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becomingmina · 5 months

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Fuckboy Min - angst&smut w/ Lee Know. 18+ only mdni.

{Mina’s notes: Minho is kinda mean. The way I would have done anything for him just so he can like me back. Also happy 200 followers to me. ❤️‍🩹}

"Isn't that Y/N?" Han asked looking over the older boy's shoulder.

Minho turns his head around and sees you amongst the crowd - of the very grand party he dreads. He feels himself tense up at the sight of you, he hasn’t seen you in a while and you looked as beautiful as ever. He can feel the corner of his lip turn up as he replays memories of him and you, and that’s when he realises he misses you.

But the feeling soon fades when he notices you’re with a guy. Only a month and you already found yourself a guy? Loud sweet giggles falls from your lips as you grip the man's biceps, laughing about nothings. He scoffs to himself as he recognises the man.

“Out of all the boys in this fucking city, she chose fucking Hwang Hyunjin?” Minho blurted, he was mad. “She’s got a type. Fuckboys,” he turns back around to Han and raises his brows, as if asking for him to agree with the statement.

“You’re not going to do anything right hyung?” Han nervously asked, knowing his hyung will definitely be doing something.

“She just looks too happy, Han. I gotta ruin it for her. Especially when it’s Hwang Hyunjin she’s fucking with,” Minho says before downing the rest of his drink and ditching the younger boy.

Minho met you a couple months ago at one of his mother’s grand get-together. He only came to these events in hopes to find a hook up or a quick fuck, he was never here to support his mom on what ever event-job-work-promotion she got herself into. He probably got with half of the girls who attended these parties with their rich parents.

“Imagine what your daddy would think of his sweet innocent daughter completely coming vulnerable underneath some guy she just met?” Minho would often whisper in their ears as he thrusts into them. He would say anything to get them to sleep with him then ghost them the next day, leaving them restless.

However you weren’t like any of these girls to him, well at first. Minho was addicted to you, he couldn’t put his finger on it but he kept coming back to you. After seeing you a few times, he proposed for you both to be fwb and you agreed, because to be very honest, Minho was hot and he was a great fuck, the best if you can say. Also, something about him felt very secure to you. Meaningless fucks turned into lingering kisses, then turned into secrets date nights. You both shared such gentle and heartfelt moments, like cooking dinner together to holding hands randomly. Minho became so romantic with you secretly, but he never sincerely voiced it. You fell for him. You wanted to do anything for him in hopes that he liked you back. You became obsessive, got restless, jealous that there was many other girls hovering around him. You wanted him to yourself, and it got to the point where you had pull him away one night, letting your tears run down your face as you admitted your feelings to him, intoxicated. And maybe because he never dealt with such heavy feelings and high emotions like this before that, he turned on you.

“Y/N, you're just like the other girls.. Maybe worse. Easy. Clingy. I would never like you back.. Are you crazy?" You couldn't believe it, he abandoned you. Minho ended up treating you just like all the other girls.

Now the other half of the girls that Minho didn’t hooked up with were probably sorted by Hwang Hyunjin. The city’s heartbreaker. Classic story of two best friends that now hates each other. Minho and Hyunjin grew up together, basically brothers due to their mother’s close friendship. But when the boys got older they grew apart. Times that was supposed be spent together catching up on a tv show or playing basketball turned into time spent with a girl trying to get her to undress underneath them. It was now a competition to see who played the most girls. Oh how toxic.

So when Minho saw you in the ballroom with Hyunjin, he assumed you two were sleeping together. Minho needed to get you alone before the end of the night.

He needed to ruin you, in order to ruin it for Hyunjin aswell.

“Should I get you another drink?” The long haired boy asked realising the glass in your hand was almost empty.

“I was actually eyeing the orange slices over there-” you pointed out, gesturing to the massive grazing table.

“-Mimosa?” He was quick to respond, tone so sweet and cheeky.

“You know me too well Hyunjin,” you smiled admiringly up at the boy.

“I’ll get the champagne, you get the oranges and we meet back here then,” he says, hints of his dorky smile showing.

You were finally alone.

"Hey baby," Minho speaks from behind you, his voice so deep, hands find their way to your hips sending chills down your spine. He used to call you that all the time, and your heart never fails to beat out of your chest from it.

Lee Minho. Why the hell was he behind you? Shouldn’t he breaking some poor innocent girl’s heart?

“I missed you.” You stood still at his words, unable to move.

No not this again.

"Minho, go away," you finally spoke, building up a wall that you know isn’t going to stay up.

"No. I need to talk to you baby. I missed you," he made sure you heard him, his hands now made its way higher to your waist. "You look so pretty tonight..” one hand rests on your waist as the other one slowly travels to your thigh. “I missed your pretty little body so much, baby,” his lips were so close to your face, the proximity is so familiar, so safe that you wanted to turn and press your lips on his. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Minho had you under his spell, his presence was all it took for you to consider him again. You lean back, head taking its place on his shoulder as your back pressed on his chest. You tilt your head up slowly, finally looking at him. Oh, he was so beautiful as ever. His cute little bunny teeth showing from his agape mouth, his pretty sparkly eyes looking down at you, and his sharp nose, which you remember you use to peck so much. You missed him so much, you couldn’t resist it anymore.

“Min.” You say in the most vulnerable tone ever, gripping his forearm, giving in to him. He smiles at the nickname, the nickname only you were allowed to call him by.

"Come with me," and with that he yanked your arm dragging you through the crowd, for sure going to leave Hyunjin confused when he comes back.

Minho pulled you into an empty bathroom and pressed you against the door after locking it, instantly smashing his lips on to yours. His lips feels so soft against yours and your body hasn’t felt this rush of adrenaline in a while that you were going insane. Already feeling yourself start to go wet, you were so bothered, you needed more. Your teeth clashes as he practically devours you, his hand hoists one of your leg over his hip.

“Need you on the counter, bunny,” he murmured in between the kisses, there goes the nicknames again. He carries you to the counter, helping you up, your legs immediately spreading for him to slot himself in between. His hand slips underneath your dress, brushing against your clothed core.

“Already so wet for me,” he smirks, feeling the patch on your panties. “Can I?” He asked tapping his finger twice on your core. You nodded throwing your head back and he accepts the invitation to suck on your neck, leaving marks. Minho’s fingers pulls your panties to the side, his pointer finger finally runs through your folds. You were so warm, so sticky already that Minho let out a moan into your neck, unable to control the pleasure he was also having. You jolted forward when his fingers finally entered you pumping you slowly, causing him to let out an airy scoff. “Need to taste, let me taste?” You nod again knowing every time Minho ate you out, he would reward you with his dick for being such a good girl. You wanted that again.

“Need to hear you say it, Y/N,” he stops his movements, to brush your hair out of your face adoring your features.

Verbal consent has always been a big thing to Minho. He has so much control when the other person expresses what they want. It feeds into his already massive ego seeing the other person submit to him, makes him feel like he was in winning. And right there and then when he asked that question he wanted you to submit, so he can feel bigger than Hyunjin.

“Yes, please Min. I want it,” you gave him exactly what he wanted. You missed this. You missed his body and how he fucked you, how he made love to you. You miss Minho. You miss how sweet and gentle he was. How he would text you if you got home okay after spending the entire day with him. How innocent and lovely he can be talking about his cats, his hobbies. You wanted him to like you back, to want you back that you were willing to let him do anything to you, to use you.

“You’re still so good baby,” he buttered you up pressing a kiss your lips once more, letting it linger on a bit before dropping to his knees. He bundles your thin long dress around your waist, pulling down your soaked panties and burying them deep in his pocket. He is met with your pretty pussy, glistening with arousal. Your scent takes him by surprise and he goes numb. Oh, how he remembers it all so well, he would spend forever in between your legs on a Sunday afternoon. He parts your thighs and moves his face closer to your cunt, finally sliding his tongue in your slit. You still taste as sweet as ever too and that was all it took for Minho to devour you, to eat you out like a starved man. You lean back on one hand and the other one finds its place in Minho’s hair keeping it there. He was so good with his tongue, alternating between giving fat stripes, kitten licks and harsh sucks on your clit. Minho was getting you closer to your orgasm. Moans and whimpers falls from your lips as you allow him to hear how good he is making you feel.

“Feels good baby? You still taste so sweet, I just know you’re still going to be so tight." he removes himself from you just so he can glance up at your fucked out state nodding to every word he was saying.

“Want to- to cum,” you needed to cum, you were on the verge of tears feeling the tension in your stomach start to fade..

“Hm?”

“Please, I want to cum Min,” you restates and he dives back down. He grips your thighs as he makes out with your pussy, his nose hitting your clit every now and then to get you going again. Minho picks up his pace, moving his kisses to your clit where he then sucks harshly earning a sharp moan from you. You jolt forward, thighs closing around him, throwing your head back as you spray Minho with your sweet release. You feel him smirk against your pussy, his mouth and chin coated in your arousal. That wasn’t enough for you, you wanted more. Your hand pushes his head further into your cunt as you grind down in his nose, riding out your high. Minho lets you use him, his tongue still overstimulating you until you were satisfied. Frankly, he found it hot how after just one taste you go feral for him.

He licks his lips cleaning himself off as he gets up from your legs, helping you pull down your dress. He cages you between his hands that are now resting on the counter, you don’t move. Just staring up at him, he examines your features again, taking all everything that he used to adore. Something about this moment just feels so innocent to both of you, that Minho can help but give you small giggles, his lips turning into a smile. You mirror it in return, sitting in silence as you both recalls the old times.

A sudden buzz of your phone causes you both to snap out of the sweet moment, heads turning to the device next to you on the counter. And Minho grows hot, his reputation overshadowed his feelings for you the second he saw Hyunjin’s name pop up. He lets out a scoff, remembering why he got you in this bathroom in the first place.

Minho's leans in slowly, one hand still gripping on the counter but the other comes up close to your face. Your phone forgotten now. You think he's about to kiss you but he dodges your lips, making his way by your ears as he lets out an airy chuckle, he sounded so cocky you were taken by surprise at his sudden change in demeanour.

"God, Y/N. You're still so easy," His tone deep aiming an attack on you as he reaches for the paper towel dispenser behind your head. He pulls out a towel throwing it to you, to clean yourself up. "Still so desperate for me". It broke you. He has never done this to you before, usually he'll be on after care and cleaning up. Your head snaps to his face, taking in his smirk and dark eyes. You swallow hard, a salty taste coat your tongue and you realise you're trying you best to not cry.

“Are you this desperate for Hyunjin too?” you furrowed your brows together in response. What?

“Hmm?” You asked confused.

“You got a type Y/N, you’re so pathetic.” He continues, the vibrating of your phone doesn't help but fuels his anger.

"Min, what do you mean?" It was clear to you that Minho and Hyunjin weren’t the best of friends when you meet with Minho. But that night when Minho abandoned you, Hyunjin witnessed the whole thing. He help you get up, covering you with his his coat, wiping away your tears and took you home.

"What are you doing here with Hwang Hyunjin?" he finally asked. But you don't respond, instead you hop off the counter, unable to control how hurt you are from his previous act. Your eyes sparkle, cheeks pink, lips trembling. He takes in your reaction, making him feel a bit guilty as he has seen this all before. The night you admitted your feelings.

"You guys fucking?" this time his tone and eyes soften, it was like he needed to confirm it first before continuing to take out his anger and tension on you. You reach for your phone but he snatches before you could, declining the call sliding it across the counter where you can’t reach.

"Does he fuck you as good as I do?" He moves in closer, your noses barely touching. "He treats you better than I do?" You stay quiet.

You didn't know what to answer. Do you lie? Do you teel the truth? Regardless at the end of this Minho isn't coming back to you right? You realised the moment he called you pathetic.

He moves in to kiss your cheek, a gentle peck. Your heart starts to race even more, unable to look him in the eyes. One hand comes up to hold your face, thumb rubbing against your cheeks. "Come on baby, tell me and I'll give you what you want," his lips comes in contact with yours. You melt into the kiss, your hands grasping the waist band of his trousers. Snap out of it, Y/N. "Hmm, you going to be good and tell me? He kisses you better than I do?" He kisses you harder, helping you back up the counter. He takes back his initial position, in-between your legs. Minho moves his kisses down your neck as his hands advances to your shoulders, pulling the thin straps down exposing your chest. He gulps at the sight and latching his lips onto your boob, his hand groping the other one. You tired your hardest not to give in but you cant, the feeling is too strong. You whimper at the contact, your hand palming his hard on through his pants. It was the first time you touched him that night and Minho throws his head back, unable to control the sexual frustration.

"Fuck- see what you do to me, baby?" He coos. You undo his belt, pulling his trousers along with his boxer down, meeting with his big cock. He was already so red, a bead of pre cum already spilling frim his tip. You grab the base of his cock, holding it firmly giving him a gentle pump. Just like the way you always did. Fuck Y/N I missed this so much. Minho finds himself addicted again as he shuts his eyes, a little moan slipping from his lip. You continue to pump him and he tries his best not to give into you but your hands felt so good, he could cum like this. You lean forward attaching your lips to his neck, leaving marks just like he did to you before. “Want you Min,” you whimper on his skin. You needed to feel him inside you.

"Answer me first, Y/N." He was getting irritated at your lack of answer. God, why are you so caught up on this Minho! Your phone rings again, the buzzing noises incites his thought, and that was the breaking point for him. Hwang Hyunjin. Only Y/N would want such a pathetic man like him. "I'm not fucking you if you’re dirty Y/N," he says and you halt your movements, completely removed yourself from him.

"What?" You replied. Minho is now faced with your confused face.

"You're so desperate Y/N. I can’t believe you’re with Hyunjin right after I left you? You're so dirty for that,” Minho repeat himself moving closer to you to provoke you, he was sure you had given yourself to the other bloke. Your lack of answer confirmed it for him too. “Did you fuck Hyunjin?" But he was determined to hear it.

You took a deep sigh, and all the names and remarks he had made to you tonight flooded your head. You’re hurt. God, Y/N you are pathetic. You wanted to turn this on him but you couldn’t. Regardless of what you answer, you couldn’t win and Minho won’t be yours.

"No I didn't because I love you, Min," you confessed, pushing him off you. You proceed to pull up your dress and jump off the counter. You needed to leave him.

You brushed past him retrieving your phone and bag, unlocking the door and walking out.

Leaving him the way he left you, abandoned. Although it was your feelings that he disregarded, leaving him while he was hard and sexually unsatisfied like this would have hurt the same for a fuck boy like him.

But Minho wasn’t hurt by that. Your words was the thing that stung him. Shes loves me? No one had ever done this to Minho, he didn't know what to do. Such a similar feeling to how you felt - when he ghosted you and just now.

His words still played in your mind, they're still lingering around you. You wanted to sob, cry your heart out but you couldn't just yet, only allowing the tears to build in your eyes. Did you really just let him treat you like that? You chose pleasure again instead of protecting your already broken heart. Minho was right, you are fucking easy. You see the exit through your blurry vision and you rushed to it, pushing into the many people that was just crowding around. Just as you're about to leave a hand pulls you back.

"Y/n, you okay?" You turned around to meet with Hyunjin, and you couldn't help but burry your face in his chest as you let your tears fall.

"I hate him," you cried loudly, your whole body shaking and your legs go numb. Hyunjin hugs you, both arms wrapped around you tightly as he lets you become completely vulnerable. You were safe with him.

"I know.. Let's go home."

{ Part 2 here + Part 3 here }

#becomingmina #skz smut #lee know smut #hwang hyunjin #lino smut #lee minho smut #Lee know angst #lee minho angst #Lino angst #skz angst #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids smuts #stray kids blog

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endotwrites · 3 months

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more of the toxic!fwb ghost who got reader knocked up pls!!!!!!!

situationship!simon who is reluctant to be at your baby shower

clad in pink whilst simon grudgingly wears a navy blue shirt, you sit with a group of your closest friends in your apartment. simon’s eyes bore into the TV who’s volume has been significantly lowered so you and your friends can converse. “i’m hoping for a girl. i don’t know, a mini me with si’s personality would be kinda cute” you say quietly, more as a thought spoken out loud. your friend’s heads nod slowly, with one taking a long sip of their drink.

simon was never fond of how your “peers” treated you - demanding on nights out to split an uber home when you’d rather have simon pick you up and spending the night and resistant in seeing each other around birthdays. even this “baby shower” which was completely organised by you, you just about got all four of them to show up.

you clear your throat to fill the awkwardness. “uhh well, i’m just hoping they’re healthy,” you smile meekly, mindlessly rubbing your hand over your stomach and peeking glances at simon to watch for a reaction. with an uninterested expression marking his face, you can tell you both regret this day. you because your friends couldn’t have one day off without indulging into their own fantasies with your unborn baby and simon with your friends. period.

tears begin to blur your vision as the girls quickly turn the conversation into what their next hangout will be, most likely with alcohol involved which you see as your cue to excuse yourself and head to the bathroom.

you exhale loudly as you click the door closed and only stare at your stomach in the reflection. attempting to recover so you can make a reappearance, your chin only quivers and elicits quiet sobs from you. a detached friends with benefit who’s now turned baby father and people who merely keep you in their lives as a place holder for the next, you can only draw quicks breaths at how depressing your life sounds.

as you’re in your head, you hear the bathroom door twist open “sorry, i’ll just be a min-“ simon steps into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. you don’t turn around but only stare into his eyes through the mirror. your face is blotched with tears that now silently stream down your face and your knuckles white from gripping the counter.

simon doesn’t bother to question you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into him. you tip your head back to meet his shoulder with simon’s hands now caressing your sides and the underside of your heavy tummy.

“s’alright, i think she’s a girl too.” you smile softly whilst simon placing his chin atop your head.

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 4 months

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Saffy Lemur's 2023 Simon Riley Fic Recommendations

Jumping on the bandwagon of showing some appreciation to some of the following COD writers that I’ve grown to love reading their work💕❤️ please do yourselves a favor and give some love to these amazing writers.

These are only a few of the many that I absolutely adore, and I plan to add many, many more as time goes on💕❤️💕

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Series:

The Roomate Series by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world : I absolutely adore the way Simon is written in this series. Wonderfully written story, and well worth the read.

Somebody’s Watching Me by @deakyjoe : not enough can be said for just how much I love this story. I’ve re-read it more times than I can count. One of the very first Simon series I’ve read, and I cannot recommend it enough.

Absolution by @barefoothighlander : Husband Simon in this is amazing. I loved the story, and the characters. So well written!!

Happiness by @lethalchiralium : This. This. This. Has to be one of my favorites of Simon as a dad. This author is one of the many that inspired me to write. Please, read this, and all her works.

Cure For Me by @groguspicklejar : it’s a zombie ghost series, what on earth more could you wish for. This is absolutely killer and so well written.

Smut:

Simon Seeing Your Tummy Buldge by @hyperfixatesnwrites : the title of the fic should be MORE than enough to have anyone racing to read this. Absolute WONDER of a smutty fic. 10/10.

Simon Gets Jealous by @strlingsav : This authors smut is next level, I truly have no words. Jealous Simon is top notch here, and had me on my damn knees.

Your Lieutenant Confesses His Feelings by @strlingsav : No amount of praise will ever be enough for this one.

MW2 Reactions To You Being A Virgin by @sweet-as-an-angel : more than just Simon on this one but HOLY HELLLLLL this made my mouth water. Fantastic, truly amazingly written smut.

I Hear You Like Magic? I’ve Got A Wand And A Rabbbit! By @makoodles : this was so purely and utterly delicious I cannot recommend this read enough. 10/10

Simon Riley With a Voice Kink by @konigsblog : this was absolutely delicious. Never did I think Simon having a voice kink would turn me on…but here we are.

Simon Riley With A Breeding Kink by @tojisun : another amazingly written smut. This author nails it every single post.

S’ Fucking Small by @cheesit-notes : Simon having a size kink will always drive me wild and this fic in my opinion is one of the BEST at portraying it.

Taking What You Need by @rowarn :no words needed, one of my all time favorite smuts. Simon in this is what I need in my life

Fluff:

Sleep by @lethalchiralium :this is so fricking adorable. One of my favorite fluff fics.

Denial by @callsign-prophet : A recent one, but this had my toes curling, my smile widening and me squealing like a tween.

Interrupted by @milf-murdock : this. Is. So. Adorable. Absolutely please read this

Hate You by @empresskylo : eeeeeppp the slight angst! To fluff is just killlleerrr here.

You Want To Kiss Me So Bad It Makes You Look Stupid @empresskylo : this author hits it out of the park yet again with this one. I loved the heck out of this one!!!

Simon Can’t Sleep Without You by @empresskylo : I love this so much, it’s adorable, it’s cute, it makes my heart flutter. Please read it,

Angst:

Firefighter FWB Ghost And Breaking Up by @hyperfixatesnwrites : the angst, the heartbreak, the way this was so well written. I loved it so fricking much.

Just For Now by @hyperfixatesnwrites :another angst break up fic that destroyed my soul (but it was fricking amazing)

Why? By @riverbutghost : Eeep I’m so in love with the “enemies(ish) to lovers trope” this is by far one of my favorites!!!

Toxic DBF Simon by @tojisun : I literally cried at the ending of this. The angst was out of this world, and I couldn’t help but re-read it multiple times.

Nothing Fucks With My Baby by @kitkatscabinet :the angst to comfort on this one is amazing. I loved this fic, and made me so desperately wish I had a Simon for myself.

Ipseity by @darklordofthesimp : another absolutely fantastic angst hurt/comfort that I adored. One of my all time favorites.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine

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kooktrash · 2 years

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the act of falling | jeon jungkook

summary: what was supposed to be a meaningless fling has turned into much more before you both realized you were falling. now all you can do is hope that all the challenges you’ve faced are worth something.

warnings | 14.4K words. smut. angst. fluff. established fwb. fuckboy!jk x fem!reader. they’re both toxic, jealous easily, possessive. they both argue a lot and kinda immature and hurtful. y/n has trust and commitment issues. jk has vulnerability issues. protected sex. wall sex. rough. oral (f and m). cunnilingus. fingering. jk’s eats. manhandling. missionary. grinding. dirty talk. nipple play. hand job. blow job. spit kink. deepthroat. Idk what else bud there’s probs more. degrading names—jk calls y/n a bitch. hurtful arguments.

The look in both sets of eyes was lack of amusement. Unsurprised and definitely not at all caught off guard by the sight of other. This was surprisingly a familiar betrayal, the kind that you lie about even when you know you’ll get caught. It was comical even, the need to lie to each other when you didn’t have to. What you two had was not serious at all. You shouldn’t have to lie about where you’d be.

Jungkook was the one to break the eye contact shifting his gaze back to the girl in front of him again. The girl’s brows furrowed in concern, “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong is that you told him you couldn’t meet up with him tonight because you weren’t feeling and now you’re here with some guy. The other thing that’s wrong is Jungkook had also told you it’s fine because he was working tonight even though he’s definitely not. You both were looking for a way to flake’s tonight’s plan to link up despite not seeing each other in over a week. That was already a lot of time without seeing each other and yet you both flaked out tonight. That’s what’s wrong.

“Nothing,” Jungkook cleared his throat chugging down his drink. Unfortunately for her he’s already lost complete interest in her the second he saw you tonight when you were supposed to be home sick. In reality he has no reason to be upset and yet he still was. Why did you lie so you wouldn’t have to see him tonight?

You came into his life in phases, and he’s sure you could say the same about him. You’re really just a fling but you’re the only one he goes back to every now and then. You’re not dating thankfully but you’re definitely hooking up whenever you see each other. It could be weeks before you see each other again but when you do your fling lasts another few weeks. Then, you phase out into your own lives again and ghost each other. A random night like tonight will come where you remember the other exists and you hit each other up to meet, but clearly you both flaked.

He’s just not ready for you yet. He’s not ready to get sucked back into you. He knows that what you two have is a simple no strings attached agreement but sometimes it felt the complete opposite. Like now for example, when he can practically feel the glare in your eyes on his skin. Not that he minds, he likes that you’re the jealous type. You make him feel better for being the same. But still, you had no reason to be jealous when you’re here with another guy too.

You know you don’t have be glaring at the girl he was currently dancing with but you just couldn’t help it. He hasn’t seen you in over a month and he lied to you so he could meet her tonight? Yeah alright. He’s so annoying.

The girl gave him a girlish smile as she clung to his arm, “I’ll be back, I’m going to the washroom.”

Jungkook nodded his head letting her go off as he waited there in a crowd of sweaty drunk bodies. The heat in his body was beginning to rise as if he was a bomb ready to go off. His tongue poked his cheek wondering about whatever while he waited for the chick to come back. Unfortunately, his mind kept wandering back to the thought of you. Before he knew it his feet were taking him in your direction completely forgetting the girl he met tonight. He couldn’t remember her name anyway.

You spotted him the second he made his way over to you and suddenly the guy in front of you didn’t seem interesting anymore. You looked at the guy, “I need a drink.”

He blinked in confusion before your brow arched waiting for him to act. Just like that he was stuttering over his words and he walked away, “I’ll g—go get you a dri…nk, yeah…”

Jungkook was in front of you now staring down at you in hunger that he hoped was masked by complete displeasure in seeing you here, “Thought you said you didn’t feel good tonight.”

“Thought you were DJing tonight,” you said in response. You looked over to the bar where the guy you’d come with waited. Across the place was the group of people you came with tonight where you met that guy from. You had to move before they noticed where you were or the guy came back. Jungkook didn’t even question it when he began following you.

“Why’d you lie?” He asked. He acted annoyed with you even if he was anything but relieved. Now he doesn’t have to pretend to connect with some random girl so that she goes home with him tonight. It was clearly no question now that he ran into you anyway. You’re the one he’ll be taking home.

You didn’t even bother to think about the guy you just met and you didn’t question the girl he was sending back off to her friends. Instead you just pushed on the exit door toward the parking lot repeating the question back to him, “Why’d you lie?”

“I asked you first,” he said childishly as he already took his keys out pushing the button to unlock his car. It’s like your bodies moved on autopilot running to an escape where it’s just you two.

“Are you taking me home?” You asked even as you walked behind him to his car. He turned to look at you waiting a little so his pace matched yours and he shamelessly let his hand rest on your lower back just above the curve of your butt. He flashed you a mischievous smirk, “Yeah, mine.”

Meeting Jungkook unexpectedly had always been the only way you two cross paths. It was such an on and off sort of fling but it was never anything more than hooking up. Sure, on occasion you might’ve invited each other to some party but other than that your meetings were for purely sexual reasons. You did have a partner once upon a time but that was over a year ago. Since then you just meet with Jungkook every now and then for whatever fling you’re having. Then when you two phase out you go back to doing your own thing, going on dates, talking with other guys, etc. The only reason you’d go back to Jungkook every time you run into each other is because of the familiarity.

You hated having to go through the process of meeting someone new. You knew what you wanted and you didn’t want to work for it. Jungkook knew you and your body already so it was easy to fall back into your sneaky link routine.

By morning Jungkook didn’t even question his actions when he rolled over to try and snuggle into you. He hit an empty bed that had his hand searching across your side of the bed to find you. After a moment of blindly searching he finally woke up. You were gone and he meant gone from his apartment. You weren’t in the bathroom or kitchen or anything. He sat up against the headboard stretching his limbs out as he tried waking himself up more. He sat there for a moment trying to regain consciousness and reached over to the nightstand for his phone. You probably woke up early and got a cab or something back to your place.

Now that he was awake he could remember last night. He’d gone to the nightclub to destress and he met that girl there. He had full intentions to take her home until he saw you with some guy and his plans changed. You were his sneaky link, nobody else’s as far as he’s concerned. His chest filled with pride when you ditched that guy for him too. He didn’t even know the girl well enough to care about leaving her when he saw you. It was just so easy with you. He didn’t have to explain why he wasn’t looking for anything serious. He didn’t have to pretend to be pleasured by what they did to him. He had you who knew his body inside and out. You knew how to get him excited and you owned half the pleasure he received. You knew the deal too. Neither one of you expected anything more than a hook up and that’s how he liked it. He didn’t have to play nice after doing the dirty and you knew when it was time to go. It was just so easy. He will admit that you could’ve at least told him when you left. He checked his phone notifications, smiling a little to himself.

y/n: fyi I left around 7

y/n: u were snoring and I couldn’t sleep

jungkook: lame

jungkook: u were snoring too and I put up with it

The next time Jungkook met up with his friends was at Namjoon’s place. He had a few people over since he just moved into a new apartment and Jungkook was bored beyond belief. The only chicks around were his friend’s girlfriends plus their own friends. They were annoying and they threw themselves at him in the most obnoxious way. Usually he’d put up with it if it meant he can convince one of them to hook up but right now he’s not in the mood. He’s debating if he should text you to come over. Fuck it.

“Who are you texting?” Taehyung asked taking a seat next to him. Jungkook didn’t look up from his phone as he asked what you were doing through text. He responded to Taehyung, “Y/n.”

“Whoa, when did you start messing around with Y/n again?” Jin asked sitting on the other side of him. Jungkook looked up at him with a shrug of his shoulders, “Few days ago. I just invited her over.”

“How’s she doing?” Taehyung asked. The last time he heard Jungkook talk about you had to have been at least a month and a half ago.

You fit so well with all of them when you and Jungkook are hooking up again. Some of the other girls Jungkook brings around are just such a drag that being around them is hard. Of course they never last anyway but for some reason Jungkook always comes back to you. Taehyung knows Jungkook says it’s nothing serious and hell you’re both fine with the arrangements but sometimes he wonders if there’s more to it.

Never being the type to question his friend’s relationship he keeps quiet but he really wants to ask Jungkook why he doesn’t just date you. You clearly like each other enough to hook up every now and then and he usually never goes back to same chick twice yet he’s been having random flings with you for over a year. Taehyung gets you’re both busy with work and your own lives he just doesn’t get how that stops you two from seeing each other more often.

When you got here Jungkook didn’t even bother meeting you downstairs. You were let up and Namjoon got the door for you greeting you with a hug saying it’s been a while since he last saw you. Jungkook was quick to go to you then, not hugging you or anything just being there next to you.

“Are you working later?” You asked Jungkook. He was a DJ Thursday to Sunday at a friend’s nightclub and then on the days he has off he doesn’t do anything but hobbies. The pay was good as a DJ especially when he got to work business events that he didn’t have to stress about money. The nightclub was pretty popular and every weekend it was a sure hit to be completely packed. That’s how he met you actually. Over a year ago on your 21st birthday you went to Hoseok’s night club where Jungkook was playing at and your friend asked if you could go up to where he was at since it was your birthday. Normally Jungkook would’ve said no but one look at you and he was even letting you wear his headphones and scratch a record. By the end of the night you two hooked up in the back of his Mercedes Benz and exchanged numbers.

Jungkook never expected to see you again after that but on a night he didn’t work he ran into you down in Hongdae and one thing led to another and you were hooking up yet again. This time it was in the club restroom—very classy yes. Then after that he slid up on your story of you wearing a nice bikini and boom you were meeting up again. In the span of a year you managed to have an unspoken agreement that you were just using each other when you needed it and forgetting each other when you didn’t. It’s the closest relationship Jungkook has had in at least two years and that’s that you’re definitely not exclusive.

“Yeah I’ll go in around 10 and I’ll get off at 3am.” He told you checking the time, “Why? Wanna come out tonight? You can stand up there with me.”

“Yeah,” you answered looking around at all the people Namjoon invited. You got some glares from a couple girls who’d be trying to flirt with Jungkook but it’s not like you knew that. You just knew they were glaring at you like you did something wrong and you hated that. Jungkook didn’t think about it when he threw an arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side only to kiss you right on the lips. You welcomed it of course with an arm going around him.

His lip ring felt cold against your skin but wasn’t a bother. He angled his head to the side to deepen the kiss as your lip gloss rubbed off on his mouth. Your fingernails scratched along the hairs on his nape before coming around to the side of his throat and pushing back. His body moved back but his mouth stayed attached to yours until he was ready to stop kissing. As he pulled away he let his teeth nip at your lip as he hummed, “Mmm, can’t wait to take you home tonight.”

“What if I let some other guy take me home tonight?” You asked. You had no intentions of taking another guy home if Jungkook was around but there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of teasing. Jungkook is very easily jealous and possessive. Even if you weren’t dating he doesn’t give up what he considers his easily. Of course when you phase out he’s got no control over who you see but whenever you’re phased in he tries to only keep his focus on you. Sure, sometimes his eyes wander or his fingers text someone else but it’s not ever more than that. That’s him being a good boy when you’re around. You don’t even know how bad he gets whenever you’re not speaking.

The reason why you’ve never considered making things official between you two is simply because it complicated things. You didn’t want a guy to have any sort of control over you and you definitely didn’t want to be vulnerable around him. When you’re in a relationship it’s very easy to get dragged into this bubble where it’s just you two and he’ll have the most power to hurt you. Why would you want that when you love being a free spirit who could do as they please? And no offense to Jungkook but you could never trust him in a relationship. He was such a player that he wasn’t even dating material you think. You’re no good for him either though. The second it gets too intense you leave, like fully leave. You don’t talk to him until you both phase out and then do it all over again.

It’s just no fun when someone is keeping tabs on you and it’s not like you’re any good at relationships anyway so your sneaky link arrangement with Jungkook was perfect.

“Is that his girlfriend?” One of the girls from earlier asked Jin. It was Namjoon’s girlfriend Sora. She pointed where you and Jungkook stood and Jin looked over too. Jungkook was currently pulling you in for another kiss.

“Not really,” Jin answered with a shrug. He didn’t even know what to call you two. You weren’t dating but how was he supposed to explain you two have been hooking up for about a year now but it’s so on and off that they can’t classify you as fuckbuddies or a couple? Sora shared a look with the girl she brought a long before turning back to him, “Not really or no?”

“Not really no,” another shrug, “I don’t know. They’re not dating I guess. It’s complicated.”

Then, like the evil person Jin is, he smirked mischievously to the two girls, “But if you’re really curious there’s nothing serious between them so I’m sure you can make a move on him.” Jin knew that Sora was only asking about Jungkook because her friend must’ve thought he was. Jin would find it awfully funny if she tried to flirt with him right now that you’re there.

“So they’re not dating?” The girl, Yeonwoo, asked. He shook his head, “No, they’re not and she’s going to the bathroom so if you’re really interested nows the time to go for it.”

Jin really liked having you around actually. Obviously he only hung out with you when you and Jungkook were messing around but you were just so easy to get along with. If you and Jungkook didn’t have that weird relationship going on Jin would’ve made a move on you a long time ago. But he knows Jungkook would never let that happen whether you were dating or not. Jungkook was very territorial over you even if the other girls he hooks up with he couldn’t care less about.

He was actually surprised when the girl actually went to talk with Jungkook. Jin was being messy he knows but it’ll be so funny when you come back and get mad. You’ll probably get so mad you’ll want to leave and then Jungkook will follow after you like a dumb puppy even though he says it’s not serious between you two. That’s part of the reason everyone likes to mess with you two. They wanna see what they can do to upset you both until one of you caved and asks the other to make it official. And Jin was kind of an asshole.

Jin couldn’t hear what the girl was saying but the expression on Jungkook was just priceless. He looked so taken back by her forwardness that when she asked for his Instagram he gave it. He was flirting with her openly. Of course he hadn’t seen you standing behind him looking anything but happy.

When the girl was done she turned to see if you were back yet and jumped back in surprise to find you there. You didn’t make a fuss over it but Jungkook could tell you’d seen too much. He usually doesn’t think about giving some girl his info but when you’re around it just feels wrong. He’s not dating you but for the moment being you’re the one spending the night in his bed or him in yours. That’s why he felt guilty knowing he was caught. You didn’t even give a hint to how you felt but Jungkook just knew you too well.

You forced a fake smile on your face, “Sorry I just want my drink back and I’ll get out of the way.” You were being so obviously sarcastic but you took the drink out of his hand and left. He stared after you as you went to sit with Taehyung and Jin leaving Jungkook there with the girl. Ah shit, he’s made you mad. He didn’t even look back at her as he followed after you.

“Why’d you leave?” He asked sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch you sat on. His knees bumped against yours and his broad figure hid you from the girl’s view. His hands were on the edge of the table, rings hitting against the sides anxiously. Jin and Taehyung pretended to talk about something while making sure to eavesdrop to your conversation. You didn’t look up from your phone, sitting back with a leg thrown over the other as you answered, “Because I wanted to.”

He bit back a comment he knew would only escalate the situation. It’s weird that you two argued. It’s weird that you got jealous and mad. It’s weird that he felt guilty but did it still anyway. You’re just supposed to be occasional fuck buddies. He looked down at the time on his phone letting out a small sigh, “Alright so do you wanna leave and get ready for my set?”

“Not really,” you shrugged not looking at him still. You weren’t too mad but you want to see him act like a puppy for you especially since he’s the one taking other people’s information. He’ll wag his tail after you and it’ll just prove to whoever tried to get with him that he liked his time with you the most. He hit his knee against yours, hand going over your phone forcing you to look at him, “Quit acting like this, do you still wanna go yes or no?”

You only arched a brow at him keeping your distance, “Not if you talk to me like that.” Smacking his lips in annoyance he leaned closer to you dropping a knee to the floor as his hand found your thigh. He leaned up flashing you his sparkly doe eyes, “Come on, let’s go. You already said you’d go with me. You want me to block her?”

“I don’t care,” you shrugged looking away so he wouldn’t see the smile you tried to hide, “Do whatever you want.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head teasingly still close to your face, “I think you do care and that’s why you’re here throwing a fit now.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes and he did the same. There’s no point in having this conversation right now. You’re not dating so he can flirt with whoever he wants. It also means you can’t get jealous when he’s not even yours by heart—body maybe but you don’t own his heart. He looked back to the girl catching her and Namjoon’s girlfriend staring. He looked back to you and took his phone back out. He went to Instagram and to his recent following and clicked on her profile. He shared the screen with you as he blocked her. When he was done he looked up at you expectantly as you smiled widely now. Just like that you were rising to your feet telling him to hurry up before he’s late. And there he goes following after you.

“He’s so whipped,” Taehyung said watching as the two of you left out the door without another word to anyone else. Jin laughed nodding his head in agreement.

Jungkook knows it’s bad. He knows that he’s slowly getting pulled back into you and then he’ll really fall for you. He can’t let that happen, if it does then he’ll be attached and that’s not good. He wouldn’t be thinking this way if his friends haven’t been making fun of him because of it.

He’s Jeon Jungkook, he doesn’t get played by girls. He doesn’t get tied down by anyone and definitely not you. Please not you. He wants to keep things between you without feelings. He doesn’t want to fall for you and get hurt in the end. That’s all relationships are. You’re happy for a while, fall in love, then problems come. You’ll break up and it’ll just be too complicated.

Like this he doesn’t have to think about the shit he does. His actions affect him and him alone but if he’s tied down he could seriously hurt the other person. Or vise versa, something they do to him might completely break him and he’s not willing to let anyone have that power over him. Everyone thinks he’s playing you along but that’s because they didn’t know you like he did. You were just like him.

You didn’t really believe that there were any romantic feelings between you and Jungkook. Sure, you might’ve gotten jealous over him flirting but that’s not because you liked him. It’s because you knew him better and you’ll be damned if you’ll let someone steal his attention away. Obviously he still gave it you and it made you smile but it’s because you won. It had nothing to do with the thought of seeing Jungkook flirt with some girl in front you. No, he flirts with girls all the time. You were just an easily jealous person who gets pretty upset when the guy you’re fooling around with is giving someone else even the slightest bit of attention.

You couldn’t possibly ever have feelings for him. It’d just be weird if they sprung out of no where at this point. You’ve been fooling around like this since last year, it was purely sexual. There’s no way you can suddenly develop feelings for someone like that.

That’s just not possible. The pessimistic side of you couldn’t comprehend the idea of falling for Jungkook. He was just so… simple. Not that he was simple in appearance or anything, on the contrary he was too damn hot. He’s the type to always have someone crushing on him. You couldn’t catch feelings for someone like that. You’d get too mad if you even thought he was flirting with someone and you’ve learned from the past that’s bad. He’s just not the kind of guy you should fall for if you have trust issues.

It doesn’t mean you’re not attracted to him. That’s why you only mess around on occasion. You could sleep with him without worrying about being tied down. You knew that with him it didn’t have to be anything more than sex. No questions. Sure sometimes you had some deep after sex talks about whatever was on the mind but then morning would come and it’s like you were strangers again. Honestly, you preferred it that way. You were a runaway when it came to commitment. The thought of a serious relationship that you actually had to communicate and put in effort for it work was just not for you. You’re a quitter when it gets hard and that’s why you can only be with Jungkook in little bits of time. That way you don’t get overly attached and develop feelings for him.

“Right so you were jealous? Is that what you’re telling me?” Your best friend asked as he laid on your bed. You were currently in the middle of finishing up some graphic logo for a client at work while Jimin waited for you to finish. You haven’t seen him in a while and he loved hearing other people’s lives if it had drama.

“Only a little,” you shrugged confessing to it.

“Then he blocked the girl so you wouldn’t be mad?” Jimin asked before letting out a disappointed sigh, “You are the dumbest people I’ve ever met. Why can’t you two just admit that you want to date.”

“Because we don’t? Why would I want to get into a relationship with a guy I just ran into a couple weeks ago?” You asked referring to your first meet up recently. The one where you ran into him the night you flaked on each other. The universe had definitely thought it was time to bring you two together again.

“Because he’s the one you keep going back to when you’re tired of other hook ups?” Jimin asked rhetorically, “Because even if you won’t go out with him you don’t want anyone else to have him either?”

“Jimin just drop it,” you sighed turning away so you could the stupid devil himself. Maybe he can come pick you up so Jimin would leave. You love him but sometimes he’s the voice of reason when you didn’t want to be. You’ve got too much pride to hear what’s true from someone else.

“I just don’t get it, why don’t you even want to try?” He asked you calmer now, “Why is it so bad to admit you really like Jungkook and he really likes you?”

“Because it’s wrong,” you said stubbornly, “Look, he’s not asking for more so clearly this works.”

“I just don’t get how. Once you’re done with someone that’s it but with Jungkook you always go back when you see him, why?”

“Honestly,” you paused in thought. You’ll tell him why but that still won’t make you want to force a relationship with Jungkook. “I just like how easy it is with him. He’s not holding me up to these unattainable expectations. We don’t judge each other, we don’t ask questions, we just keep each other company when needed.”

“Then, when the spark is gone we just phase out. I don’t have to worry about what he’s doing when we’re not talking and he doesn’t worry about what I do.”

“I just think you’re scared of commitment so anytime it gets a little too serious you both just ghost each other and pretend like it’s no big deal until you run into each other after a while and do it all over again,” Jimin concluded, “And I think you’ll both regret not admitting it sooner.”

You didn’t want to hear what Jimin said. He could be completely wrong. You knew Jungkook, he didn’t. Jungkook would never in a million years try and settle down especially not with you. You just weren’t the type of people to do that. And you’re pissed that Jimin is getting that thought stuck in your head when you know it’s no good. Maybe you have been a little too clingy toward Jungkook and you needed to stop. You did get jealous the other night and he probably hated that. You were basically trying to claim him without even dating and you knew Jungkook hated labels. Maybe it’s about time you phase out again.

Jungkook’s acting like it doesn’t bother him. He’s acting like you suddenly distancing from him this week didn’t piss him off. Then, he got even more pissed off at the thought that he was genuinely upset about it. Who cares if you’re busy? Who cares if you stop talking to him? He knows the drill. He knows how you two are. You were messing around for a couple weeks now so he’s assuming you were just ready to forget him all over again.

“Stop checking your phone and focus on the game,” Jin told him trying to get his attention back to their fighting match. Jungkook was supposed to be playing video games with his friend but he was way too distracted. He asked you to come see his set tonight but you didn’t respond. You also hadn’t responded two days ago when he asked to meet up.

“Where’s Y/n? You should see if she wants to come over,” Namjoon said watching the two play. Jungkook didn’t look away from the television as he spoke, “Why would I invite her?”

“Because you’ve been hanging out together again?” Namjoon said trying to understand Jungkook now. Jungkook just shrugged him off, “She’s got better things to do.”

Jin looked over to him and the angry way he pushed onto the controller, “Are you guys fighting right now?”

“Why would we be fighting? She’s doing her own thing and I don’t care to ask what,” Jungkook told him, “Come on, pay attention to the game before I just leave.”

“Jeez, why are you so mad?” Taehyung asked sitting up from his spot on the couch. The controller vibrated in Jungkook’s signaling his defeat and he threw it on the couch in a fit.

“Why would I be mad?” Jungkook asked even as he huffed in annoyance. Why haven’t you texted him back? Was that it this time? Is he just supposed to go back to what he was doing before he ran into you again? It’s so annoying.

“Because Y/n’s ignoring you,” Jin said even though he knew it’d only set his friend off, “And you’re already missing her.”

“Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you guys? We weren’t dating or anything,” Jungkook scoffed in disbelief, “I don’t give a fuck if she’s not talking to me right now. I was getting bored of her anyway.”

“You’re lying, you’ve been checking your phone all day and we all know why,” Namjoon argued, “Just admit that you’re scared to tell her how you feel.”

Jungkook laughed dryly, “I’m not gonna sit here listening to all of you talk about something you don’t understand. I’m leaving.”

“Jungkook cmon we’re just saying you don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you when she ignore—“

The door was slammed shut as he left. The other guys sat there disappointed. Now Jungkook is going to act like you. It was about time you phased out anyway. He’s been spending too much time with you lately he should’ve realized it was getting boring again.

It’s fine. He hasn’t slept with you in over a week and you’re ignoring him so it’s about time he goes back to his old ways. Wow, he forgot how freeing it is not to have to think about someone all day. You’d been texting every chance you had and he was bringing you with wherever he went. It was tiring. Good thing he doesn’t have to do that anymore since you’re not responding. He’ll just move on to the next. Easy as pie. You’re not that special to him anyway.

He left to the nightclub just as annoyed as he was when he left his friend’s house. He was just so irritated by you. He didn’t get why you’re avoiding him and he’s not sure why he cares this time around. He just wanted you to come out with him tonight and yet you never responded.

That’s why in the middle of his set, when he saw you through the crowd of club goers dancing with some guy, he called some random girl up to where he was. He used her as a distraction so he wouldn’t think about you but it didn’t work. He kept looking to where you were even as he tried to play music.

“You’re hot,” Jungkook told the random girl without much thought. He didn’t have to think about what he said. He didn’t have to try and charm her when he knows she’ll do what he says anyway. It’s a gift, the effect he has on people without doing anything. He wasn’t nice or anything, he was just attractive and charming and intimidating. He didn’t have to work to have any girl he wanted so trust him when he says he doesn’t care if you’re here with another guy.

At least right now he doesn’t have to feel guilty about flirting with someone. You were here with someone else so he had every right to act like himself.

But it’s the audacity that has him annoyed. You could’ve gone to any nightclub to grind up against another guy but you just had to choose the one he works at. On top of that he asked you to come out with him and you show up with someone else to his job. Yeah alright, he gets it, you phased out. He’ll show you he doesn’t care either.

Fuck his friends for trying to tell him how he feels. As if he doesn’t know his own feelings. He does not care about you like that. He never has. He never will. You’re just someone he goes to when he’s lonely. Just someone who he can be around without any expectations. He doesn’t have to act like he’ll change for you. He doesn’t have to pretend to be a good guy around you. You already knew him. You knew how he was. He didn’t have to act like he was nice and interested in anything beyond sex like he does with all the other girls.

You don’t care if he doesn’t want to commit because you don’t want to either. He doesn’t have to pretend like he’ll call you back after a one night stand. He doesn’t have to lie to you like he does with ever other girl when he says, ‘Yeah… I’m too busy for a relationship. You get that right? Like you knew this was just sex, right? I won’t call you in the morning so don’t expect it.’

So yeah, his friends are wrong. There’s nothing between you two other than a simple understanding that neither of you was expecting anything more than the other. He doesn’t expect you to be loyal to him because he’s not loyal to you but that’s fine. You’re not dating, you don’t have to be. You’re just convenient.

He doesn’t have to talk to you all the time to know if you’ll wanna go home with him or not. You only get thrown back into each other’s lives when it’s convenient. There’s no judgement with you. No expectations. No hurt feelings when he’s an asshole.

Jungkook’s hand shook as he reached for the microphone, he’s not sure what he’s doing though. His body is moving before his mind could process it. The next thing he knows is he’s saying your name over a song looking straight at you watching you and the guy turned toward him. He kept the music going and nobody seemed to notice what he was saying guess but you did.

You didn’t mean to come here tonight, you tried convincing your friends to go somewhere else but Jimin insisted. You tried hiding behind a group of people but Jungkook still saw you. You looked up at him from where he stood and your eyes met. You could see the sharp glare he was shooting you but you didn’t react. You did ignore him but he’s been perfectly fine so who cares. He’ll get over it, he’s already got a girl clinging to his arm. Hell last night he posted on his Instagram story him with some girls. Clearly it didn’t matter if you phased out.

“Is that the DJ?” Jimin asked looking at him now, “Jungkook?”

“You already knew it,” you snapped at him but he only smiled. Of course he knew but he also knew you were being stubborn. Jimin only mentioned a hint of attraction between you two and the first thing you do is try and sabotage it. Jimin shoved you forward, “Go, he’s waiting.”

With a roll of your eyes you did just that. You walked over to where his equipment was set up but before you could there one of the security guards was trying to stop you. Jungkook reached out for your hand pulling you through anyway as he turned to the girl he invited earlier, “Sorry, I can only have one person up here. You understand, right?”

Whatever, it’s fine. It’s not like he’s mad at you for ignoring him or anything. You never get mad at each other over that. You both equally respect each other’s space but if you’re already being dragged back to him maybe it meant you’re not done fooling around. You were probably just overreacting because of the load of bullshit Jimin was telling you. Why did two adults who happen to have sex with each other have to put a label to it? Why can’t you two just mess around without everyone telling you to go out?

Alright, he’s still a little mad. “You ignored my text so you could come with another guy?” He asked turning his back on his equipment letting a song play out. He had to yell into your ear for you to hear.

“I didn’t see your text,” you lied with a shrug, “And he’s my friend so what do you care?”

“I don’t,” he snapped back going back to the music for a second before getting to you, “But how are you gonna ignore me all week and then show up to my job with another guy? I don’t give a fuck if we’re dating or not that’s fucking disrespectful.”

“It’s not that serious Jungkook,” you said defensively. There’s no reason at all for you to be arguing right now. He wasn’t your boyfriend. “I didn’t want to come see you anyway.”

He didn’t say anything for a while before a tense grin appeared on his face as he turned back to work, “Yeah alright then.”

You stood there awkwardly now. Maybe you should have elaborated. It’s not that you didn’t want to see him. It was more so that you didn’t want to see him with Jimin for this exact reason. Still, you didn’t get your point across the right way and now he’s madder than before. It’s sort of embarrassing to argue like this at a nightclub with the guy who’s in charge of the music but everyone so drunk and probably drugged up to notice. Plus, there was a group of people behind Jungkook that you sort of just blended in to. That’s why you approached him without a second thought letting your hand touch his waist from the front.

“I meant with Jimin, I didn’t want to come see you with him because he’s just my friend,” you told him leaning against his back trying to stay out of the way of his working hands, “I knew you’d get mad and I didn’t want to have to explain it.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed. Your arms were wrapped around him from behind but he didn’t react. Yeah, he likes your touch but right now he’s just annoyed. You know damn well that’s not what you meant. You just didn’t want to come see him because you were ignoring him. No need to act like he was the one at fault because he’d get mad. He can see right through your innocent act and it’s annoying him right now.

“Don’t be mad, I’ve just been busy so I haven’t been able to talk to you,” you said hoping he’d stop brushing you off. Even if you weren’t dating and you’ve been avoiding him, you still don’t want him mad at you. You’re not supposed to argue with Jungkook. There’s not supposed to be any feelings there.

“Please,” Jungkook scoffed in disbelief letting another song play fully at a high volume, “You’re never not on your phone. You were ignoring me so don’t act like you weren’t.”

“And stop acting like you didn’t want to come tonight because I’d get mad,” he said, “You didn’t want to see me because you’re avoiding me. Plain and simple.”

You rolled your eyes. Alright, there’s no need to keep arguing. You tried letting it go, “Stop overreacting. You’re not my boyfriend.”

He froze glaring at you for a moment. The song was ending soon but he was just so flabbergasted. He knows he’s not your boyfriend. He doesn’t want to be. But you’re not just going to brush him off like that, at least not without making him snap.

“Oh fuck you,” he sighed deeply, “You can go then, since you didn’t even want to see me and I’m just overreacting. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

“Fine,” you answered and he let you walk off. He didn’t even bother to look for you in the crowd. He just needed some space and to focus on work alone. This is why he shouldn’t care what you do when he’s not messing with you.

This was so annoying. Why was it getting so complicated with Jungkook? It’s not supposed to be that way. He’s supposed to be the easy one to handle. He’s supposed to be your go-to when you’re looking for some stress relief. Okay yeah, you also got a little jealous when that girl was flirting with him at Namjoon’s place but still. This wasn’t fair. He was mad at you and for what? It’s not like you said anything wrong. You weren’t dating and honestly you’re not even really friends. So what was so wrong about what you said or did? And why did you feel so guilty despite being single?

It’s all your friend’s fault. They all put it in your heads that your relationship with Jungkook was strange. That you two should just go out even if it’s not something either one of you thought about. It’s the reason both of you have been on edge.

Not to mention when he told you to go did he mean from where he was or go from his life? Like was he done with you? Were you losing the only guy you felt could see you naked without any judgement or standards set? Someone who doesn’t think about the type of person you are or make assumptions over how you’d act?

When Jungkook was off all he wanted to do was crash. He got so upset earlier and he couldn’t understand why. He shouldn’t care about who you hang out with but he does. He blames the guys for making him question what he truly felt for you. He still doesn’t understand but he also knew that something was changing. He never cared about what you did when he wasn’t around but this time it was different. He feels bad for snapping at you in the end but he hates being brushed off. You told him he was overreacting and alright, maybe but at the same time put yourself in his shoes. The one you’ve been hooking up with suddenly ghosts you and you invite them out for the night only for them to show up with another person.

The one thing Jungkook hadn’t intended to do was drive to your place instead of his. It must’ve been the thought of you on his drive that made him steer toward you apartment. He cursed at himself for not realizing it sooner but now here he was in front of your building all too tempted now to go see you. He was in the mood to make up. You couldn’t stop talking to each other ending on a bad foot.

It was past 3am and yet… here he was standing at your door knocking. It took you a minute to open but when you did it was clear your night out had just ended as well. You were in the little black dress you wore tonight but your jewelry was off and so were your shoes. He got a better look at the dress again and his jaw clenched at the reminder of the night’s event as he stood in front of you now.

Neither one of you said anything as the tips of your shoes touched due to your proximity. You should probably apologize or make up but you weren’t even sure for what. You both had no clue what happened earlier so how were supposed to act on that? You’d just gotten home thinking about Jungkook and now he’s at your door. Good, it seemed like he was done being mad but you couldn’t just give in, “What are you doing here?”

He spoke lowkey, head tilted to the side in a teasing matter, “Truce?” You pondered over it. Truce? He was done arguing so what would happen now? You didn’t care for an argument with Jungkook. You two weren’t supposed to argue, you were supposed to do other things.

“Truce.”

That was all he needed to hear before he was letting himself in. The second his things hit the floor he was turning toward you pulling you into him with intense desire. Your lips crashed messily letting out hints of leftover anger out through the swirl of your tongues. Your arms were around his neck pulling him closer into you standing in your tiptoes to reach him better. He was fighting to get his shoes while still kissing you and when he stood straight again he took hold of you. His hands gripped your hips pushing you flush against the wall as he pressed against you.

Your back hit the wall in the hallway with a soft thud. You licked along his tongue letting spit pool between you two as he yanked at your dress to pull it up. His lip ring rolled with your lips as his hands trailed over your dress as he began to leave kisses down your jaw.

“Jung—“ his name got caught in your throat as he did what you were about to warn him not to do. You jolted to the side a little with the effort of him tearing your dress apart in a rush. It soon pooled at your feet as he kissed along your neck. You were just in your bra in underwear clawing at his shirt for him to take it off and he did just that before attacking your neck with hickies again.

You licked your lips catching your breath as his hands began to run down your sides. Slowly he was kissing lower, cupping your boobs as he kissed between them. He kissed over the fabric or your bra down the middle of the stomach. Jungkook let his hands roam toward the back, palms flat on your butt as he kneeled before you. He kissed down your belly button and with a tight fist over your underwear he slid them off.

Yeah he knows you two argued a little earlier but it was whatever now. He had to not think about it right now and take what you’ll give him. His fingernails dig into your butt now as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. Lightly he began leaving kisses along your inner thighs between words, “You know I can’t stay away from you, pretty girl.”

“Shut up,” you sighed out in anticipation feeling your core begin to tingle the closer he got. He breath fanned your face when he pecked your hooded clit with an extremely soft and quick kiss, “Don’t tell me to shut up.”

“Or what?” You asked with hazed eyes as your hand found purchase in his hair. He looked up at you from between your legs urging you to move closer to his face, then, he let his tongue flatten along your slit. The small pool of wetness collected on his tongue like a puddle that he swallowed back. The hand on your thigh tightened and before you knew it he was pulling on your other leg to sling it over his shoulder too. You didn’t have time to react as you tried holding the wall for support while both your legs swung over his shoulders. He used the wall for support of your weight as his face dug into your heat, tongue lapping at your slick while the tip of it hit against your clit. He was sucking lightly with each flick of his tongue letting your hips buck into his face.

Your hand tightened in his hair yanking him with the movement of your hips. His tongue curled inside your heat traveling between your folds until he was swirling it around your hardened clit. He wrapped his lips around the small pleasure point and started sucking, tongue flicking the end as he followed his cheeks creating a suction around your clit. With his hands busy holding you up he couldn’t finger you so he made it up with the way he made out with your pussy. It was sticky and wet but he didn’t stop, not even when your back arched off the wall for pleasure.

“Wai—I think… Jungk—“ you couldn’t finish your sentence as he felt you getting closer to the end. Instead he applied more pressure to his movements. You jolted in pleased surprise when his two front teeth ever so lightly nipped at your clit, not in pain but in pleasure. His tongue rubbed along your left labia feeling the swollen folds and created a tingling sensation that had your legs shaking around his neck. You rode his face only a little more when his hands tightened on your butt forcing you tighter around his head.

In one go, before you could even realize it, you were cumming with a whine of his name. He let you ride your high using him to get yourself off even with the sting on his scalp from your grip.

It took a moment but once you were done shaking and he was done licking up your release as best as he could, he was letting your feet down. You slumped against the wall, knees giving in as you sank to the floor. Jungkook didn’t think twice unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his briefs down to expose his hardened cock. No matter what was going on between you there was always this hunger for you in the back of his mind.

Your mind was still a little foggy from your orgasm but when his cock stood pointed at you mere inches from your face, you acted on impulse. Jungkook’s hand found it’s way to your hair combing it back so he could see your face as he stroked his cock in front of you. Your lips parts staring down at his size. He had one of the prettiest members you’ve ever seen from the shape to the length. It dribbled clear drops of precum as he jerked himself off to the sight of you. He looked down at your bra in distaste before reaching down your back to undo it. You slid it off as he watched you with pure lust in his eyes. When you looked down at his member, mouth open in want, he teased you with the head. He hit his tip against your lips watching your mouth try and chase him and he smiled.

“You want it?” He asked teasingly letting his dock softly smack against your cheek watching your eyes narrow in annoyance. You were just so pretty like this, well all the time but he was focused on now. He gripped your jaw with his free hand and he leaned down still stroking himself as he kissed you on the lips. You could taste yourself on him and it had your hand going over his to take over jerking him off. He let you, groaning into your mouth at the slight squeeze. His tongue licked along your bottom lip trying to deepen the kiss while your hand worked to get him off.

Jungkook pulled away suddenly looking down at your panting mouth and before you knew it he was gathering spit in his mouth. He put pressure into your cheek letting your mouth open further and without thinking he spit right into it. You didn’t swallow it right away letting it pool with your own saliva and when he stood straight you let it dribble down the side of his dick. He sighed in content at some friction letting his hand flatten against the wall while the other helped line your head with his member.

“Good fucking girl,” he groaned, his forehead resting on the wall as you skipped teasing him to take him in your mouth. He was panting heavily thrusting into your mouth lightly feeling your tongue lick up his length before swiping at his slit. Your hands jerked off whatever didn’t fit in your mouth and when he touched the back of your throat it only made more saliva spill out. Small spit bubbles coated his dick creating an easy glide into your mouth and hands. He was struggling to hold himself back from releasing down your throat but you just made it so hard. His jeans were getting on his nerves now too so with the hand that was in your hair he tried tugging them off not stopping you from taking him.

He had to lick his drying lips biting back a grown when your hand took his balls into hold massaging them like they were for stress. The way you pulled and rubbed them against each other had him pushing more into your mouth. He didn’t bite back his dirty words, “Get up and turn around so I could fill your pussy now.”

It didn’t stop you though, it only made you speed up ready to get him off with your mouth the way he did with you. His abs flexed in intense pleasure as he tried getting you off before he came but it was no use. The second your fingers slid a little too close down his perineum he was shaking in release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” chains of curse words escaped his lips as you sucked him dry trying to swallow his cum down your throat, some of it drooling down the sides toward your chin and neck. He had to push against the wall and away from you before you sent him into overdrive and as he looked down at the mess between you two he left he was yanking you up to your feet.

“And you still won’t shut up,” you teased gathering his release that dribbled down your jaw and pushing it into your mouth to swallow. He growled at your words pulling you to him by your neck so you could kiss again, “How can I when everything you do drives me crazy?”

You rolled your eyes playfully as he gripped your hip before flipping you to face the wall. You hit it softly hearing his jeans dropped to the ground along with his briefs as he kicked them off. You could hear tearing of plastic and assumed he had a condom in his possession but you didn’t even question it as you anticipated feeling his cock in your tight heat.

He didn’t even give a proper warning, stroking himself hard against as he lined himself up with your heat making sure to kick your legs apart so he could fit. With a hand on your shoulder he thrusted your letting his cock catch on your entrance and pushed in with a growl. You moaned at the stretch feeling him already draw back gently to speed the process up. Not like you weren’t used to him anyway. You stood away from the wall so you could bend forward a little and he began to really thrust.

If you could only see the way his glute muscles flexed with each stroke of his thick length inside your wet cunt. The way the muscles in his thighs tightened and his chest loomed over your back. You wanted to see him. There was nothing better than seeing the way he gasped for you, brows scrunched together and eyes squeezed shut. You tried fucking back onto him but you didn’t want to stand anymore. Feeling you begin to give up around him he held you tighter using you to get himself off for a moment. Then, with a puff of his chest he was turning you so he could lift one of your legs up toward the ceiling.

With the new angle he reached a deeper point and his hand was able to grope at your tits. You whined at the new position trying to pull him closer to you feeling him moan into your mouth, “I don’t care who you’re with, this pussy…”

He hit your clit softly for emphasis, “This all belongs to me. Imma write my name on it.”

“Fuck you,” you sighed out, “I’m already getting tired.”

“No, no no,” he said tauntingly and before you knew it he was picking you up wrapping your legs around his waist, “We’re not even close to being done pretty baby.”

You groaned impatiently trying to bounce on him. He pushed away from the wall walking blindly to your your room. He swung the door open tossing you on the bed, his member slipping out as you sat. He stood in front of you letting your eyes trail over his tattoos and toned chest stopping at his hard cock. You brought your arms up to wrap around his neck and he leaned low enough to hoist you up in his arms again. Then, he planted a knee on the bed and crawled up toward the pillows with you in his hold. He set you down gently looking down at you as he hovered over your spread legs. His covered cock was grinding against your heat, the warm length rutting against your clit teasingly as he looked down.

“Tell me you want it baby,” he bit into his lip feeling the way he slid between your puffy folds, “And it’s all yours.”

You didn’t say anything trying to be defiant but the teasing was too much. You just wanted to reach your second orgasm. “What will be mine?” You asked as your eyes caught sight of a small tube right on your nightstand next to a small mirror.

“Me, all of this,” he huffed continuing to hump against you, “Say it.”

You didn’t hesitate as you took the tube, his eyes were closed in pleasure so he didn’t see you unscrew the top of the lipstick you used earlier in the night. It wasn’t until he felt something strange push against his chest that his eyes widened. He looked down watching as you sprawled your name across his toned, tatted chest with lipstick, “Oh fuck, Y/n.”

“You said it’s mine, I’m putting my name on it then,” you said feeling his eyes drift back to your face. Before you could even think of smirking mischievously his mouth was crashing down on yours as his cock entered your heat again. You both groaned in pleasure as he sunk in, immediately picking up a quick rhythm as he fucked every ounce of want into your tight walls.

“Greedy bitch,” he said moaning as he fucked into you, hips pistoning back and forth letting himself grind when he was flush inside you, “You claiming me?”

“Mhm,” you moaned out trying to meet his thrusts with your own efforts. Your nails clawed at his back feeling him suck a boob into his mouth. You could feel him leave love bites on your chest but the tipping point was when he sucked on your nipple as your body bounced off the bed with each thrust.

Neither one of you had to say anything to know you were both cumming. You knew each other’s body so well that when you were ready, you were releasing at the same time. He grunted against your chest, hips thrusting trying to ride out your highs. The condom caught all of his release that he wished could paint your insides.

You were sweaty and hot gasping for breath as he crashed down over you, the lipstick not even smudging. After a moment of waiting, he was pulling out of you rolling onto your side panting.

It was quiet then letting the effects of intense sex wear off as he looked at his chest in disbelief, “Goddamn you really put your name on me.”

“And you better not wash it off right away,” you sighed out stretching your sore limbs. Nothing felt new between you two because you’d done this before. It was always a little rough and needy with him, always degrading yet so fucking good and that’s why he was your stress relief. He manhandled you and gave you pleasure without you even having to work for it. Then after, you two would lay in bed and not speak of it again.

He turned on his side trapped you against him and let his leg lay over yours in a mix or blankets and limbs. Then just like that he was closing his eyes to lull himself to sleep. His lip ring caught between his teeth as he held you in his arms.

By morning he wasn’t sure what he expected when he rolled over to your side to wrap you in his arms only to hit an empty bed. He thought that since you quite literally put your name on him you would still be there considering this was your place but clearly he was proven wrong. He woke up alone looking around for you them glanced down at his chest at the smudged writing.

He grabbed his phone, chest caving in as he read your poor excuse for leaving him to wake up alone in your bed.

y/n: friend invited me for breakfast

y/n: just lock the door when u go

Right. As if you ever stayed in the morning.

Jungkook tried not to dwell on it. It was the first weekend he didn’t have to work and since you weren’t around he had nothing to do here. He grabbed his things got dressed and left.

He’s grown, he knows what he signed up for. It’s never bothered him before even if he thrived off physical intimacy. You weren’t like that unless it came to sex. You hated being hugged, touched, any of it whereas Jungkook was the opposite. He loved being held by someone he was familiar with and unfortunately that was you. His typical lays are simple list driven and he’s not the type to wrap his arms around them to sleep. He doesn’t know them that well but he knows you like that. But in the morning you always left.

Once he was home he washed off your name and tried moving on through his day. He’s going to try and distract himself so he wouldn’t think of you. He’s realized he’s thought of you too many times recently and that’s dangerous territory. His DMs are filled with messages from people wanting to meet up so he might indulge tonight. Like you said, it’s not like you were dating. He’ll remember that.

You felt bad for leaving him there but you had no idea what else to do. It was just sex right? It always got a little too intense between you two and that’s why you ran away right after. It didn’t stop you from feeling guilty all day. Yet the guilt did nothing to you when you were asked to go out clubbing again.

You forced yourself not to think about him because you weren’t dating, you were only fooling around. He hasn’t said he wants to settle down so you’re not even keeping that thought in your mind. The words you spoke to each other during sex last night weren’t to be taken seriously. You always talked like that in the bed but it had never meant anything. You doubt this time would be any different.

And honestly, he proved you right. He didn’t think of you as anything more than a convenient lay and thats why you’d never date. Why else would you be seeing him tonight with his friends and some girls at a club grinding with them as if your name hadn’t been written on him the night before. And his sixth sense picked up on your presence, turning instantly to look over what had sent a sensation down his spine. Your eyes met. This was deja vu to a few weeks ago.

The look in both sets of eyes was lack of amusement. Unsurprised and definitely not at all caught off guard by the sight of the other. This was surprisingly a familiar betrayal, the kind that you lie about even when you know you’ll get caught. It was comical even, the need to lie to each other when you didn’t have to. What you two had was not serious at all. Yet you both knew it was wrong to act like this as if you weren’t in each other’s arms last night.

At the same time, that small sense of betrayal intensified between the both of you. Voice of reason completely gone from you two as the anger began to set in. The audacity of the other. Just last night… everything that was said and done. Now look.

You didn’t stop your feet as you cross the floor toward him and the girl that had been clinging to him was brushed off to the side. He stood in front of you, drink in hand as you spoke over each other.

“Why’d you leave me there alone?” “Why are you here with another girl?”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, “That’s the first thing you wanna say to me? Not even a hello or better yet, an ‘I’m sorry’?”

“Why would I be sorry? You’re the one here already messing around with someone else after last night. I sent you a text why I left,” you said annoyed. He glared at you, “Yeah and who was that friend? A guy? I bet it was, right?”

“And if it was?” It was only Jimin.

“You’re really something else Y/n, if you can go be with another guy then I can do whatever the fuck i want too,” he said over the loud music. Some of his friends had turned to look at you guys, some of the girls there whispering about you but the only one to get close was Taehyung.

“Come on, don’t argue right here—“ Taehyung tried cutting in but Jungkook only shrugged him off. He was mad and even if the stubborn side of him said he shouldn’t because there’s not supposed to be any strings attached. The realist side told him their clearly were very thick strings attached and they were all getting into knots.

“You wanna keep leaving you get what you want then I’m done,” Jungkook said to you, “I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I want too.“

“Oh fuck you Jungkook, don’t act like it’s just me. You never ask me to stay.” you yelled back, “After we fuck you always go and find yourself some other girl so don’t even pretend like you’re innocent. All you want is sex too—“

“Why do I have to beg you to stay? You think you’re that special to me?” Jungkook asked as Taehyung tried pulling him back before you two made an even bigger scene. The strobe lights colored you in shades of purple and blue with red too. The music was so loud and everyone was so close yet he didn’t care about that, “And I’m not acting innocent. I don’t give a fuck, you keep leaving and I’ll keep finding someone else to take your spot. You need me more than I need you, remember that.”

You smiled tightly glaring at him, “Alright.” Taehyung was trying to put space between you two feeling the quick escalation. This is what he meant when he said you needed to figure your shit out together before it was too late. Look at how mad you both were when just admitting you want each other would solve it all. You were jealous and so was he so you’re trying to hurt each other. Jungkook waited for you to finish but you were backing away, “I’m done. I don’t need anyone, especially not you so we’re done.”

“Then leave,” he said harshly. Jungkook wasn’t even thinking right now. He’s said some hurtful things but what you’re saying hurts too. That’s why he had to put up a front and be colder than you or else he’ll really hurt. You didn’t argue anymore, simply nodded your head and did just that. You turned your back to him pushing your way through the crowd feeling all of their stares on you.

“Jungkook…” Namjoon approached him, “Come on don’t act like thi—“

“Back off,” Jungkook pushed past him no longer interested in getting drunk and taking someone else home. He’ll need to apologize later for taking it out on his friends but right now he’s thinking about you. He has no right to be mad at you for leaving when he never asked you to stay. You’ve got no right getting jealous over him with another girl when you know that’s how he is. He gets over one person by getting with someone else, he won’t change for you.

“She’s fucking crazy,” he muttered to himself as he fished out his keys. He knew you really left because he saw you leave through the exit doors. He lost you after that but when Namjoon went to comfort him he couldn’t take it. He didn’t need to be comforted. He needed to find you.

So despite everything he’s still driving to you. Why? Because he’s mad. He’s not supposed to argue with you. You’re the one he feels comfortable with because he’s kept you at a distance. Now look at this mess. He can’t leave it like this. He entered the code to your building letting himself up to your floor. He wasn’t thinking all too clearly. He has yet to figure out what to say to you but he’s still going to you. He wasn’t even sure if you were home yet but that didn’t stop him from knocking.

He stood in front of the peephole so you’d see it was him and waited. He was anxiously fidgeting debating if he should call or text you. He should’ve done that first but as stated earlier he wasn’t thinking. He huffed, “Alright Jungkoom…” he had to talk some sense into himself, “Just call Y/n, work it out.”

His hand was scrolling through his notifications finding one from you and calling you. He tapped against the wall nervously hearing the ringing tone. You could still be out getting drunk, he’s not sure where you went after leaving so that could be the case. But even if it was he hopes you answer.

You didn’t say anything right away but once the ringing stopped and he was connected he was relieved. “Where are you?” He asked forwardly. Now should the two of you talk this out or call it truce again?

You took him by surprise when you spoke, “Waiting for you at your place.”

His whole body tensed as he staring at your door number. You left before him, how long have you been waiting? He took a step away from your door already holding his keys, “You’re there right now?”

“Yeah, for like twenty minutes now,” you said making him pull his phone away to check the time. He was power walking now across the hall back to the elevator, “Why didn’t you call me? Are you crazy? I drove to your place. Don’t go, I’m driving home right now.”

He’s pretty sure he sped through a few yellow lights, really tearing his luck on a Saturday night but he didn’t care. It’s like you had complete disregard for your own safety. At the same time though, Jungkook felt strange over the fact that you both ran to the other without even talking about it.

He hurried to his building, running into the elevators to his floor. If you had already been waiting twenty minutes, it had to have been forty now. It was way past midnight, the sun will be up soon and you were both acting so impulsively. His footsteps only slow with the sight before him once he reached his door.

There you were with your knees drawn to your chest and your head resting on your arms, your legs hid the view from under your dress. It was late and sure, his building was pretty secure and you were on his guest list, but you shouldn’t be out here. You could’ve at least texted him and he would’ve been home a lot sooner. He wouldn’t have wasted a drive to your house if he knew you were at his.

“Y/n?” He called out to you cautiously. When you didn’t answer right away he squatted down in front of you bringing a hand to your hair combing it out of your face. You’ve fallen asleep. The warmth of his hand on your face had you jolting awake in fear. Once you noticed it was him you calmed down. “What are you doing here?” He asked in a whisper, “I was coming to you.”

“I didn’t want us to stop talking because we’re mad so I just came here,” you told him honestly. It was true, you’re not sure what would happen between you if the last time you saw him you argued. What would that do to your situationship? Sure, you weren’t dating and it was supposed to be no strings attached but clearly that wasn’t working anymore. He’d be lying if he said seeing you right now didn’t make him feel a whole lot better with himself for running to you after your fight. He moved to sit now, your legs slightly touching with his as he sat in front of you.

He sighed in exhaustion pulling on his hair when he brushed it out of his face, “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” you ran your hand over your face, “It’s not usually like this between us. It’s always easy and lately it’s just been so… hard.” He fixed some hair out of your face as your knees pressed against his on the hallway floor.

He nodded in agreement, the arm he hand slung over his knee was reaching for your hand. He held it loosely in his own as he drew small circular patterns by your thumb knuckle. He licked his lips nervously, “I don’t like it. I don’t want us arguing Y/n.”

“I don’t either,” you admitted, “But I don’t even get what’s wrong. Why are we arguing?”

You both know why but you can’t accept it. After telling yourself over and over and over again, there you were. Genuinely hurt because of this guy and how you feel for him. It was so depressing.

“Can I be honest?” He asked to which you nodded. Jungkook just stared at you for a moment in pause. He wanted to be honest right now but he’s not sure anymore. What if he got shut down? What if you laughed in his face? What if this only made you pull back even more? He took a deep breath, “I know I’m not the best guy and I’ve been rude as hell tonight but… I don’t know. Don’t you want to try it?”

You looked at him expectantly. He scooted closer looking at the ground. He was just going to be honest. He wasn’t going to try and argue or put the blame on anyone else. He’ll be up front with you if the next time you stayed. “Obviously I know what I was getting myself into in the beginning but, I didn’t expect it to be this hard. And I know I’ve said some meant things tonight and in the past all together but I swear I don’t mean a thing. I just get so mad because… well you know.”

“Like I know we’re not dating but…” Jungkook confessed with a baited breath, “At the end of the day you’re the only one who really knows me. Like—oh fuck, you know what I’m trying to say, right?”

His voice was low, a little raspy and raw, “I know I’m not like a good guy but what I’m trying to say is that I really want to be, for you, I mean.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, mouth dry as you looked down the hall to avoid looking at him. This was too much, but you wanted this. It was just so hard to sit here and try and talk something out instead of running away. You’ve barely realized what you two had during the good times. You weren’t supposed to get attached to him though, that’s why you always left with someone else. That’s why he went off with whatever girl he felt like it when you weren’t around.

Like what was he saying right now? What happened to no strings attached? Was that all bullshit because why are you here right now? Why did you come here in hopes of talking things out with him? You wouldn’t do that for someone you didn’t give a fuck about. You weren’t hesitating because you didn’t feel the same. On the contrary, you actually realized the feelings you’ve got for him but that’s what made you wary. Were you ready to throw a label on it? Were you ready for the work it took to be in an exclusive relationship?

The silence was getting too loud and it took everything in Jungkook to hold his emotions down. He didn’t want to raise his voice or come off negative. He wanted to discuss this not yell at each other again. He’ll wait patiently for as long as possible. He couldn’t look at you, staring down at your intertwined hands instead. You wanted to try and communicate but it’s like you physically couldn’t. You had to force yourself to be open, “I just don’t get it.”

His eyes shot up toward you. You looked genuinely confused, “I mean… I’m not like, someone you should like. Look at us, can you honestly say it’d ever work between us?”

You ran away from commitment and he replaced you whenever he wanted. It was a recipe for disaster no matter how strongly you felt for him. “You don’t trust me with someone else, and I don’t trust you. That’s why we got into this mess in the first place,” you were being cold again.

“Why would you even want me—“

“Stop.”

You looked at him as he cut you off. You didn’t mean to self deprecate yourself but realistically, it wouldn’t work. If you’ve argued this much now imagine what it’d like when you’re together. Sure, you’ve been doing with him for a long time but you never stayed. That’s why he wanted you, because he knew he didn’t to worry about you sticking around.

“Stop trying being stubborn and just talk to me,” he said, “No excuses please.”

“Ugh,” you whined leaning your head against the wall looking at him, “What do you want me to say Jungkook? Obviously I have feelings for you. I thought that was clear.” You were mumbling but Jungkook could sense your defensive tone. You were trying to take things lightly in case he didn’t mean what he was saying. That way you can downplay it instead of being emotional.

“It definitely wasn’t,” he said truthfully. Honestly it couldn’t have been. This switch in emotions had been so intense for the both of you that suddenly all you thought about was each other. There were times you did make him believe you were into him and he’d start questioning it but then you’d ditch him and he’d find you with someone else. That’s why it wasn’t clear to him how felt. And truthfully, he hadn’t even been looking that much into it. He had kept repeating how you were just a fling over and over again to stop from falling for you that he was too annoyed with his own problems. You’d argue and then brush it off like it was nothing because it was supposed to be nothing. Like he said though, those strings were definitely attached in the end.

Jungkook let out a sigh as he held your hand a little tighter, “Then spend the day with me tomorrow. Don’t leave in the morning and I won’t do anything that makes you mad.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Jungkook realizes this is as close as a confession to him as he’ll get right now so he’s gonna take ir. He’s always been more vocal than you when it came to any sort of emotion so he knows it’s going to take a minute. You weren’t a talker when it came to changing. You would rather show it or see the effort put in instead of empty words. But he already knew that because he knew you. After a couple seconds you were nodding your head in agreement as he helped you to your feet and inside his apartment. You see how easy this was? How comfortable you felt with him even as he kneeled down to help you out of your shoes? How he unzipped the back of your dress and threw a t-shirt over you? He knew you like the back of his hand so why not try it? He wasn’t even pushing you to answer like he normally would. He was respecting your hesitance in words. Maybe he knew deep down you felt the same and you did.

You sat on the edge of his bed as he disappeared into his bathroom. You’ve been over at his place so many times your makeup wipes were there. He brought them out to you and while you cleaned up he removed his jewelry. He wore black sweats that hung loosely off his hips and no shirt. You know he likes to sleep naked so those sweats will be off soon. You know he’ll sleep on the left side instead of the middle because you like the right. You knew so many small details about him it’s a damn shame you didn’t realize it sooner. Or no, you didn’t want to realize it sooner. You needed to just say something.

“What?” He asked feeling your stare on him. He stood a foot away from your seat position. Your arms reached out to pull him toward you hugging his bare waist and he let you. His arms wrapped slowly around you as he stood between your parted legs, brushing through the hair you had. He looked down at you as you looked up, your cheek against his abs.

“I really want to try for you too,” you finally said making his heart practice stop beating. Now he was flooded with everything that’s happened between you. All the challenges you’ll face transition from what you were to something more. The confirmation he had that you wanted to work on it too.

Obviously there was no promise that you two would go together well in the future but at least for now you’re both willing to see where it could go.

::.

request 1

request 2

y’all this was a trip huh.

listen I don’t want no y/n bashing bc they both got stuff to work on.

no part 2

that’s why I left the ending open but also made implications.

#kpop #jeon jungkook #Jungkook smut #kim taehyung #bts #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #park jimin #bts smut

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kaizestar · 5 months

Text

toxic!fwb simon x f!reader; f!reader x johnny pt 2

fem!reader. use of pet names (darling, dove, lovie). toxic relationships. can be read as a stand-alone but pt 1 is here if you want to read it (18+, mdni.)

toxic!fwb simon tends to act a lot like your boyfriend, until someone reminds him that he isn’t—that someone being johnny.

you could see the hatred burning in simon’s brown eyes, every last bit of it directed to the man who had interrupted price’s teasing with a lazy smile and Scottish lilt to the drawl in his voice.

“‘ey, now i’m not wrong, am i, mate?” johnny chuckled. “all that talk about not wantin’ a relationship—was that all it was? talk?”

the thing with simon was that he had all sorts of sides to him, like one of those abstract paintings that changed face depending on where you were viewing it from. typically, simon was soft. a bit rough around the edges, sure, but good at heart.

that was your simon. the simon right now, though, was full of sharp, prickly edges and thorns—but it was still a simon. you could practically see the annoyance festering in his gut, and without intervention, it’d grow into something unpleasant.

“simon.” you touched his bicep before he managed to say something that would get the two men into a dogfight. “don’t.” you looked over at johnny. “is there a reason you’re here, johnny?”

johnny shrugged his shoulders easily, looking much more relaxed than the man besides you was. “jus’ checkin’ up on m’favorite girl.” he flashed you a smile, one a tad too flirtatious, prompting a low growl from simon.

Johnny’s eyes shifted over to the broader man and he is lip curled. “i don’t get it, darlin’. i really don’t. but i’ll wait for ya, lovie, ‘cause i know y’er worth it.”

simon stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as it was pushed back. he didn’t say a word as he left the cabin, the clunk of his boots against the ground echoing through the halls.

“well.” price gave you an amused glance. “i s’ppose you’re gonna go after your little boyfriend, kiddo?”

you clenched your jaw. “not my boyfriend,” you muttered. oh, but how you wished he was.

“sure he ain’t.” price tapped the top of his pen against the desk, raising an eyebrow at you. “i’ve seen a lot of shit, but the lovebirds in denial always end in a shitshow.”

“i guess we’ll just have to stop being lovebirds, then.” your gaze shifted over to the doorway that simon had stalked off into. “not that it’ll be that hard at this point.”

johnny had been quiet this entire time, but he spoke up at that. “sorry ‘bout that, lovie. i don’t mean no harm.” he scratched the back of his neck. “well, i guess i do, but not like that. i jus’ wanna chance, since simon ain’t always treatin’ ya right. i know he ain’t the straightest in his speakin’, ‘specially when it comes t’you.”

your shoulders sagged. “…it’s alright, johnny,” you sighed. “i know you didn’t mean no harm. but i… i wanna see what i can do with simon and that moodiness of his first. is it okay if i come back to you?”

“jus’ want a chance, dove.” he smiled again. “go ahead. but if he messes ya up, i’ll be here f’er ya.”

“i appreciate it.” you stood up, hurrying away to find wherever simon had stormed off to, leaving johnny alone with his captain. there was a moment of silence between the two, a sort of shared calmness to both of them that smoothed over any remaining uneasiness.

“…i see we’ve got a new pair of lovebirds in town.” price shook his head, taking a lighter out to flick at the cigarette he had set down in his ashtray. “you gonna fight over her with simon? seems like a bad choice for an opponent, y’know. she’s already head over heels for him.”

johnny hummed. “i know. but i’m still gonna shoot my shot regardless.” he managed a grin. “i’ve still got my wits about me, cap’in, and i’ll have ‘em ‘til ghost decides to beat ‘em outta me.”

price brought the cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag before his lips split into a wolfish grin that matched johnny’s. “so are ya doing this for him or her?”

“neither. i’m doin’ this for myself.” he laughed, and then leaned back in his seat with a cheeky smile. “i get t’be a bit greedy, don’t i? if simon gonna buy a cake and just let it sit there in the display window, don’t i get’ta pay ‘im some cash to take the cake off his hands?”

“your metaphors are as worse as ever.” though, price nodded in understanding. “if i were you, i’d be fighting tooth and nail for even a scrap of her attention. hell, i’d get on my fuckin’ knees and beg her not to leave.”

“that doesn’t sound healthy,” johnny remarked.

his captain snorted, waving his cigarette around. “clearly, i’m not a healthy man, now am i?”

“good point.” johnny snickered softly. “thanks, cap’in.“

“take care of yourself, johnny.” price nodded, watching as the youngest member of the taskforce stood up and left, following those that preceded him. “ah, young love,” he mumbled wistfully. “its as derogatory as i remember.”

“simon?” you tentatively made your way into his barracks, glancing around the room for any sign of the giant of a man. finally, your eyes landed on the bunk, where he was sitting, brown eyes sinking into the floorboards. the intensity in them didn’t fade as they shifted over to you; if anything, it grew.

but he didn’t speak a word. instead, he simply stared at you. and you stared back.

finally, his head lowered. “shouldn’t you be with johnny?”

the defeat in his voice made your knees buckle. “no?” you made your way over to him, taking a seat next to him. “no, i don’t think i should.” when that didn’t get any sort of response, you prodded him gently. “unless you want me to be?”

his eyes snapped up to meet yours, burning with an indiscriminate sort of fire, before it lowered into a simmer. “…you know what i want.” he looked away from you.

“simon, i can’t read your mind.” you sighed, touching his thigh comfortingly. “please talk to me.”

his hands balled up into fists; those hands you’ve kissed, those hands you’ve held, those hands you’ve felt. they were toughened with callouses over years of manual labor, and you knew he hated them. that’s what made you love them even more.

“i…” he tried to reply, licking his chapped lips nervously. for once, you thought that he really was about to do this; to finally say the words that had been weighing down on both of your chests for so long.

but then he clamped his mouth shut and gruffly turned away from you. “can’t. m’sorry.”

your shoulders slumped.

“i shouldn’t be surprised, should i?” you whispered. ghost’s eyes widened slightly, following after you as you turned on your heel and left.

“wait, i…” his voice died off when he realized he didn’t quite know what he could say in this moment that wouldn’t drive you to johnny’s arms.

all he knew was that without you, everything felt cold.

the tiredness consumed him, and the desire to sleep indefinitely tugs at his chest.

and maybe you’ll visit him in his dreams. because to him, that’s all you were.

a distant dream.

well well well, how the turn tables have turned. I wrote this on a whim so it’s not that good, but I’ll probably write a pt2 just to wrap all the loose ends up.

or maybe ghost just dies lol. that’d be an ending, after all.

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peachdues · 9 months

Text

Phantasmagoria (Part II)

Tell Me to Stop (Sanemi’s Version)

Sanemi x F!Reader • Modern AU • NSFW

A/N: read the fucking warnings before you report.

Massive TW: grief • loss of a parent • canon character death • drug and alcohol abuse • panic attacks • implied attempted sexual assault (not described, happens off-page • non-consensual photos being texted around (very briefly described, and then it’s just a mention of a bite mark) • violence between characters • brief description of Douma getting his face pounded in (deserved)

CW: 14k words. MDNI. explicit sexual content ahead (opens mid-fuck) • creampies • oral (f! and m!receiving) • rough oral • throat fucking • cum eating • ass-smacking • hate(?)fucking • toxic ass FWB • swearing • angst

I promise Part III will have angst BUT also lots of fluff/intimacy/care.

Without further ado!

Three weeks had passed since Sanemi first brought her home with him when Y/N realized she was utterly fucked.

Sure, at that moment, the platinum-haired man had her bent over his kitchen table, arms pinned behind her back as he pounded mercilessly into her, but she realized that she was also fucked because nothing had ever or would ever compare to the way Sanemi made her feel.

It had started only as an occurrence whenever they were out at night, with Y/N tugging Sanemi into Kizuki’s seedy bathroom to bounce against his lap. Sanemi had been forced to muffle his groans by sucking harshly on her breast as he fucked her against the bathroom wall, only for her to succinctly pull off him the moment he finished to return to her friends, Shinobu discretely handing her a napkin to wipe the remnants of his pleasure as it dripped down her thighs.

Then, she started letting him bring her back to his apartment from the various clubs and bars their groups visited. She grew content to let him lay her over the side of his bed to swirl that sinful tongue around her needy, demanding clit as his thick fingers steadily pumped in and out of her aching cunt while he fucked her mouth, his seed spilling down her throat with a force that threatened to obliterate any dwindling part of her that had not been utterly consumed by him.

But that still had not been enough for Y/N — or for Sanemi, apparently.

Because their late-night trysts had quickly evolved into near-daily rendezvouses, both stone-cold sober and texting each other in the middle of the day, in desperate need to feel the other’s body pressed flush against their own. And as wrong as it was, Y/N loved it; she craved it more than any pretty Wisteria pill or sticky fruity drink.

Because all it took was one taste for Y/N to end up right back in the scarred palm of Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand, begging him to fuck her back to life.

And fuck her he did. The top of her sundress had been pulled down to her waist, and the wooden grain of his kitchen table bit into her bare breasts as Sanemi’s hips slapped roughly against her ass. Y/N was close to sobbing because god, it felt fucking good when he got rough with her like that, when he made her feel anything other than the crippling numbness that seemed to spread through her with each passing day.

He released her arms to lean forward and ghost his lips up her spine, all the way to the back of her neck, and Y/N came hard, just like she did every time they came together because Sanemi knew how to set every nerve in her body on fire with his addicting touch and addicting kiss.

One rough hand made its way under her jaw to twist her head back so he could claim her lips with his, coming as he did so, his groan of pleasure muffled by Y/N sliding her tongue into his mouth.

She hated how much she loved him.

—————————————————————————

They’d been sleeping together for nearly a month when Sanemi decided to test her patience.

“So, are we gonna talk about it?” Y/N cringed, because no, she most certainly did not want to talk about it; not then, not ever, and especially not with him.

“Why would we?” She responded flippantly, twirling the straw in the dregs of her drink. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit,” Sanemi snapped at her. “You’ve spent the last two years running away from us, and you think there’s nothing to talk about?”

Y/N met his stare hard, her own returning glare cold. “Running implies effort.”

“D’you really think I didn’t try to find you?” Sanemi grabbed her wrist, keeping her from getting up and leaving the bar. “But god forbid you be vulnerable, huh?”

————————————————————————-

“Oh, God forbid you be vulnerable, ‘Nemi,” Y/N gave him an exaggerated eye roll as she leaned her head against Kyojuro’s shoulder.

“You’re sayin’ you would let yourself get that…close with someone?” Sanemi argued, and with a sigh, Kyojuro paused the movie.

They weren’t supposed to be watching a movie with such steamy scenes, but Y/N’s mother had stepped out to cover a shift for a friend, and the trio of teenagers had been left without supervision.

Really, the movie hadn’t been that bad; but the film’s shining sex scene had been several minutes long, each of the teenagers shifting uncomfortably on the couch as the sound of moans filled the basement where they’d gathered to watch.

The scene had passed, but Y/N’s and Sanemi’s argument over a particular detail had not.

“If you’re already having sex, why does it matter what position it’s in?” Y/N half shrieked with laughter as both boys turned scarlet. “Isn’t intimacy the whole point?”

Sanemi turned his face away, embarrassed. “All I’m sayin’ is I don’t think I’d ever let a woman have that much power over me.” Sanemi was referring to the way the female character had climbed atop the love interest and began riding him, her head tipped back as loud, lascivious moans fell from her lips.

It was Kyo’s turn to laugh. “You’d have to get a woman in that position, to begin with, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi made a disgruntled sound. “Bro code says you’re supposed to be on my side, Rengoku,”

Beneath where her cheek lay, Kyojuro vibrated as he laughed heartily. “I’m not saying I’m not! Just that you’ve got a few steps to take before you have to worry about it.”

“Worry about being too vulnerable,” Y/N screwed her eyes up and stuck her tongue out on the last word as she teased him, settling back in against the couch as she grabbed the remote from Kyo’s hand and re-started the movie.

—————————————————————————

“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N said frostily, stomping away from the bar and from him.

She didn’t know why she tried to run away from him, not when it was so pointless. Because an hour later, Y/N found herself on the edge of Sanemi’s bed, as he hooked her legs over his muscled shoulders. Face buried deep in her cunt, he lifted her off the mattress, suspending her mid-air and upside down as he ravished her while she sobbed for him to do more, to give her more until she could not possibly take anything else from him.

Perhaps he was punishing her; maybe she deserved it. All Y/N knew, as Sanemi finally tore his mouth away from her weeping core and flipped her onto her knees before slamming her back on his steely length, was that if this was her punishment for loving Sanemi Shinazugawa, she would gladly take it.

The last thing she thought, as Sanemi spilled into her for the second time that evening, thumb swirling her clit and his teeth buried in her neck, was that she was grateful to be on birth control.

—————————————————————————

“Do you like doing that?” Kyojuro’s voice was hesitant over the vibration of the music and laughter of drunken revelers gathered to let loose on the Kizuki dancefloor, and Y/N had to lean closer to hear him at all.

Y/N frowned slightly as she pushed her dissolving Wisteria to her cheek. “It’s just a recreational thing, while we’re out, y’know?”

She didn’t know why she was explaining herself to him, or why she felt like she had to, but Kyojuro had always been one of the few people who could pull the truth out of her with little effort, and in the back of her mind, she knew that made him dangerous. After all, he might get her to confess that she’d missed his smile or missed the blazing heat of Sanemi’s stare whenever she spoke.

Kyojuro reached out and brushed a lock of her hair that had fallen loose from one of her space buns behind her ear. “You were always so straight-edge. I guess I’m just surprised.”

Y/N wanted to smack his hand away but found herself leaning into the steadying warmth of his touch. “Things change, I suppose.”

Kyojuro winced, and his eyes filled with a sadness that was too out of place here in this den of debauchery. “Where did it all go wrong, Y/N? What happened?”

It all went wrong when Sanemi and Genya’s parents were killed in that car crash, making the boys wards of the state who were then bounced around from foster home to foster home. It all went wrong when Genya defended another boy in a fight that wasn’t his to begin with and ended up dead on a sidewalk. It all went wrong when Sanemi lashed out at her and condemned her with a few choice words that seemed grossly disproportionate to what she’d actually said. It all went wrong when Kyojuro decided that being there for Sanemi meant he had to abandon her, too, and then they’d both forgotten about her while she’d lost everything.

But Y/N couldn’t unload all of that right then. “Things change, Kyojuro.” She repeated, though her voice was slightly weaker than it had been, wobbling slightly in a way that Y/N knew meant she would cry if given long enough.

“But you’re our friend, Y/N-” Kyojuro pled, but it was the wrong thing to say, and he cringed as he watched her clam up almost instantly.

—————————————————————————

“She’s our friend!” Kyojuro said hotly, though, with his missing front tooth, it was hard to see him as anything but adorable, even as he glowered at the sneering girl, as he helped Y/N stand up from where she’d been knocked over.

“What a weirdo!” Ume, the small, white-haired girl who always looked like she smelled something unpleasant, reached to yank one of Y/N’s pigtails harshly, causing her to cry out in pain. “And you’re ugly, too!”

Y/N had only been trying to join in on Ume’s tea party that she held with the other girls in their class. But when she’d boldly tried to sit down amongst them, the cruel little girl had shoved her harshly out of the circle they’d formed on the blacktop,

Kyojuro smacked the beastly little girl’s hand away. “Hit her again, and I’ll make you sorry!” He threatened, and for once, the girl had the wits to look slightly intimidated at the blonde who towered over her.

“If you hit me, I’ll tell my brother on you!” The troll hissed, but it did little to cow Kyojuro, who shouldered past her as he steered the softly crying Y/N away from the horrid little group of girls.

“Y/N, are you okay?” The blonde asked worriedly after they were out of sight of Ume, turning her around to look her over.

“I-I just w-wanted to be t-their friend!” Y/N hiccupped, her tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “But they were s-so mean!”

Kyojuro pat her head, just like he did with his baby brother. “You don’t want to be their friend, Y/N,” he said kindly. “Not when they’re so mean. Stick with me and Sanemi! We’ll always look after you!”

Y/N wiped her eyes and tugged at her loose pigtail, all messed from Ume’s harsh grip. “Do you promise?”

Kyojuro smiled as brightly as the sun. “I promise! I will always be here to watch after you – whenever you need me! I’ll be there!”

—————————————————————————

Y/N patted the warm brawn of Kyojuro’s shoulder sympathetically. “I was, Kyo,” her use of his nickname somehow made him hurt more, his mouth wobbling somewhat as his eyes mirrored the resignation in hers. “But it’s just as I said,”

Y/N reached for Mitsuri’s discarded drink on the counter and tipped it back, draining the last dregs of alcohol. “Things change.”

—————————————————————————

Y/N was leaning against the counter of the bar, nursing her beer as she watched her pink friend giggle and murmur sweetly to the black-haired boy dancing with her, the latter’s hands hesitantly gripping her friend’s waist.

“You don’t approve?” A familiar voice rose over the pounding bass of the club music from her side. Y/N didn’t have to turn her head to know who’d sidled up next to her – she would know his blistering heat anywhere.

She tapped her fingers against the sweaty side of her glass. “I just don’t know why he won’t make a move,” Y/N said after a long moment, a frown pulling at the corners of her red-painted lips.

Sanemi followed her line of sight and his mouth pressed into a hard line. “Maybe he wants to, but he thinks it’ll just make things worse.” He said after a moment, voice quiet.

Y/N hummed in disagreement. “He’s making it worse by not doing anything at all – he’s made her think it’s her fault things aren’t working out between them.”

“He doesn’t mean to,” Sanemi offered. “He does care about her. More than she realizes.” He watched as Obanai delicately brushed a strand of Mitsuri’s pink hair from her eyes.

Y/N finally rolled her head to the side to look at him, and idly she wondered if her eyes looked as numb as she felt. “If he did, he wouldn’t keep hurting her; wouldn’t have hurt her to begin with.”

Sanemi stared back at her, and it made her heart squeeze to see the faintest trace of pain in his gaze, even in spite of his small smile. “’S not that simple, though.”

She looked away. “It could’ve been,” Y/N took a long sip of her drink, part of her hoping that he couldn’t catch the jaded edge that crept into her voice. “And now all they know how to do is use one another.”

Sanemi’s gaze upon her was uncomfortable, and not just because it felt like he was stripping down every carefully crafted wall she’d erected around herself during their estrangement. The genuine flash of hurt in his eyes made her feel slick, oily, and so very wrong.

The pair watched as the mismatched couple on the dancefloor swayed together, Obanai’s eyes wide the whole time, as though he could not believe he had the good fortune of holding the beautiful, colorful girl in his arms. Y/N tried to feel happy for her friend, but it was difficult, especially when he knew that the night would inevitably end with Mitsuri in tears, lamenting that her dark-haired lover had yet again insisted he was not good enough for her, and he would leave Y/N to pick up the pieces of her friend’s broken heart.

“They should let themselves try,” Sanemi murmured, bringing Y/N’s attention back to him.

In one smooth gulp, Y/N polished off the rest of her drink, the warm buzz of alcohol loosening her tongue. “Trying is for those who haven’t lost hope.” Y/N squared her shoulders and steeled herself to return to the dancefloor once more. “And Mitsuri is about to learn that lesson.”

Later, just as Y/N predicted, Obanai left but Mitsuri did not go with him. As she wrapped an arm around her crying best friend to steer her out of the club, Y/N looked back to Sanemi, still at the bar, and hoped he could see the I told you so in her eyes.

————————————————————————-

It was July, and Sanemi was getting on her last nerves.

“Y/N, you need to stop,” Sanemi’s voice was gruff as his hand closed over her wrist, restraining her from raising the little violet pill to her lips — her second of the night.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t realize you were my father,” she tried to turn away from him, but he caught her shoulder, wrenching her back around and swatting at the hand clutching her key to euphoria.

“Cut the shit, Y/N.” He ignored the way she glared at him, as she watched her pill bounced to the floor and disappeared. “You’re destroying yourself; you know that?”

Y/N’s blood turned to ice in her veins. “It’s none of your business, Shinazugawa,” and he flinched at her use of his surname. “Why do you even care?”

Sanemi almost looked menacing as he stares at her under the flashing strobes of the Kizuki. “You’re my friend.”

————————————————————————-

“Because Sanemi,” Y/N sniffed, “You’re my friend.”

Though Sanemi’s bandages covered most of his face, he could just make out the teary sincerity in the young girl’s eyes as she squeezed his good hand where it lay against his hospital bed.

At that moment, Sanemi had felt guilty for snapping at his long-time best friend. He’d known that she hadn’t meant any harm when she asked him if the multitude of lacerations that now covered the right side of his body were permanent. But Sanemi had woken up to the news that he and Genya were now all alone in the world, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself; he couldn’t help his need to wallow in the sadness and misery that threatened to suffocate him.

And so, he’d lashed out.

“Tch, who’d wanna be friends with a scarred freak like me?” He snapped back, though the sourness in his gut intensified as the tears slipped faster down Y/N’s cheeks.

“I do,” she insisted. “We’ve been best friends since we were babies.” Amidst the sniffling desperation in her eyes, the first inklings of anger began to shine through. “You can’t just decide to quit being friends! That’s not fair!”

“I don’t care if you have scars!” Y/N’s voice grew more shrill over the slow, steady beeps of the various machines to which Sanemi found himself attached. “I’ve always thought you were…were… pretty!” She sputtered.

For once, Sanemi had been stumped into silence. The young boy found himself suddenly grateful that most of his face was indeed covered by several layers of thick medical gauze, given the way he felt his cheeks heat at Y/N’s furious declaration.

“And I will always want to be your friend!” Y/N finished dramatically, crossing her arms, and flinging herself back in the plastic chair she’d dragged over by his hospital bed.

“All right,” Sanemi murmured, grateful that he could blame the crack in his voice on his impending puberty. “All right. We’re friends.”

“Best friends,” Y/N corrected, though the sparkle had returned to her eyes.

—————————————————————————

Y/N laughed without humor. “You think, because we fuck when we’re high or drunk, that makes us friends?”

Y/N laughed again, and Sanemi’s grip around her wrist tightened. “As I recall, Shinazugawa, it was you who ended our friendship, well before we ever started—” Y/N grimaced. “Whatever this is that we’re doing.”

“We hook up when we’re under the influence. Nothing more.” She finished, coldly.

A flash of hurt flit across his features, almost obscured by the pulsing lights of the club. “I’ve been sober for the last month, Y/N.”

Sanemi’s answer landed harder than she’d anticipated, in no short part because she hadn’t noticed he’d stopped taking Shinobu’s Wisteria, much less stopped drinking while they were all out together. As he said it, however, Y/N recalled the way it had been more than a month since they’d last hooked up at night, with Sanemi responding to her texts only in the morning or early enough in the evening before she’d had the chance to fall under the Wisteria’s magic spell.

In the back of her mind, Y/N knew she should be concerned with the way the Wisteria was beginning to dull her perception and her memory, but she couldn’t find it within her to care at that moment. She only wanted to make the man before her hurt, hurt the way he’d made her hurt for all these months.

But she couldn’t. There were a million insults on her tongue, waiting to be used, and she knew that he could take whatever it was she threw at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“The sentiment is the same, drunk or sober,” Y/N said, half-heartedly. “We’re not friends. We haven’t been for a long time.”

The pain in Sanemi’s eyes was overshadowed by his own anger, a sure match to her own. “No? So, I’m just a stranger to you, hm?” He took a step closer to her and reached out his hand, gliding it teasingly up her bare arm. “A stranger whom you call and text every day to come and fuck you the way you like it, huh?”

He pulled her close to him, and Y/N let him because he was right, damn him. She craved his touch, his body, more than any tiny purple pill or acidic drink she could spend her money on. She craved him just as surely as she craved air.

But she could not admit that to him, not then, not there. So, Y/N merely breathed, “Yes,” as Sanemi’s hand wrapped under her jaw, his other one tangling in her hair to pull her head back and meet his eyes directly.

Sanemi kissed her, softly, before pulling away to smile ruefully at her. “Then have your pills, Y/N. But you can’t have me, too.”

He released her, and Y/N stepped back, thankful for the dim lighting of the club that concealed her blush. “I don’t need you,” she whispered, though she knew it was a lie. From the look that Sanemi gave her in response, as he retreated towards the bar, she could see he knew it, too.

Y/N sought out Shinobu for another one of her magic pills, but even before she’d allowed it to dissolve on her tongue, Y/N knew something was off. No longer was her world a vibrant array of colors beckoning her to the kaleidoscopic paradise she’d come to love. Instead, the Wisteria crumbled bitterly in her mouth, and no amount of stinging alcohol could chase away its acerbic aftertaste.

She tried to lose herself on the dance floor as she so often did, but it only worsened the sludge that pulsed through her veins.

Beneath the throb of multicolored lights, Y/N felt as though she was suffocating.

Y/N pushed and elbowed her way dizzily through the crush of people on the dance floor, lungs constricting to the point of pain as she struggled to take a breath, her limbs trembling. Her eyes landed on a pair of lilac irises studying her from across the club, and distantly, Y/N noticed how he straightened, his focus lasering in on her as she stumbled towards him.

She couldn’t deny the irony that she was so used to fleeing from him into the sparkling, sweaty array of club-goers, only to find herself desperate to run to him, for safety and comfort, away from the revelers who were suddenly too loud and too close.

He met her halfway, having moved from his place against the bar counter after noticing her distress. With more relief than Y/N knew she should feel, she collapsed against him, grateful for the steely warmth of his arms as they closed protectively around her. In his embrace, she found that she didn’t even mind the way his lips pressed against her damp forehead as he asked whether she was okay.

She wasn’t, and that was his fault to begin with, but he was there, holding her as if she mattered, and Y/N let herself melt.

—————————————————————————

An hour later, she was back in Sanemi’s apartment, crouched over his toilet while the cold tile of his bathroom floor bit into her knees as she heaved up her guts. Sanemi was there, too, seated behind her on the ground while he held her hair in his gentle grip, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into her back.

Between the spasms in her stomach, Y/N wondered if he could see the black sludge of her love for him mixed in with the bile courtesy of Shinobu’s bad Wisteria pill.

————————————————————————-

The next morning, he was yelling at her.

Y/N was confused as to why, exactly, his voice was raised at her, given how gentle he’d been with her the night before; it wasn’t as if she’d been trying to do anything different when he awoke.

She’d just been gathering her things to leave, as she always did. She never stayed after they’d finished, and he knew that — so it wasn’t her fault that he’d woken up and caught her trying to sneak out of his apartment.

“This has gotten out of hand, Y/N. You’re out of control,” Sanemi was blocking his front door, his face hard. If Y/N hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she saw a hint of concern intermingled with the anger that filled his eyes.

“You were lucky last night that you only had a bad trip — but what if it had been mixed with something? What if Kocho’d made a bad batch?”

Y/N’s head was pounding, and the aftereffects from her the previous night were still echoing through her, twisting her world into something dark.

Sanemi’s raised voice wasn’t helping; not in the slightest.

Y/N felt her hands drift to her head as she covered her ears, her breath quickening as her lungs squeezed and spasmed in her chest.

“Stop,” Y/N pled, but her voice was weak and distant, and utterly drowned out by him.

“You’re killing yourself, don’t you see that?” Sanemi continued hotly. “D’you know how gaunt you look? How frail? This shit is killing you, Y/N.”

“For someone who constantly needs to be in control, you’ve completely lost it.”

“Stop, please, stop,”

“What would your mother think?”

“Stop.” Y/N repeated, and she said it again and again until she was half-screaming it, sobbing as she fell back against the hallway wall of Sanemi’s apartment. Distantly, Y/N recognized she was having a panic attack, and she knew it wasn’t really his fault, but his words had stung nonetheless.

Warm, gentle hands closed around her wrists as Sanemi lowered her hands from her ears and pulled her against his chest.

“Breathe,” he said, hoarsely. “Breathe, Y/N.”

It was too difficult to get a breath down as she gasped against him, his chest bare under the shirt he’d thrown on and failed to button in his haste to stop her before she could run. Beneath the warm skin under her cheek, Sanemi’s heart beat strong and sturdy, a lullaby that soothed the roar in her ears.

“Breathe with me,” Sanemi coaxed, peeling back from her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her head as he pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He inhaled, deep, for three counts before exhaling, and Y/N found herself falling into sync with him as her erratic heart slowed.

But as the jittery panic beneath her skin eased, a fire ignited in her blood, and suddenly, Y/N found herself boiling with anger.

“How dare you?” She shoved him away harshly, her eyes wild. “Who the fuck gave you the right to bring my mother into this? Don’t act like you suddenly give a shit about her memory.”

Sanemi stumbled back under her push, and he looked remorseful, more guilty than Y/N had ever known him to seem. “Y/N, I –“

“No, shut the fuck up,” She snapped. “I don’t believe you for a second, Sanemi. Not for one fucking second do I believe you care about me or about her at all.”

Y/N paced in front of Sanemi, still situated in front of the only entrance to and exit from his apartment. Fine, if he wanted to keep her in there with him, then he could deal with her rage.

“Not one fucking call,” Y/N began. “Not once did you or Kyojuro bother to check-in. ‘Hey, sorry we haven’t spoken in nine months, but we heard your mom got cancer, and she used to feed us when our parents wouldn’t, so we thought we’d check in and see how she was doing.’” She mimicked, cruelly. “Do you see how fucking simple that could have been?”

Sanemi only stared at her, his eyes an unfathomable mixture of sadness, remorse, and pain.

“But you didn’t,” Y/N said coldly. “You two fucked off and continued your merry little friendship together, so spare me the bullshit.”

“Y/N – Kyojuro cares. I care –“ Sanemi tried, but Y/N cut him off once more.

“Shut the fuck up!” She exploded, her hands flailing in front of her as she tried to push him away from her once more. “You don’t care, you never did! I’m just a warm body for you to fuck and that’s it.”

Y/N finally shoved past him, hand reaching for the door. “Don’t you dare pretend like I mean any more to you than that,” She spat.

She flung his door open, but Sanemi’s hand shot past her, slamming it shut once more. Y/N stood there, facing the door, chest heaving as she struggled to control her anger. “Let me go, Sanemi.” She said stiffly, refusing to turn around, to face him.

Sanemi’s hand found her shoulder and turned her around instead, and before she could blink, his mouth slammed down angrily over hers, his hands gripping her waist tight as his teeth nipped her bottom lip, demanding entry that Y/N couldn’t help but give him.

He was her weakness; always had been, always would be.

Sanemi pressed her against his doorway, a strangled groan tearing from his throat as Y/N palmed him through the sweatpants he’d haphazardly thrown on.

“Y/N,” he groaned as she increased the pressure of her hand slightly, her lips moving to his neck as she licked one of the small scars that lay near his jaw.

“I need you, Sanemi,” She murmured, and Sanemi’s eyes blew wide as he growled, arms locking around her middle as he heaved her up against his door.

Their lips met in a fiery exchange of tongue and teeth, biting, and sucking at the other possessively as they tore each other’s clothes from their body. Y/N ground down against Sanemi’s thick, bare length as it bounced against the underside of her thigh, the slick wet of her heat grazing him and causing him to moan in her ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Sanemi growled as he spun them away from the door, guiding them towards his kitchen as he laid her out over his counter, an arm only leaving its position at her waist to clear the assorted mail and spare keys he’d had organized there, letting it all fall to the linoleum floor.

Sanemi’s fingers worked their way between her legs as his lips wrapped around the peak of her breast and sucked, causing Y/N’s back to arch gracefully off the surface of his counter. His thumb stroked her aching bundle of nerves as his index finger swirled around her entrance, teasingly gathering her wetness around the calloused digit, before he sunk it into her, curling it so that he brushed against that sensitive spot on her front wall.

“Sanemi – ah,” she panted as he added yet another finger, her eyes nearly crossing at the sensation of his hand scissoring in and out of her, while his thumb continued to play with her clit. “I can’t wait – please,”

He hesitated for a moment, no doubt fighting every urge to sheathe himself within her heat in a single stroke, but he withdrew his fingers, nodding. With a surprising softness, Sanemi flipped Y/N over, pressing her down against the cool top of his kitchen counter, and used his knee to knock her thighs apart. One hand braced on her hip, the other gripped him at his base as he nudged her opening from behind, Y/N nearly drooled as she felt the hot, flared tip of his cock pressing flush against her entrance, and she rapaciously ground against him, eager to feel him inside of her.

Sanemi gradually eased himself into her wet, aching heat, no doubt taking his time because she’d demanded he take her before properly preparing her. Y/N whimpered at the stretch of her walls around him, as Sanemi groaned, loud and unrestrained, as he sank into her warmth, his chest heaving behind her.

One broad hand slid down the side of her leg, lifting it up to rest on the counter. With one long draw of his hips backwards, nearly withdrawing from her waiting cunt, Sanemi slammed back into her with a force that had her choking for her breath.

Sanemi began to fuck her, and she swore she saw the gates of Heaven.

With every sharp push and pull of his steely length, Y/N felt her eyes roll further back into her skull, as a stream of cries and whimpers poured from her mouth. She was helpless to do anything but push herself back against him as he pounded into her, slamming her back onto his cock over and over, as he moaned and cursed under his breath.

“Fuck,” Sanemi panted in her ear. “Y/N – just stay. With me. Please.”

But Y/N did not answer him; could not, due to the incessant roll of his hips into hers, as Sanemi increased the force with which he thrust into her with every passing second, threatening to snatch every sane thought from her head.

Sanemi pushed her leg further up on his kitchen counter, a hand coming to rest against a cupboard to steady himself as he thrust deeper into her velvet heat.

His lips danced down the back of her neck, biting and sucking. The drive of his hips forced hers to bounce against the counter, the cheap plywood and plaster biting into her hipbones with every impassioned thrust of Sanemi’s cock as he withdrew from her glistening core, only to slam himself back into her.

“Ngh, Sanemi,” Y/N moaned, pushing herself back against him, needing him to go faster, harder, to make her forget all the ways he’d made her feel lonely and unwanted.

He bit down on her shoulder blade as his thrusts grew sloppy. “God, you feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

Y/N was too enthralled by the hurried drag of Sanemi’s length in and out of her desperate cunt to care that he’d referred to her as “baby.” He could call her anything, anything at all, as long as he kept fucking her the way he was, against his kitchen counter.

Sanemi angled his hips and began hammering at the spot deep inside her that had her vision nearly whitening out.

“Fuck, S-Sanemi,” She whined. “I’m gonna cum—.” The ache in her belly flared the way it always did whenever Sanemi brought her close to her end.

“Not yet,” Sanemi groaned, though he found it difficult to keep holding himself back. “Stay with me a little longer, sweetheart.” One hand left its bruising grip on her hip in favor of reaching around her to squeeze at her breasts, as he rolled one of her nipples between his expert fingers.

“I can’t,” Y/N cried, begging. “Sanemi, please, oh please-,”

Sanemi removed his arms from her and brought them to the front of her knees, straightening her legs so they stuck out behind her, one braced on either side of his hips as he increased his rhythm, the loud clap of Y/N’s skin against the counter as he pounded harder into her threatening to drown out her moans.

Once he was sure she would not lower her legs, Sanemi’s hand came down against her backside, smacking her as he bounced her against him.

Y/N cried out in pleasure, beseeching Sanemi to do it again, and he obliged, bringing his hand down against her other cheek as she sobbed. Sanemi hissed as he felt the eager walls of her cunt squeeze him to the point of pain, keeping his bruising length locked within her as he chased his release.

The slight sting of his hand against the sensitive skin of her ass was too much for her to bear; with a keening howl, Y/N shattered around him, Sanemi following suit as his cum shot into her with a force that made him see white, her name the only mantra on his lips.

She was still in the thick of her orgasm when Sanemi abruptly pulled out, his cum dripping from her spasming core and onto the floor beneath them. She didn’t have time to protest, however, as Sanemi dropped to his knees behind her, where she was still spread wide for him, and began to feast upon her, his teeth and lips wrapping around her clit and sucking so hard, she nearly levitated off the counter, her thighs clamping tight around his head.

Y/N could not find it within herself to feel sorry for his neighbors as she screamed his name, her throat burning with the effort as Sanemi hauled her back to her peak and sent her tumbling over it once more, this time stronger than she’d ever felt.

He did not stop; he continued to suck at her through the prolonged waves of her climax, his warm fingers coming to slide into her opening and massage his cum into her quivering walls, making her see stars as his fingertips brushed the spongy part of her innermost wall, her legs spasming around him.

A gush of fluid sprang forth from her, thoroughly coating Sanemi’s face and he groaned with satisfaction, pressing his mouth even harder against her, as though the mixture of his cum with hers was the most intoxicating elixir ever to pass his lips.

Y/N’s pleasure-delirious sobs were muffled against the counter as the aftershock of her successive orgasms wracked through her, her body quivering from the exertion. As the spasms in her cunt subsided, Sanemi finally stepped away, pressing featherlight kisses against her spine, so gentle in contrast with the delightfully brutal way he’d just reminded her that she’d never be able to run away from this – from him.

Sanemi rocked back on his heels, hands braced against the counter as he caught his breath. “Let me clean you up,” he said after a moment, his voice hoarse.

Y/N’s limbs had been reduced to liquid, so she did not complain as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bathroom.

He sat her gently on the edge of his tub and moved behind her to turn the water on, holding his fingers under the steady stream until it was hot – just the way he knew she liked it.

“I don’t want to take a fucking bath here,” Y/N snapped, turning to glare at him. “Just give me a towel and be done with it.”

Sanemi recoiled slightly, and it made her chest hurt. “Was – was that okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Only in every way a person could be hurt, but not through his actions in the kitchen. She wanted nothing more than to take his face in her hands and kiss him, to assure him that, at the very least, she’d loved every second of the way he’d spread her across his counter. But the love in Y/N’s heart had turned it into a black, decaying lump, and so, her response only matched her rotten core.

“It was fine – we’re not a fucking couple,” She snatched a washcloth from his hand and shoved it under the faucet, dampening it and then moving to wipe it between her legs. “So, stop trying to act like we are.”

Sanemi stood back, his arms folding across his chest and his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled after a moment. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It was the gentleness with which he spoke to her that enraged her even more, even though she knew she was being irrational. “It’s whatever,” she muttered, folding the used washcloth back up and laying it neatly over the edge of the bathtub. “I’ve gotta go.”

Sanemi nodded and left the bathroom, still naked himself, and returned with her discarded clothes and underwear. Once he’d passed them to her, he retreated back to his room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Y/N tried to ignore the guilt in her stomach when he did not emerge to say goodbye, as she opened his front door and disappeared into the mid-day sun.

—————————————————————————

All of her friends were traitors.

Not one of them was in the mood to venture out with her, not even Mitsuri, who was newly in a relationship with Obanai, the moody, awkward boy having finally plucked up the courage to confess his feelings for the bubbly pinkette.

Thus, Mitsuri no longer needed Wisteria or sticky drinks to feel high; she had love.

Y/N was happy for her – really; but she wasn’t happy to lose her reliable going-out friend.

So Y/N was on her own at the Kizuki lounge, though she didn’t really mind all that much. She’d become such a regular in that dark den of iniquity that a few other lost souls recognized her as their own and were only happy to dance with her. Unfortunately, however, Shinobu was nowhere in sight, and thus, Y/N was left utterly without the comforting lull of her friend’s Wisteria.

As Y/N pounded back another round of shots, wincing at the burn of the green apple liquor which slid down her throat, a sultry voice spoke.

“Well, it’s rare to see such a beautiful thing like you alone in a place like this,” Y/N turned and saw a familiar yet unnerving pair of eyes – the same she’d seen a few weeks earlier at the club, the first night she’d danced with Sanemi – blinking at her.

He was familiar – she’d seen him around on campus and knew him to be relatively involved with student life. Y/N scoured her brain, trying to place a name on the white-haired man smiling at her like she was something to be devoured.

“Douma, right?” Y/N recalled, and the man nodded, his smile widening revealing a set of too-sharp canines.

“I’m flattered you know my name,” his voice was almost flirty, if not for the sickeningly sweet edge in it that set the hair on her arms standing. “Though, I only know you as Shinobu’s friend,” he pouted.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You know Shinobu?”

The man with the jewel-colored eyes nodded, smiling dreamily. “Shinobu and I are old friends – business partners, even. And me and her sister go way back.” Douma reached out and toyed with a loose strand of Y/N’s hair, and she fought the urge to shudder. “Tell me your name, gorgeous? I’ve seen you around, though Shinobu always barks before I ever have the chance to talk to you.”

Y/N laughed, softly. “Shinobu’s bark is always worse than her bite, I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Douma leaned in close, and his cologne was strong and sensual in a way that made Y/N’s head feel fogged. “And what about your bite? Surely, someone who hangs around with Shinobu is bound to pack a bit of a punch.”

He knew how to flatter, she’d give him that. “I’m afraid I’m all bark, Douma.” And, because she felt lonely, and because she felt a little desperate, she added, “Though I might be inclined to bite if given the right incentive.”

Douma tipped his head back and laughed, deeply, and it made Y/N’s heart flutter. “You are something, aren’t you, Y/N? I can’t believe your friends would let you wander out by yourself.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, and helped herself to the smiling man’s drink, his grin only widening as she polished off its contents. “I need no babysitter, unfortunately for them.”

“No you do not,” Douma purred. “Well, since you’re a free agent tonight, how about you come by my place? My roommate and I are throwing a huge party – I’d bet nearly half the campus is there already.”

Y/N didn’t doubt it; Douma’s parties were something of a campus legend.

“And, I believe I have something that might make it worth your while,” Douma smirked, pulling a small plastic baggie from his pocket. Within it, sat three of those coveted lilac pills, and Y/N’s mouth watered.

“I think that’s exactly the kind of incentive a girl looks for,” Y/N teased, standing with Douma to leave the Kizuki, the latter’s hand coming to rest on the small of her back. Y/N and Douma chatted animatedly as he led her to his car, and Y/N could almost ignore the unease tugging incessantly in her stomach.

She shook off the feeling. After all, if she squinted hard enough, Douma could almost pass as Sanemi.

—————————————————————————

Kyojuro answered his phone with a noncommittal grunt.

“Akaza?” He said, surprise coloring his features. Sanemi perked up at the name of the boy from their hometown but was filled with unease at the way Kyojuro’s face darkened.

“We’re on our way.” Kyojuro clicked his phone off and met Sanemi’s questioning look.

“You know that party on 52nd? We need to go — now.” Kyojuro was already rising, his wallet and keys in hand.

Sanemi didn’t question his best friend, but his phone dinged in time with Kyojuro’s, and both paled at the text image they’d received from an unknown number, sent to each person in their friend group.

It was an image of Y/N, though only half her face was visible — but it was clear she was crying and she looked fucking terrified. Mascara streaked down her cheeks as she held her arms up protectively in front of her. But those too-thin arms could not obscure the blooded, crescent-shaped bite mark just above her breast.

Shinobuuuu your friend is lovely! The message below the image read.

A second, follow-up message dinged. Next time, fucking pay me, hm?

Kyojuro looked back in horror at his best friend but broke into a cold sweat as he beheld the murderous rage that caused his friend to tremble.

“Let’s go.” It was all the white-haired man said as the pair slammed Kyojuro’s apartment door behind them and head for his car.

—————————————————————————

“There you go, Y/N – you should be safe here until we can get you out, yeah?” The pink-haired man opened a door to a hidden closet behind the stairwell in his private room, one he knew with certainty that Douma knew nothing about. “I called you a ride already.”

Y/N sniffled, wiping at her cheeks as she brushed by the man to sit on a trunk sitting in the closet. “Thank you, Hakuji. I owe you one.”

Akaza smiled and shook his head. He’d always liked Y/N – she was always kind to him growing up, and she was one of the few people to call him by his actual name, rather than that abhorrent nickname that he couldn’t seem to shake.

“Nah, I can’t stand that fucker,” Akaza grimaced, checking behind him to ensure no one had snuck in and found them hiding. “Douma always takes things too far. I try to help when I can, but I don’t have eyes everywhere.” He frowned as he considered her. “I’m just glad I saw him bring you in.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, instead only nodding. Akaza sighed. “I’d better get back to the party. Douma’ll go snooping if he can’t find me and I really don’t want to risk him finding you again.” He began to push the door shut. “This locks from the inside. Don’t open it for anyone else – I’ll come get you when your ride is here.”

Y/N nodded. “Thanks again, Hakuji. Say hi to Koyuki for me the next time you see her.”

Akaza smiled warmly and closed the closet door, sealing Y/N safely within.

————————————————————————-

For Y/N, sitting alone in that cramped, dark closet, it felt like hours had passed since Hakuji had locked her away, out of sight from Douma’s unnerving eyes. Y/N was getting antsy, until the sound of gasps and screams from below set her stomach twisting with panic. She began to hyperventilate when she heard footsteps – two pairs, one heavier than the other – rapidly approaching the closet door as the knob began to twist.

Tears were leaking down her face, hot and fast, as a knock sounded against the door.

“Y/N!” Someone hissed. “It’s me – open the door.” It was not Akaza on the other side, but a much warmer, much more familiar voice that had her nearly sobbing with relief.

With a shaking hand, Y/N flipped the lock and the door swung open, revealing the most comforting presence she’d ever known.

Kyojuro stared at her, a mess on the floor of Hakuji’s closet, his expression unreadable. Leaning towards her, he closed a warm hand gently around her wrist and hauled her to her feet, his eyes running over her as those scanning for injury. His nostrils flared at the small dab of blood that had dried on her shirt, concealing the bruising bite mark below.

Kyojuro’s burning grip remained on her as he led her out of Hakuji’s room – the pink-haired man nodding reassuringly at her as she passed him by. Kyojuro halted at the top of the small staircase to the main floor, an eerie silence interrupted only by an occasional gasp below.

He turned back to Y/N, his face stony. “Don’t look,” he warned. “Keep your eyes forward until we get out of here, no matter what.”

A lump formed in Y/N’s throat as the pair descended the stairs, slowly. They almost made it to the front door, where Y/N could see Kyojuro’s car pulled half-onto the lawn outside, still running, when a strange wet thump snapped Y/N’s attention to the adjacent room where party attendees had been dancing only moments before.

Y/N froze as she took in the crowd, gathered, and parted around two men, hunched on the floor, as they all looked on in stunned horror.

It was Sanemi, with Douma pinned beneath his knees, as he mercilessly pounded his fist into her would-be assailant’s face.

Douma was covered in scarlet, and the swollen features of his face were nearly unrecognizable as Sanemi slammed his knuckles into him, over and over. Douma only wheezed out a laugh, apparently egging Sanemi on.

Y/N parted her mouth in horror, ready to call out for Sanemi to stop, but Kyojuro tugged her sharply through the front door and away from the grisly scene.

“Don’t,” he said, softly. “Let him get it out.”

Kyojuro hauled her to his car, pausing only to open his passenger door before gently pushing her to sit down in the worn seat. Y/N didn’t challenge him as he reached over her and buckled her seatbelt, noting the fire raging in his eyes.

Her friend rejoined her on the driver’s side and pulled roughly out of the yard of Douma’s party house, speeding off down the street. Y/N opened her mouth to speak – to say anything, when Kyojuro held up his hand as his other pulled his phone free from his pocket. He read something on the screen, before clicking it off, returning his eyes to the road.

“It’s Tengen – cops have been called.” He explained, his voice low and face hard.

Y/N swallowed thickly. “Sanemi’s going to get arrested.”

Kyojuro snorted. “If Tengen shows up first, Sanemi will be fine. The cops have been looking to bust Douma for months.” Kyojuro slowed at a stoplight and cut his eyes over to where Y/N sat, curled on his seat, looking so small and so vulnerable.

“Y/N,” his voice possessed a gentleness she didn’t deserve, and it only made her mash her lips together in an effort to keep the tears in her eyes. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

She flinched, folding her arms tight across her chest, the spot where Douma bit her aching. Slowly, the memory of a phone camera flashing in her face, mere seconds before Hakuji had exploded into the room, cursing up a storm at Douma as he’d covered her with a blanket, blitzed out of her mind.

“The photos,” she whispered, hands covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, god –,”

Kyojuro’s hands tightened on his steering wheel, his knuckles white. “Y/N,” his voice cracked, just like her heart. “If you’d rather me call one of the girls, I will --,”

Y/N shook her head, urgently. “No, no, Kyo, he didn’t – he only bit me.”

Kyojuro’s grip on the steering wheel relaxed, though only marginally so. “Only bit you,” he repeated, shaking his head in disgust, that cold rage still pulling at his face, contorting the face she loved into something brutal, violent, and unforgiving.

He looked back at her as she trembled in his passenger seat. “What do you need, Y/N?”

Y/N fought to keep her voice steady. “Can – can you just drive, Kyo? Please?”

He nodded, and the two drove in silence for an hour, her friend randomly getting off and on the interstate as the sights of the city passed them aimlessly by.

Kyojuro abruptly pulled his car over to the side of the road, coming to a stop and slamming it into park, before turning to look at her.

“Y/N,” the sound of his voice was so strangled, so pained, that Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling down her face, and into her lap. “What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N sobbed quietly into her hands. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, Kyo.” Her vision was completely obscured by the saltwater that would not stop, her breath becoming panicked.

“I don’t even remember fucking it all up. All I know is I was so fucking angry with you two, and now -,” Y/N cut herself off with a hiccup.

“It’s all so fucked,” her breath was choppy as her tears increased, her hands rising to clutch at her chest. “You – you and Sanemi --,”

Kyojuro got out of his car and walked around to her side, opening the door to tug her out of the passenger seat and into his arms, crushing her against his chest.

“Y-you left me,” Y/N sobbed into the thin fabric of his tee shirt. “I needed my friend, and you left me,”

“I know,” Kyojuro’s tears dampened her hair. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“H-how could you do that, to your best friend?” She cried, clutching his shirt in her hands until her knuckles turned white. “You were my brother, Kyojuro.”

“You promised things would be okay, and then they weren’t. And you didn’t even try.” Y/N pushed away from him then, anger burning through the tears in her eyes. “Friends don’t do that; family doesn’t do that.”

Kyojuro looked as broken as she felt. “I broke every promise I made to you, I know,” he said hoarsely. “I swore I wouldn’t let you get too far away --,”

Y/N exploded.

“Get too far away?” She swore at him, hands angrily wiping the salt from her cheeks. “You abandoned me, you left me hung out to dry!”

Y/N’s hands balled to fists at her side, as she shook. “Sanemi at least arguably had an excuse. You had none. Nothing about what I did — what I said — meant I deserved that,” her eyes, angry and broken, met his own teary gaze once more. “I didn’t deserve that.”

“Y/N,” Kyojuro started, but the furious girl cut him off.

“Shut up, Kyojuro,” she snapped, and for once, the flame-haired man looked lost for words. “Do you have any idea what it was like? To watch you and him carry on as though nothing happened – as though I didn’t fucking exist?”

“And when my mom got sick? She used to feed you and your brother, you – you – selfish asshole,” Y/N was nearly hyperventilating in her ire, as twenty-two months of heartache, pain, and rage boiled out of her all at once. “And you couldn’t even check in?”

“I tried,” Kyojuro cut her off, somewhat forcefully, at her last accusation. “I tried to check in, Y/N. During the summer – I saw the ambulance leaving your house, but I couldn’t leave Senjuro by himself.”

“I came by the first thing the next morning, but no one answered. You --,” Kyojuro hesitated. “You must’ve still been at the hospital. I should’ve checked.”

Y/N laughed without humor. “Visiting doesn’t matter. You had a phone. You know how to use it, and you couldn’t send a fucking text.”

The blonde exhaled, and the tiredness on his face softened some part inside of her, made her want to hug him because deep down, she hated that Kyojuro could ever look so worn down.

“Nothing I say is going to make up for it. I know that.” He whispered. “If I could turn back time, I would, Y/N. Please believe me when I say I would.”

Kyojuro dragged a tired hand down his face, smearing the tears across his cheeks as he did so, and he looked toward his old friend, brokenly. “But I’m here now,” He said, pleadingly. “I’m sorry if that’s still not enough; I understand if it isn’t. But please, let me be here for you, now. Even if that means you hate me.”

Y/N did not expect to break so suddenly, but the sight of Kyojuro openly weeping before her, combined with the bruising sincerity of his words, whittled away all of the hardness she’d built up and struck her right in her heart.

“Oh Kyo,” Y/N shuddered a sob, her shoulders shaking under the weight of her tears as Kyojuro stepped forward once more and enveloped her in his arms. “I could never hate you,”

For the first time in nearly two years, Y/N returned Kyojuro’s hug with the same ferocity she once had, and part of her hoped, oh so timidly, that the force with which he embraced her would slowly work to put her back together again – to make her whole.

The two almost siblings melted into one another, each one muttering a litany of I’m sorrys, and I love you‘s. For a long while, the pair stood there, on the side of the road, swaddled in the other’s embrace as they sobbed together, for both the children they once were, and the adults the world had forced them to become.

Eventually, the pair found themselves back in Kyojuro’s car, still driving with no real destination in mind; only this time, the two blasted music from their high school days and loudly sang off-key together, laughing carefree as their broken hearts mended, song by song. They drove until Y/N yawned, and Kyojuro sternly, but teasingly, noted it was well past her bedtime.

“You scare the shit out of him, you know,” Kyojuro said after a long while, eyes still fixed resolutely on the road leading to Y/N’s apartment.

Y/N, who’d been watching the blur of stars in the night sky as they sped down the highway, rolled her head toward him to look at him, her face skeptical. “Sanemi? Sanemi Shinazugawa, scared of me?” She scoffed, turning her attention back to the night sky as it whizzed past her window.

Kyojuro reached for her hand, and Y/N could have cried at how warm and comforting it felt. “He thinks he’s lost you for good. He does regret how things went down, you know; he did from the get-go.”

“I think he’s afraid he’s going to wake up one day and find you’ll just be gone entirely. Completely unreachable.”

Y/N stretched her fingers to play with the series of necklaces Kyojuro had dangling from his rearview mirror, admiring the way they twinkled under the passing streetlights. “He would have to care to be afraid, Kyo, and you and I both know that he doesn’t care about me.” She chewed on her lip. “Not in that way.”

Kyojuro finally pulled to a stop in front of her apartment. He took his time putting his car in park and shutting it off, before turning back to her, his face solemn. “If you can’t see how crazy he is about you, then I don’t know what else I can say.”

The fire in his stare was scorching, and Y/N fidgeted under the intensity of both his gaze and his words. “He barely knows me, Kyo. He doesn’t know what he wants.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Kyojuro said, though not too harshly. “You might want to believe you’re a different person now, but you’re still you. I promise you, you’re still the Y/N we both know – and love.”

Y/N’s tear fell down her cheeks anew, as she’d not realized how badly she needed to hear that she was still herself – that she wasn’t just a shell of the person she once was, never fully present and never fully worth giving a damn about.

“I think you want to believe he doesn’t care because it makes it easier on you to pretend like you’re just using him.” Kyojuro’s words cut through her like a knife.

Y/N winced and opened her mouth to respond, but Kyojuro raised a hand, silencing her.

“I’m not saying you mean to,” Kyojuro’s words stung, but they were earnest. “And I don’t necessarily think you are – but I think you’re running from him, because you are frightened.”

“What would you have me do, Kyo?” Y/N asked, slightly exasperated as her head thudded back against the worn fabric of his car seat.

“Are you still in love with him?” Kyojuro asked, and it took great effort for Y/N not to roll her eyes at him. “Then you must let him in, Y/N. He wants your love – very much so – of that, I’m certain.”

“He has always wanted my love,” Y/N snorted. “He’s like a jealous, possessive dragon that way. The problem is with him returning it.”

Kyojuro sighed, before getting out of his car and rounding to her side, opening her door for her. “As I said before,” he reached a warm hand to muss her hair as she stood, stretching her stiff limbs from the hours they’d spent driving around the city. “If you can’t see how crazy Sanemi is about you, then I can’t help you.”

Kyojuro’s lips pressed against her forehead, warm and steady, and it felt like home. “Give him a chance, Y/N. Let him into your heart, and he will gladly give you his.”

—————————————————————————

After ensuring Y/N was safely inside her apartment, Kyojuro continued to drive for another hour.

The emotions of the night weighed too heavily on his shoulders, and Kyojuro knew going back to his apartment would end in nothing but him tossing for hours in bed, replaying the last conversation with Y/N in his head, over and over.

—————————————————————————

One year earlier

“Where’s your date, Shinazugawa?” Kyojuro chuckled, reaching for a beer. He was disheartened to see that only one was left, Sanemi having finished at least three since arriving at his place.

“Called off,” Sanemi said thickly, his words slightly garbled as he tried to fake his own sobriety – the surest sign he was already drunk off his ass.

Kyojuro clapped his shoulder sympathetically. “You or her?”

Sanemi took another swig of his drink. “Me.” He looked up at his best friend and Kyojuro was shocked to see how forlorn and sad the hothead looked. “None of ‘em are her.”

It was rare that Sanemi brought her up, especially in the wake of everything that had happened after Genya’s death. But Kyojuro hadn’t been foolish enough to think that a substantial part of the chip on Sanemi’s shoulder hadn’t stemmed from his complicated feelings about her – Y/N.

Their best friend, at least, once upon a time.

Though as Kyojuro supposed, it wasn’t as if Sanemi’s feelings about their friend were really all that complicated. He’d known the abrasive loudmouth had longed for the trio’s only girl since any of them had understood what it meant to long for someone.

Kyojuro had seen his friend’s feelings on display countless times since they were teenagers. He saw it in the way Sanemi’s eyes softened every time she smiled at him, or the way Sanemi seemed to always lean into her touch whenever she brushed something from his hair.

Then, there had been that time after Y/N had her braces put in – they’d been around thirteen or so – and she’d refused to smile with her teeth, until Sanemi had snapped at her and said she’d looked constipated.

Y/N’s eyes had filled with tears, and her cheeks had burned with her embarrassment until he’d squatted down in front of her.

“Why’d’ya wanna hide your smile anyways – it’s too pretty.” He’d said, very matter-of-factly, leaning in close to her face as he always did when he teased her. “C’mon, show me! I wanna see your smile!”

Shyly, Y/N had smiled at him, braces and all, and Sanemi had grinned back, nodding in satisfaction. “See? What’d I tell ya? Pretty as a picture.”

Then, there had been their senior prom, when Sanemi had gotten wind of another boy’s plan to ask her to be his date. Though the big dance had still more than six months away, Sanemi had stormed into the cafeteria, plopped down from her as she ate with the Koyuki girl, and demanded she attend with him.

When the night of their prom arrived, Kyojuro thought Sanemi was going to pass out the moment he saw Y/N descend the stars at her mother’s house, dressed in that floor-length emerald dress. Throughout the whole night, Sanemi had treated their best friend as though she were made of glass, his hands for once hesitant and uncertain as he’d found her waist during a slow dance. Kyojuro had truly thought his friends would finally, finally kiss and admit their poorly concealed feelings for one another. But Sanemi had returned Y/N to her mother, the latter only parting with a soft kiss against the flustered boy’s cheek before disappearing inside.

How could they have known that night, just how far they’d all fall? How could they know how Genya’s death would shatter more than his brother, but indelibly fracture their life-long bond and transform them into total strangers?

————————————————————————

Ten months earlier

Kyojuro didn’t mind working for the enrollment center at Ubaya-U.

Sure, the work was a little tedious, if not monotonous, especially at the start of a new semester, but at least that meant his shift passed him by quickly.

That particular day, Kyojuro had been tasked with finalizing the class registers for his year – the juniors – as the add/drop period had finally passed, and thus, schedules were to be finalized for the semester.

He’d spent hours tabbing through page after page of student schedules, entering data and clicking the small arrow at the bottom of his screen to move onto the next student ID number, over and over, until the figures on his computer blurred together. But Kyojuro had finally entered the schedule for the last student, and he was eager to hit “ENTER,” and get the fuck home.

His back aching and wrist cramping, Kyojuro hit the command key that promised release.

ERROR. The screen read. ONE OR MORE ENTRIES MISSING.

“Fuck,” Kyojuro muttered, and he hit the “ENTER” key once more, in hopes that the system had merely hiccupped after having been in use for so long.

The same ERROR message flashed across his screen once more.

Kyojuro exhaled, pinching his nose as his eyes screwed shut in frustration, the beginnings of a headache creeping in around his temples. Shoving himself away from his desk, Kyojuro stood and stalked over to his supervisor, who was just as numbly tabbing through a spreadsheet.

“Murata,” Kyojuro said, trying to keep his growing anger in check. It was a Friday night and he just wanted to go home and do stupid college things, dammit.

The tired shift supervisor grunted in answer, turning in his swivel seat towards the fuming college junior.

“I entered all of the student schedules, but the system is flagging some sort of error.” Kyojuro produced a printed-out spreadsheet of every student ID number and handed it to his manager, who took note of the neat, precise little checkmarks next to every line that signaled Kyojuro had finalized the correlating schedule. “Can you take a look?”

“Sure thing,” even though Kyojuro often thought Murata was, at times, a little inept at his own job, he couldn’t deny the college senior was helpful. Murata pulled up the school’s informatics system and entered his log-in, clicking through various prompts until his screen resembled Kyo’s.

Murata tried to submit the same data that Kyojuro had tried, and the same error message dinged on his screen.

“Huh, that’s odd,” the manager said, unhelpfully. “Let me see if I can use my admin key and find out if there’s anyone you missed.”

Kyojuro resisted the urge to point at his spreadsheet once more; Kyojuro, simply put, never missed an entry when it came to plugging in numbers and codes for work. The same could not be said for Murata.

“Ah, there it is,” to Kyojuro’s surprise, a student profile popped up on Murata’s screen in red, though his supervisor’s head blocked the name. “Number ending in 0851. Let me just –” Murata clicked around the screen and quickly tabbed in a couple of course codes, and hit enter, but the screen erred once more.

“What the – ohhh, I know this number,” Murata said, sitting back in his seat. “Yeah. Okay. You need my code to bypass this one. She got special permission from the university to not finalize her schedule until next week.”

Kyojuro sighed. At least the error hadn’t been on his end.

“Got a pen? You’ll need her name to enter it once the screen prompts you. In the explanation box, just type “special permission/family emergency.”

Kyojuro shook his head. “I’ll remember it. What’s the name?”

“Y/L/N. Y/N.” Murata answered flippantly, though Kyojuro’s stomach lurched. “Yeah, I got an email about her a few weeks ago because she hadn’t returned to campus. The Dean said her mom was in the hospital, and she was the sole caretaker, so her professors all agreed to let her attend online until things mellowed out.”

“Never seen that happen before, she must be one helluva student,” Murata commented as he turned back to Kyojuro. “Hey, in the entry box, put her date of return – I think I remember the email saying it was sometime next month, but let me check.” The supervisor turned back to his screen, blissfully unaware of Kyojuro’s wide eyes or his pounding heart.

“There it is – hm, there’s an update,” Murata remarked, though more to himself than to the pale Junior standing behind him. “Oh my, that’s a shame. Looks like her mom passed away last week, so she’s returning after the funeral, which was --,” Murata squinted. “Yesterday.”

“Yup, seems like she’s due back next week instead. Just put down Monday’s date.” Murata turned back to Kyojuro with a kind smile, but it quickly slipped when he saw the sweat that had broken out across the burly blonde’s forehead and noted the way he shook.

“Rengoku, you good, man?” Murata asked worriedly, though Kyojuro barely heard him over the roaring in his head and the sound of his heart-shattering.

“Y-yeah,” Kyojuro’s voice cracked. “Murata, would you mind entering that information for me? I feel like I’m going to be sick.” Kyojuro did not wait for his supervisor’s answer as he grabbed his backpack and stumbled out of the Student Affairs office, as he fought to keep down the bile that rose in his throat.

Kyojuro did not remember the walk back to his apartment; he remembered only the rush of grief, and crushing sadness, as he recalled the kind woman who’d shown him such love and affection after his own mother died, that he’d thought of her as a second mother.

He thought of Y/N – oh god, Y/N, who now lived in a world in which she had no family left. No home to go back to.

Alone.

He hadn’t known; Sanemi hadn’t known.

Kyojuro stumbled through the front door of his apartment, vaguely noting that Sanemi had already let himself in, and helped himself to whatever was in Kyojuro’s well-stocked refrigerator.

“Man, I’ve had a fuckin day,” Sanemi’s gravelly voice rang over the muted sounds of his television as he chowed down on a helping of sweet potatoes Kyojuro had meal prepped a few days earlier.

“Sanemi,” Kyojuro tried weakly, though Sanemi seemed not to hear him over his own, loud complaining.

“-and four papers, and we’re barely a month into school. I can’t wait to fuckin’ graduate and get the hell out of this place --,”

“Sanemi,” Kyojuro said again, more forcefully that time, cutting his friend’s impassioned rambling off. At the serious, monotonous tone in his best friend’s voice, Sanemi fell silent. “It’s Y/N, she – h-her…”

Kyojuro’s voice wobbled. Sanemi dropped his fork into the plastic container that contained Kyojuro’s food and stared at him, eyes wide, as he sucked his breath through his teeth. Whatever news his friend had to deliver, it would not be good.

“Is – is Y/N okay?” Sanemi asked tentatively, his voice shaking slightly. He felt the color drain from his cheeks as Kyojuro slowly shook his head. As childish as it seemed, Kyojuro wanted to run, because if he did not speak those awful words, then perhaps they would not be real.

“It’s Mrs. Y/L/N – she…she died. Last week. The funeral was yesterday.”

————————————————————————-

Nine months earlier

Sanemi barged into his apartment without knocking, nearly toppling over the coatrack Kyojuro kept in the entryway.

“Shinazugawa,” he’d started to chastise, but fell silent at the look on his best friend’s face, a strange mixture of nausea and despair etched into his features.

“I saw her, Kyo,” Sanemi croaked, pale and shaking as he ripped open Kyojuro’s fridge and grabbed a beer, not bothering to ask as he wrenched the bottle cap off and took a healthy swig.

“Y/N?” Kyojuro’s eyebrows furrowed, as he followed his friend into his sparsely decorated living room, Sanemi shakily sitting on the small sofa, head braced between his hands.

“Did you talk to her? How was she?” Kyojuro pressed, but Sanemi refused to lift his head to meet his eyes.

“I saw her,” Sanemi repeated, his voice trembling almost as badly as his hands. “And I didn’t know it was her.”

Kyojuro shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean -,”

“I didn’t recognize her, Kyojuro. Not at first,” Sanemi finally looked up and Kyojuro’s stomach twisted at the tears pooling in his friend’s eyes. “How could I not recognize our best friend?”

Kyojuro threw an arm around Sanemi’s shoulders. “It’s been a while,” he said, gruffly, “It’s just been a while since we saw her –.”

“You don’t get it,” Sanemi said, wide-eyed and haunted. “Y/N looks different – she’s so fucking thin, Kyojuro, that I couldn’t recognize her.”

————————————————————————

One month earlier

“So you – you and Y/N,” Kyojuro began, and Sanemi nodded, dragging a hand over his face.

“I am never touching that Wisteria shit again,” the lavender-eyed man vowed, darkly. “I fucking lost control.”

Kyojuro frowned, his stomach shifting uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

Sanemi flung himself back against the cushion of his sofa, arm draped over his eyes in an attempt to stifle the tears that gathered there. “I fuckin’ hurt her, man.”

The blonde sighed, settling back against the sofa with his friend, thumbs twiddling with a loose string on his shirt. “You didn’t mean to, you know. Sometimes that just – it just happens.”

Trust Sanemi to be this dramatic being Y/N’s first – the man had practically screamed into the phone at him when he’d discovered the small speckle of blood on his sheets and realized that Y/N was nowhere to be found.

Though, Kyojuro never imagined Sanemi would be this frantic about the ordeal.

Sanemi lowered his arm to stare at his best friend, bewildered. “It doesn’t fucking matter,” he ran an anxious hand through his hair. “I can’t fucking trust myself on that shit, and I’ll be damned if I hurt her again.”

“I’m done with it all, Kyojuro,” Sanemi swore once more. “For her, I’m fuckin’ done with it.”

————————————————————————-

Two weeks earlier

Kyojuro jogged to where his friend stood, smoking a cigarette as his eyes scanned over the various food trucks that had gathered on the street near his apartment, considering the wide variety of choices.

“You’re the only person I know who could make that look somewhat appealing,” Kyojuro grumbled as Sanemi took another drag, grinning. Sanemi had quit both alcohol and Wisteria cold turkey but had become such an irritable bitch as he went through withdrawal that Kyojuro had practically begged him to find something to help him take the edge off.

So, Sanemi had traded one vice for another and had taken to smoking, though he could tell his friend hated it. Sanemi hoped that his shakes would soon subside, and he could kick the nasty habit before it became another problem for him to deal with.

“What are you in the mood for?” Sanemi asked as the pair began to leisurely stroll around the crowded plaza. “And don’t say sweet potatoes – we’ve been eating healthy all goddamn week; I need something greasy.”

Kyojuro chuckled. “I’m quite in the mood for a burger if you’re up for it.” He offered and Sanemi nodded in agreement. The pair joined the relatively lengthy queue outside a food truck grill, the scent of charcoal and meat promising to feed their empty bellies.

The pair made small talk as they waited, Sanemi nearly finishing his cigarette in the time it took them to reach the front of the line. Just before they were set to order, Sanemi’s phone dinged in his pocket, and the white-haired man pulled it free, puffing on the last of his cigarette as he did so.

“Ah, shit,” Sanemi sighed, though he did not look particularly crestfallen as he glanced back to his friend. “Sorry, man – duty calls.”

Kyojuro scoffed at his choice of words. “Duty,” he shook his head. “You mean Y/N?”

“You’d feel that way too if you slept around –”

“Yeah, but it’s not just ‘sleeping around’ to you, is it?” Kyojuro asked pointedly, and Sanemi fell silent. “You don’t sleep with anyone else. Does she?”

His friend shook his head. “Nah, we made an agreement – we’re – well, we don’t use condoms,” at the horrified look on Kyojuro’s face, Sanemi blushed. “She’s on birth control! ‘Sides,” Sanemi swallowed, awkwardly. “With all the weight she’s lost, and all the shit she’s been taking, I don’t think it’s likely she could – well, get pregnant.”

Kyojuro pinched his brow between his fingers. “Pregnancy isn’t the only reason to use condoms, you dolt,”

Sanemi harrumphed at him. “Look, I used protection with the other two girls, and I got tested not long after,” Sanemi quickly drew his cigarette back to his mouth, a sure sign of his growing discomfort with the conversation. “And, as Mitsuri so tactfully pointed out, I was her first, so I know she’s clean.”

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Sanemi snapped at the reproachful look in his friend’s owlish gaze. “It feels better, y’know.”

Kyojuro only shook his head. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Sanemi?”

Sanemi looked away from him, shifting awkwardly back and forth on his feet. “You know why, man,” he said quietly, and Kyojuro’s heart clenched.

“Look, I love and worry after Y/N too, but she’s using you --,”

“So what if she is?” Sanemi croaked, taking a harsh drag of his cigarette. “She can use me as much as she wants. I don’t mind.”

Kyojuro’s eyes softened. “Sanemi –”

“At least it means I can keep an eye on her.” Sanemi flicked the dying butt to the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his boot as he sauntered away, holding his hand up over his shoulder in farewell as he set off back across the lively street.

—————————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N dragged herself up the stairs of the apartment she shared with Mitsuri and Shinobu, a tiredness she’d not felt in a long while settling into her weary bones. Her head ached from the strain of the evening, and she knew her eyes were likely red and puffy from the hours of her crying.

Shakily, she slid her key through the lock and opened her front door, quietly relieved at the darkened silence of her apartment, which meant both of her roommates were out.

Closing the door behind her, Y/N slid to the floor in the entryway, and did not move; for a long while, she stared blankly at the dark kitchen before her, her mind replaying her conversation with Kyojuro on a loop, though the mark on her breast, with its pulsing ache, demanded her attention.

With a sigh, Y/N heaved herself up off the kitchen floor and shuffled her way to her room, silently thanking her luck that she’d managed to pull the bedroom with the in-suite bathroom, which meant she could curl up on the floor of her shower for as long as she wanted, without the fear of either of her friends needing the toilet.

Once she’d stripped herself of the evening’s outfit, Y/N inspected the wound on her chest.

It felt worse than it looked. There was a small bit of dried blood around where Douma’s teeth had broken her skin, and the mouth-shaped mark was angry, red, and already a little purple, but from her cursory examination of it, it seemed like the wound was likely to only bruise, and not scar.

It was the unseen wound that concerned her more; the scar that was assuredly left on her heart.

She’d fucked up – badly.

Granted, she knew it wasn’t her fault that Douma had decided to try and do whatever it was he wanted to do with her – she wasn’t going to blame herself for that.

What was her fault was how badly she’d let things spiral out of control; how badly her use of the Wisteria had become. She wasn’t a medical student by any means, but she knew the tell-tale signs of an abuse problem. Y/N would not venture to say she was addicted, but she feared she was well on her way to that path – unless she did something about it right then.

She braced her hands against the cool porcelain of her sink and looked at her reflection, jolting slightly at the face that stared back at her.

She still looked like herself, granted, but there was an unfamiliar hollowness in her cheeks, a vacancy in her slightly over-large eyes that made her uncomfortable. She stretched and winced at the ease with which she could just make out the number of ribs laying beneath her skin.

Sanemi had been right – she’d let things go too far.

As she yanked on the shower nozzle to summon the water to chase away Douma’s sickening touch from her skin, Y/N resolved, right there, that she was done with Wisteria. She thought she should be done with alcohol as well, but she feared the symptoms of withdrawal – especially with how great her dependency on the two substances had grown over the last few months.

So, Y/N decided that she would never again allow those toxic little purple pills pass her lips, and slowly – but surely – wean herself off alcohol. She would not go back to the Kizuki, would not let herself give in to the temptations which flashed underneath the colorful strobe lights of the dance floor.

Her life, it appeared, depended upon it.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer smut #kny smut #sanemi x reader #sanemi x y/n #shinazugawa sanemi #kny sanemi #kny sanemi smut #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #hashira #hashira smut #demon slayer fic #demon slayer fanfic #sanemi smut #sanemi x you

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ugh-yoongi · 11 months

Text

about u | jjk

❝ this song is about a love that you can’t reconcile—wanting to make a home out of a person that has proved to you time and again that they are not a home; they are just a person. it’s about retracing scars, negative patterns, all with the silent belief that moments of communion and understanding might justify months of misfiring and regret. we’re all just trying to get back to that ‘first high’ feeling—an honest endeavor, however futile. ❞

✤ PAIRING jungkook x f. reader ✤ GENRE exes to fwb to strangers, college/grad school au; angst, smut ✤ RATING explicit. minors do not interact. ✤ WARNINGS toxic & self-destructive behavior (inc. jealousy and possessiveness). infidelity (with an external partner). reader is bisexual (which is not a warning but a general statement so the homophobes stay away) and there is a brief mention of coming out. two people who are both too honest and unable to communicate. swearing. cigarettes and alcohol use. kissing, some spitting, fingering, oral sex, protected vaginal sex. every time i asked jess to read this over for me she always came back with "jfc jewel" so i guess this is angsty. unhappy ending. ✤ WORDCOUNT 7.3k ✤ LISTEN TO this was based off of "winterbreak" by muna, but there are bits and pieces of the entire about u album in here, "everything" and "outro" especially. ✤ THANK YOU to muna for writing the album, @the-boy-meets-evil and @hot-soop for reading over this for me multiple times and putting up with all my brainstorming and my beloved @here2bbtstrash for the extra set of eyes. ✤ AUTHOR'S NOTE hi, thank you for reading! i cannot emphasize enough how much more sense this story will make if you listen to about u in the background. i would also like to reiterate that these two are maybe not all that likeable most of the time, but i hope they're still human. as i once saw in an ao3 tag, you are more than the worst thing you've ever done.

[ the first. ] You’d read an article once—something about the second time you fall in love.

It’s going to feel different, it’d said. The first time felt like a dream.

As you stare across the kitchen at Jeongguk, you think that might be true. The part about it feeling like a dream, because it used to be a pinky-lavender haze and everything that has come after hasn’t felt so good. Not a nightmare, but close. At least with nightmares you can force yourself awake. You can tell yourself it wasn’t real. You can pretend.

This is as real as it gets, watching him smile over the rim of a plastic red cup. Someone else’s hand on his arm. The girl it belongs to looks nothing like you, and you wonder if she’ll be the second time he falls in love. You also wonder why you didn’t stay home. You wonder about fault and regret and if either of them even matter. No, you eventually decide: there’s just you in Taehyung’s kitchen and Jeongguk on the other side of it and the result of a million decisions in between you.

There had been a plenitude of reasons you’d fallen in love with Jeongguk, but he’s undoubtedly beautiful. Soft, tinkling laugh; a smile that reaches his eyes. Not all that long ago you used to be responsible for both, so there’s a lingering, bitter sting beneath your wonder. Jeongguk is beautiful and no longer yours, and that’s enough to have you retreating to the living room.

Jimin’s at your side immediately. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of your head that does little to alleviate your guilt. Missing someone is always easier with thousands of miles in between you. All those distractions. Just like a nightmare, distance lets you pretend. Not so easy to do when all those ghosts come back to haunt you; when you can still hear Jeongguk’s soft voice in the kitchen. The music is so loud but you’d be able to hear him anywhere, you think.

Even places he’s not.

Jimin leans down, forces his way into your personal space. “Are you doing okay?” he asks, and his words are warm and wrapped in alcohol, but you nod. You’re scared you might start crying if you open your mouth. Afraid of what might come out besides shuddering breaths, which just makes you feel stupid. Baby’s first breakup, you chide yourself. Maybe Jimin can get you a commemorative ornament.

Taehyung is turning twenty-four and it should be joyous. It is joyous. People that aren’t you are laughing and dancing and pressing their cheeks together as they huddle close to take selfies. Someone you don’t recognize is cackling wildly as they wrangle Taehyung into a headlock and smear cake frosting on his face. Someone else is tutting and running a rag under the tap to wipe it off and then the frosting is gone. It’s hard not to draw parallels.

There one minute and gone the next.

Gently wiped away.

But the feeling lingers, doesn’t it? The tack of the frosting, all the love that transpired between you and Jeongguk. Sometimes you fear it’s permanent—not able to be wiped away with a rag run under the tap, not able to be wiped away at all. Just this burden you’re cursed to carry, because Jeongguk isn’t and can’t be yours but knowing does nothing to erase the past. Doesn’t help you forget. It’s fucked and it’s unfair, but that’s just the way it goes.

“I think I should leave,” you say, watching another scene play out in the kitchen. Jeongguk fills a cup and hands it to a different pretty girl. Everyone here is so pretty. Makes sense; so is Taehyung. Pretty people are drawn to one another like that. “Is it too soon? Will it be obvious?”

Jimin sighs, wraps you in a hug. Says, “Oh, love,” in a way that’s too sympathetic. Makes you sound too pathetic. “No one will blame you. These things are hard.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Not that you don’t appreciate Jimin’s reassurance, but sometimes it all feels a bit silly. Weren’t you the one to walk away? Call it off? Are you allowed to mourn the very thing you destroyed?

And Jimin, bless him, is so patient with you. Asks if you need a ride home and you wave him off, remind him your parents’ place isn’t far, that the cold might do you some good. You tell him you appreciate him and his night shouldn’t be ruined on your account, and you just laugh when he tries to protest, tell him to go get himself another drink.

“Text me when you get home,” he says, voice stern, and you brush that off, too. “I’m serious. It’s late and it’s dark and anyone could be out there—”

“Maybe I should walk you home, then?”

All those articles you read about the second time you fall in love didn’t mention this. Said nothing about the way a voice will always be able to turn your world on its axis and how to right it again. Said nothing about how to coexist with ghosts. Said nothing about what to do with all the yearning and the pain and the stupid, selfish strands of hope. There are paragraphs about an overarching, general grief, but nothing about the specific one living inside of you.

The shock on Jimin’s face is reflecting your own. It’s nice to not be the only one caught off-guard and stammering over their words. It’s nice to have a friend when it feels like your entire world is on the edge of collapse. “I don’t…” he begins. Swallows thickly and turns to look at you, an obvious question biting at the back of his teeth.

You know the answer.

You know that what you should say isn’t what you want, just like you know it isn’t fair, this thing you’re doing. Because you turn to Jeongguk and say, “Are you sure?” which might as well be a yes, because you’re selfish and suspended in this liminal space and don’t want him to go home with anyone else. You don’t want him to move on.

He shrugs. “It’s on the way.”

You say okay. Let Jimin help you into your coat, hide his face in your neck as he tells you to be careful, and that stings. You’ve never had to be careful around Jeongguk before. The two of you never, ever hurt one another—until you did. The kind of hurt your heart hasn’t easily forgotten, is still stubbornly clinging to.

Your heart wants Jeongguk, always.

You want Jeongguk, always, so you let him grab your hand, link your pinkies together. You let him lead you out of the house and don’t turn back to see who might be watching. God, you want to, though. Want all those pretty girls to see that he’s leaving with you. Want them to know it’s your name that’s branded on his heart; your name beneath his skin. For once, you want someone to want what you have.

It’s strange. The two of you have been apart for eight months, and there’s a lot of things you might want to tell someone in that amount of time, but you find it hard now. Don’t know where to start, which words to use. Don’t want to say something stupid, because Jeongguk is just walking you home but you’ve assigned a lot of meaning to it, and eight months is a long time to yearn for something and finally get it.

So you say, “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” because it’s something that’s true and easy to say.

Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away. Drops your pinky so he can hold your hand properly—fully, all five fingers intertwined—and squeezes. “Is it weird for you?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound nervous. Almost sounds like he’s smiling a little, giving you shit. He sounds familiar.

“No. I don’t know. Maybe a little.” He asks why? at the same time he passes under a streetlight. Lights up golden and amber. He’s beautiful—“I don’t know. It’s just… I guess it’s just been a long time. We didn’t leave things the best.”—and no longer yours.

The Jeongguk walking beside you is not the same Jeongguk that walked out of your dorm eight months ago, tears staining his cheeks, the smell of a goodbye fuck still clinging to his clothes, his skin, sweat still dotting his hairline. This Jeongguk is sharper, more selfish with his laughter, and you wonder about all the ways heartbreak can change a person. How you’re changed for facilitating it. You wonder if Jeongguk blames you before deciding you’re too much of a coward to find out the answer.

“Was it that bad?” When you look over at him, he’s chewing on his lip ring, trying to bite back a smile. “You’ll have to remind me. I don’t remember.”

You stop walking, jerking forward when Jeongguk is left unaware and keeps going. “That’s not funny,” you say. “Jeongguk, that’s not—I did what I thought was best, okay? I thought I was doing the right thing—”

The smile drops from Jeongguk’s face. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he says, and he’s hesitant to reach out and touch you but he does it anyway. Cups your face in both hands. “I know, it’s okay. That’s just—it’s just life, right? You did what you had to do, babe. It’s okay.”

You did what you had to do, babe.

Did you?

Jeongguk is selfish with his laughter but never his affection, and knowing that feels like an albatross around your neck. You have broken him so entirely, but he’s still kind to you, finds it a worthwhile thing to be.

His eyes go to your lips. Tattooed fingers dimple your face just a little more, dig in deeper. When you dare to take him in, he looks… different. No longer amused, the way he was just seconds ago; now, there’s something dark there. Longing, anger, hunger. Jeongguk looks like he wants to swallow you whole and make you suffer; looks like he wants to cage you beneath him and worship you through the comedown.

I’d let him, you think as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. As you smell the smoke that lingers, the sweat and the alcohol. I’d still let him.

It’d be so easy to press a kiss there. To feel his skin beneath your lips: flushed, still warm from the party, not all daunted by the bitter winter wind biting at your cheeks. As you lean in further, you wonder if it’ll taste the same. You wonder how much can change in eight months and if all those old comforts change, too. If it’s something inevitable.

Jeongguk moves his hands to your waist. Crawls his fingertips beneath your jacket and finds bare skin. Sucks in the smallest bit of air, and you would’ve missed it had it been any other time, but winter is always quiet and subdued. Always smells transitional, something dangerously close to hope and redemption.

And eight months is a long time to miss the feel of someone’s lips, isn’t it, so you think you can be excused for reaching for something you thought you’d never have again.

The first kiss is hesitant, testing; pressed to the spot just beneath his ear. Maybe you don’t know this Jeongguk, but you know the version of him you used to love—the one you still do—and you know the way he’ll sigh. You know the way his hands will grip tighter. You can still hear it, the way you used to kiss him there and he’d say, don’t start something you can’t finish, baby, and the way you’d laugh and always, always finish it. Can still feel the warmth that used to bloom in your chest. The love.

Jeongguk won’t say that now, you know. Wonder if it’d sound more like don’t start something you already finished if he did. He huffs a small laugh, more an exhale than anything, and asks, “What are you doing?”

And you answer, “I don’t know,” because it’s honest. You admit, “I guess I just miss you,” because it’s true.

A war wages within Jeongguk. You can see the storms, the white flags that are close to being thrown out. Can see the way his gaze flits between your lips and your eyes. What he’s looking for, you don’t know, but the storm rages on. And just like real life, just when you think it’s at its worst, there’s a break in the clouds: a tangible beam of silvery-warm light when Jeongguk tangles his hands in your hair, thumbs at the hinge of your jaw. Jeongguk tilts your head back and looks ethereal in the amber glow of the streetlights.

He says, “We shouldn’t,” and you nod, because you know and the anguish on his face is surely mirrored on yours, but when he follows it with, “let me take you home, let me take care of you,” you find it impossible to care.

You nod.

Everything is amber.

Eight months is a long time to go without the way Jeongguk kisses you: intentionally, demandingly, insatiably. He still tastes the same. Tastes like the first time you’d ever dared to kiss him, back at that party freshman year, tongue flavored with cheap liquor. Jeongguk tastes forbidden and feels like coming home.

You couldn’t say how you make it to Jeongguk’s apartment, but the way you stumble over the threshold feels familiar. The way the door is barely locked when Jeongguk crowds your space; picks you up, wraps your legs around his waist, presses you against it, hips moving on their own accord, rutting, all those little sounds spilling from his lips—everything is familiar. This is not just a practiced song and dance but something memorized. Something instinctual. You could be apart from Jeongguk for years instead of months and your body would still know what to do.

He carries you to his bedroom and you don’t think about who else has been between his sheets, because he puts you down so gently. Kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck—all gentle, powder-soft. Sounds like spring when you paw at the velvety cashmere of his sweater, pull it over his head, and he sighs. Feels like he’s breathing fresh life into something he shouldn’t, something long dead, but then you skim along his warm skin and your world is reduced to the way it feels like silk beneath your fingertips.

“I still love you,” Jeongguk whispers against your mouth, his inked fingers toying with the button on your jeans. Pops it open, pulls the denim down your thighs. Doesn’t bother pulling them off, only goes as far as your knees. And it’s uncomfortable, the way it’s bunched there, but the way Jeongguk says, “Fuck, missed you so much,” is so sweet.

Everything happens too fast.

Jeongguk leaves your shirt on. Drags it up and over your breasts and kisses at the newly-exposed skin. Sinks his teeth in, lets it hurt for a second before he laves over the marks. Settles between your legs and coaxes an orgasm out of you with his mouth and his fingers. Speaks his praise into the juncture of your thigh, breathless as he touches himself, strokes his cock with the wetness lingering on his fingers. Looks so, so pretty when he sits back on his haunches and says, “Just wanna look at you,” and makes it sound wistful and longing.

Makes it sound like it means something.

He’s still touching himself, still slicking himself up. There’s a split second where he goes to move and thinks better of it. Looks to the side before looking back at you. The storm kicks up again. “Have—” he begins before he swallows thickly. Dares to look hopeful, even through the squall. “Have you been with anyone else? Since…?”

You haven’t. Tried to, once—another stupid party, more cheap liquor passed to your mouth from someone else’s, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. They hadn’t tasted like Jeongguk; hadn’t felt the same. Two puzzle pieces that fit together all wrong.

Jeongguk has, though. Something you’d heard from a friend of a friend that you weren’t meant to. They’d called it a rebound, and it had bloomed so many ugly thoughts in your head. Five months had passed. Jeongguk was fucking someone else in his bed while you were in yours, torturing yourself over whether or not to tell him happy birthday. Whether it was allowed to or not, it’d stung.

(You had. You’d reworded the text a million times, plucked up all the courage you could find before you sent it. It’d gone unanswered, just like you expected it would, and you thought it was because Jeongguk didn’t want to talk to you. Thought you were digging your fingers into wounds that had yet to heal, so it’d stung but you understood.

But Jeongguk hadn’t answered because he was fucking someone else. Had someone else’s taste on his tongue; was panting someone else’s name into the dark. The embarrassment had been the worst part.)

Still does, if you’re being honest with yourself, so you lie. “I—yeah,” you answer. “Just one.”

Looks like it stings Jeongguk, too. “Right,” he responds, blinking back tears, and he’s got a lot of nerve, you think. “Yeah, okay, I’ll just—a condom. Are you…”

“Jeongguk—”

“Are you sure? Maybe this isn’t…” He huffs. Drops the condom on the bed, hangs his head. “What are we doing?”

You stare up at the ceiling. Nothing up there but the swirls in the plaster. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Hurting each other, probably.”

Jeongguk walks his fingers down your thigh. Grips at your skin, wants it to bruise. Wants you to have something to remember him by come morning. “Sometimes I’m really mad at you, you know?”

“Yeah, trust me, I know.”

He nods. Refuses to look you in the eye now that you’re watching him. “I still love you so fucking much and I’m still so angry. What am I supposed to do with that? What am I… fuck, I thought I was over it. I thought I’d see you and not feel a fucking thing.” There’s fresh ink on the back of his left hand. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, but you notice it now, when he runs his hands down his face.

You also notice the way the atmosphere shifts, the split second in which his heartache bleeds into something else—resolve, maybe. Obstinacy. Like he knows how this is going to end and he’s going to do it anyway. He’s going to find the most painful part and press on it, dig his fingers in, and it’s just an inevitable, foregone thing. Something he can prevent and something he’s choosing not to.

“You fucked someone else,” he sneers. Rips the foil open with his teeth, flashing too white in the dark of his bedroom. Rolls the condom on like it’s an inconvenience. Like you’re an inconvenience. “Was it good? Was it worth it?”

You roll your eyes. Feel the way your breath catches in your throat, because you’re not going to cry. Jeongguk fucked someone else and is vilifying you and it’s hypocritical and ugly and unfair, but you’re not going to cry over it. You’re going to press the gas pedal as far as it can go, say, “Yeah, it was,” and find some wicked delight in the way his eyes squeeze shut, as if it can spare him from the pain.

The two of you used to love each other. Jeongguk used to smile down at you when you were naked beneath him like this. Used to lean in close and whisper that he loved you just as he pushed inside even though you knew, you could feel it in everything he did. Now, there’s no smile. Now, he leans down and spits on your pussy and pushes inside and doesn’t tell you a goddamn thing.

Not with words, anyway.

Because the way he fucks you says it all. Impersonal, desperate, bitter. He grips your hips and fucks into you frenzied and fast. Takes your hand and puts it on your clit and tells you to get yourself off. An inconvenience. Tells you he misses your tight cunt, tells you he misses the way it milks his cock, tells you he misses watching the way you come undone underneath him, but he doesn’t tell you he misses you.

There’s a moment, just after he spills into the condom and stays inside, just catching his breath, when you think he might say it. Might tell you he loves you around the lump in his throat, might apologize, might ask if you two can’t figure it out.

There’s only a moment.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. Lets the moment pass. Pulls out and ties off the condom and wordlessly gets up to throw it away. It’s the silence that pisses you off. The disregard. Jeongguk hates you for something you’d lied about doing that he’d done for real, so you can be wordless, too. You can treat him like an inconvenient, cheap fuck, too. You can get up and find your clothes and pull them on and let him watch, words biting at the back of his teeth, and you can tell yourself to feel nothing.

You can say, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” and not shy away from the resentment in your voice, because it’s properly placed. “You fucked someone else, too, so you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, Jeongguk.”

Eight months is a long time to miss someone, to play at daydreams. To think of all the things you want to say, the things you’ll do. In not one of them did you think about this: you, fully dressed and stinking of sex, saying, “It’s late. I’ll show myself out.”

Jeongguk, tears glistening on his cheeks, saying, “No, let me—baby, I’m sorry, please—I’ll drive you.”

A shake of your head. Jeongguk doesn’t push it.

Roll credits.

[ the second. ] Jimin wants to talk your ear off about it—the girl you’re seeing.

It’s new and there isn’t much to say. You tell him the two of you met at one of the student showcases put on by the art department and leave off the part about all of Jeongguk’s old friends being there, that he would’ve participated, too, if he hadn’t dropped out after you broke his heart. Leave off the part where you would’ve been there to support him instead, in another life. Leave off the part where it’d just been morbid curiosity: you, not an art student, wandering those halls to see if Jeongguk’s photographs were still framed on the wall.

“Is she nice?” Jimin asks, head nearly knocking into yours as someone shoves by him. “Fucking asshole.”

You nod. “Why would I date someone that wasn’t nice?”

Jimin, perpetually unbothered until he decidedly isn’t, sends you a look that he hides behind the rim of his cup. “Because you’re in your self-destruction era and aren’t thinking clearly.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You know I’m happy if you’re happy, but…” He pauses as he trails off. Tries to wrap his words in something delicate. “It’s pretty clear you still aren’t over it. That’s all.”

You snort. “That’s all?” you repeat, like it’s some small thing. Like it’s normal and fine.

“I’m sure it’s easier to pretend when the two of you are thousands of miles apart,” Jimin amends, and he must see how you bristle, stung by the callout, because his eyes soften. “Tell me about her.”

She’s beautiful and kind and smart. Smokes clove cigarettes and the smell is always clinging to her skin. You know how to make her come but don’t know what she’s majoring in—fashion, you think, because she’s always holding fabric swatches against your skin. Tells you what suits you and what doesn’t. Tells you which textures don’t work, what’s too warm, and she doesn’t need to tell you what’s too cold because you already know it’s you.

She’s beautiful and kind and smart and has no idea you’re still in love with someone else.

But you can’t tell Jimin that, can you? Can’t tell him about how she’d dragged you to a private corner in the gallery and kissed you breathless; the way she made you come on her fingers; the way Jeongguk’s name nearly slipped out of your mouth as you shook. Can’t tell him that she’s got arms full of art. Delicate patchwork; nothing like the harsh, bold colors inked into Jeongguk’s skin, but it feels the same to trace the lines.

You can’t tell him much of anything, so what you settle on is, “She’s nice—good for me,” and it doesn’t sound convincing to either of you.

Jimin doesn’t call you on it, though. Not again. Instead, he keeps his gaze steady, staring into the fire, the flames dancing wildly when you meet his eye. “You need to be careful,” he says. “You’re going to hurt her, too. Maybe worse than you hurt him.”

“Jimin—”

“Just be careful,” he reiterates, and all you can do is nod. What else is there to do besides wait for the inevitable crash and burn?

And it’s a little unfair, you think, that Taehyung grows older every single year. A little unfair that guilt won’t let you decline the invitations. A little unfair that you can still pick Jeongguk’s laughter out of a crowd. A little unfair that these hometown friends-turned-acquaintances still throw sideways glances whenever someone else touches him, as if he still has someone to answer to; as if they’re expecting something.

An hour. You’ve survived an hour longer than you did last year, and it’s not much but you’re still proud of yourself. You’ve had a drink, talked to someone other than Jimin. Managed to ignore the way Jeongguk is ignoring you; the way he immediately leaves a room as soon as you enter. Maybe it’s better like this, you reckon. Maybe it’s what you need.

An hour is long enough. Jimin doesn’t comment on the way your bones crack when you stand to leave. No one needs a reminder of growing older. He doesn’t ask if you’ll be okay, either; if you need a ride home. Instead, he stays quiet as he studies you, clearly wondering if lightning strikes twice. If you’re going to be able to walk past Jeongguk and out the door without making another mistake.

You can at least make it across Taehyung’s sprawling yard and to the house. You can dodge the sweat-slick bodies and the girls sitting in laps. You can toss your empty cup in an overflowing trash can. You can pretend the eyes on your back are well-intentioned.

You can make it to the bathroom.

Annoying, the way your phone has been vibrating all night only to disappoint you. Irrational. You scroll past the emoji-laden messages, the coy flirting, because they’re from the person you’re actually dating—the person you told you were going to sleep early—and not from Jeongguk. You should feel guilty. You should feel guilty, but the face staring back at you in the mirror doesn’t look guilty at all.

She looks tired. A little beat-down, but that’s life.

Maybe that’s just what happens when you’ve spent the last two years of your life chasing after ghosts.

A knock at the door startles you. Sends your phone tumbling to the floor, screen probably cracked to hell, and you swear under your breath. “Just a minute!” you call out, a little stunned from how threadbare you feel all of a sudden.

Still, the knocking continues, and you’re on your knees on this bathroom floor and all you want to do is cry. You don’t want to be on this floor in this house. You don’t want to keep putting in the effort of maintaining the facades of all these friendships. You don’t want to keep coming back to this town, don’t want to keep being confronted with the harsh reality of all your mistakes.

“Just a fucking min—”

The words die on your tongue, because there Jeongguk stands, all the air in your lungs dissipating at the amount of space he takes up. Even worse when he steps inside and locks the door behind him. You feel like you’re going to drown. You feel like you’re going to scream or cry or both, and you’re still on the floor, still on your knees, and it feels too much like penance when you look up at him. Feels like you’re groveling, praying for forgiveness.

You stand quickly, ignoring the rush of blood to your head, the way your legs tingle. Jeongguk still hasn’t said a word, doesn’t seem like that’s going to change, either, and it’s really all you can do to stay on your feet when everything in you is screaming to collapse.

Eventually, he says, “You’re seeing someone,” and it isn’t a question, not really, but it borders on one. It’s a question and a confirmation and somehow sounds a lot like he’s asking for permission for something.

“I—yeah.” You swallow. “It’s new.”

He hums. Steps a little closer. Leans against the sink. Darts out his tongue to swipe at his bottom lip before he tugs his lip ring between his teeth. “Yeah? Does he treat you well?”

“She,” you correct, and there’s a flash of something in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Jeongguk, at one point, had known everything about you, but not this. “And yeah,” you add on, barely a whisper, “she does.”

Part of you feels embarrassed. Jeongguk had known everything about you but not this, and you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or guilty but it still sits there in the middle of your chest. Feels like you’ve been keeping secrets. Feels like shame, even though you aren’t ashamed. Feels like you’re awaiting judgment. But the surprise in Jeongguk’s eyes disappears and something else settles in its place—uncertainty, if you had to guess.

“Are you happy with her?”

You shrug. “Like I said, it’s new.”

And Jeongguk is as emulous as ever, because he asks, “Does it feel like what we had?” and you already know the answer is no.

“I’m not sure anything will.”

It’s honest; you hadn’t said it to appease him, but he looks pleased anyway. You’re starting to understand why so many people write about their first love. Why it’s such a powerful role to fill. Because you and Jeongguk are standing in a bathroom behind a locked door, feet apart from one another, and you think, I don’t think there’s anyone I will ever love more than him even though it’s been two years. You think, I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.

You think, I would try over and over and over again if he asked me to.

Later on, when you’re alone in your childhood bed and your face is streaked with tears, only your shame and guilt for company, you won’t be able to figure out who moved first, but one of you had.

Once upon a time, you had known everything about Jeongguk, too. You could recite his taste from memory, but it’s different this time. He licks into your mouth and it tastes like ash—nothing like the clove cigarettes your girlfriend smokes, but close enough that the parallel burns like acid in your throat. It’s close enough that you can keep your eyes shut and pretend again.

This time there’s no softness to be found. There’s just Jeongguk’s mouth pressed to yours, barely letting you breathe, not wanting anyone to hear. There’s just the sink digging into your back. Jeongguk’s hands gripping at your waist, pulling at the hem of your skirt. There’s the frustration and desperation of two people who love each other but will never, ever get it right.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as he spits into his hand and slicks you up, if you’re going to tell her.

There’s you, already too far gone, saying you don’t know.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as you’re clenching around him and dragging him with you to the edge, if you’d come back to him if he asked you to.

There’s you, already knowing the answer to this, too, saying you would.

But this isn’t that and Jeongguk doesn’t ask. When it’s over, he tosses the condom and does a half-assed job of helping you clean up and he doesn’t ask. He splashes water on his face and fixes his hair and he doesn’t ask. He tucks his cock back into his briefs and zips his jeans and he doesn’t ask.

Jeongguk has one hand on the doorknob and he doesn’t ask you to come back. Instead, he asks, “How long are you gonna keep doing this?”

For once, you don’t have an answer.

[ the third. ] You go even farther away for grad school.

You try to put more distance between you and Jeongguk, more distance between you and all the skeletons in your closet, but you just pack them up in different boxes and bring them with you.

You spend New Year’s Eve chain-smoking in your parents’ back yard—that same brand of clove cigarettes, because hearts are easy to break but some habits are not. Sometimes it’s a comfort to hurt yourself in the same way you hurt others, so you chain-smoke and you don’t go to to Taehyung’s birthday party because you weren’t invited and it doesn’t sting in the same way that it doesn’t sting that Jimin doesn’t call you once you’re home because he hasn’t spoken to you in a year.

The clock ticks down to midnight. Someone sets off fireworks. Absolutely nothing changes.

There are no half-baked resolutions. There’s no hope that this is going to be the year you get your shit together. There’s just you and the bed you’ve made for yourself; the autopilot you can’t—won’t—turn off, because you don’t know where you’re going anyway so you might as well just go wherever it’s taking you. There’s guilt and there’s shame and there’s baggage, but they’re all old friends. Those are old scars.

The sweatshirt you’re wearing doesn’t belong to you, and it does little to protect you from the bitter cold that bites at your skin. Jeongguk doesn’t belong to you, either, but he keeps coming back to you like he does.

“Mind if I sit down?”

You shrug, gesturing to the empty chair beside you. The small fire you’d built is down to its last embers, and it’s what you focus on, because you can’t focus on Jeongguk anymore.

“You weren’t at Tae’s.”

“Wasn’t invited.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I would’ve—”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

He seems to hear what you don’t say. I wouldn’t have gone because I can’t be around you anymore. I wouldn’t have gone because I don’t trust myself with you. I wouldn’t have gone because I’ve burned down every good thing in my life trying to keep you. “Oh. Yeah, that—that makes sense.”

He’d texted you. Asked if he could see you. Just wanted to talk, and you’ve never cared much for symbolism, but nearing midnight on New Year’s Eve had seemed as good a time as any to let it go, so you’d said yes. Now, when there isn’t much to say, all of Jeongguk’s flimsy excuses are laid bare. Transparent.

“Was Jimin there?”

Jeongguk nods. “You didn’t know?”

You shake your head. Feels like it’s made of concrete. “No. We haven’t talked since last winter break.”

“Because of—”

How cruel, that you’d confessed to Jimin instead of the one person who deserved to know. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrug again. “It’s okay. I don’t think it’s permanent, just until I can get my shit together, I guess. Wasn’t fair to drag him into my mess anyway.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jeongguk says, and it sounds like something he wants to be true. It sounds like something he’s said countless times in defense of himself. “We’d—I’d do it if I could.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “of course.”

Silence creeps up again, so you dig another cigarette out of the pack and offer one to Jeongguk that he waves away. “Cloves? That’s a weird choice.”

“Just something I picked up along the way.”

He hears you again: They’re what she used to smoke. It helps me heal to hurt myself with something that reminds me of her. Sometimes I chain-smoke clove cigarettes and I don’t wash the smell from my hands, my clothes, my hair, because it makes me feel less alone.

So he asks, “Was it real?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you answer, flicking the wheel of your lighter, words spoken around the cigarette stuck between your lips. “It never had a chance. Not a real one, anyway.”

“Do your parents know?”

“Know what? That I went away to college and started fucking women?” Jeongguk shrugs. Has the audacity to look embarrassed. “What are you trying to ask me? You wanna know if I keep coming back to you because I’m scared to come out to my parents?”

“No. I don’t know. I just—”

The laugh that escapes you is scorched and bitter. Sounds the way the tobacco tastes. “No, Jeongguk. I keep coming back to you because I keep hoping you’ll ask me to.” I keep hoping you still want me.

“I almost did,” he admits, and you can hear how he swallows around the lump in his throat. “The first time.”

“When you were a dick about me sleeping with someone else? Yeah, okay. You didn’t want me back, you just didn’t want me to be with anyone else.”

He huffs. “How the fuck do you know what I want? You’ve never bothered to ask.”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” comes your response, stilted and practiced. “It doesn’t matter what we want, because we’re just going to keep hurting one another trying to get it right.” You suck in a breath, wipe furiously at the tears on your cheeks. “And we’re never going to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then ask.” Jeongguk startles, looks at you with wide eyes. “Ask me to come back for real, Jeongguk, and I will.”

A beat of silence.

Two, three, four.

Someone sets off another round of fireworks. A dog barks. It’s so cold that you can see Jeongguk’s breath each time he exhales, each time he breathes out instead of speaking. All the words he isn’t saying. And it’s exactly how you knew it would go, but it does nothing to tamp down the devastation in your chest.

You’d confessed your transgressions to Jimin and thought your silence to your ex-girlfriend was a gift, that it was sparing her the pain of what you’d done. Now you understand that someone’s silence can be the most vicious thing of all.

[ the last. ] Graduation looms. It’s the last winter break you’re spending at home.

Your therapist suspects you get your compartmentalism from your parents.

They don’t mention it. They see the stack of boxes and your bare bedroom walls and they don’t say a word about any of it. They watch you pack everything in your car and don’t offer to help. They process their grief silently, and when you can’t stand it anymore, you say, “I dated a woman my senior year of undergrad, you know.”

They don’t say anything to that, either, but it feels good to tell them. Feels a little like freedom and reclamation, like you can be who you are in front of others.

When you leave for good, you don’t want to repackage all those same skeletons.

So you meet Jimin for lunch and you take it in stride that everything is weird, that there’s nearly two years of silence to fill. You don’t ask for forgiveness and he doesn’t demand it of you, just asks if you’re doing better. “I’m doing the best I can,” you answer, and it’s human and honest enough that he accepts it with a warm smile.

Jeongguk is more difficult.

There’s no way to neatly box up that kind of baggage.

You’d intended to stop by his apartment to talk, tell him you aren’t coming back anymore. There’s nothing left here for you, you’d told him, and there was a flash of something. A there’s me, isn’t there? that had gone unsaid, destined for the same fate as a million other unspoken words between you.

Because there is him, but there’s also the way you’re desperately trying to claw back into something resembling normalcy. You’d lost yourself when you also lost Jeongguk, and you need to figure out who you are without him. You need to know who you are once you stop running and let your demons catch up with you. You need to hear what they have to say.

Maybe Jeongguk had said it best last year—“It’s not that easy. I’d do it if I could.”—because you’re nothing if not predictable and self-destructive.

You’re nothing if not naked and on your back beneath him, your fingers threaded through his hair as he rocks his hips into you, more tender than you deserve. His lips are ghosting along your skin and every press feels like a brand. Feels like he’s both making a mockery of you and declaring you ruined for anyone who might come after him. Feels like you’ll love him until you die.

(Some version of you must exist outside of Jeongguk’s grasp—outside of his orbit, his bed—but right now, as he twines your fingers together and pins them above your head, you can’t figure out who she might be.)

Eight months had been a long time to think of all the things you wanted to say, and four years is worse. Four years, and you still can’t bring yourself to ask him to try again, but there’s nothing after this, nothing to lose, so your voice is hoarse and raw when you say, “Jeongguk,” and he groans a little, nips at the column of your throat because he loves the way you say his name. “Jeongguk,” you repeat, because he senses the urgency, hears what you aren’t saying.

“Yeah, baby, say it. Whatever it is, tell me.”

He rolls his hips faster. Before, he would’ve tried to prolong the ending, but he’s hurtling towards it now. There’s nothing after this, you know, but you need the confirmation. You need to finally put all of this to rest. “I want to—” His cock strokes someplace that whites out your vision. “Fuck, want to—want you to come with me.”

He laughs, full of himself, probably smirking out the side of his mouth. “Keep squeezing me like that and I will soon.”

“No,” you insist, shocked at the conviction in your voice, “when I leave. Come with me.”

Everything slows. Jeongguk pulls back, moves his hands to cover himself, and there’s nothing but cold confusion in his absence. “What?”

“I didn’t ask you before. Last year. I just—I left it up to you, and you’re right, I didn’t ask what you wanted, but I didn’t tell you what I wanted, either. But I’m telling you now. I’m asking—”

There was never going to be anything after this.

Jeongguk’s silence says it all.

The way he pulls out and rolls you onto your stomach. The way he fucks as fast and as hard as he can. The way he used to love you openly and honestly and now holds whatever’s left close to his chest like it’s something to be ashamed of.

Someone’s silence can always be the most vicious thing of all.

Roll credits.

thank you so much for reading, and an additional thank you in advance if you decide to reblog my work. as always, my inbox is always open for any feedback! ♡

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