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lo1k-diamonds · 1 year ago

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Bubbles 💜 (Part 2)

SX Seoul Series | Jungkook's Entry

PAIRING: Jungkook/Reader (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: You wake up the next morning and feelings you didn't want to stir are brought back to the surface. You think he might feel the same way but maybe you jumped to conclusions too soon.

WORD COUNT: 8.3k

GENRE: Exes to lovers, smuuuuuut, angst, making up

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: exes, explicit, unprotected sex (stay safe!), you guys fight and stuff gets punched and thrown around, lingering feelings, heartbreak, second chances

PARTS: [1] [2] [3]

A.N. I wrote this story after a while of being unable to focus and write so I hope you enjoy it, I think it turned out fun :) (Thank you @eerieedits for the cool banner 💜)

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

You woke up in the morning, yet despite the sun’s rays hitting the floor, you couldn't be certain. Were you truly waking up?

You sighed and pressed yourself further back into a welcoming chest. The sheets had a familiar scent, and this along with the tattooed arm enveloping you and the breath fanning your hair made you sure that you were still dreaming. You moved ever so slightly, you wanted to submerge deeper into that dream, and his legs tangled with yours even better as if to tell you you were not going anywhere. It melted you because it reminded you of so many mornings before. So many dawns and sunsets where you’d be tucked in safely inside those arms, with his hum near your ear, his perfume trickling your nose, and you took deep breaths. That was your safety net, the place you rushed to so you could recover, rest, and gain the courage to face the world.

It was enough for you to search for even more. You were sleepy, dreaming, and on the only fluffy cloud in the sky where you wanted to be. So you turned under his arm to face him and your heart instantly trembled. His eyes were closed, but the soft lines of his face were the sweetest thing you had ever seen. You missed those pouty lips, that round cutesy nose, and the swell of those cheeks you used to tease all the time and that made you fall in love whenever delicate dimples would crease. His eyebrows had always been so expressive and now one had a piercing, which didn’t match the two rings adorning his lower lip except that he pierced the same side of his face. But even that didn’t surprise you; when you first met, he said he always wanted to do something, but didn’t know exactly what. You guessed he had figured it out.

You reached to brush his hair aside and felt the two studs on his eyebrow with a feather-like touch — you liked it. You liked everything about him, always had. You knew then your heart was getting loud and you smirked when it became deafening — because he opened his eyes. And in that moment, you decided that reality would only come knocking if you let it. You could pretend it didn’t exist. You could pretend Jungkook was still yours, that he didn’t hate you, that you belonged in his arms again.

You leaned in to nuzzle him and gave him a moment to move away. You were clear — you wanted to go on that ride again and forget everything else, but what about him?

He brushed his nose to yours once and captured your lips with a kiss that fluttered your heart. It wasn’t desperate or crude, it was gentle and warm like when two lovers said good morning. And that was all you needed.

You snuggled closer, embracing him and stretching and sighing in multiple turns. He returned your kiss and held you close, equally invested in that moment with you, away from any pain, anger, or subterfuge. This made you smile, contentment radiating from every corner of you, and it was as if you were in an alternate dimension. You could feel his love again and adore him back and you wanted to make the best of it.

Maybe it seemed against your better judgment, but you broke your kiss with a mischievous smile and turned your back on him. You pulled his arm firmer around you, in case he had silly ideas, and rubbed your ass on his crotch for good measure. The Jungkook you knew didn’t need any explanations or instructions, and indeed, he grabbed you close, grinding his hardening dick on your ass while breathing in the scent of your skin.

His hand came to cup your breast gently and you grinned, feeling elated with the way he was all over you. When he started playing with your nipple to harden it, you bit your lower lip and failed to contain your whimpers. He knew you were sensitive but it never stopped him before.

He started biting and licking down your neck and you were covered in goosebumps, arching your back to give him better access. He kept his sweet torture, but that wasn’t enough for you — you reached between your legs to grab his hard cock behind you and pull it to be squished between your thighs when you closed them. Then you rocked your hips and melted at the groan behind you.

“That’s it,” you cooed in a whisper, clenching around nothing in anticipation. “You’re so hard for me.”

You knew he loved to be coaxed, the same way you loved to tell him how good he felt. He wasn’t stopping, nibbling down your skin and pinching your nipple gently as he rutted you and you bit your lip.

“And I’m so ready for you,” you sighed. “Wont you check?”

Your tone was needy but you never bothered hiding it. His hand travelled from your chest to your core and instantly felt how you were dripping from your folds.

You whimpered, “See how you slide so well?” You meant at the surface, but his fingers sank into your flesh, pumping wet sounds out of you along with needy moans. “Fuck— You know where to go. You’ll feel so good, I promise.”

You felt his smile on your skin as he busied himself pumping you with two digits and getting juicy noises out of you. You moaned onto the pillow, rocking your hips to feel him better both inside you and in between your legs. You loved those sensations, not just the pleasure, but the scent reaching your nose because you were in his bed. You were living a dream and it was absolutely perfect.

His hand grabbed your hip, knowing well you were leaning forward and tilting your ass so he’d eventually slip inside you. The way he was making you crazy for it didn’t elude you, but you were never beyond begging.

“Fuck, baby. Please let me have you, please.”

He froze and you squirmed to feel him, thinking that was him just making you work harder for him.

He moved quickly enough that you didn’t think beyond it — he reached behind him inside a nightstand drawer and got something. You heard the wrap tearing and waited until he was ready. You didn’t let a single thought cross your mind, not now.

He grabbed your hip again and this time his cock pushed between your folds to get inside you, making you moan and lose all strength. He rocked his hips into yours and you gasped, leaning back. You didn’t expect him to grab your hair and arch you further, but you definitely tensed more around him, barely able to catch your breath.

“Fuck— Fuck, I love it when you do this.”

You could feel his breath down your neck. “Yeah? Love it whenever a guy fucks you like this?”

“No, only you.” Your reply was as natural as breathing, giving him all you had. “Always only you.” You were burning inside out, feeling flush not only on your cheeks but also on your chest, hands, and stomach. You reached to grip his arm supporting your hip in place; you were starting to get sweaty but you doubted he minded. You were just looking for more ways to connect with him. “Are you going to tease me? Make me a good girl for you? I always loved to be good so I could earn you filling me up completely.”

His hips jerked off tempo and you only sighed. He remembered for sure what you were talking about.

His fingers dug at your skin, “Yeah? How many times have you begged for a guy’s cum after that?”

“Never. You’re the only one I ever begged to, the only cum I ever wanted. The only raw cock inside me, the only—”

He stopped and pushed you by the shoulder to face him. You were a bit startled but faced him with all the vulnerability you had been showing so far. His eyes were glistening, almost hurt, and your breath shook. You didn’t want that reality, the one in which you hurt him. You wanted to be back a year before when everything was good and sweet.

His eyes were watering up and he looked down. You thought he was running away from you and you were desperate for him to stay, and you looked down too. Before you could speak, you noticed he had his hand around the base of his cock, just frozen like that.

You teared up, “Do it.”

He looked up at you and you saw tears in his eyes as well.

You smiled, “I never had anyone other than you raw. If you want to, I’d love to feel you again.”

He didn’t even blink. You were certain it was an impulse as you saw him pull the condom out and guide himself inside you as if he were a dying man and your core was his salvation. But as you both groaned and closed your eyes with the feeling of being connected again, you couldn’t care. You looked at him with a tear sliding down your face into the pillow and knew that it would all just break your heart in the end.

He must have known it too, because his eyes were glistening and red as he thrust into you at a slower pace. You instantly wanted to beg, but he gripped you closer, jerking his hips into you in a hard yet loving way that melted you to the bone.

“Fuck,” you dragged, trying to look up so you could see him above your legs still bent to the side like when you were spooning. You could feel him all over you again, inside and out in ways that felt like your souls were merging and it had you enter that beautiful reverie. You gripped his arm harder and forced his hand on your chest to squeeze as you moved with him. “Don’t stop. Please, please, please,” you said with every moan, scared that he would pull away and leave you. “Only you feel like this, please.”

“Only me?”

He was breathless, you almost didn’t hear him over your prayers. “Only you,” you confirmed, then you trembled and the words dripped out of your mouth. “I’ve missed you so much. So much,” your voice smothered with anxiety, with the tears flowing from your eyes that you squinted shut.

You didn’t fear that he would reject you or mock you or ignore you, you weren’t thinking. Your heart was hurting and you couldn’t keep it in anymore.

He slowed down and you hid your face under your hands, immediately wanting to ask him not to stop when you felt his breath near your ear.

“Me too. I’ve missed you too, bubbles.” His voice was wavering as he reached to kiss every inch of skin in range, soon after releasing his hand from your grasp only to grab it back and bring it to his lips. “I’ve missed everything. I’ve missed this.”

A sob almost silenced you, but you managed to call for him first, “Kook.”

It was a desperate sound you were almost ashamed to let out, so your hands instantly covered your face again.

He stopped and in a second was pulling your leg under him so he could get on top of you in between your legs and hold you tightly. He leaned down to kiss your hands away as his hips rocked into you gently.

His lips and calls convinced you to uncover your face only to wrap your arms around him and hide in his neck, “I miss you!” You whispered with a lump in your throat. “Please.”

He kissed your red and wet cheeks, down to the salty traces that led into your hairline, “I miss you too.”

Shivers ran down your body as his words emerged a knot of feelings from inside your chest. You were never able to face it, to deal with it, to forgive him or yourself, but his words. The way he was with you, holding you close just like he used to when he loved you. His body was fully connected to yours, maybe even his soul.

You sank your nails onto his back and focused on his weight on you, his soft skin, his scent, and the burning tension in your lower stomach. You knew you would explode soon but you needed to let it out.

“I wanted to see you.”

He kissed your head, “I’m here.”

“I needed to see you,” you tried, but the pleasure sparking inside you was about to steal that chance. So you hugged him closer — a moan was pushed out of you and you could feel your orgasm starting, but you still chirped, “I love—”

You couldn’t finish as you started shaking uncontrollably from the waves of pleasure tensing and relaxing every muscle in your body. You clung on to him, squeezing him so tightly you were surprised he didn’t didn’t break apart. But maybe he didn’t for the same reason as you — he was holding you together.

He waited for you to be done before pulling out and coming over your belly. He didn’t bother separating your bodies and just groaned near your ear as you hugged him close. You could feel the warm substance trickling down the sides of your stomach but you didn’t care. You were never one to be bothered, you were not disgusted by him in the slightest.

He kissed your head and you smiled, waiting and longing for his kiss to travel to your cheeks, then further to your mouth. You tried to control your happiness and kiss him back placatingly, still letting that joy reach corners of you that were dim otherwise.

When he pulled away, you had no idea what would happen, but you were at ease. Because you opened up to him and he missed you back, and even though you weren’t able to tell him properly that you still loved him, you’d surely have another opportunity soon.

That was what you thought and the reason your lips were curved, even when he got away from you to grab wipes so he could clean you. Yet as he did, you noticed he wasn’t looking at you. His jaw was hardening and he didn’t look nearly half as relaxed as you did.

Shit.

He wasn’t done yet when you tried to reach for his hand, but he dodged you and threw the wipe away before putting his legs out of the bed to sit with his back to you. You started shaking.

“Not to ruin your post-nut clarity, but I’d like to talk.”

You chuckled nervously and fumbled with the sheet — everything you said felt risky, and every step you took felt like the ice under you would crack. You feared speaking too soon but couldn’t risk doing it too late. You let those fears drown you once, but not again. At least this time your mistake would be insisting, not letting it slide.

“Nothing to talk about.”

You knew from his tone that he was about to push you away and it made you react. “That’s not true. I said I miss you, and you said it back.”

He didn’t answer; all you could see were his wide shoulders as he leaned forward, supported on his knees, and kept quiet.

You gave him the chance to speak his mind because maybe he needed time and who knew, maybe you did too. But you couldn’t think as you waited, you had no idea what to say. Nothing felt enough, but you wanted to say everything.

He heaved a deep breath and moved a millimeter to get up, and you immediately pushed. “Answer me. Talk to me. Why can’t we have a conversation?”

He scoffed, “That’s rich coming from you.”

You sat up as he got up and searched for clothes in a nearby closet. “It goes both ways.”

You bit your tongue and cursed yourself for reacting instead of thinking first — you didn’t want to fight, you wanted to talk.

You took a deep breath and spoke while he put a pair of boxers on, “Do you miss me?”

He scoffed and left the room and you jumped off the bed after him. You could only grab the nearest tee shirt you saw, black as everything else he owned, and scurried after him.

“Answer me,” you insisted, seeing him in the living room putting pants on. Where did those even come from? “Fucking hell, Jungkook, just answer me!”

“What?!” He exploded, anger brazen on his features, but you didn’t step back.

“Do you really miss me?”

“No.”

You raised your chin and tried to not give away how your heart was cracking further. You couldn’t think or you’d start crying. “Well, fuck you too.” Your voice still wavered, “Don’t fucking lie next time.”

You turned to reach the bathroom and get your clothes so you could leave. Your heart was pulsating with sharp pain and you knew you were seconds away from crying. You needed to get out. Now.

“You’re assuming I—”

“Yeah yeah, no seconds,” you spat bitterly, unsure if he heard you. He shut up, so he did. You grabbed your clothes, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

A sudden noise from behind you startled you so before you could strip, you turned around — he had kicked the bathroom door with so much strength you thought it might have popped off.

“What the fuck do you want from me?!”

“How many times do I have to say it? A fucking conversation!”

“I have nothing to say to you!”

“Fine! You’ll lie anyway!”

You turned your back to him, letting the poisonous anger burn your guts while you got a hang of your dress so you could put it on.

When a loud noise came from the door again, you weren’t even surprised. This time, he punched it and something metal hopped over the floor and rolled away.

“As if you didn’t say those things in the spur of the moment!”

“I didn’t.” Tears ran down your face and you cleaned them quickly, refusing to let the cry take over you. “I meant every word I said.”

“Bullshit,” his voice had so much contempt you almost broke down.

“I don’t care what you believe,” was all you said, then took the tee off. “Just because you lied doesn’t mean I did.”

He saw how your back bent and tensed while you put your strapless bra on. He was shaking in anger but he heard you sniffle and you didn’t sound like you were mocking him. He couldn’t handle it if it was true.

“Don’t joke around—”

“I’m not fucking joking.” You sounded angry now and you grabbed your dress to put it on. He clenched his fists. “But it doesn’t matter, it’s done.”

You put your strapless dress back on, adjusting it so it would cover you as much as possible. You had no way of seeing how angry he was getting at the sight of you wearing that again instead of his clothes, but it was something he would never admit.

“You want me to believe you wanted to see me?”

His voice was derisive and you turned to him. “I did.”

“That you needed to see me?”

He scoffed and you grabbed your heels on the floor. “I did.”

You turned back to him, thinking that maybe now you could actually talk, but he was shaking his head. You saw tears in his eyes before he started laughing and rubbing his face.

“It’s funny, is it?” You asked, filled with contempt yourself. “Why, you didn’t even hit the punchline yet.”

He uncovered his face and his whole expression was a warning.

“What?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you’re going to mock me then at least do it well.”

His jawline was tensing again but you couldn’t care anymore.

“Come on, where’s the final question? You heard me. You would be running your mouth if you didn’t.” You scoffed, “Though I couldn’t really say it properly, but—”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

For a second you thought he was scared, but you only smirked, “I don’t? You know what? You’re right. Congratulations, you’re right about something and all you had to do was be an asshole.” You stepped towards him to get out but he didn’t move out of the way. “Let me go.”

He shook his head and you ignored all kinds of emotions on his face.

You pushed him, but he didn’t move. “Let me go.”

“No.”

You pushed his shoulders again, but he didn’t budge. You clenched your jaw, upset, and saw that it didn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact, maybe he liked it. You pushed him once more and he tried grabbing your arms, and you struggled.

He won — he grabbed your forearms, “What did you say?” You scoffed and he pulled you closer. “Tell me what was I supposed to have heard?”

“I said I—”

You were ready to spit it in his face but your throat blocked as you looked into his eyes. You were both angry and hurt, and you thought you were above it, but you weren’t. If you said it again, it would hurt infinitely more. But then it hit you — he just used you. He was attracted to you and wanted an easy fuck, and that was what that night was. You were hung up on him like a moron.

Your eyes teared up but you made a decision — it would be easier if he just crushed your heart right now.

“I said I love you.”

He released his hold on you instantly as if you burned and you scoffed. You guessed you did — this Jungkook in front of you clearly couldn’t handle something like that. He was a fuckboy now.

You pushed him again and he didn’t resist, falling to the side and letting you pass. You started looking around — you couldn’t recall where you had thrown your purse.

“I said don’t joke around.”

His voice was barely above a whisper and you didn’t stop. You were throwing sofa pillows around, “And I said I’m not joking. And I don’t lie either, contrary to you.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.”

You pulled your hair back with a sigh; it wasn’t on the couch. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.” You continued looking around, maybe in the kitchen? “What does it matter anyway? I get it — why you lied. I was being emotional and you wanted an easy fuck.” You huffed; not there either. “You got it, so you want me to leave now, right? Don’t worry, I want to, I just can’t find—”

He roared and punched something that made the coat hanger fall to the floor. “You talk and talk and talk but you still don’t know what you’re fucking saying!”

You got over your shock quickly and threw your shoes on the floor, “It would help if you fucking talked instead of breaking the place!”

“I can’t fucking talk when you’re driving me insane!”

You scoffed, “Me? Maybe you are just insane.”

He stepped to you with a dangerous look, “Watch your mouth.”

“Why? What will you do?” You rolled your eyes when he only took a deep breath in response. When you looked back at him he was closer and you instantly tensed up, and not in a bad way. He was eying you in that way that had you crazy needy but you stood your ground. “You’re not touching me again.” Your lips pulled in contempt, “Not like you want to. No sloppy seconds, right? So surely no thirds or fourths or—”

He stepped forward, ready to grab you, and you gave him your most disgusted piercing look.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me, don’t even think about using me again.”

You were out of breath, spitting venomous words while your eyes were locked, but in an instant, something wet dripped down your cheeks. You breathed, and instantly you recognized the pain searing your heart. It hurt. It hurt too much.

Your sob had you sucking breaths anxiously and you gave him your back. You didn’t want him to see how much it hurt you.

“I’d never use you.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because—” He heaved a deep breath. It was complicated and he was so conflicted he wanted to punch something again. But seeing your shoulders move as you contained your sobs, his mind cleared. “Because I wanted to be with you.”

“Right,” you chuckled despite the tears. “Wasn’t fucking in a dark alley enough? Why did you bring me here?”

“To be with you.”

“Say it properly. To fuck.” He didn’t answer and you sucked in a deep breath, “Or maybe… maybe something worse. Not just to use me, did you want to hurt me? Is this some sort of… vengeance or—?”

“No!” He raised his arms to your shoulders but he didn’t touch you. You didn’t want him to.

You grinned but it was painful, “Lying again? Fuck, I never knew you like this.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Bullshit,” you almost laughed despite your crying and sniffling.

“It’s the truth.”

“Why should I believe you?”

He gritted his teeth behind you and gripped his hair in frustration. He was never the best at saying things, he always showed you better. He wished he could turn you around and get that stupid dress off you so he could cover you in his tee shirt again. He wished he could kiss your tears and hold you again like there wasn’t a mountain between you. He wished he could have you lying on his bed again saying those sweet things that shook him to his very core. He wished he could see your smile again as you drank your honey oat milk latte just the way you liked it because he made it for you. Fuck, he wanted that and so much more, but none of it would happen. He still hated you.

“Give me one good reason why you even talked to me back at the club,” you asked, more poised now that you had calmed your sobs and cleaned your cheeks. You turned to face him and he looked almost like he was in pain, but you only blinked your wet lashes. Your nose, eyes, and cheeks were still red but he knew you were crying, there was no point in hiding it.

“You looked beautiful.”

You scoffed, “Right… Beautiful enough to fuck easy, ri—?”

“Stop saying that!” Your assumptions were driving him crazy, but you were persistent.

“Why? Cause you can’t handle the truth?”

“Cause it’s fucking bullshit!” He smacked his fist on his palm, then opened both as if he could shake you to your senses, “You think fucking you is easy? You think wanting you and bringing you here was fucking easy? I gave in! I saw you, you said those things, and I had to have you!”

“You didn’t have to bring me here.”

“No, I didn’t!” He agreed with you and it made him swallow and take a breath from his shouting. “I did it for my own selfish reasons.”

“And what were those? If not to use me, not to hurt me or exact some sort of vengeance,” you enumerated with your fingers perhaps a bit pettily, but you wanted to understand. However, he didn’t seem interested in sharing — he had turned his back on you and stepped away to have space. “Then what for?”

He grunted and rubbed his face harshly before turning to face you, “Why do you complicate everything? I answered you already — to be with you. That’s all.”

You frowned and puffed; for some reason that answer just left you even more unsettled. “That doesn’t make any sense.” He threw his hands in the air and you insisted, “You wanted to be with me? Then why not let me finish blowing you?”

He scoffed and shook his head, “Thought you would have figured it out by now.”

Your frown deepened in anger, but it hit you. “Because… you didn’t want to use me?” His only response was a twitch of his eyebrows. “Then why not let me cum? When you ate me?”

He puffed a breath as his nostrils flared, but he still answered you, “Cause I was pissed.”

“Why?”

“Why?!” Your question made it worse. “Cause you spoke to me like I was nobody!”

Your chin dropped, “What?”

“You spoke like it could have been anyone else eating you and making you crazy and it made me want to tear you apart!”

You were shocked, just looking at him, and it infuriated him even more. He tried his best to keep his cool as he paced the living room — why were you making him feel inadequate? Like he was blowing something out of proportion when it meant so much to him?

“That's— I don't get it,” you tried, confused. “I wanted you to know how good you felt—”

“You called me baby!”

He was shouting again and you blinked, “So?”

“So?!” He kicked the back of his couch. “The most fucking generic term I’ve ever heard! Do you know how many people have called me that? Made me despise them every time!”

“But I've called you that before,” you pointed out, still confused. It was one of your nicknames for each other.

“You called me something else.”

His tone was suddenly sober and you instantly knew what he meant. “Kook.”

“Yes.”

He wouldn’t tell you how much he was hung up on it. He wouldn’t let anyone else call him that, he kicked out any women who tried, and just hearing it from your mouth now gave him goosebumps. It was who he was to you, who he wished he had been for his whole life.

You were just looking at each other while you recalled calling him ‘baby’ in the heat of your shared moments. You never meant it in a general way, you meant it endearingly. But you had called him ‘Kook’ earlier, and remembering it twisted your guts. You sighed and rubbed your eyes for a second — you had decided to crush your heart then and there. You weren’t leaving his place without bloodshed so there was no point in hiding.

“I was scared of calling you that,” you admitted, facing him again despite your fears. “I was scared of exposing myself like that.”

“Well, I did,” his grin was a sneer, but you couldn’t understand. Why would what you called him hurt him if he didn’t care? “So that was like a punch to my gut. Or maybe… maybe you didn't even notice that I—”

“Of course, I fucking noticed,” you blurted out, something akin to desperation on your features. “I noticed and it made me completely lose my mind!”

He leaned forward, gripping the couch’s back, “Not enough to expose yourself to me.”

“I was scared! You still hate me, I was—” Your own words hit you in realization, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I was scared.”

He scoffed, “Scared of what?”

“You know what,” you answered, uneasy.

“I do. See why you have no idea what you’re saying? You just blab and assume shit,” he gripped the leather couch and you thought for a moment he could have thrown it around if he wanted to. “The difference between you and me is that I knew who I was choosing.” His features hardened and you fought the urge to look small. “You said you wanted to do this and I took you.”

Your eyebrows twitched, “You’re trying to say I didn’t? Please,” you rolled your eyes. “Because I didn’t call you Kook sooner? You know better than that. I walked up to you, spoke to you, told you I wanted to be with you, came here with you, told you no one is like you, that I missed you, that no one makes me—” You huffed and bit your lip; you weren’t sure about saying any more than you already had.

His eyes were glistening but his grin was almost cruel. “You don’t look so scared now.”

You frowned for a moment before you raised your chin, “No, I guess I’m not. I was until you embraced me this morning and I thought—” Your lips twitched. “But that was fake,” his eyes snapped to yours and you stood still, “right? You lied. You never missed me, so what does it matter if you called me bubbles?” You scoffed but your eyes were filling with tears again, “Why call me that if you never meant it?” You shrugged, “I have nothing to fear anymore. It’s all fucked, I don’t think it can hurt more than this.”

His jaw was clenching hard while you spoke and he walked around. You thought he looked like a ticking timebomb with his biceps rhythmically reacting to his fists opening and closing.

“Well, I fucking wish it did,” he said. “It seems like nothing I do can hurt you, can it?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m fucking serious!”

“Do I not look hurt to you?!”

“I want you to hurt at least a fraction of what it hurts me!” He punched the couch, but your watering eyes only hurt him more. “But all I managed to do was hurt myself even more!”

“You’re hurt?” You couldn’t hide your skepticism.

“What do you think?! Fuck, you’re so fucking selfish you can’t see anything in front of your nose!”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Happens with liars. It’s hard to distinguish—”

“Shut up!” He turned to you and you squeezed your arms for comfort. “What does it matter if I missed you? If every fucking word out of my mouth was the truth and I called you bubbles because of what you fucking mean to me? Look at you!” You were shaking now with welled-up eyes. “Acting like a fucking abandoned puppy! You left!”

“What?”

“You left! You were the one who left!”

Your heart shook and you became pale, “That was— You mean—?”

“Yes!”

“But— You—” You were so confused. “You knew I’d leave!”

“What the fuck does that matter?! You said no and you left!”

Your heart instantly halted, “That’s— That’s something else entirely—”

“Yeah, right!” You shook with the venom in his voice. “I was ready, I made my choice, and you broke my heart!”

You were shaking and gripping your hands to soothe yourself, “I wasn’t ready.”

“You said no!”

His tone was accusatory and your chin trembled as you were swamped with old feelings and memories.

Only this time, you took a deep breath and answered back, “Listen to yourself! That day I told you I was going to the US to work for a year and you asked me to marry you! Does that make sense?!”

He had paced to his desk and as soon as you finished, he grabbed his gaming chair and threw it to the ground.

“You said no! You could have said something else! You could have said not yet or let’s talk or— I don’t know, just anything else! But you said no!!”

“Well, fuck, what was I supposed to say?! I had that job opportunity and you were going too fast!”

He sneered, “Fast?”

“Yes, fast! We weren't together for even a year yet!”

“I don't care! I fucking knew I wanted to spend my life with you! And you said no!”

“I said I love you!”

He kicked the chair on the floor, “And it wasn't enough!”

“No, it wasn't!” You stepped forward, wanting to punch something yourself. “Clearly! You’re fucking mad I said no, but what about you?! You fucking dropped off the face of the earth! You knew the dates of my contract, I forwarded the flight information to you, and you never spoke to me again! You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“What goodbye?! What bigger goodbye do you need than rejecting me when I’m on my knees for you?!”

“Stop being so fucking self-centered!” He started laughing, but you were not done. “I said I loved you. I wanted to be with you and you threw a tantrum like a child!”

“A tantrum?” He was still laughing and you’d recognise that bitterness anywhere.

“Be honest,” you breathed. “Would you have come with me?”

His laughter died. “What?”

“You heard me. And if you couldn’t, would you have waited for me?”

His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights and you let the tears fall from your eyes.

“I never got to ask,” you continued in the silence. “You never answered me again. I always thought that your not answering was your answer. That you never wanted to see me again because if I wouldn’t marry you like you wanted, then you wanted nothing to do with me.”

He finally breathed, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” You smiled and cleaned your cheeks, “Then why is that the only thing you say? That I said no? I never meant no forever, I never meant that I wouldn’t in the future. But I needed that opportunity to build my career, I needed that sacrifice from you and you turned your back on me.”

“No, I—” His mouth was opening and closing, he couldn’t find the right words. “Because— Because I thought you wanted to just— To just leave me behind.”

“Behind? As if I wasn’t leaving my heart with you? Tell me, did you ever think about asking me? About talking to me?” His lips twitched in hesitation and your lips curved painfully, “Right.”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, but you shook your head in disbelief. “I wanted to but I felt broken. You left me and rejected a future with me, you didn’t want me. What point was there in reaching out to you?”

“I wish you had. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked, but a part of me likes to believe we would have made it. One year was a long time but not the end of the world. For you, I would have done it.”

You nodded and looked at his feet for a moment. None of you would ever know now, but you believed it. You were at peace with at least having voiced that to him.

You looked up at him and saw as clear as day how lost he was. He was gripping his hair with pain across his features, maybe something else. He was still shirtless in front of you, a Greek God in all his glory, yet your eyes couldn’t abandon the soft curls of his hair. Now that everything was out there, you were sort of melancholic. You’d miss him.

“Fuck,” he dragged in a grunt. “Is this what you wanted? To find me again and break me?”

You chuckled, “What the hell are you saying? I never thought I’d see you again. And if I did, I expected to find you married to the woman of your dreams.”

He groaned and rubbed his face before facing you, “You— You’re the woman of my dreams!”

Your lips trembled but you stayed quiet; you had no idea where any of that left you.

“I can’t believe this,” he let out, then scoffed. “No, I’m in too deep now. You could have reached out too. You could have told me all this and asked me before, but instead, you just turned and left. Because you didn’t want me.”

“I called you!”

“For like two days! How long do you think it took to heal my wounded heart?”

“I don’t know! From what I’ve heard, your heart has been more than comforted, you probably healed very fast!”

“Oh fuck off,” he spat with harsh eyes. You regretted letting those feelings surface, but it was too late. “You left me after rejecting me, I was free to do whatever I wanted and screw whoever I pleased.”

“You’re right, forget I said that.”

He laughed, “Nah, that’s just you. Worried about whether I’ve been well-fed or not. Why? Thought that would make it easier?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, to get me crazy again.”

You couldn’t help your lips pulling, “I did drive you crazy.” His eyebrow twitched over a dark gaze and you quickly sobered up. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” He could be spitting those words for all intents and purposes.

“No, I meant that after I called you, I took your silence as—”

“No, no, fuck that. Excuses, all of it. You saw me on my knees and butchered my heart, then left days later for another country. If you cared, you would have done more.”

“You act as if you don’t have arms and legs yourself.”

“And you act like a damsel in distress when you’re anything but,” he had neared you now and you sobered up. “I still hate you, you know.”

Your lips trembled and you looked down with a sour smile. You did realize it, but it didn’t make it any easier. “I know.”

You were focused on mapping your conversation and seeing if there was anything you could tell him that could clarify things when he scoffed.

“No, scratch that.” You looked up and saw him running his hand through his hair. “I fucking hate you and the way you just tried to bring me down to my knees again.”

“I didn’t—!”

“I hate that I brought you here 'cause I wanted to see you here, in my home, as if that could bring back what we once were. I hate that I gave you what you wanted even if it hurt. I hate that I called you bubbles as if you’re still that person. I hate— I fucking hate you, I can’t—”

His voice broke down but you had already heard too much. You couldn’t face him anymore, you were hiding under your hand as your spirit drained in the form of tears.

“I understand.” Your sight was blurry but you knew the way out. You stepped around him, “I’ll leave—”

You weren’t expecting him to grab you and crash his mouth into yours, but you didn’t fight him. You let him kiss you desperately and did the same all while the tears kept streaming down your face.

“Don’t fucking leave,” he whispered to your lips, pressing his forehead to yours. “I can’t stand the thought of you walking out. Not again.”

Your cry was uncontrollable, “But you hate me.”

His hands were firm around your head, not letting you move away, and the only sound you both could hear was you trying to control your sobs. It broke him to see you cry, it always did. He didn’t know what to do. No matter how hard he tried, there was this poison inside him that gushed out every time. It was all breaking apart again, and he wanted everything to go to hell, but looking at you, he knew that wasn’t true.

You sniffled, “If you hate me and I love you then we're not on the same page.”

His heart shook like his world could crumble at any moment. “Don't leave.”

“I have to,” you grabbed his arms and accepted it. “So you can find the woman of your dreams.”

“You’re the woman of my dreams.”

You chuckled sadly, “You hate me, Kook. You’ll find someone better, trust me.”

“No, I don’t want anyone else.”

You brushed his cheek, committing that sweet touch to memory. “You’ll be happy. It’s okay.”

“No,” he gripped you firmly, wrapping his arms around your waist instead. “Don’t leave.”

“Why would I stay?”

“Because I don’t hate you. I can’t,” his voice trembled with tears that didn’t flow down his cheeks, but down yours. “I hate myself for not being able to, for pretending, for even trying when I’m so—”

His voice blocked and you reached for him. “Say it… Please say it, don’t hold back,” your plea shook in your voice and you gripped his shoulders tighter. “If you don’t say it, then I won't know what to believe anymore—”

“Fuck,” he closed his eyes, fighting to the last moment all those conflicting emotions within him. But then you nuzzled his nose, holding him closer. Waiting. You weren’t leaving this time until everything was said and done, and he almost burst it out. “I can’t. I can’t hate you, I love you. I could never forget you but you left me behind and I fucking hated everything. Because I love you, because I lost you, because I was lost and I still am. What the fuck do I do?”

“I’m here.”

“No, you’re not.” He moved away and forced himself to take a deep breath. He turned to you, “You’ll walk out again. I fucked up. We fucked up, but I fucked up. Right? I spent a year trying to hate you, loathing myself for not being good enough. For being so sure you were the one while you discarded me so easily like I was worthless, but I never bothered to hear your side. I never bothered to ask you. You broke my heart… but I broke yours too.”

Your chin was trembling, but you didn’t near him. He seemed to need the space.

“I’m sorry.” He hid his face at your words and your tears treaded down again. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you, I was stupid and immature, and you’re right. I knew my heart was staying here with you, I should have tried to reach out and make it clearer. I knew I hurt you, and after I left, I knew you'd hate me. I should have gotten over myself and told you how I felt anyway. Then maybe I wouldn’t have tried to look for you in everyone else or stayed hung up on thoughts of you and—” He chuckled but it was laced with pain and you shook your hands, “No, I’m not blaming you!”

“I know,” he revealed his face, with red swollen eyes, and wet cheeks. “I’m blaming myself. I spent so long trying to hate you, blaming you for everything under the sun in stupid attempts to make it hurt less. I’m an idiot. And an asshole. Look at how I treated you. I can’t face you without hating my fucking stupidity—”

“Ours,” you stepped forward, hesitant to touch him but with your hands raised nonetheless. “If you want to hate something, then—”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you in, “I won’t pretend to hate you anymore.”

“Then don’t hate yourself either,” you asked as he took your hand to his lips.

“I’ll try… since it’s you asking.”

Your lips trembled into a smile at the way he was gently brushing his lips to your hand. “I’m happy we talked about it. I’m happy to hear that you still have feelings for me though I wouldn’t want to assume—”

“Assume.”

You stayed quiet, hesitantly looking into his brown eyes as he sprinkled kisses on your knuckles.

“Jungkook—”

“Assume, bubbles.” You pressed your trembling lips and he brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers, “Assume that I love you and don’t want you to leave.”

Your heart was shaking; you were hoping, but— “Are you sure?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, “I’m sure. I just don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t want to hurt you, but there’s so much we need to talk about.”

His eyes were pleading and you squeezed his hand, “If you could forgive me, that would be a great start.”

He sighed, “I don’t think that’s the problem.”

“Yourself?”

“Slightly more complicated.”

You smiled, “Same.” You stayed quiet just looking at each other when you decided to tell him, “I wish we could… forgive our mistakes and restart. We could get to know each other again. See if… If it would work.”

“You don’t think it would?”

You supported his hand on your cheek, “I think we still love each other.” He held your gaze and you felt your cheeks burning under his touch, “But maybe that also means it will be difficult to heal our wounds.”

He nodded calmly, observing your face. “Do you… hate me? For what I did? For never replying to you or fighting for you.”

“No,” you instantly reassured him. “I thought you made a decision and that you wanted to move on from me. That’s a rejection, but that's life. You didn’t cheat or lie or anything like that.”

He sighed, “That’s true… maybe that’s why I could never truly hate you either.”

You couldn’t help a smile, “We… We’re both idiots.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist closer, “A mistake. It was all a mistake.” He pursed his lips for a moment, then brushed your hair gently behind your ear, “Your ‘no’... you never meant forever?”

You grinned, “No. Though I don't need a ring around my finger to know who I belong to. Do you?”

“Who do you belong to?”

You smirked playfully, “I think you know him.”

He sighed and let you brush your fingers around his neck in an attempt to tickle him before lacing your arms around his neck.

“I would have waited,” he finally said, seeing closely how your smile wavered and your eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t drop everything to go with you, but I would have definitely made it work and visited you whenever I could.”

Your lips trembled and you tried to contain your cry, but your tears won. He pulled you to hide in the crook of his neck and you squeezed him inside your arms.

“Are you… going back?” He realized he didn’t know. “Or are you staying? In Seoul?”

“I got a position here, I’m starting next month.”

He sighed in relief. “I want to try,” his voice was close as he supported your head and leaned over your ear. “Us. I want to try.”

Shivers ran down your spine as you pressed him to you. “Me too.”

472 notes · View notes

minxmut-cafe · 3 months ago

Text

Pairing: Jimin x Reader (Established relationship)

Warning : Cat calling, Jimin is a demonic little shit, reader is a menace, ass smacking, lots of it. Too much of it actually, peaches and cream?

Authors note : A new RM fic is ON THE WAY. I'll be posting it soon. I'm not good at smut soooo i hope y'all don't mind that lolol but I hope you enjoy it!!!

Synopsis:

"A playful marriage spirals into chaos as you and Jimin engage in outrageous cat-calls, demonic butt-slaps, and hilarious battles of affection and sass!"

Jimin is in the kitchen, making himself a snack, and you can’t help but ogle him as he moves around.

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms with a sly grin. “Damn, who let a whole meal walk into my kitchen?”

Jimin pauses mid-reach for a plate, glancing over his shoulder at you with a raised brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, Mr. Park,” you say, taking a step closer and letting out an exaggerated whistle. “Look at you, all good-looking and fine. Did the peach get riper this season, or is it just my imagination?”

He sighs, shaking his head, but you can see the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Y/N, we’ve been married for two years. Are you still going to do this every day?”

“Every. Single. Day,” you declare, walking up behind him and slapping his butt playfully. “Can you blame me, though? Look at this! It’s a work of art.”

Jimin turns around, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, feigning exasperation. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re irresistible,” you counter, winking at him. “So who’s really at fault here?”

He tilts his head, pretending to think. “You do realize you’re basically a walking HR violation in our own house, right?”

“Please, you love it,” you tease, poking his chest. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I stopped hyping you up.”

Jimin chuckles, pulling you closer by the waist. “Maybe,” he says softly, his tone dropping into that dangerously smooth range, “but you’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise, I’d report you for harassment.”

You grin, looping your arms around his neck. “Oh, please. You’d be lost without me.”

“Debatable,” he teases, leaning in and brushing his lips against yours. “But keep calling me good-looking, and maybe I’ll let you stick around.”

You pout rolling your eyes and comments "but you are good looking...and have a thick ass" your eyes get all hungry while staring at his but and he cuts the notion off with a glare

A few days later, It’s a lazy weekend at home, and Jimin is just trying to get some chores done while you’re determined to make his life hilariously difficult.

Jimin is folding laundry in the living room, oblivious to your mischievous gaze as you watch him from the couch. He bends slightly to grab another shirt, and you seize the opportunity.

“Damn!” you say loudly, making him jump.

He glances over his shoulder at you, unimpressed. “What now?”

You pout dramatically, tilting your head. “You’re too good-looking, it’s distracting. I can’t even focus on scrolling my phone!”

Jimin rolls his eyes but smirks as he turns back to the laundry. “You’re ridiculous.”

You get up and saunter over to him, poking his butt with your finger. “I mean, it’s your fault for walking around with this thing.”

“Y/N!” he protests, though the pink creeping up his neck betrays his amusement.

“Oh, don’t act shy now,” you say, fanning yourself exaggeratedly. “It’s like the peach just keeps getting riper. What are you eating these days?”

Jimin snorts, shaking his head as he folds another shirt. “You’re going to drive me insane.”

“Good,” you quip, flopping back onto the couch. “At least you’ll suffer knowing you look too fine to function.”

Later that day, Jimin is fixing something under the sink in the kitchen when he gets too warm and casually pulls off his shirt, tossing it aside. You freeze mid-drink, your eyes locking on him like a predator spotting prey.

“Oh no,” you whisper dramatically, gripping the counter for support. “Here we go again.”

Jimin straightens up, wiping his forehead, and finally notices your exaggerated expression. “What are you—”

Before he can finish, you fan yourself with one hand, letting out a loud, fake moan. “Park Jimin, stop! I’m only human!”

He blinks at you, lips parting in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

“Serious about how good you look? Yes,” you say, biting your lip playfully. “This isn’t fair, Jimin. How am I supposed to focus when you’re walking around half-naked?”

Jimin shakes his head, laughing, but you can tell he’s secretly enjoying it. “I’m literally just fixing the sink.”

“You’re ruining my life,” you declare dramatically, pretending to swoon. “I might have to call HR. Oh wait—we’re married! There’s no HR!”

He sighs, grabbing his shirt and tossing it at you. “You’re impossible.”

You clutch the shirt to your chest, grinning. “And you’re irresistible.”

Later that evening, Jimin’s just trying to get ready for bed, but you’re leaning against the bathroom doorframe, watching him brush his teeth like it’s the most captivating thing you’ve ever seen.

“Park Jimin,” you say, shaking your head. “Even brushing your teeth looks hot. How do you do that?”

He spits out the toothpaste, shooting you a tired look in the mirror. “Are you ever going to stop?”

You step into the bathroom, leaning on the counter beside him. “Never. You signed up for this when you married me.”

Jimin rinses his mouth, sighing. “I married you for your charm, not your ability to catcall me 24/7.”

“Well,” you say, shrugging, “you got both, so you’re welcome.”

As he puts his toothbrush away, you give his butt a playful slap. “Still riper by the second, I see.”

He groans, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him. “If I didn’t love you so much, I’d be filing harassment complaints right now.”

You grin, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Love me too much to resist me, huh?”

“Debatable,” he teases, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “But keep this up, and I might start charging you for all this eye candy.”

You gasp, feigning offense. “Charge me? Please, you should be paying me for appreciating your artful beauty.”

Jimin just laughs, pulling you toward the bedroom. “Come on, you menace. Time for bed before you get any more ideas.”

“No promises,” you sing-song, poking his side as you follow him.

After dinner, You’re lying on the couch, scrolling through your phone, while Jimin cleans up in the kitchen. You glance over, watching him move around, wiping down the counter. His broad shoulders flex slightly as he stretches to grab something, and you immediately sit up.

“Excuse me,” you call out.

Jimin turns around, a dish towel in hand. “What?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you trying to distract me on purpose? Be honest.”

He looks confused. “I’m cleaning the kitchen.”

“Exactly!” you say, standing up and pointing at him. “You’re cleaning too attractively. It’s criminal.”

Jimin lets out an incredulous laugh, tossing the towel on the counter. “I think you’re just looking for an excuse to bother me.”

“Oh, trust me, I don’t need an excuse,” you reply, sauntering up to him. “But since you’re giving me one…”

You give his butt another playful slap, grinning when he jumps slightly.

“Y/N!” he protests, trying not to laugh.

“What?” you ask innocently, tilting your head. “I’m just appreciating my husband’s many assets.”

He shakes his head, wiping his hands on the towel. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” you counter, leaning in to peck his lips. “So I guess we’re even.”

Later, in the bedroom, Jimin’s standing in front of the closet, deciding which pajamas to wear. He finally settles on a plain white T-shirt and a pair of gray sweats, pulling them on while you sit cross-legged on the bed, watching him like a hawk.

When he turns around, you let out another dramatic whistle, fanning yourself for emphasis. “Whew, somebody call the fire department. This man is too hot to handle!”

Jimin groans, covering his face with his hands. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I’m married to the most attractive man on the planet,” you say, crawling across the bed toward him. “And I think it’s only fair I remind you of that every five minutes.”

“Every five minutes?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine, every two minutes,” you say with a smirk, running your hands up his chest. “You’re welcome.”

Jimin chuckles, grabbing your wrists and gently pulling your hands away. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“And you’re lucky I don’t charge for these compliments,” you retort, sticking your tongue out at him.

He rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Come on, let’s go to bed before you completely lose your mind.”

In bed, As you settle under the covers, Jimin reaches over to turn off the lamp, but you stop him by grabbing his arm.

“Wait,” you say, your voice suddenly serious.

He freezes, looking down at you in concern. “What is it?”

You reach up, cupping his face dramatically. “I just need to say… you’re really, really good-looking. Like, offensively good-looking. And I need you to stop.”

Jimin stares at you for a moment, blinking, before bursting into laughter. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m serious!” you insist, grinning. “I’m over here trying to sleep, and you’re just lying next to me looking like a literal god. How am I supposed to rest?”

He leans down, brushing his lips against your forehead. “Maybe I’ll wear a bag over my head tomorrow.”

“Don’t you dare,” you say, pulling him down for a kiss. “I didn’t marry you to cover up all this perfection.”

Jimin laughs, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Fine. But only because I love you.”

“And because you secretly love my constant flirting,” you add smugly.

“Debatable,” he teases, though the smile on his face says otherwise.

The next morning, Jimin wakes up and he's in the mood for some sweet sweet revenge. From the moment you step out of the bedroom that morning, Jimin is already prepared to unleash his vengeance.

You walk into the living room, still yawning and stretching, when suddenly—

“WHOOO-WEE! Look at you!” Jimin whistles loudly, startling you so much that you nearly trip over the coffee table. “Baby, is it just me, or did that rack get even more majestic overnight?”

You freeze, your jaw dropping. “Jimin!” you gasp, turning to glare at him.

But Jimin isn’t done. He leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and smirking. “Don’t give me that pouty look, babe. You know you look good enough to eat. Speaking of…” He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your backside. “Would you mind if I had some cream with that peach today?”

Your face goes up in flames. “You—you can’t just say stuff like that!” you sputter, your voice cracking.

Jimin shrugs innocently. “Why not? You’ve been doing it all week.” He struts over to you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Turnabout’s fair play, right?”

You try to back away, but Jimin closes the gap, his hand landing on your hip. Before you can stop him—

SMACK!

His hand collides with your backside in a slap so loud and so forceful, you nearly see stars. Your spine straightens instantly, and a scandalized gasp escapes your lips. “JIMIN!”

He grins, completely unrepentant. “What? That’s for all those love taps you’ve been giving me. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You glare at him, your face still burning. “That was demonic! I felt that in my SOUL!”

Jimin laughs, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you pout. “Aw, don’t act like you don’t love it. You’ve been asking for this all week, babe.”

Jimin doesn’t let up, not even for a second. As you walk around the house trying to go about your day, he’s constantly on your case, his cartoonish comments getting more ridiculous by the minute.

When you bend down to pick up the laundry basket, he lets out an exaggerated “Ohhh, would you LOOK at that?!” complete with an ear-piercing whistle.

You shoot him a glare over your shoulder. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he replies smugly. “I’m just admiring the view. What’s that thing you always say? Oh yeah—‘Does the peach get riper by the season?’” He chuckles when you let out a frustrated groan.

Later, while you’re cooking lunch, Jimin casually strolls into the kitchen, shirtless and grinning like he owns the place. He leans against the counter, watching you intently.

“Hey, babe,” he says, his voice dripping with fake innocence.

You don’t even look up. “What now?”

He smirks, tilting his head. “You need help stirring the pot, or are you already doing that by just standing there looking like that?”

You nearly drop the spoon. “Jimin, I swear—”

He cuts you off with another slap to your backside, this one just as demonic as the first. The sound echoes through the kitchen, and you yelp, spinning around to glare at him.

“Jimin!”

“What?” he says with a grin, shrugging. “You’re just so cute when you’re mad. Can’t help myself.”

You’re still sulking on the couch when Jimin leans in, his cheeky grin lighting up the room. "Admit it, babe. You don’t have what it takes to beat me at my own game," he teases, winking at you.

You narrow your eyes at him, a competitive spark igniting in your chest. “Oh, you think so, huh?”

“I know so,” he replies smugly, leaning back like he’s already won. “You’ve been whining about my slaps all day. No way you’re tough enough to keep up.”

That’s it. The gauntlet has been thrown.

You stand up abruptly, fixing him with a determined glare. “Alright, Park Jimin. You wanna play? Game on.”

Jimin’s smirk falters for a split second before returning in full force. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

It starts innocently enough—or as innocent as this ridiculous war can get. You’re walking past him in the kitchen when you see your opening. With lightning-fast reflexes, you swing your hand and land a solid slap on Jimin’s backside.

SMACK!

Jimin barely flinches. Instead, he turns to you with an amused grin. “That’s all you got? Weak.”

“Oh, just you wait,” you mutter, already plotting your next move.

But Jimin doesn’t give you a chance to strike again. As you turn away, he retaliates with a slap so loud it echoes through the house.

SMACK!

You yelp, stumbling forward as the sting radiates through your entire body. “JIMIN!”

He laughs, completely unrepentant. “What’s wrong, babe? You look like you felt that one all the way in your spine.”

You glare at him, your cheeks burning. “Oh, you are so going to regret this.”

The battle intensifies as the day goes on. No moment is safe.

You’re lounging on the couch, pretending to watch TV, when Jimin walks past. Without warning, you lunge at him, landing a slap that makes his muscles ripple under your hand.

SMACK!

He stops in his tracks, turning to you with a raised eyebrow. “You really think that’s gonna faze me?”

“It will if I keep going,” you taunt, wiggling your fingers in the air like you’re gearing up for round two.

Jimin smirks, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “We’ll see about that.”

Before you can react, he lands another one of his demonic slaps, this one so forceful you nearly tumble off the couch.

“JIMIN!” you shriek, clutching the armrest for support. “You’re insane!”

“And you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he quips, strutting away like he owns the place.

The slaps are one thing, but the constant cat-calling takes this war to a whole new level.

When you bend down to grab something from the fridge, Jimin lets out an exaggerated whistle. “Daaaamn, babe! Is that peach getting riper by the hour, or am I imagining things?”

You whirl around, your face flushed. “Will you stop?”

“Not a chance,” he replies, grinning. “You’ve been doing this to me all week. Fair’s fair.”

Determined to turn the tables, you wait until Jimin takes his shirt off while doing laundry. As soon as his abs come into view, you fan yourself dramatically. “Oh no! Someone call the fire department because this man is too hot to handle!”

Jimin rolls his eyes, chuckling. “You’re ridiculous.”

But you’re not done. You press your hand to your chest, moaning his name like a swooning soap opera star. “Jimin! Oh, Jimin! You’re so…so…”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he warns, though the grin tugging at his lips betrays him.

By evening, it’s clear that neither of you is backing down. The slaps have become so intense that your cheeks are literally sore.

You’re standing by the dining table when Jimin sneaks up behind you, landing a slap so fierce that your knees nearly buckle.

“Park Jimin!” you shriek, spinning around to glare at him. “That’s it. You’re going down.”

“Oh, really?” he challenges, crossing his arms. “What are you gonna do about it?”

With a mischievous grin, you step closer, pretending to reach for his shoulder. Then, with all the strength you can muster, you swing your hand and land the most demonic slap of the day.

SMACK!

Jimin actually stumbles forward, his eyes widening in shock. “Yah! Are you trying to break me?”

You smirk triumphantly. “Maybe. How does it feel, Mr. Tough Guy?”

Jimin rubs his backside, laughing. “Alright, I’ll admit it. That was impressive.”

“Thank you,” you reply, bowing dramatically. “I’ll take my trophy now.”

But Jimin isn’t done. “Not so fast, babe.”

Before you can escape, he pulls you into his arms, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “This isn’t over.”

You shiver, a mix of anticipation and excitement coursing through you. “Oh, it’s so over.”

Jimin chuckles, his grip tightening. “We’ll see about that.”