Collection of GOT7 One-Shots (xReader)

Last Night (Jaebeom)

They say the end offers a new beginning. As Jaebeom finishes his high, you start to cry.

He doesn't notice that your tears are silently streaming, not with him busy thrusting into you, one hand holding the headboard for leverage. And even if he does see you crying, he'll take it as a result of pleasure. It wasn't just once or twice that you've cried because of how good he is.

He spills inside of you and collapses on top of your body. Your heart feels heavy and you try to breathe evenly.

A few moments later, he moves to remove himself from you, rolling on his side of the bed. You can hear his deep breaths due to the intensity he gave tonight, and though soundless, the way your chest rises and falls mirrors his exhaustion.

But you aren't tired of what happened tonight. You are tired of what's happening every one of these nights. Nights when he'll be lonely, or stressed, or just plain bored. Nights when he calls you and you come to help him, because that's what you do for the people you love.

Love. If he knew that it's the reason why you drop everything to spend the night with him, he'd be the one to drop you.

So you wipe your tears and silently sit up, trying to feel your legs. There's a throbbing ache on your centre, but it's nothing compared to the ache on your heart. Good thing Jaebeom isn't pissed off of something or stressed from his work. You wouldn't have been able to even stand.

"Where are you going?" you hear him ask from behind you, voice hoarse and incredibly inviting.

You almost shake your head just to keep your focus. Back turned on him, you say, "I'm going."

You hear him shuffle a little. "Already?"

You don't answer, just start picking up your clothes. Like picking up yourself piece by piece, so you can walk away whole, and not give him the chance to break you through the crack you've unknowingly taken care of.

You still when you feel his arms snake from behind you. His chest is on your back, and you can guess that his feet is still on the bed. It would've been a funny scene, him clinging on you. You used to thank these moments, but now it's one you don't want to meet.

"You're quiet tonight. Are you okay?" he asks, giving your back butterfly kisses.

You are, right now. After you tried to turn your casual hook up into something more, and failed miserably resulting to it going to a what you are now, his slightest effort to ask about how you feel makes it all okay. It's been months of him asking you if he's doing you good. Never if you're feeling good.

You feel okay. But that doesn't change the situation. You're glad that for the last time, you get a glimpse of the side you fell for. Before you leave the side he has shown you the past months.

"I'm tired," you answer weakly.

"Of course you are," you hear the smug in his voice.

"No, Jaebeom. I'm tired," you tell him now with conviction.

He senses the meaning, so he pulls you to turn to him. You let him guide your body, until he's looking up to you, hands on your bare sides. "Tired of what?"

"Of this," you say with a sad smile. "Of running to you like you're water and I'm in the desert, parched. I want to find my dignity again. I'm tired of being used."

Your choice of words makes his hold tighten, his face turning hard. He moves to sit on the bed, pulling you down so he can talk to you eye to eye.

"I'm not using you," his eyes show how much he means it.

You put a hand up to touch his cheek. "You're not. I'm the one using me."

He doesn't understand what you said, but the way you kiss him after tells the whole story. All this time, you've let yourself indulge to this temptation. Like a drug you slowly intake, until you can't live without. It's what keeps you living, and also kills you slowly.

Before he takes control, like how each kisses end up, you pull away. You rest your forehead on his and take a deep breath. You will miss the galaxy beneath his eyes, his smell so divine, and his lips that take you places.

You will miss this.

But you won't come back.

"What if I ask you to stay?" he says in a whisper, his voice like velvet offered for your tired soul. His breath tickles you, so you can't help but smile. A sad, small smile.

"But you won't," you give him one last peck before forcing yourself to walk away.

It's pathetic how you said it but still hoped. As you dress up to go, you wait for just one word. You accepted the fact that his world is so much bigger than yours, that his ever changing career doesn't have time to deal with anything but fleeting affairs, that you should be happy that he at least tried with you.

But that's what's sadder. He tried. He didn't succeed. Which means you're not enough.

You look up the waking sun as you walk home. Your heart isn't heavy anymore, but rather, empty. You don't know which one is worse.

Last night was your last night with him. And that last night has ended. You're ready to begin something with the fragments you call your heart.