a conversation, he told himself. You’re allowed to talk to people.

Yet the way the guy’s hand brushed your shoulder lightly as he pointed something out on a tablet made Seokjin’s stomach twist. He cleared his throat loudly, but no one noticed. Fine. He could play this game.

“Wow, okayyyy, I see how it is,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to potentially hear if you were paying attention. You didn’t turn. The technician said something else, and you laughed again—that bright, genuine laugh that Seokjin usually earned with his dad jokes and cooking stories.

He pushed off the table, wandering closer under the pretense of grabbing a water bottle. “Guess I’m invisible now,” he added in a sing-song voice, dramatic and pouty, drawing a few amused glances from nearby staff. But his eyes stayed on you, sharp and needy.

Deep down, it wasn’t just theatrics. He genuinely felt the sting. He wanted your focus on him, your smiles directed at him, your time reserved for stolen moments in hotel rooms or quiet van rides where he could whisper how much he adored you.

The technician touched your arm again, this time resting his hand there a second too long while showing you a funny video on his phone. That was it.

Seokjin stepped forward with exaggerated flair, placing a hand on his chest like he’d been wounded. “Ah, I see the new lighting expert has taken over my role as the funniest person in the room. Should I just disappear into the background? Maybe become a stage prop?” His tone was light, teasing, but the undercurrent of real upset made his words sharper than usual.

The technician blinked, suddenly awkward, and pulled his hand back quickly.

You turned to Seokjin, catching the flash of genuine hurt behind his dramatic mask. The technician excused himself with a nervous chuckle, sensing the shift in atmosphere.

As soon as the two of you had a moment of semi-privacy near the edge of the room, Seokjin’s facade cracked further. He crossed his arms, lips pursed in that signature pout. “You like him more than me now? Be honest. I can take it. I’m just the handsome chef who makes you laugh and cooks your favorite meals at 2 a.m. No big deal.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, but before you could respond, he grabbed your hand and tugged you toward his private dressing room down the hall, closing the door firmly behind you. The lock clicked, sealing you both away from prying eyes.

The moment the world was shut out, Seokjin’s dramatic complaints melted into raw emotion. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight back hug from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

His breath was warm against your neck. “I hate this,” he whispered, voice dropping the playful tone. “I hate pretending I don’t care when someone else touches you or makes you laugh. I want all of it. Your attention, your time, your everything. It’s selfish, but I’m in love with you. Secretly, stupidly, completely.”

His hands roamed up your sides, pulling you closer against his chest. The clinginess kicked in hard—exactly as expected after his jealousy flared. He pressed a series of soft forehead kisses along your hairline, then turned you in his arms to face him. “You like me more, right? Tell me. I need to hear it.”

“Of course I do, Jin. Only you,” you reassured him, and that was all it took.

His mouth descended on yours in a kiss that started tender but quickly ignited with pent-up need. Seokjin kissed like he performed— with full commitment and flair.

His lips moved against yours hungrily, tongue teasing until you parted for him. He backed you toward the couch, never breaking contact, his large hands cupping your face as if you might vanish.

Clothes came off in a heated rush. He peeled your shirt away slowly, savoring the reveal of your skin, then shed his own to expose his broad shoulders and toned chest. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion and desire.

He laid you down on the couch, hovering over you, dropping more forehead kisses and soft ones along your collarbone. His hands explored everywhere—squeezing your waist, tracing your curves, gripping your thighs as he settled between them.

Seokjin took his time, despite the urgency of his jealousy. He kissed down your body, lingering at your breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth while his fingers played with the other. You arched into him, fingers threading through his dark hair.

Lower, he went, until his breath ghosted over your core. He looked up at you with those expressive eyes, still a hint of that dramatic pout lingering. “This is mine. Only mine.”

His tongue delved in, licking a slow stripe through your folds before focusing on your clit with precise, teasing circles. Two fingers slid inside you, curling expertly as he worked you open. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks up your spine.

Seokjin ate you out with the same dedication he put into everything—thorough, passionate, a little extra. He brought you right to the edge, then eased back, kissing your inner thighs while you caught your breath.

“Not yet,” he said, climbing back up your body. “I want to be inside you when you come. I want to feel how much you want me.”

He positioned himself, rubbing the thick head of his cock against your entrance, slick with your arousal and his saliva. With a deep push, he entered you, both of you groaning at the perfect fit.

Seokjin’s hips rolled slowly at first, savoring the connection, but jealousy still simmered beneath the surface. His pace quickened, thrusts becoming deeper and more insistent.

“Tell me again,” he panted between kisses, pinning your hands above your head with one of his. “You like me more, right? Say it while I fuck you.”

“I like you more—fuck, Jin, so much more,” you moaned, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper.

That spurred him on. He released your hands to grip your hips, angling you so every thrust hit that sweet spot inside. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, your shared gasps, and his occasional dramatic whispers. “That’s right. No one else gets to make you feel like this. No technician, no staff, no one. Just me.”

He shifted positions, pulling you up so you straddled him on the couch. You rode him while he guided your movements with strong hands on your ass, thrusting up to meet you. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking marks that would be hidden under your clothes later.

One hand slipped between you, thumb circling your clit in time with your bounces.

Pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Seokjin could feel you tightening around him. “Come for me, baby. Show me I’m the only one.”

Your orgasm hit hard, waves crashing through you as you clenched around his cock, crying out his name. Seokjin followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a long, satisfied groan.

His arms wrapped around you tightly in another back hug as you both came down, even while still connected.

For several minutes, he just held you like that, pressing forehead kisses to your temple, your cheeks, anywhere he could reach. The clinginess returned full force.

“I’m sorry for being dramatic out there,” he murmured, nuzzling your neck. “But I can’t help it. When I see someone else getting your smiles, it makes me realize how badly I want to tell the whole world you’re mine. Until then… stay close to me, okay? Lots of hugs like this. Lots of kisses. And always tell me I’m your favorite.”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “You are my favorite, Jin. Dramatics and all.”

He smiled, genuine and warm now that the jealousy had been soothed by your touch. But he wasn’t done. After cleaning you both up gently, he pulled you back into his lap, hands wandering again. “Round two,” he announced with a playful wink. “I need more reassurance. And more of those sounds you make just for me.”

This time was slower, more intimate. He took you from behind while you leaned over the couch arm, his chest pressed to your back in a constant hug.

One arm wrapped around your waist, the other between your legs, rubbing you as he thrust steadily. He whispered praises and silly jokes mixed with love confessions, keeping things light even as pleasure built again.

By the end, you were both exhausted in the best way, tangled together on the couch with his arms securely around you. Seokjin’s dramatic jealousy had led to this—raw passion, tender aftercare, and a deeper bond strengthened in secret. He kissed your forehead one last time.

“Don’t forget who loves you most, even when I have to pretend I don’t in front of everyone else.”

The concert would start soon, and he’d be back to his charismatic, funny self on stage. But you would carry his touch, his words, and the quiet promise of more hidden moments like this.

✧

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢

Yoongi didn’t need to raise his voice or put on a show for his jealousy to land like ice water down the spine. It was the silence that made it terrifying—the way his face stayed almost neutral, sharp eyes narrowing just a fraction, while the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

He was in love with you in the quietest, most consuming way possible. A love built on late-night studio sessions where words weren’t necessary, on shared headphones and fingers brushing under tables. You kept it secret because that was the only way it could survive right now. But secrets had a way of sharpening everything else, especially the possessiveness he rarely let show.

The green room hummed with the usual pre-show chaos. Staff adjusted mics, members chatted in low voices, and you stood near the couch talking to one of the tour photographers.

The guy was friendly, talented, and clearly interested. He leaned against the wall, camera slung around his neck, smiling as he showed you some shots from the previous night on his screen. “You always end up looking perfect in these,” he said, voice dropping a little. “The way the light hits you… I could shoot you for hours.”

You laughed politely, flipping through the images. Yoongi sat on the opposite couch, hood up, earbuds in but no music playing. His expression didn’t change. He looked half-asleep, legs stretched out, cap pulled low. But his gaze followed every movement.

The way the photographer stepped closer. The way his hand brushed your elbow to point at something on the screen. The way you smiled back—not flirtatious, but warm enough to twist something deep in Yoongi’s chest.

He didn’t speak. Not at first. His answers to the staff member asking about setlist changes became short, almost curt. “Yeah.” “Fine.” “Whatever works.” The calm shifted. People around him started glancing over, sensing the subtle change in the air without understanding why. Yoongi’s eyes stayed locked on you, dark and unreadable, tracking the photographer’s every gesture like a predator deciding exactly when to strike.

When the guy laughed at something you said and let his fingers linger on your arm, tracing a light path down to your wrist while complimenting your “natural presence,” Yoongi moved. No words.

No dramatic sigh. He simply stood, crossed the room in that slow, deliberate way of his, and slid an arm around your waist from behind. His hand settled firmly, fingers pressing into your side with quiet ownership. He pulled you back against his chest, chin brushing your shoulder for a brief second before he released you—but not really. His presence stayed right there, a wall of silent warning.

The photographer straightened immediately, mumbling something about checking equipment, and disappeared faster than expected. Yoongi didn’t smile. He didn’t gloat. He just looked at you once, eyes saying everything his mouth wouldn’t: We’re leaving. Now.

He guided you out with that same hand on your waist, touch deceptively light but impossible to ignore. Down the hallway to his private dressing room.

The door shut with a soft click. The lock turned. And then the real shift happened.

Yoongi leaned against the door for a moment, staring at you. Still silent. The jealousy didn’t explode out of him like it might with the others. It coiled, controlled, and burned hotter because of it. He crossed to you slowly, backing you against the makeup counter without touching you at first.

His hands finally came up, framing your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks with surprising gentleness before his grip tightened just enough.

“You let him touch you,” he said, voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a question. “Laughed with him. Let him look at you like that.”

His lips crashed into yours before you could answer—slow, deep, devastating. Yoongi kissed like he produced music: layered, intentional, every movement building something heavier. His tongue slid against yours, claiming, while one hand dropped to your waist again, pulling your hips flush against him.

You could feel how hard he already was, pressed against your stomach.

He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down your neck, sucking lightly at first, then harder, leaving marks that would hide under your collar. “Mine,” he breathed against your skin. No theatrics.

Just fact. His hands worked methodically, peeling your shirt off, then his own. The sight of his pale skin, slim but toned torso, and the faint lines of muscle made your breath catch. He lifted you onto the counter, stepping between your legs.

Yoongi’s possessiveness showed in the calmest, most intense ways. He didn’t rush. He unbuttoned your pants and dragged them down along with your underwear, eyes never leaving yours. When you were bare, he ran his palms up your thighs, spreading them wider.

Two fingers traced your entrance, feeling how wet you already were, before sliding in deep. He curled them slowly, perfectly, watching every flicker across your face.

“Eyes on me,” he murmured when your head tipped back. His free hand gripped your chin, forcing your gaze back to his. Those dark eyes held you captive while his fingers pumped steadily, thumb circling your clit with maddening precision.

The room filled with the wet sounds of his hand and your growing moans, but Yoongi stayed mostly quiet, only letting out low, controlled breaths.

He brought you right to the edge, then withdrew his fingers, ignoring your frustrated whimper. He freed himself from his pants, thick and flushed, stroking once before pressing the head against you.

One smooth thrust and he buried himself to the hilt, groaning softly into your neck. The stretch was perfect, overwhelming.

His hips rolled in deep, measured strokes. Not frantic—deliberate. Each thrust claimed you, reminded you exactly who you belonged to. One arm wrapped around your back, holding you impossibly close, while the other braced on the counter. Skin met skin in rhythmic slaps, but his voice stayed low.

“No one else gets this,” he whispered against your ear, biting the lobe. “No one else hears you moan like this. No one else feels how tight you get when I’m inside you.” His pace increased gradually, still controlled, but the jealousy fueled every snap of his hips. He angled just right, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.

You clutched his shoulders, nails digging in. “Yoongi—”

“Say it,” he demanded quietly, voice dark. “Tell me who you belong to while I fuck you.”

“You. Only you.”

That seemed to break something in his restraint. He lifted you off the counter, turning you around and bending you over it. Your hands braced on the cool surface as he entered you again from behind, deeper this way.

One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, the other reached around to rub your clit in tight circles. His chest pressed to your back, lips against your shoulder as he thrust harder, faster, but still terrifyingly silent except for the occasional low groan.

The orgasm built like a wave you couldn’t escape. When it crashed over you, your walls clenched around him, legs shaking. Yoongi followed moments later, burying himself deep and coming with a quiet, shuddering breath, filling you completely.

He stayed inside you for a long minute, arms wrapped around your waist, face pressed to your back.

Finally, he pulled out carefully, cleaning you both with a warm cloth from the side table. He didn’t speak much even then. Just pulled you into his arms on the small couch, holding you against his chest.

His fingers traced slow patterns on your bare skin—possessive, soothing. The silent jealousy had morphed into this: quiet intensity, the kind that wrapped around you like smoke.

“I hate it,” he said eventually, voice barely audible. “Seeing someone else flirt with you. Touch you. Makes me want to pull you away every single time. I know we can’t say anything yet. But you’re mine. In every way that matters.”

You turned in his arms, kissing his jaw. “I am yours, Yoongi. Always.”

He nodded once, eyes softening just a fraction. But the possessiveness lingered. His hand slid down to grip your thigh, pulling you closer. “Good. Because we still have time before soundcheck.”

His lips found yours again, slower this time, but no less hungry.

The second round was different—slower, face to face on the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist as he moved inside you with those same deep, claiming strokes. He kept his forehead against yours, eyes locked, forcing you to feel every emotion he rarely voiced.

When you came again, whispering his name like a prayer, he followed, spilling into you once more with a quiet curse.

Afterward, he held you tightly, pressing soft kisses to your temple. No dramatic declarations.

No over-the-top clinginess. Just Yoongi—silent, steady, and terrifyingly in love. The kind of love that didn’t need noise to be felt in your bones.

He helped you dress eventually, adjusting your clothes so the marks he left stayed hidden.

When you stepped back into the hallway, his expression had returned to that neutral calm. But his hand brushed your lower back one last time, a secret reminder.

The mood around him stayed shifted for the rest of the evening. Short answers. Watching eyes. And when anyone got too close to you again, that arm found your waist without a word.

Because Yoongi’s jealousy didn’t roar. It simply took what was his, quietly, completely, and left no room for doubt.

✧

✧ 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤

Hoseok was sunshine personified—bright smiles, infectious laughter, and that endless energy that lit up every room he entered. But when jealousy crept in, especially over you, the person he was secretly, deeply in love with, that sunshine didn’t disappear. It just burned hotter, more focused, until it consumed everything else.

He tried so hard to play it cool, to keep things light and fun like always, because that was his role. The one who kept morale high. The one who made everyone feel at ease. But with you, his ult, his hidden heart, the mask slipped faster than he could catch it.

The backstage lounge was alive with pre-rehearsal chatter. Members stretched, stylists touched up makeup, and you were standing near the snack table talking to one of the new choreographers—a charismatic guy who’d been brought in for a fresh routine. He was funny, confident, and clearly drawn to your energy. He demonstrated a quick footwork move, laughing as you tried to copy it, his hand lightly steadying your waist for balance.

“See? You’ve got natural rhythm,” he said, eyes lingering a second too long. “We should practice together sometime. I could teach you a lot.”

Hoseok, who had been sipping water across the room while chatting with staff, felt the shift instantly. He forced a wide smile, the one that usually lit up stages worldwide, and sauntered over with his signature playful bounce. “Yah, what’s this? Stealing my favorite dance partner?” he teased, voice bright and sing-song.

But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. It tightened at the corners, turning a little sharp. His laugh when the choreographer joked back sounded forced, almost brittle.

He tried again, keeping it playful. “Careful, she might outshine you on stage if you teach her too well!” Another laugh, but it fell flat even to his own ears.

Deep down, it wasn’t funny. Not when this guy had his hand on your waist. Not when you were smiling at someone else the way Hoseok wanted you smiling at him in every stolen moment—those quiet van rides, late-night texts, and hidden hotel nights where he whispered how much he adored you. You were his secret, his everything, and watching someone else flirt so openly made his chest ache with a need he couldn’t voice publicly.

The choreographer chuckled and touched your arm again, leaning in to say something quieter. That was the breaking point. Hoseok’s playful facade crumbled in an instant. He moved smoothly but decisively, sliding right beside you. One arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his side. His other hand found yours, fingers intertwining tightly.

He rested his chin on top of your head, nuzzling in just enough to make his claim crystal clear without words. The warmth of his body enveloped you, that familiar mix of cologne and stage energy that was so distinctly him.

“Actually,” Hoseok said, voice still light but edged with something deeper, “we have some partner work we need to go over. Right now.” His smile stayed plastered on for the choreographer, but his grip on you tightened. Everyone in the room could see it—you two were close. Very close.

The choreographer got the message, nodding awkwardly and stepping back with a quick excuse about checking the stage layout.

As soon as the guy was out of sight, Hoseok didn’t let go. If anything, he held you tighter. His arm around your shoulders became a full embrace, chin still on your head as he swayed you gently side to side like you were dancing to music only he could hear. “I hate that,” he murmured into your hair, voice dropping the playful tone. “I try to act cool, but seeing him touch you… it makes me want to pull you away and keep you all to myself. You’re my person. My favorite. I need everyone to know how close we are, even if we can’t tell them everything yet.”

He guided you down the hallway to his private dressing room, never once releasing your hand. The door closed behind you, and the lock clicked. In the quiet space, Hoseok’s energy shifted completely.

He turned to you, eyes soft but burning with that mix of love and jealousy. “You know you’re my ult, right? My everything. I can’t stand the thought of someone else thinking they can have even a piece of you.”

His hands cupped your face tenderly, thumbs brushing your cheeks, before he kissed you. It wasn’t rushed—it was deep, passionate, full of all the affection he poured into every performance. Hoseok kissed like he danced: with soul, with fire, with every part of himself.

His tongue moved against yours in perfect rhythm, drawing soft sounds from you that made him smile against your lips.

Clothes disappeared between heated kisses and wandering hands. He peeled your shirt off slowly, worshipping every inch of skin he revealed with his mouth. “So beautiful,” he whispered, voice husky.

His own shirt came off next, revealing his toned dancer’s body, lean muscle honed from years of powerful performances. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the wide couch.

Hoseok laid you down like you were precious, but his touches grew more urgent. He kissed down your neck, sucking gentle marks along your collarbone—marks only the two of you would see.

His hands explored your curves, squeezing your hips, tracing your thighs as he removed the rest of your clothes. When you were bare beneath him, he took a moment just to look, eyes full of adoration. “Mine,” he said softly, almost reverently. “All mine.”

He settled between your legs, mouth hot and eager as he tasted you. His tongue moved with expert precision—playful flicks on your clit mixed with deep, languid strokes that had you gripping his hair. Two fingers slid inside you, curling in that way he knew drove you crazy, matching the rhythm of his mouth. Hoseok moaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks through your body.

He looked up at you the whole time, eyes locked, making sure you felt exactly how much he needed this.

But he didn’t let you finish that way. He wanted to be closer. Needed it. Hoseok climbed back up, shedding the last of his clothes, his cock hard and flushed with need.

He rubbed the tip against your entrance, teasing just enough to make you whimper, before sliding in deep with one smooth thrust. The feeling of him filling you completely drew matching groans from both of you.

He started slow, rolling his hips in that fluid, dancer-like motion, grinding deep. One hand held yours above your head, fingers still intertwined, while the other caressed your face. “Look at me, baby,” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “I need you to see how much I love you. How crazy you make me.”

The pace built gradually, thrusts becoming more powerful, more possessive. Skin met skin with rhythmic slaps, the couch creaking softly beneath you. Hoseok’s usual playfulness returned in little ways—he nipped at your lip with a small smile, whispered silly-sweet things between moans—but the jealousy fueled an intensity that made everything hotter. He shifted you onto your side, lifting one leg over his shoulder so he could go even deeper, hitting that perfect spot with every stroke.

“You feel so good,” he panted, sweat glistening on his skin. “No one else gets this. No one else gets to hold you, touch you, love you like I do.” His free hand slipped between you, thumb circling your clit in tight, perfect patterns. The combination sent you spiraling fast.

When you came, it hit like a wave—walls clenching around him as you cried out his name. Hoseok followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a long, throaty moan, hips stuttering through the pleasure. He collapsed gently on top of you, careful not to crush you, arms wrapping around you in the tightest hug.

Even in the afterglow, the clinginess stayed. He pressed kisses all over your face—forehead, cheeks, nose, lips—while still inside you. “I’m sorry I got jealous,” he whispered, nuzzling your neck.

“But I can’t help it. You’re my ult, my sunshine, my reason for smiling even on hard days. I need the world to see how close we are, even if it’s just through little things like holding your hand or resting my chin on your head.”

He pulled out eventually, cleaning you both with gentle care before pulling you into his lap. The second round came naturally, slower and sweeter this time. You rode him on the couch, his hands guiding your hips as he looked up at you with pure adoration.

He sat up midway, arms around your waist in a full embrace, mouths meeting in messy kisses while he thrust up to meet you. More forehead kisses, more whispers of love, more of that special energy only Hoseok could bring.

Afterward, tangled together and breathing softly, he kept you close. Fingers tracing patterns on your back, chin resting on your head again. “Promise me something?” he asked quietly. “No matter who flirts or how hard we have to hide this… you’ll always come back to me like this.

Let me hold you, love you, remind you that you’re my favorite person in the entire universe.”

You smiled, kissing his jaw. “Always, Hobi. You’re my ult too.”

Hoseok’s bright laugh returned, genuine this time, as he hugged you tighter. The jealousy had faded, replaced by warmth and certainty.

He would go back out there soon with his playful energy, but everyone would still see it—that extra closeness, the way his arm found your shoulders so naturally, the protective glint in his eye. Because when it came to you, Hoseok didn’t just love quietly. He loved with his whole heart, his whole body, and everyone nearby would feel it.

✧

✧ 𝐉𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧

Jimin carried his heart in his eyes. That was what made his jealousy so devastating—not loud or possessive in a flashy way, but a quiet ache that turned those expressive eyes softer, almost glassy, like the light inside him had dimmed. He was deeply, secretly in love with you, the kind of love that bloomed in stolen glances during rehearsals and whispered confessions in the dark of hotel rooms.

You kept it hidden because the world demanded it, but that only made moments like this cut deeper. He wasn’t angry. He was hurt. The kind of hurt that made him question everything.

The waiting area backstage before the showcase was filled with the usual energy—stylists rushing with last-minute fixes, members warming up their voices, and low chatter bouncing off the walls. Jimin sat on a low couch, legs tucked under him gracefully, scrolling through his phone. But his attention wasn’t on the screen. It was on you, across the room, talking to one of the backup vocal coaches.

The guy was kind, experienced, and had a gentle way of speaking that clearly put you at ease. He laughed at something you said, leaning in slightly as he offered tips on a tricky harmony, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder in encouragement.

Jimin’s smile, the one he’d been holding for the staff earlier, faltered. His eyes softened, the usual sparkle dulling into something quieter, more vulnerable. He looked away for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek, but his gaze kept drifting back. Do they make you happier than I do? The thought crept in uninvited. Am I bothering you lately? Maybe I’ve been too clingy in our secret texts. Maybe you need someone who doesn’t have to hide. His fingers tightened around his phone, but outwardly, he stayed composed—almost too still, too quiet. The members noticed the shift; Jungkook asked if he was okay, and Jimin just nodded with a small, forced curve of his lips.

When the coach’s hand lingered on your arm a second longer while demonstrating a breathing technique, Jimin couldn’t stay seated. He stood gracefully, crossing the room without fanfare. No dramatic words, no tight smiles like Hoseok might use. Just a gentle touch—his hand slipping into yours, fingers intertwining as he tugged you lightly toward him. “Hey,” he said softly, voice barely above a murmur. “Can we talk for a minute?” His eyes met yours, pleading in that subtle way only you could read. The coach sensed the moment and stepped back with a polite nod.

Jimin led you down the hallway to his private dressing room, his hold on your hand never loosening. Once inside, with the door closed and the world locked out, the overthinking spilled quietly from him. He turned to you, eyes even softer now, almost misty. He didn’t let go of your hand, instead pulling it up to press against his chest so you could feel his heartbeat—steady but a little faster than usual.

“I saw you with him,” he whispered, voice gentle but laced with that hurt. “The way he made you laugh… it was nice. Really nice. Do they make you happier than I do? Be honest with me. I can take it, I think. But lately I keep wondering if I’m bothering you. If all these secret moments, the late calls when I can’t sleep, the way I always want you close… maybe it’s too much. Maybe you need space.”

His free hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, touch feather-light, as if afraid you might pull away. Those beautiful eyes searched yours, vulnerable and open in a way he rarely showed the world. Jimin melted when he felt loved, but right now, the jealousy had him unraveling in the softest, most heartbreaking way.

You reassured him immediately, cupping his face and telling him how much he meant to you—how no one compared, how his attention was your favorite thing. The words worked like magic. His shoulders relaxed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he leaned into your palm. “Really?” he breathed, voice cracking just a little. And then he melted completely, stepping closer until his body pressed against yours, arms wrapping around your waist in a needy embrace. “I need you,” he murmured against your neck. “Show me I’m still your favorite.”

The kiss started tender, almost hesitant, like he was afraid to ask for too much. But as you deepened it, pouring reassurance into every brush of lips and tongue, Jimin came alive. His hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer, fingers tracing the curve of your spine with familiar reverence. Clothes came off slowly, between soft kisses and whispered affirmations. He peeled your shirt away like unwrapping something precious, lips following the path of exposed skin—collarbone, shoulder, the dip between your breasts.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, eyes drinking you in. His own shirt slipped off, revealing the lean, sculpted lines of his dancer’s body, skin glowing under the warm lights. He lifted you onto the vanity table, stepping between your legs, hands gentle but sure on your thighs. “Tell me again,” he asked softly, forehead resting against yours. “That I’m the one you want.”

“You’re the only one, Jimin. Always.”

That was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, tongues sliding together as his hands explored. He cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they peaked under his touch, drawing quiet gasps from you. Lower, his fingers trailed, slipping between your legs to find you already wet for him. Two slender fingers eased inside, curling slowly, perfectly, while his thumb brushed your clit in lazy circles. He watched your face the entire time, eyes soft and locked on yours, feeding on every moan like it was oxygen.

“Please,” you breathed, and he nodded, removing his fingers to free himself. His cock was hard, flushed, curving beautifully as he stroked it once before pressing against your entrance. He slid in slowly, savoring every inch, both of you sighing at the connection. Jimin’s hips rolled in fluid, graceful thrusts—deep and unhurried, like a dance only the two of you knew. One arm wrapped around your back, holding you close, while the other braced on the table.

“Feel me,” he whispered, voice husky with emotion. “I’m yours too. Completely.” His pace stayed tender at first, but reassurance turned the heat up. He buried his face in your neck, sucking soft marks as his thrusts grew firmer, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. You clung to his shoulders, nails lightly scratching his back, and he shivered in pleasure.

He pulled back to look at you again, eyes half-lidded but shining. “I was scared for a second… that maybe someone else could make you smile bigger. But this—us—it’s everything.” The vulnerability mixed with desire made it intensely intimate. He shifted you slightly, angling deeper, one hand slipping between you to rub your clit in time with his movements. The build was slow, overwhelming, until you came with a soft cry, clenching around him, pulling him over the edge too. Jimin moaned your name quietly, spilling deep inside you, hips stuttering as waves of pleasure washed over him.

He stayed inside you for a long moment, holding you tightly, foreheads pressed together as breaths mingled. Then the melting happened fully—soft kisses all over your face, gentle hands cleaning you both with a warm towel from the side counter. He carried you to the small couch, curling around you like a koala, legs tangled, arms secure around your waist. “Thank you,” he murmured, nuzzling your hair. “For always making me feel wanted. I get so scared sometimes that I’m not enough in all this hiding.”

“You’re more than enough,” you reassured him again, fingers carding through his hair. He practically purred at the touch, eyes closing in contentment.

The second round came naturally, slower and even more emotional. You straddled him on the couch, sinking down onto him inch by inch while he gazed up at you like you hung the stars. His hands guided your hips, but gently, letting you set the rhythm. Every roll of your body drew soft praises from him—“So good… you feel perfect… I love you like this.” He sat up midway, chest to chest, arms wrapped fully around you in a tight embrace as he thrust up to meet you. Mouths met in lazy, deep kisses, tongues dancing as pleasure built again. When you both came this time, it was together—whispers and shudders, bodies trembling in sync.

Afterward, Jimin kept you in his lap, tracing invisible patterns on your skin, chin resting on your shoulder. The hurt jealousy had dissolved into pure, warm affection. He was quiet again, but this time it was peaceful, content. “I don’t want to go back out there yet,” he admitted with a small smile. “Just a little longer like this. You make everything better.”

He would return to the others soon, eyes bright once more, that charming stage persona slipping back into place. But the secret marks on your skin, the way his hand would brush yours a little longer than necessary, and the soft glances only you understood—they would remind everyone, subtly, that his heart was already claimed. Jimin’s love was like that: not loud, but profound. And when reassured, he gave it back tenfold, melting completely into the person who made his world feel right.

✧

✧ 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠

Taehyung felt everything deeply. Love, joy, sadness — and especially jealousy. Out of all the members, no one burned with it quite like he did. You weren’t dating. Not officially. You had never put a label on whatever this was between you: stolen kisses in the studio after midnight, fingers brushing under tables, late-night talks where he called you his soulmate in that low, sincere voice of his. But the lack of a title didn’t stop the fierce possessiveness that surged through him every time someone else got too close to you. If anything, it made it worse. Because without a label, he had no real right to feel this way — yet he felt it all the same.

The green room before the soundcheck was lively. Members sprawled across couches, staff moved around with tablets and cables, and you were sitting on the arm of a chair talking to one of the new international staff members — a tall, friendly guy who had been helping with translations. He was charming in an easy way, laughing as he showed you something on his phone. Taehyung sat across the room, legs spread wide, wearing an oversized hoodie, but his usual boxy smile was nowhere to be found.

Instead, his dark eyes were locked on you. Brows slightly furrowed. Lips pressed into a straight line. He didn’t even realize how obvious it was until Jungkook nudged Jimin and both of them started smirking.

“Hyung, you’re staring again,” Jungkook teased quietly, loud enough for the others to hear. “Looking like someone kicked your puppy.”

Taehyung blinked, trying to school his expression into something neutral, but it was too late. The frown was already there, deep and sulky. His gaze flicked back to you immediately. The staff guy leaned closer to show you another video, his hand resting casually on the back of your chair. Taehyung’s jaw tightened. That should be him. Sitting next to you. Making you laugh like that. Being the only one allowed in your space.

He stood up suddenly, long legs carrying him across the room without thinking. The members watched with knowing grins — they had seen this side of Taehyung more than once when it came to you.

“Hey,” he said, voice deep and a little rough as he stopped right beside you. He didn’t even acknowledge the staff member at first. His eyes were only on you. “Come sit with me instead.”

You looked up, catching the unmistakable sulk in his expression. The staff guy paused mid-sentence, suddenly aware of the heavy aura surrounding Taehyung.

“I was just—” you started, but Taehyung was already gently taking your hand, fingers wrapping around yours with quiet determination.

“Please?” he added, softer this time, but the jealousy was written all over his face. Big brown eyes, slight pout, shoulders a little hunched like the weight of watching you with someone else actually hurt him physically. The staff member cleared his throat awkwardly and found an excuse to leave.

The second you let Taehyung pull you over to the couch and sit beside him, his entire mood shifted. The frown melted away. That beautiful boxy smile broke across his face like sunshine after rain. He immediately draped one long arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side, chin resting lightly on your head. Soulmate behavior. Like the universe had clicked back into place now that you were close again.

“Much better,” he murmured happily, voice low enough for only you to hear. His fingers played with the sleeve of your shirt, absentmindedly tracing patterns. The members exchanged amused looks but didn’t comment further.

But the jealousy hadn’t disappeared. It had simply been redirected into need.

A little while later, when the room cleared out slightly, Taehyung leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “Come with me for a minute.” No room for argument. He took your hand again and led you to his private dressing room, locking the door behind you with a soft click.

The moment you were alone, the intensity returned. He backed you against the wall, hands framing your face as he stared down at you with those soulful eyes.

“I hate it,” he confessed, voice husky. “I know we’re not… official. But seeing him next to you, making you laugh, touching your chair like that — it drives me crazy. You’re mine in here.” He pressed a hand over his own heart. “You feel like my soulmate. Even if we haven’t said the words yet. I get so jealous I can’t hide it.”

His kiss was deep and consuming, the kind only Taehyung could give — passionate, emotional, like he was pouring his entire soul into it. Tongues moved slowly, tasting, claiming. His large hands slid down your body, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him so you could feel how hard he already was.

Clothes came off with urgent but reverent touches. He peeled your shirt away, kissing every inch of skin he revealed, whispering how beautiful you were, how no one else should ever get to stand that close to you. When he removed his own hoodie and shirt, revealing his broad shoulders and toned chest, you couldn’t help but run your hands over him. He shivered under your touch.

Taehyung lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch and laying you down. He hovered over you, eyes never leaving yours as he removed the rest of your clothes. “So perfect,” he breathed, kissing down your stomach until he reached your core. He took his time, tongue moving in slow, sensual strokes, savoring you like fine wine. Two long fingers pushed inside you, curling gently while his mouth focused on your clit. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending pleasure shooting through your body.

But he didn’t let you finish there. He needed to be closer.

Rising up, he freed himself, thick and flushed, and rubbed the tip against your entrance. “Look at me,” he whispered. The eye contact was intense as he pushed in slowly, stretching you open inch by inch until he was buried deep. Both of you groaned at the feeling.

His thrusts started deep and rhythmic, hips rolling in that smooth, artistic way of his. One hand held yours above your head, fingers intertwined, while the other cradled the back of your neck so he could keep kissing you. “You’re mine,” he panted between kisses, even though you weren’t officially. “Even if the world doesn’t know yet. Tell me you feel it too.”

“I feel it, Tae. Only you.”

That reassurance made him melt and burn at the same time. His pace picked up, thrusts becoming harder, more desperate. The jealousy that had been simmering all afternoon poured out in every movement — possessive but full of love. He shifted you so your legs wrapped higher around his waist, going deeper, hitting that spot that made you see stars.

When you came, clenching tightly around him and moaning his name, Taehyung followed right after, burying his face in your neck as he spilled deep inside you with a low, broken groan. His body trembled against yours, arms wrapping around you tightly like he never wanted to let go.

Even after, the clinginess stayed. He cleaned you gently, then pulled you into his lap, arms locked around your waist, chin on your shoulder. “I know I get too jealous,” he admitted quietly, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “But I can’t help it. You’re my person. My soulmate. Watching someone else get your attention feels like losing a piece of myself.”

You stayed like that for a while, his hands gently stroking your back, mood completely bright again now that he had you all to himself. When desire built once more, the second round was slower, more intimate. You rode him on the couch, his hands guiding your hips while he looked up at you with pure adoration. He sat up to kiss you deeply, chest to chest, whispering sweet nothings and jealous little confessions between moans.

By the time you both finished again, you were tangled together, breathing softly. Taehyung kept you close, refusing to let go just yet. “Stay with me a little longer,” he murmured, voice warm. “I need more of this. More of you.”

He would go back out there soon with that signature boxy smile, acting like nothing happened. But everyone would notice how his eyes followed you, how he found excuses to sit next to you, how his hand always seemed to find yours when no one was looking too closely. Because Taehyung’s jealousy wasn’t subtle — it was obvious, deep, and rooted in a love so strong it didn’t need a label to feel real.

He was the most jealous for a reason. You were his soulmate. And he would keep reminding you — and everyone else — of that fact, one stolen moment at a time.

✧

✧ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

Jungkook tried so hard not to care. He really did. He told himself a thousand times that you weren’t officially his, that the secret moments you shared—late-night gym sessions where he’d spot you, quiet studio cuddles, and stolen kisses behind closed doors—didn’t give him the right to feel possessive. But he cared the most. Out of everyone, no one’s heart twisted quite like his when someone else flirted with you. It made his ears burn red, his usual bright energy go quiet, and his big doe eyes stay glued to you like you were the only thing in the room.

The backstage lounge before the final rehearsal was buzzing. Members were scattered around, some playing games on their phones, others stretching or chatting with staff. Jungkook sat on the floor against the couch, pretending to scroll through his camera roll, but his attention was locked across the room where you stood talking to one of the young backup dancers. The guy was energetic, funny, and clearly interested. He kept leaning in, demonstrating a move and laughing when you tried it, his hand brushing your arm more than once.

Jungkook’s ears turned pink, then bright red. He pressed his lips together, trying to look unbothered, but his eyes never left you. That should be me,his brain repeated like a mantra. Making you laugh. Touching your arm. Standing that close. He stayed silent, jaw tight, fingers gripping his phone a little too hard. The members noticed. Jimin nudged Taehyung with a smirk, whispering something that made them both glance at Jungkook’s obvious struggle.

When the dancer stepped even closer, placing a hand on your waist to “correct your posture” while showing another step, Jungkook couldn’t stay back anymore. He stood up, ears still flaming, and crossed the room with that effortless athletic grace. Without a word, he slid right beside you, one arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you gently but firmly into his chest.

His other hand found yours, fingers intertwining tightly. To everyone else, he acted completely normal—casual smile, soft “hey” like he was just joining the conversation—but his body told a different story. His thumb stroked the back of your hand, and his fingers rested possessively on your waist, right where the other guy’s hand had been.

The dancer got the hint quickly, mumbling something about warming up and backing away. Jungkook’s ears were still red as he kept you pressed against him, chin resting lightly on top of your head for a second before he pulled back just enough to look normal. But inside? His brain was a mess of cute, jealous thoughts. Mine. Should be me. Only me

A few minutes later, when the room thinned out, he leaned down, voice low and a little shy. “Come with me?” He didn’t wait for a full answer, just gently tugged you toward his private dressing room, hand still holding yours the entire way. The second the door closed and locked, the shy act cracked open.

Jungkook turned to you, ears still tinged pink, big eyes soft and vulnerable. “I know I’m not supposed to care this much,” he admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re not even… you know. But seeing him touch you like that? It makes me crazy. That should be me. Only me.”

His jealousy was the cutest thing in the world—those wide eyes, the way he tried so hard to play it cool but failed adorably, the soft pout forming on his lips. You smiled and stepped closer, cupping his face. The reassurance made him melt instantly. Jungkook leaned into your touch like a puppy, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he pulled you into a tight hug, arms wrapping fully around you.

The kiss started sweet, almost shy, but quickly deepened with all the pent-up emotion. Jungkook kissed like he did everything else—with full commitment and passion. His hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against his strong body as his tongue moved against yours. He walked you backward until your legs hit the couch, then gently laid you down, hovering over you with those sparkling eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, voice husky but still carrying that adorable nervousness. He helped you out of your shirt, then removed his own, revealing the sculpted muscles he worked so hard for. His hands were gentle as he explored your body, kissing down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower, sucking soft marks that made you shiver. When he reached your waistband, he looked up at you for permission, ears still faintly red.

Once you were both bare, Jungkook settled between your legs, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs before his tongue found your core. He was eager and attentive, licking and sucking with focused dedication, two fingers sliding inside you and curling just right. He moaned softly against you, the vibrations making your back arch. His free hand reached up to hold yours, fingers intertwined again—like even here, he needed that connection.

But he didn’t let you finish that way. He wanted to be closer. Jungkook climbed back up, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his lips. He stroked himself a few times, then lined up and pushed in slowly, groaning your name as he sank deep. The stretch was perfect, his thickness filling you completely. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing shakily.

“That should be me,” he whispered again, almost like he couldn’t help it. “Only me touching you. Only me making you feel good.”

His thrusts started deep and steady, hips rolling with that powerful athletic control. One hand stayed laced with yours above your head while the other gripped your thigh, holding you open for him. Jungkook’s jealousy melted into the sweetest, most intense lovemaking—every movement full of adoration and quiet possessiveness. He buried his face in your neck, kissing and nibbling as his pace gradually quickened.

“You feel so good,” he panted, voice adorably breathy. “So tight… so perfect. I get so jealous because I like you so much. Like… really like you.”

The confession made your heart flutter. You pulled him closer, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. Jungkook’s thrusts grew faster, deeper, hitting that spot inside you repeatedly until you were moaning his name. His hand slipped between you, thumb rubbing your clit in perfect circles. When you came, clenching hard around him and trembling, he followed right after with a cute, broken moan, burying himself deep and filling you with warm spurts.

He collapsed gently on top of you, careful not to crush you, arms wrapping around your body in the tightest hug. His ears were still pink as he nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses everywhere he could reach. “Sorry if I was too obvious out there,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your skin. “I tried not to care… but I care so much. You’re my favorite person.”

The aftercare was pure Jungkook—sweet and attentive. He cleaned you both carefully with a warm towel, then pulled you into his lap on the couch, arms locked around you like he never wanted to let go. He kept playing with your fingers, intertwining them over and over, chin resting on your shoulder.

The second round came naturally, slower and even cuter. You straddled him, sinking down onto his cock while he looked up at you with those big, sparkling eyes full of affection. His hands guided your hips gently, but he let you set the pace, whispering praises and little jealous confessions between kisses. “No one else gets to hold you like this… only me, right?” He sat up halfway, chest pressed to yours in a warm embrace, thrusting up to meet you as you rode him.

The closeness made everything more intense. When you both came again, it was with soft moans and foreheads pressed together, bodies trembling in sync.

Afterward, Jungkook refused to let you move, cuddling you tightly against his chest, one hand stroking your hair. His jealousy had turned into the fluffiest, warmest afterglow. “Can we stay like this a little longer?” he asked, voice shy but hopeful. “I just… I like having you close. Makes me feel better.”

He would go back out there soon, acting cool with that signature Jungkook confidence, but everyone would notice the little things: how his hand always found yours, how his eyes followed you protectively, how his ears turned pink whenever someone got too friendly. Because when Jungkook got jealous, it wasn’t scary or dramatic—it was the cutest thing in the world.

A big, strong guy reduced to blushing ears and needy hugs, all because he cared the most.

And deep down, you loved every second of it.

© stlllle — 2O26