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kooktrash · 9 months ago

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lost & found | jeon jungkook

summary:your college years have never been something you dwelled on for too long. you didn’t want to think of all the chances you lost and that’s why when the guy you had a crush on moves back to town, you try not to let it affect you again. but then he brings up old memories that didn’t go the way you thought they had and you’re thrown for a loop. you’re stuck between finding something new with him and falling back into old habits of never standing up for yourself. it probably doesn’t help that he dated your best friend, where everything seemed to go wrong.

➣ genre/au: jungkook x reader [she/her, female anatomy], mid-20’s friendships. what kind of au is this? smut, plot

➣18.7k words

warnings: heavy plot. smut. a little bit of angst if you squint. tae is oc defender. shy oc. jk is an old college classmate. oc and jk got complicated, misunderstood history :(. oc is kinda insecure? bathroom sex. teasing. foreplay [f and m receiving]. very neeeedddy, long time waited sex.. unprotected. jk fucks oc on the counter, on the door. jk is tatted up but not in his college days. heavy makeout. breast play. fingering. dirty talk. oc goes down on jk as a thx 🤧 jk dated oc’s bestie but there’s HISTORY. oc’s bestie is the real villain im sorry. took advantage of two insecure college kids >:( love lost, love found vibes. just read I swear it’s not that bad 😭 no cheating. FRIEND BREAK UPS. oc gets confident toward the end

song inspo: bff — jesse

As you settle into adulthood, you learn a few things about friendships. There tends to be a slight divide between those you’ve known since you were young and those you’ve collected over the years. Some might value the friendships they’ve held longer more than those that are more recent but for others, what matters is the trust that comes with friendship no matter with whom it might be with. You’re somewhere in between, you think.

You have people like Taehyung who you’ve only recently started to get to know and have had a chance to grow close with. He doesn’t know everything about you yet but he doesn’t need to, he seems to understand enough now to be an important person in your current life. He’s the kind of friend you're thankful you’ve met on some random occasion.

Then you have someone like your best friend, Miyoung. You’re not sure the last time you had ever been truly without her at your side. From your earlier school years to college, to now when you’re both settled into what would essentially be your careers and private lives. She’s… she's special to you in a way that you're not sure you could ever find in someone else—or at least that’s what she says?

There hasn’t been a time where it wasn’t the two of you practically glued together at the hip and you credit her for her outgoing nature that always seemed to balance with your more introverted demeanor. Of course it didn't mean you couldn’t make friends without her [take Taehyung for example] but she’s always seemed to gravitate people toward you with her energy. That’s why you're not at all surprised by tonight’s events and how everyone seemed surprised that you came alone.

”Honestly, I’m happy you made it, it feels like we haven’t seen each other in so long,” Your friend, Hoseok, pointed out as he led you to the private area of the lounge bar where it seemed like a reunion was taking place, “When Miyoung said she wasn’t going to make it, I thought you probably weren’t going to show up and—“

”Is that what you would have preferred?” You asked with a teasing smile as he began to stumble over his words, attempting to backtrack.

“What? Y/n, don’t you know I’ve been desperately enamored by you since your first year? Don’t make such crass comments,” He joked back, helping you out of your coat as you grew closer to the room filled with loud chatter. He led you with hands on your shoulders and said, “And between us, I’m a little happy she didn’t come. I wasn’t really in the mood for this to turn into a Battle of the Exes fighting ground.”

”What do you mean?” You barely had time to ask as you entered the room where an explosion of your name was heard by old college classmates of yours who all seemed on the border of tipsy and in a good mood. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at everyone at once till your eyes fell on the person in question.

He didn’t hesitate to meet your gaze with equal surprise as you sat across from him, just one person down the line. Immediately the people next to you tried sparking a conversation and you used it as a distraction to keep from gawking at him. When Miyoung told you she wouldn’t make it, you debated coming yourself but after some begging from Hoseok you decided to come along. Despite your best friend not joining, you're kind of glad she didn’t. Hoseok is right, it would have been a battlefield and you did not want to be caught in the middle of it.

“Y/n.”

Ignore, maybe? Just ignore and maybe he’ll forget trying to talk to you and your head won't be on the chopping block. You looked down the table at some of the other people you remember from campus activities or long lectures and tried to ignore the growing smile you could see on his face from the corner of your eye.

“Hungry?” The person next to you asked as he made you look his way. There were platters of hand food across the bar table and you happily took whatever Jimin offered. As much as you hated it, you couldn’t help but look across the table to make sure it really was who you thought it was,

Jeon Jungkook.

Better known as your best friend’s ex boyfriend.

Or worse, the first guy you liked when you started University.

”Hi,” he said in a low voice, catching you in the middle of staring at him. In your defense, he seemed so different—more matured if you will. Now he was covered in tattoos and piercings, he lost that sort of boyish charm but clearly gained something else along the way. He was buff and bigger, more intimidating yet alluring? Safe to say he didn’t look like the ‘Boy Next Door’ you had a crush on in your English seminar.

“You’re here,” was all you could think to say back, giving up on your sorry attempt at ignoring him for no real reason other than saving yourself from an awkward encounter.

”So are you,” Jungkook bit into his bottom lip as he looked at you closely. How is it that someone could look so different but the same all at once? In your gaze he could still see that curiosity in everything that he remembered from back then when he would spend lectures wondering what was on your mind. In your appearance, he can see how much you’ve changed physically. They were surely small differences in everyone else’s eyes but he always had a tendency to pay too much attention to you and it would get him in trouble.

You gave him a polite nod in response to his blatant observation that matched yours and attempted to shift your attention elsewhere but he didnt let it get too far. He cleared his throat, “How have you been?”

“Me?” You asked, “Okay, I guess. Busy with work.”

“So I’ve heard, you’re in marketing now, right? What happened to your writing?” Jungkook asked, seeming genuinely curious to know. He didn’t care for the conversations happening around him more than he did hearing your response now that you looked more willing to give him one.

“It wouldn’t have paid the bills—You remember my writing?” You asked, surprise evident in your features that he couldn’t help but smile.

It was hard for him to forget his biggest competition at the time. He let out a small sigh, ready to go on about being unable to forget a certain piece you wrote when a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. Yoongi stood over him, “Smoke break?”

Say no, he thought. Jungkook could easily reject the offer and continue what he was going to say. Without meaning to, he looked back at you, but you had excused yourself from the table in the blink of an eye. Nodding hesitantly, he grabbed his jacket and followed his friend out while he wondered where you went so suddenly.

You were hiding in the washroom when you got the call from Miyoung, like she had a sixth sense telling her to reach out.

“So how is it? Is it as boring as I said it’d be?” Miyoung asked as she waited in line for some nightclub she was going to with some of her various other friends.

“Um, kind of?” You said without much thought—knowing it was what she wanted to hear. In reality, it was fun. You were greeted warmly that it washed away your earlier worries and you’re being taken care of by old friends you didn't get to talk to as much. Not to mention, you’re seeing Jungkook again after a couple years of hearing and thinking of nothing about the guy, so you don’t actually think it's boring.

Miyoung snorted, “Figures, good thing I didn’t go. I could not sit through more than an hour of everyone going on and on about what they’ve been up to. I mean, yeah I miss Hobi and stuff but I could see him whenever, y’know? Who all showed up?”

“I think everyone,” You admitted with a nervous bite of your lip. It was now or never. You tell her that it seems like Jungkook has come to visit or has come back to stay and you’re not sure how she’ll take that. She might even march over here just to tell him how she's felt these last two years and chances are that’ll ruin the easy vibe for everyone else. You leaned against the stall door and talked with her.

“So you’re back,” Yoongi asked with a smirk as he took a drag from his cigarette, “My Golden Boy’s back? Someone pinch me.”

“Funny guy,” Jungkook said sarcastically as he looked out onto the busy street. Yoongi shrugged, turning toward the bar window looking around to see the group, “Aren’t you happy you came?”

“Yeah, it’s great seeing everyone again,” Jungkook told him casually, flicking the end of his cigarette and watching the ash fall to the cold cement of the street.

“Want to know who surprised me tonight?” Yoongi asked, looking over at him to see if his expression would change at all, “Y/n.”

Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, dropping ash to the ground, “Y/n never comes out to these sorts of things, and if she does come it’s usually with Miyoung but she came by herself tonight.

“Yeah…” Jungkook zoned out a bit as he thought about it more, “Why doesn’t she meet up with you guys often?”

“You know Y/n doesn't really go out,” Yoongi said, “And she’s busy with work, at least that’s what Hobi says. I don’t know, when Hobi said Miyoung wasn’t coming tonight we both expected Y/n to not show too but… hey, aren’t you happy she isn’t here?”

“I don’t really care either way,” Jungkook confessed truthfully, “But do you know if… y’know, you might have heard something about Y/n and if she’s still seeing someone or—“

“Oh God,” Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh as he put his cigarette out, Jungkook doing the same, “It’s been like three years, man.”

Jungkook watched him laugh as he walked off leaving him to follow, “What?”

Yoongi held the door open for him, “You know what, but I’ll answer your question, anyway. Last I heard Y/n is single, so what now?”

He waited for Jungkook to respond but he wasn’t listening anymore. There were too many things on his mind that he needed to work out before you came back to the table.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You just got here,” Jimin said to you as he held your hand in his to stop you from leaving, “One more drink.”

“It’s late,” You tried to say, “I’ve got to be up early.”

“Liar, it’s a Saturday night, Y/n. Sit your ass back down,” Hobi said with a firm voice making you sit down immediately. He flashed you a cute smile before asking everyone if they wanted another round of drinks.

“So, what were we talking about earlier?” Jungkook asked, trying to get you to talk to him again, “Your writing? Yeah, how can I forget it? Remember we used to read each other’s essays all the time before… well.”

Before he broke up with your best friend.

“Yeah, I remember,” You admitted, trying to find something to say. What kind of questions would Miyoung want to know? What do you want to know? What should you prepare your friend to know? “How long are you visiting?”

“Actually, I just moved back, I got a job doing graphic design for a local company,” Jungkook told you with the hint of a smile, “It’s my first time meeting up with everyone again.”

You let yourself indulge in small talk with him here and there but usually when he started it. The night had been fine, you enjoyed your time but after a while all you wanted to do was go home and Hoseok couldn’t make you stay any longer. You ended your night wondering if you should go out more.

Everything has a backstory, right? How it all started and yours seems pretty tacky. You spent the first couple years of University doing what you had to do in school and letting Miyoung drag you to whatever outing she had on the weekends. Some time in your third year, you joined this English class with the most boring, monotonous professor ever and that’s where you met Jungkook.

In all honesty, you thought he was cute from the get go. Sitting through three hours of a boring lecture led people to do odd things and one of those for you was staring at the cute guy who sat down a couple rows from you. It was just a little thing you did to pass time so you never expected anything to actually happen from it.

Then one day most of the seats were taken [naturally, it was a large class] and he seemed to have been running late because his usual cycle of seats were all taken except the one next to yours. Despite all those times you would find yourself ogling the stranger, when he was right next to you, you didn’t say a single word.

It was Jungkook who spoke first and it was just to ask if you could help him catch up. That day you were supposed to read someone else’s prompt and revise it and you chose each other which then trickled down to a routine of it. Without speaking much, he would sit next to you or silently save you a seat whenever you were running late and the one time you decided to switch it up and sit elsewhere…

Well, he was practically pouting the whole day.

It had been a nearly perfect set up to what could have been if you just allowed yourself to go for things but it didn’t happen that way.

One random Tuesday night, Miyoung wanted to go out for some cheap drinks and you found yourselves at a bar not too far from campus where you ran into a senior in one of your classes. Yoongi had come up to you first, just greeting you and making small talk when Jungkook who apparently had come with him, recognized you too.

They drank with you and Miyoung for a bit and you honestly thought it had been fun. You had never had real conversations with him outside of school work and it was nice to have more people to hang with that it just felt natural. Though at some point through the night Miyoung had gotten kind of flirty. She claims she assumed you had wanted Yoongi and not Jungkook and practically called dibs on him despite meeting him for the first time that night.

When she made her intents obvious, you couldn’t help but backtrack.

You always considered yourself pretty self aware about yourself. There was nothing special really and when you compare yourself to Miyoung there just isn’t much competition.

She was the perfect Prom Queen type who always had the nicest clothes or the cutest boyfriends, the best awards and most interesting stories. The amount of guys she would pull who you didn’t even have a chance with was insane. And though you might sound bitter, you’re not. You’ve never been the type to want the spotlight or attention and being best friends with someone so damn perfect was that you could always stay in the shadows.

So when she started flirting with Jungkook, you didn’t really notice his awkward glances or how he shied away from her proximity. You only saw how he smiled politely and listened to her go on and on about how great she is and assumed he was into her like all the others had been.

You tried to act normal after that, you would talk to him every now and then and never questioned why he stopped talking to you as much until he started dating Miyoung but you weren’t bitter. You were understanding.

It made sense he would date her. She was beautiful and smart and someone people pine for. It was a given that that would happen so once again, you didn’t take it personal.

They dated for a couple months [nothing serious at all] and then he dumped her which resulted in Miyoung practically forbidding you from even looking his way at all. You completed your last year without thinking about him despite the various mutual friends you shared and went on with your life when he moved.

That was the backstory and why you felt so awkward seeing him the other night.

You haven’t told Miyoung yet because there’s a high chance she won’t care at all and would get annoyed that you even thought to bring it up. Your friend is very pretty and she likes being in relationships so she’s been in quite a few since they dated and probably doesn’t care to be reminded at all.

The only person you’ve told is Taehyung.

“But did you at least have fun?” He asked as the two of you sat at a small restaurant for lunch. You nodded your head, “Yeah, it was alright. It was just weird, for me at least.”

“Why?” Taehyung asked as he dug into his meal, stuffing his mouth with no care in the world, “I mean it’s obvious everyone was happy to see you and didn’t want you to leave. Who cares if Miyoung didn’t go, clearly it didn’t matter to anyone else.”

You didn’t say anything, taking your time to enjoy your meal as you drifted off in thought. He is right, you know that sometimes it’s just in your head and you overthink things. You always feel like you’re boring to others so it’s natural for you to assume no one would be happy to see just you and not your bubble of joy best friend. There has to be a certain level of comfort between you and another person to show personality and it’s rare people get to see it.

“But how’d it go with that guy? Did he ask you about her?” Taehyung asked with a hint of curiosity.

“Not that I can remember. I don’t know, it was kind of awkward but we talked a bit,” You told him honestly, “He just moved back down so that’s cool I guess.”

Taehyung looked at you skeptically but you avoided his gaze, trying to distract yourself with your phone.

yoongi: throwing a welcome back party for jk this weekend, u coming?

you: idk, if I’m free

yoongi: … ur always free🤒

yoongi: just say yes, bring whoever u want

you: but is he ok with me going

yoongi: y wouldn’t he be

yoongi: he’s the one who asked me to make sure u come

you: okkkkkk 🥹

“Tae, can you come with me to this party please?” You asked, immediately showing your friend your text messages leaning across the table for him to see them clearly.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed as he read through the texts carefully, “Jungkook is the ex boyfriend, right? Why’s he so interested in you going?”

“He’s not,” you said, “He’s probably just doing it to be nice, since everyone I know will be there.”

“What if he’s… y’know, interested?” Taehyung asked curiously and you nearly choked on your drink.

“No, oh my god,” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “We were just classmates and we stopped talking after he dumped Miyoung so—“

“Yeah but did you ever stop to think ‘hm, I’m the one who knew this guy first and then Miyoung went and snatched him from me before I even got a chance to explore’,” Taehyung said in a high pitched voice, presumably mocking yours. You reached over to playfully shove his shoulder making him grin mischievously.

“What? No, it wasn’t like that at all,” You tried to say, “Him and I didn’t even really talk until the night he met her at the bar and… no, that’s crazy. He liked Miyoung right away.”

Taehyung just sighed, giving up on trying to get through to you, “If you say so, but who’s the one he approached first? Because I can tell you right now it wasn’t her.”

Despite how he expresses himself when he talks about your best friend, he doesn’t dislike her. He thinks Miyoung is alright, maybe a little too much for his tastes but that doesn’t mean anything. He understands the two of you are really close and although he has had many chances to befriend her too, he just hasn’t.

He’ll talk to her if you force them to hang out together but he would never go out of his way to be her friend. It might sound bad but Taehyung is pretty protective over you and rightfully so, he feels.

He doesn’t want to badmouth one of his closest friends but you have a tendency to overthink things. You don’t realize how great you are and make yourself seem smaller and he thinks Miyoung and other people like her in your life are at fault. He’s heard some of the things she says to you and it’s like you hold her up so highly there’s no room for you to see how pretty, smart, and talented you are. And before anyone gets the wrong idea, he’s not in love with you or anything.

You’re too good for him so he gave up on that idea long ago.

Plus, now that he’s able to connect some of those pieces from when you were in Uni, some things are clicking into place for him. Miyoung tends to dim your light a bit, or copy something you do and claim it as her own and when he hears this little backstory between all of your old college friends… he just can’t help but wonder if Jungkook was one of those things she claimed for herself.

With that thought in mind, he agreed to go with you to this party and see for himself what is there and what could be. He just wants what’s best for you and for you to be able to go and get it without worrying you’re not good enough or stepping on anyone’s toes.

When Friday night came, your apartment was filled with loud music and even louder complaints coming from one person in particular. Taehyung was just listening to you and Miyoung go back and forth about tonight’s plans and it got to the point where you couldn’t say anything but the truth about what you would be doing tonight.

“It’s a welcome back party for Jungkook,” You said, trying your hardest not to let your voice sound strained.

“What? When did he get back?” Miyoung asked, sitting up from your bed and tossing your pillow off her lap, “Like he moved back?”

“Yeah, I guess not too long ago,” You said with a shrug, looking in your mirror to see if you liked the way you looked or not, “I don’t know, Yoongi is the one who invited me.”

“Why didn’t I know? Why wasn’t I invited?” Miyoung asked, turning to Taehyung like he would have the answers.

“Probably because you’re his ex girlfriend and you ditched out on their little reunion so you could party,” Taehyung said, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“Yeah but, why’d they ask Y/n? She’s not even friends with him,” Miyoung said with a slight scoff, “You’re not actually going right? We could go out, just the three of us. You already hung out with them, you and I haven’t gone out in weeks, let’s just do our own thing. Unless you’re trading me in for all of them.”

You looked at her with apologetic eyes. You’ve been busy with work recently and she is right. The last people you hung out with aside from Taehyung were all of them two weekends ago so it would only be fair to hang out with her this time. It shouldn’t mean anything that you were invited and that Jungkook wanted to make sure you were going. Miyoung was supposed to be your best friend so how could you go to a party she wasn’t invited to?

Just as you were going to give in and shoot Yoongi a text that you weren’t going to make it, Taehyung spoke up for you. “Why don’t you just come with? One of them said Y/n can bring whoever she wants and I’m already going so it’s not like you have to be by yourself. Plus, aren’t the rest of them supposed to be your friends too? Y/n already agreed.”

“Why didn’t you ask me first?”

“I didn’t realize I needed permission,” You couldn’t help but sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed to comfort her, “We can just stop by, have a drink or two and leave if it’s lame. Come on.”

After much convincing, the three of you arrive at Yoongi’s place which was a small house with good outdoor space and the inside was packed with people already. The amount of party goers made you anxious but at the same time slightly thrilled that surely the attention would never be on you with so many people around.

“Y/n! Miyoung!” Namjoon spotted you two first and he threw his arms around you both with a grin, “Surprised to see you here, Mimi.”

“Yeah, probably because I was the only one not invited,” Miyoung said bitterly, making Namjoon take a drink from his cup and look away nervously.

“Let’s get you guys drinks then,” He said with an awkward clear of his throat looking to Taehyung, “What’s up, I’m Namjoon.”

“Taehyung,” he said, following you to the drinks table. The music played loudly and there were a lot of people having a good time that it was somewhat easy to try and blend in and act normal. Miyoung had a pout on her face, looking around worried but Namjoon brightened her mood and every now and then another friend would stop by to greet her. Taehyung mostly clung to you and only drifted away when a friend would spark conversation with you but you were thankful he was around.

“Y/n,” someone called out to you from across the room. You couldn’t make them out through the crowd of people and it took a while before you spotted Jungkook making his way to your direction.

“Jungkook,” you said with a nervous breath, looking around for Miyoung but she was off with Namjoon talking about god knows what.

“How long have you been here? Why didn’t you say anything?” Jungkook asked, slightly more energetic than usual. His hair was messy, with strands out of place, he wore a basic black tee and baggy jeans so why did he look good? It’s still hard for you to wrap your mind around who this is.

He’s gotten so muscular and just… more intimidating with his tattoo sleeve and piercings and it’s so unexpected but in a good way.

“I, um, you know, I just assumed you were busy,” you lied, looking around for one of your friends. Taehyung was at the table getting a drink and he’ll be back soon to save you before Miyoung looks around.

Jungkook found himself looking around too, as if he could see what you did but he came up short, “Did you come with anyone?”

“Yeah, Miyoung and a friend of mine,” you rushed the words out in hopes of sounding casual but Jungkook didn’t even bat an eye.

“So what are you doing alone?” He asked with a raised brow, taking a step closer to you, “Actually, there’s something that’s been on my mind since last time I saw you and I uh… I haven’t had the chance to say it.”

You blinked nervously, looking up at him and how close he was to you, “What is it?”

He licked his lips, playing with his lip rings shyly, “Well, I was wondering if you would like to get together some time, just you and I. We’ve never had the chance to hang out.”

“We’re hanging out right now, aren’t we?” You asked, feigning naivety that almost seemed teasing. In truth, you could sense what he was possibly asking and you needed him to stop. There was no reason for you two to hang out alone, no matter how much the thought made you giddy.

“I guess,” Jungkook couldn’t help but let his eyebrows knit together in confusion. He took another step closer to you, hand on the wall behind you for support. , “But I was still hoping… I know it’s probably kind of awkward but we’re grown, right? We can get together without worrying about anyone else.”

“Who says it’s because I’m worried?” You asked with a hint of playfulness in an attempt to ease some of the growing tension caused by the way he looked at you, “Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

That made him crack a smile, “All of a sudden?”

“Yes, all of a sudden,” another voice added in from behind him and you jumped at the sound. Jungkook didn’t bother to turn around, he was more focused on the way you tried to look behind him and meet Miyoung’s glare.

“Where’d you run off to?” You asked, pushing past him making Jungkook slide his hand off the wall and roll his eyes at the disruption.

“Somewhere I felt wanted,” she said bitterly, eyes on Jungkook as she spoke to you, “Let’s go, I’m bored.”

“I thought you were having a good ti—“

“I’m not, Y/n,” Miyoung almost snapped, “You said we could have a drink and go. We’ve been here for like forever and I want to leave. That’s what we agreed on.”

“Okay, jeez, let’s go then,” You said with a sigh, “Let me find Taehyung.”

“Go, then,” Miyoung said, making you take a deep breath, trying to tell yourself she had a right to be upset. She didn’t want you [as her best friend] talking to her ex boyfriend. And you did say you didn’t have to stick around for long…

“What?” Miyoung asked Jungkook with a roll of her eyes as she caught him staring, “Did I interrupt something?”

“You still don’t know how to speak to people like they’re human beings,” Jungkook said simply, “And it’s sad to watch.”

“Screw you,” Miyoung scoffed, “You’re just mad I stopped you from trying to ask my best friend out. My friends are off limits.”

“She was my friend too,” Jungkook said as a reminder, “And I can do whatever I want. You’re just childish.”

She snorted, “Right, says the guy who fumbled me.”

He couldn’t seem to act mature anymore and before he stop himself he said, “Remember, you’re not the one I wanted anyway.”

He walked off without much care for how she felt and found his other friends, wondering who it was you ran off to find.

“Tae, can we go now?” You asked your friend. Taehyung had found himself a group of people to entertain with his stories and had nearly forgotten who he had tagged along with until you pulled him to the side.

“Uh, okay,” Taehyung cleared his throat awkwardly, “What happened? I thought everyone was having a good time.”

“Miyoung wants to leave,” You said with a small sigh, “She saw me talking to Jungkook and I just don’t want it to become this big problem so can we please just go?”

Taehyung placed an arm on your shoulder, leading you to Miyoung who waited at the door, “Yeah, sure let’s go.”

The car had only stayed silent for the first half of the drive to Miyoung’s apartment. Somewhere between the last red light and this short stretch of road, a fire had been lit underneath her which made her start up again.

“So what was that back there?” Miyoung asked from the backseat and you debated just acting asleep or like you were too drunk to listen properly. She leaned forward, looking at you closely.

“What do you mean?” You asked nervously.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Miyoun said with an annoyed tone, “First you get invited to a party for my ex boyfriend and next thing I know the two of you are whispering in the corner looking like you’re about to kiss and like I’m not even in the room.”

Taehyung had to bite his tongue from responding, worried that if he spoke too soon it would only make you seem more weak to her antics. He just tapped his fingers against the window trying to keep silent

“Miyoung,” You started with a sigh, “You’re overreacting. It was nothing, we’re friends—“

“Since when?” Miyoung scoffed, “You’re supposed to be my friend, Y/n.”

“I am,” You said defensively, “And if you want to talk about this tomorrow then that’s fine but right now it’s late and we’ve all been having a decent time so don’t ruin it…”

“Y/n’s right, let’s end the night on a good note,” Taehyung finally said but he seemed to go ignored by you two.

“You’re not though, real friends wouldn’t flirt with their best friend’s ex boyfriend—“

“You two dated for less than five months and it was years ago,” You blurted out, “I knew him before that so don’t act like I’m betraying you.”

“Oh my god, I knew you’d still be bitter I started seeing him,” Miyoung said, suddenly making you hide your face in your hand from exhaustion. “I didn’t know you had a thing for him back then. You should’ve said something instead of holding it against me like you do everything else.”

“What are you talking about?” You couldn’t help but scoff.

Miyoung’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “You know exactly what I’m talking about and it’s not fair.”

Taehyung took a deep breath, fingers clenched around the steering wheel unable to bite his tongue any longer, “Miyoung I don’t think you’re being fair. You’re clearly drunk and you just want to arg—“

“Shut up, Taehyung,” She snapped, slurring on her words a bit and not even realizing the car came to a stop in front of her building, “I’m not even talking you and you can stop acting like Y/n’s bodyguard because last time I checked she’s a grown adult who could speak for herself. God, I swear everyone is the same. Just because Y/n is boring and insecure, doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to speak for herself.”

“Get out. We’re at your place so just go,” Taehyung said, annoyed with the harshness she was projecting on you, “Y/n might put up with you but I won’t.”

With an irritated scoff, she swung the back door open, “Fine, screw you guys too.”

The door slammed shut as she stormed up to her apartment and Taehyung waited till she was gone to say, “Fuck, what did that girl drink? Y/n, why do you put up with that? Hey.”

You stayed silent for a moment letting her words sink in. Whatever, she yelled and threw a tantrum, that’s fine, that’s normal. But she seriously thinks you’re just a bore and maybe you’re starting to believe it too. If it weren’t for you always being cautious over how she might feel about you and what you do, you wouldn’t seem so boring.

Or was that just how you were and now you’re trying to say it’s because of Miyoung? Jeez, you just can’t seem to make up your mind about anything but all you know is that… you’re not boring. Well, you don’t have to be. If she wants to think that always backing up whatever she says makes you boring, then maybe it’s time you just do what you want even if she doesn’t like it.

“Tae, can you do me a favor,” You finally said, making him look over at you curiously. The car is still parked in front of Miyoung’s place and he’s been waiting for you to speak anyway, “What?”

“Take me back to the party please.”

Miyoung was wrong, if you were boring it’s because she made you boring. Anytime you did anything on your own, she always had to ruin it and you just let her. You just let Miyoung monopolize your time and make you her right-hand in everything. You’ve never gotten the chance to truly put yourself out there because you firmly believed you didn’t compare.

Maybe you needed to stop overthinking and just do what you want, be confident—or at least act like you are.

“Y/n! You’re back?” Yoongi asked once you made it to the party again, “Let me tell you, I was mad because I thought you left before even talking to me.”

“I’m so very sorry,” You said playfully, “But do you know where Jungkook is?”

He seemed to freeze up, surprise written on his face and he looked down at you questioning. You held his gaze, watching the wheels turn in his head before he was blurting out, “I don’t know. The bathroom?”

You blinked nervously, letting him slip away from you when someone called for him and were left standing there. Your mind was racing with ideas yet you couldn’t think of what to do.

What did you expect coming back?

What does this prove?

You feel anxious and insecure and maybe she was right, you’re boring and you don’t even speak up or do anything exciting.

“Jungkook?” You called out to him as you walked down the hall of doors, knocking or opening whichever door you landed on. You got to the last door with a bated breath, realizing it’s a bedroom and closed yourself in.

Your sense of bravado had been short lived. Whatever burst of confidence you had was completely gone now that you sat alone in the guest room contemplating just going home or not.

In all honesty, this was stupid from the very beginning. You let Miyoung’s words get to you and you acted before you could think. You didn’t need to prove anything. Plus, you don’t want Jungkook. Maybe once before you did… but not… anymore?

God, you felt like an idiot.

“Y/n?”

Your heart dropped with a sense of disbelief as you looked up. The once pitch black room was illuminated by a block of light from the open bathroom door. Jungkook stood at the doorway, brows furrowed as he looked at who sat on the bed.

“Jungkook,” you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“You’re back?” He asked, looking you up and down with a hint of suspicion. You nodded your head silently, making him blink with confusion.

You stood up from the bed suddenly, “Are you done in there?”

“Uh, yeah,” he moved out of your way, watching you closely as you closed the door in his face before he could say anything else.

Maybe this had been a sign that you didn’t want to talk to him but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the privacy in the bedroom to go out where everyone else was. He could hear the faucet running but oblivious to how you wet your face to try and snap yourself out of this strange mood before drying off. When you opened the door, you didn’t expect to see him standing there right in front of you.

“Everything alright?” He asked, halfway in the doorway, walking forward making you step deeper into the bathroom.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” you said with a strained smile, backing away, “Just—what about you? Has it been fun, this is all for you, right?”

“I guess,” Jungkook shrugged, “But it would have been more fun if you stayed.”

“Good thing I came back then,” you couldn’t help but laugh nervously, leaning against the sink counter.

“Good thing,” Jungkook licked his dry lips, “Y/n, about what I was saying earlier… I would honestly like for us together sometime, just the two of us.”

A small, shy smile appeared on your lips as you thought about earlier and repeated yourself playfully, “We’re hanging out right now, aren’t we?”

“I guess,” he blinked in confusion, looking down at you and struggling to keep his composure. Your response was a bit of a let down since he hoped you had come back to see him and he should have known better. You would never take him seriously after his mess with Miyoung and he was always reaching for the stars thinking it could work out.

Plus, you’re too good for him. You always have been.

He can’t explain why, but he’s always felt a sense of ease with you, like everything was perfect. As shameful as it is to admit, Miyoung had reasons to be worried.

When they dated… well, it didn’t stop him from thinking about you from time to time. Miyoung was aware of it too and he looks back on it now and realizes how wrong he was then. It was wrong for him to think about you when he was never able to have you, and he will be much less now.

“Am I wrong? Is it not just the two of us now?” You asked, swallowing the lump in your throat and looking to the bathroom door which was closed some time ago.

“Y/n,” he said it softly but you could sense his warning tone, like you were going to get yourself in trouble. Jungkook wanted to believe you were aware of what this looked like yet he knew there was a chance you weren’t. He couldn’t just go for it.

He could not just go for it.

Not even if you looked up at him with a look in your eyes that said you might want him to…

He could be dreaming it up.

Would you want him to?

No. No way, you would never, that’s how this all started right? You wouldn’t want him the way he wanted you and you’ll go be with someone else while he beats himself up for another failed attempt. He’s not in college anymore, he can’t make the same mistakes.

You do not want him.

“Y/n,” he said with a sigh, “I think we should get out n—“

It was soft but sudden. One second he was giving up on everything he had been hoping for and was ready to go on once again without telling you how he really felt. The next, your lips were on his, barely giving him a chance to feel the tenderness of it before pulling away with a gasp.

“Jungkook,” you covered your mouth with your hand, “Oh my god. I’m s-sorry, I, that was not okay. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You were rambling, apologizing for doing it without asking him first but in all honesty, he couldn’t hear you anymore. There was a strange ringing in his ear that only seemed to stop when he grabbed your face in his hands, and pulled you into a real kiss.

To keep yourself from leaning back too far, you wrapped your arms around his neck and met him the rest of the way. You kissed him back with an equal sense of urgency that had his eyes falling shut and letting himself get lost in the moment. Your lips were soft against his own and his lip rings felt cold on your tongue the first couple times.

At one point you surprised him by nipping at his piercings with a soft tug and it had his hands tightening around your waist, using his strength to pull you onto the counter with ease. It made it easier to kiss you and he let the small sigh you let out guide his tongue between your lips. Your hands were in his dark hair, and you surprised him with the way you took lead of the kiss. It felt like he was melting into you and it was doing things to him.

“Y/n,” he mumbled softly, “I want you so bad.”

You pulled back from him with widened eyes. It was the first time you heard him sound that way and you knew he meant it. He looked at you with an intense gaze and it felt good to be looked at that way by him. You wanted him too, right? That’s why you came back. That's why you were so upset back then. Why can’t you have him now?

What was really stopping you?

Nothing.

The second time he kissed you, you didn’t hesitate from doing more and it had his mouth dropping when he felt your hand trace down his toned chest. He let that feeling motivate his hands to do the same to you and they ran along your sides till he could feel your front. His hands slipped under your top and found your chest, gently reaching to touch you as he kissed you with his tongue.

Your fingers trailed down his navel to the waistband of his jeans, tugging softly and teasingly that you felt the way he sucked in a shaky breath. When he didn’t pull away to tell you to stop, you took it as a sign to go a little farther and undo the button and zipper. Jungkook’s rough fingers caressed your breasts ever so softly but with an added pressure that made you let out a small sigh, especially when he ran his thumb over your nipples.

He released a light groan against your lips when you got more confident in your actions and slipped into the hem of his Calvin Klein’s. You barely touched his growing member but you felt it harden against you, the more attention you gave to it and it was all just exciting to you. His kisses were needy and his rough hands felt so good against your sensitive buds that you couldn’t hold yourself back. You wanted to make him feel good too and you could tell you were.

Jungkook helped you tug his jeans down enough for you to have more reign over him and you touched his bare dick so softly. The first touch was light and teasing, like you were still letting him get lost in the feeling before you actually did anything but it was soft that it made a tingle run down his spine. Goosebumps rose on his skin and blood ran straight to his cock making it easier for you softly palm him to full hardness.

You circled your fingers around his tip, softly running your thumb around the ring feeling him twitch with need and softly sliding down to his base.

His movement grew rougher, he was no longer softly caressing your breasts but more groping, never getting enough for the softness of them. When you began to stroke him gently, he found it hard to keep himself from digging his nails into your flesh to ground himself and it made a hand of his fall to your leg. His palm was wide and flat against your inner thigh, tracing his lips down your jaw and to your neck to try and distract himself from getting too lost into the feeling.

“Fuck,” he huffed, licking his dry lips as he began to slowly fuck into your closed fist, deaf to the sound of music just outside the bedroom you two were hiding in. The bathroom felt even smaller at this point yet he couldn’t bring himself to put a stop to it now. Especially not when your hand began to fuck his cock faster, with more vigor as he twitched in your hold making his nails dig into your thigh harshly.

Your skirt was scrunched up around your hips at this point and he could see the soft blue of your laced underwear and couldn’t stop himself anymore. He had grown too curious to have you and with his hand so close already, he let his thumb trace along your covered folds.

They were already sensitive at this point and his sudden touch made your insides tighten with arousal, your back straightened in surprise and a light moan left your lips. The sound snapped his attention away from his own pleasure and when he did it again, he swallowed your moan with his mouth on yours.

He couldn’t take thing slow anymore, especially not when his dick felt so close to the edge already and was trying not to cum all over your hand and so soon.

You were withering against him, squirming on the counter to feel more of his hand against your heat. Your fingers tightened in his hair when he reached under to the hem of your panties, pulling them down as far as he could. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he tugged them down your thighs. Jungkook pulled away from your lips with a slight groan as he brought his fingers to your lips. He pressed into your bottom lip watching close as you drew your mouth open and took them in. As you licked between two fingers, your hand’s stroking sped up with more pressure that had him pushing them deeper down your throat.

When he pulled them out there was an obvious line of drool connecting his fingertips to your lips and he brought his hand between your legs once more. The mixture between his rough fingers and the slick that now coated them made a tingle run down your spine when they ran along your folds. You pinched the fabric of his shirt as he circled your hardening clit with his middle finger while his index finger began to tease your sensitive labor.

He ran the longer finger down your slit, dipping into the puddle of arousal that formed at your center before using it to wet your clit and massage you gently.

You looked into his eyes as he finally pressed his middle finger into your waiting cunt, giving you a second to respond and he couldn’t help but let his lips slip open with heavy breaths. Your hand stopped its actions as you took in the feeling of him pulling out his finger before pushing it forward once more. Each time felt hotter than the last and it made him want to take things further. When he thought you adjusted enough, he teased the tip of his ring finger in with his middle one and kept a steady pace of thrusting.

At this point you began to stroke him again, rubbing against his mushroom tip where a thick vein was felt along the underside of it. Your hips had began to move with the motion of his hand and you were fucking his fingers into you while fucking his cock with a closed fist. The both of you were left speechless, unsure how long you had been locked away in the bathroom but not caring either.

You felt more impatient than him but you couldn’t help it. You can’t remember the last time you let someone else touch you and none felt quite like this. Jungkook seemed to know where to kiss, where to press or pay attention to and he never left a part of you untouched. Even now as he thrusted his fingers into you, his other hand was at your chest again, fingers pinching your nipple and tugging harshly but it brought little whines from your lips.

“Jungkook,” You were breathlessly calling for him and you’re sure that if your back wasn’t to the mirror, you would be able to see how desperate you looked to him. Your other hand was on his hips, pulling him forward in hopes of getting him to get the hint that you needed more, “Fuck me.”

“What?” He asked with heavy breaths, looking down at the way the tip of his cock pressed against your inner thigh now, “Really?”

“Please,” You found yourself begging, desperately begging for him to give you something and oh, how it worked.

His eyes rolled back at the soft sound of your begs and with a hand on your thigh, he pulled you harshly to the edge of the counter. He placed his hand over yours and stroked himself once, twice, to slick his member with your arousal and his own.

His cock was hot to the touch and pointed straight to your waiting entrance. He had made such a mess of you already that when he pressed his tip into your clit, it nearly slid down from how wet you are. You had to bite your lip to keep from whining too loud when he teased you with that repeated motion, wetting his tip more and feeling the way your walls tightened and released for him.

Your back was fully against the mirror now, legs open waiting for him and you were getting impatient. The anticipo had been building up for too long and you brought your hand between your legs. All it took was a soft push down for his cock to sink into your waiting pussy.

His jaw went slack at the sudden tightness of it, he hadn’t expected it to be so snug. His tip barely pushed against the ring of nerves and your facial expression matched his own when he kept going. He held your thighs open, guiding himself in with a deep breath.

“Fucking hell,” he growled lowly, hands trembling as he kept you open and ready to take him in. He looked up at your eyes, completely enamored by the way your features softened with pleasure. Your eyes were glazed over with obvious lust that made him want to just fuck you into oblivion.

“Oh my god,” your hand circled around his neck, pulling him into a sloppy wet kiss that left him biting your lip softly. He groaned against your lips as he picked up the pace of his thrusting, letting his cock drag against your puffy walls so that you could feel every juncture on his length. Your back was arched into him, your chest nearly pressed against his and he snuck his arm around your waist to pull you firmly against him.

“That’s it baby,” Jungkook groaned into your ear, gripping onto the counter with his free hand to fuck you better. You were on the edge of the sink and he bucked his hips up to reach that pleasure spot he had found with his fingers just moments ago and had you moaned loudly into his ear, “You sound pretty, tell me how it feels.”

“Feels good,” you whispered softly against his neck, lips teasing kisses against his skin that made the veins in his arms bulge, “Don’t stop, please.”

“Ngh, Y/n, beg for me,” Jungkook said with a deep voice filled with lust as he fucked you with all his strength. There were too many layers of clothing between you but neither of you seemed to have the time or energy to tear them off. You were both too focused on the pleasure that came from feeling his skin against yours.

Your legs tightened around his waist forcing more of his length into your sopping cunt and his fingers pinched your sides roughly. Without thinking, Jungkook lifted you off the counter. You clung to him as he stepped back and he needed a second to just feel the way your pussy tightened around his hard, thick cock. He wanted to dig into your guts and it was nasty how badly he wanted to have you cum all over him.

It was so unexpected because you always came off as a quiet, reserved person but here you were letting him tear you in two with his fat dick. Jungkook used his strength to push you against the door, letting you drop onto his length before backing his hips up and pistoning them back into you.

“Fuck, I can’t,” your legs tightened around him with your face digging into his neck, “Jungkook, baby, I can’t.”

“You can,” He whispered, pressing you firmly into the wall, “Come on baby, take it.”

“Too much,” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut as he picked up the pace and you searched around for something to hold. Your hand tightened around the doorknob, trying to anchor yourself as he fucked you so good you could barely focus on anything but the pleasure, “I’m so close.”

Jungkook’s hand held you firmly by the waist while the other cupped your ass, groping you harshly as he fucked you onto his length trying to make you cum, “Cum baby, for me. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you moaned, “Kiss me, please?”

He didn’t hesitate to do so, kissing you with tongue as you clung to him, moaning into his ear and shaking slightly. His knees buckled tightly to hold you up and just as he gave one final thrust to the hilt, he felt your orgasm hit you.

Your walls tightened around him, nearly bringing him to his own orgasm before feeling his tip get flooded with your release. His thighs shook with the pressure of it and he felt his strength leaving him. His abdomen grew tense and he pushed you back to the counter where you let your head fall back with pleasure. You swallowed dryly, panting heavily, “Oh my god.”

You were sweaty, tired and overall unsure what to think but your mind hadn’t cleared yet. All you could focus on was the way Jungkook’s dick throbbed painfully hard when he pulled out of you with a slight pop. You eyed his red member, slightly hypnotized by how pretty it looked and you dropped to your knees wordlessly.

Jungkook watched you slip down on your knees in front of him and it took him a moment to process what was going on. He was hard, so fucking hard he couldn’t think straight and it wasn’t until your hands held his thighs, eyeing his cock hungrily did he realize what you wanted to do. He brought a hand fo attempt and gently brush your hair back, “Y/n, baby, you don’t have t—oh fuck.”

His jaw went slack when your hands circled his base, your lips on his tip and taking him down your throat suddenly. Your nose brushed against the base of his cock, eyes watering as you tried relaxing your throat around him and he nearly stumbled back with surprise, “Y/n.”

You ignored his call of your name, and began to bob your head against his length, your tongue licking along the thick vein you discovered earlier and feeling his hands sink into your hair to guide you, “That’s it, fuck.”

Jungkook looked at his reflection in the mirror, turned on by the way your head was seen bobbing against his length and his body was overheating so much he had to pull his shirt over his toned chest to cool down. It gave him a perfect view of the way his cock disappeared between your lips.

The thought of having you like this hadn’t dawned on him yet but now he couldn’t forget it. The memory would always be ingrained in his mind and although he doesn’t know if he’ll never get a chance to do this again, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

You gradually began to pick up the pace, using your hands to hold closed fists around his cock to help stroke what didn’t fit in your mouth. You swallowed and bobbed around his dick hungrily, moaning around him and hollowing your cheeks when you would pull your head back until only his tip was between your lips.

As ashamed as he was to admit it, he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back anymore. Still wanting to warn you, he tried to guide your head off him, “I’m close.”

All it did was push you to take him deeper, stopping when he hit the back of your throat and sucked. Jungkook’s eyes squeezed shut with a loud growl as his orgasm hit him harder than it had in a very long time.

You coughed as his cum sprayed down your throat, thick and creamy with a bittersweet taste that you tried to lick up. You would’ve cleaned him off fully despite his legs shaking but he pulled you off. He pulled his softening dick out of your wet mouth with a huff, panting heavily as he looked down at you.

“Y/n,” his voice was dry, pulling you up to your feet, “That was…”

He couldn’t even get the words out as he watched you lick the corner of your lips and without thinking about it, he pulled you into a heated kiss. You kissed him back with need, moaning against him as his tongue circled around yours hungrily, not caring for the way he tased on you. You only broke away to catch your breath, realization dawning at you as you looked at his messy appearance that surely mirrored yours.

You sat against the counter for a moment, attempting to catch your breath as Jungkook did the same. The two of you were silently readjusting your clothes again and you needed just a moment to yourself. He looked at you, buttoning his jeans back up, “Is everything… okay?”

“Yeah, um, can I just get a minute,” You said with a hoarse voice trying to pretend like you couldn’t see the way his shoulders slumped down. With a short nod of his head, he left the bathroom to let you wash up and for a moment you just looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your reflection looked different, maybe because what you had just done was so out of character and with your best friend’s ex but… why did it feel right?

Jungkook wondered what would happen now, if you expected him to leave the room or wait for you but he wanted to be with you. He didn’t want to walk out and think that because he got something he’s been wanting for years now, he’ll just leave. He knows the others are looking for him, mostly because he’s gotten a few texts now asking where he’s at but he can’t bring it in himself to care. When you opened the bathroom door into the dark room, he looked like a deer caught in headlights, rushing to his feet, “Are you sure everything is fine?”

“Yeah, yes,” you nodded stiffly, “If you want to go out there with everyone else that’s fine. I won’t be upset or anything.”

“Well, I was kind of wondering if you wanted to come back to mine?”

The first thing you noticed the following morning aside from the sun shining down on your face was the heavy arm across your waist. It made your eyes flutter awake with a small huff leaving your lips as you attempted to stretch your limbs but it tightened around you, securing you closer to Jungkook’s naked chest.

“Morning,” he mumbled sleepily into your hair as he hugged you closer.

“What time is it?” You asked awkwardly, trying to sit up making his arm slide to your hips instead. You reached for your cell phone, eyes widening by the number of text messages.

miyoung: bye I was drunkkkkkk 😳

miyoung: did I 🤮 at all?

miyoung: r u alive

miyoung: helloooooooo

A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you read it over. Either she couldn’t remember how upset she was in the car or she’s going to pretend like nothing at all happened.

God, what did you do?

“Y/n,” Jungkook grumbled tiredly, “Lay back down.”

“I should go,” You bit your lip nervously. If Miyoung forgot what happened last night then maybe she forgot about Jungkook asking you and won’t know you… slept with him. Fuck, were you a bad friend?

He dated your best friend and dumped her out of the blue making it obvious he wanted nothing to do with her and here you are letting him fuck you in the bathroom. What did that make you? You had a poor lapse of judgment last night, you acted out of character and hadn’t been behaving like yourself at all.

“Why?” He sat up suddenly, “You don’t work today, right? Why don’t we go grab breakfast—well, brunch.”

You looked down at him, unable to stop yourself from taking in his appearance. He had bed hair, no shirt on and his blanket draped over his waist. He failed to take off his jewelry last night so he still wears silver chain necklaces around his neck and leather bracelets. You couldn’t possibly spend time with him still. It wasn’t right, right?

Just as you were ready to give him your answer, your phone began to vibrate with an incoming call. You looked down at the screen and a picture of you and Miyoung displayed on the screen that had Jungkook huffing quietly and laying back down, close to giving up.

In all honesty, you weren’t in the mood to talk to her. It still bothered you by how harsh she was last night but there’s a chance she doesn’t even remember and… “Hello?”

“Tell me why I have a raging headache when I barely drank last night?” Miyoung said immediately once the call went through, “It’s your fault y’know for upsetting me.”

You couldn’t see her but she was walking on a treadmill in her apartment acting like everything was completely normal. Jungkook didn’t care for your conversation either but he was focused on the way you looked first thing in the morning.

You looked cute, undeniably cute with circles under your eyes and a disheveled appearance. You wore an oversized shirt of his so you wouldn’t have to sleep in such uncomfortable clothes and he loved it. You looked good in his clothes.

Without thinking, he sat up and pressed his lips to yours in a short and surprising kiss. You flinched back with confusion, nearly dropping your phone in the process but he backed away with a small smile. You tried to glare at him but you couldn’t stop from smiling and it annoyed you when he placed a gentle kiss against your neck that made you feel flustered. You almost forgot you were on the phone when he leaned in for a kiss again and one you would surely grant.

“But I forgive you,” Miyoung said suddenly.

“What?”

“I forgive you, I’m over it,” Miyoung said with a shrug you couldn’t see, “Our friendship means more to me than Jungkook and I know you would never do anything that you know would upset me so… it’s whatever. In the past.”

“Wait,” You held up a hand to Jungkook as you said it to the both of them, “When did I apologize?”

He stopped immediately, looking at you with concern as Miyoung went on, “I mean, we both know you were going to. I’m just letting you know it’s alright.”

“No, Miyoung, I wasn’t going to,” you couldn’t help but scoff, “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Technically.

Jungkook raised his brows, surprised by your tone and a little turned on? Was that okay to say?

“I didn’t mean it like that, but you know… you were flirting with the guy who dumped me,” Miyoung said, “It’s fine, whatever, you want to flirt with Jungkook, I don’t care anymore I just thought I meant more to you as a friend.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment as you looked down at Jungkook who couldn’t seem to go more than a minute without attention. He had your free hand in his measuring your size difference and you released a sigh, “You know what, I’m kind of busy right now so I’ll call you later.”

Miyoung wasn’t able to get a word in before you ended the call, turning your attention to Jungkook, “You’re getting me in trouble, sir.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, biting back a grin, “How should I make it up to you? Brunch?”

“You’re still thinking about that?” You asked with a slight laugh.

It was strange trying not to let your best friend’s feelings bring you down too.

“I’m hungry,” Jungkook said, hand on his toned stomach for detail.

“I don’t have clothes or, I don’t know, a toothbrush,” you couldn’t help but sound sarcastic, falling back on the bed with an arm on his chest.

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

In the end you caved to his incessant begging and found yourself dressed as casual as ever with an oversized tee and the skirt you wore last night clashing horribly. The only thing that had you regretting it was what stood [parked] in front of you.

“You’re not serious, are you?” You asked as you watched him walk up to you with a helmet in his hands, “I can’t get on that.”

“You can,” Jungkook said, putting it over your head, “I’m a very safe driver.”

“What about your car?” You asked nervously as he buckled[?] you into the head gear, “Can’t we just go in that.”

“We can but that won’t impress you,” Jungkook snorted a laugh as he got his own helmet on, “Come on Y/n, I won’t kill you, don’t worry.”

With a small sigh you nodded, letting him lead you to the bike and he swung a leg over to straddle it and patted the seat right behind him. Frankly, you didn’t care that you were in a skirt. You know that there’s an appropriate way for people in skirts to straddle something but you cared more about living so you straddled it the way he did. Jungkook couldn’t help but smile as he felt the softer touch of your hands on his waist and without saying a word, he pulled you into him suddenly. Your chest was pressed to his back and your arms snug around his waist.

“Atta girl, no time to be shy now,” he chuckled, feeling you smack his arm playfully.

If he were being honest, he liked this side of you. He’s never seen it before and it was breathtaking and enjoyable. Before when you were just classmates you were still stand offish from him and the only night he got you to open up was the first time he ran into you and met Miyoung. It was short lived and once he dated her, he rarely got to see you alone.

When he got back, you would barely even look at him yet whatever spurred last night’s events seemed to open up new possibilities for you two. You haven’t talked about what happened but he’s expecting it almost excitedly.

Jungkook’s hand ran up your thighs, securing you to him as he started up the motorcycle, feeling the smoothness of your leg and teasing the end of your skirt with a small tug, “Ready?”

He felt you squeeze harder before taking off.

The cafe was small and filled with warmth making this feel oddly close to a date… which is probably because it was? You’re still not sure how to take it.

“Did I really get you in trouble?” Jungkook asked as he cut his breakfast sandwich in half before doing the same with yours. When you looked at him he looked concerned by the notion. You didn’t have to ask to know what he was referring to and you couldn’t help but sigh, “Not really, sorry, it was more my fault than any—“

“Why though?” Jungkook cut you off, “Why is it always your fault? You can’t talk to me now?”

“You know we didn’t just talk,” you bit your lip nervously. You couldn’t meet his gaze and he didn’t like that.

He huffed in annoyance, “But she doesn’t know, or does she? I mean, what does it matter?”

“You dated. She’s my best friend and it bothers her, I already feel guilty for what happened last night—not that I regret it, don’t get me wrong but… well, it’s just confusing and it upsets her,” You rambled, still defending Miyoung even when she was slowly getting under your skin.

“We dated so long ago, it was such a short fling,” Jungkook said with a laugh as he went back to eating, “And she dumped me so why does it matter if you and I get together?”

“I don’t know, I just… she’s my best frie—wait, what did you say?” You met his stare suddenly making him set down his coffee cup to answer.

“She dumped me so why can’t you and I…” he stopped. Did you mean for him to repeat the part about being with you? Did you want him to say it again, maybe use the right words this time?

Why is he saying Miyoung dumped him? You remember the day exactly.

Miyoung called you while you were studying in the library late one night, not fully in tears but clearly under duress and she couldn’t stop herself from letting her emotions get to her. She went on to tell you how Jungkook dumped her suddenly over a phone call because he wasn’t interested anymore and was just using her or something.

You remember because you left the library to go comfort her and you almost ran into him on campus and he wouldn’t even look you in the eye…

He dumped her because he got bored, that’s why she asked you to stop talking to him. He was just like every other guy according to her and you owed her the promise to avoid him. It was you who introduced them anyway and…

Why is it that any guy you’ve ever thought you’ve liked would fall for her instead, only to dump her and in return make her ask you to not speak to them again?

Jungkook wasn’t the first so when she asked you to avoid him, it bothered you a little but you soon got over it and did as told.

You always do as told without questioning it.

“You broke up with her.”

He chuckled, shaking his head no, “I was going to but she beat me to it. I don’t know how honest you want me to be this early in the day.”

“Tell me,” you urged him on.

“I wanted to break up with her but I had this sick feeling that I wasn’t going to be able to talk to you as much anymore or it would be awkward so I stuck it out,” Jungkook said it with a shrug, “But then she dumped me and suddenly you won’t even look at me so it was worse for me, I guess.”

Your eyebrows stitched together with confusion, “What are you saying? Why did you care if I talked to you or not? You went for Miyoung the second you met her—“

“That’s not true, actually,” Jungkook confessed, deciding if you wanted honesty he would give it even if it embarrassed him, “I wanted you.”

“And when I met her, I was obviously there at the bar trying to talk to you but she kept butting in and next thing I know, you were off talking to Yoongi and ignoring me,” Jungkook went on, “To be honest, I was kind of insecure back then, like really insecure and I was trying to get you to notice me but everytime someone would cu—“

“Jungkook, stop, I just… no, you did not like me, you dated Miyoung,” You cut him off, fidgeting in your seat anxiously, “It’s fine, it’s in the past.”

“No it’s not fine and I asked how honest you wanted me to be and you told me to tell you so I’m going to,” Jungkook said more seriously, “I was insecure, alright? I had just moved to the city and I shared class with this pretty, incredibly smart girl who would barely give me any time of day. Honestly it was kind of depressing, I was kinda depressed at the time and I needed a boost to talk to you so I asked Miyoung and… she said you were into someone else so I was pretty bummed out. Then she’s kind of just everywhere and she actually tries to talk to me so when she asks me out, I say yes but I realize I still have to see you.”

“And I liked being around you even though I probably shouldn’t have because technically I was dating her at this point and I realized that I practically screwed up whatever chance I might have had with you,” Jungkook couldn’t stop himself anymore. He was saying whatever was on his mind, barely giving you time to process any of it before continuing, “Yes, I know it’s fucked up because whenever I thought it might work and I might catch real feelings for her, you would came around and they just went out the window. So it was getting harder and harder to keep pretending and I wanted to break up with her but I was worried you wouldn’t talk to me anymore.”

“She beat me to it and dumped me because she was bored and I was relieved, honestly, but then I see you on campus and you can’t even look at me anymore,” Jungkook cleared his throat, “Then life went on, I moved away, moved back, ran into you again and…”

“And what?” You asked breathlessly, lips dry and completely frozen in your seat.

He looked at you warmly, “I found you, everything just came back and I knew I didn’t want to lose you a second time. I wanted to ask you out the first night at the bar but you didn’t even want to talk to me so I tried again last night and you were so ready to blow me off when Miyoung came along. I don’t know what made you come back to the party and I don’t want you thinking I’m some sleazy guy who acts like that with just anyone. I was just… it was unexpected and I had been waiting years for something to happen between us.”

Suddenly, this didn’t feel like an easy brunch inside a warm and cozy cafe anymore. In all honesty, it felt a little suffocating now and you don’t know how to explain it, but you didn’t want to be here. So much has just been thrown at you and you don’t think you can handle it all.

What did he mean that he liked you first?

Why had Miyoung told him you were into someone else? You learned to stop sharing who you liked with her so long ago and had never once told her anything like that in school. Why couldn’t she just have asked you? Why did she ask him out after he made it known he wanted you?

You don’t care that he said yes, that really was in the past for you. Now you’re more focused on why someone who was supposed to be your best friend would act so sneaky? What did she gain from it?

Why did she lie and say he dumped her? Was it just so she can paint him as a villain and make you not want to talk to him anymore? Why would she do that?

“Y/n?” He called your name waiting for you to respond to him but you just sat there stunned, “I’m sorry, I know I was a piece of shit for dating her when I wanted you bu—Y/n.”

Your mind is filled with questions that you couldn’t answer and it was overwhelming. The cafe felt suddenly overwhelming and you just had to get out of there, so you did.

“Earth to Y/n, I don’t know how long you plan on ignoring the world but I know you’re not too busy with work to ignore your friends.”

Tacky, Taehyung was so very tacky leaving a concerning voicemail. Who left voicemails these days?

And he was being dramatic, he’s acting like you’ve fallen off the face of the Earth but that’s not true. You’ve just been holed up at either the office or your home for the past week, avoiding any call or text from anyone so you could be alone with your thoughts.

Alright it’s been over a week, almost two and maybe it is a little concerning but you’re telling yourself you’re just being dramatic.

“Y/n you better open the door before I break it down,” Taehyung’s muffled voice boomed from the other side of your front door and you begrudgingly went to let him in.

“Relax, I’m not dead,” You muttered under your breath as you let him in.

“Damn near!” Taehyung said loudly as he let himself through the door, “What is up with you? You haven’t responded to any text I was beginning to get worried.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you flopped down onto your couch, “I’ve just been tired.”

“Too tired to answer the phone?” Taehyung asked sitting down next to you, “Miyoung, I get. Ignore her all you want but me? What did I ever do to you? What’s up with you? I haven’t talked to you since the party. Did something happen?”

With a small sigh, you let your head rest against the back of the couch, “I slept with Jungkook.”

“Really?” Taehyung seemed genuinely surprised, “So fallout with Miyoung I’m assuming? Look, I personally don’t get why you try to make her happy but she’ll get over it. Did you like it? Like him?”

“Yes, I don’t know, I’m confused, I don’t know what to believe anymore,” you admitted, “And I feel so dumb because this shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Alright well I need you to rewind and explain things better so my pea brain can handle it,” Taehyung made himself comfortable, “You’ve gone Ghost for over a week, I want to know why. Was it because of Jungkook? Miyoung? If you think sleeping with him makes you a bad friend the—“

“She’s a liar,” you cut in, “And it shouldn’t bother me so much because she’s my best friend but that’s why it bothers me, Tae. I’ve known her for so long, and I’ve always tried to be a good friend to her but it was never enough. So I tried harder and harder because who else would be there for me like her but… now that I’m looking back on it, I don’t think she’s ever cared about me as much as I care about her and it sucks, honestly.”

Taehyung wanted to tell you so many people cared about you but he wanted you to say whatever you needed to say first.

“You know what Jungkook said? He said Miyoung knew he apparently liked me before and still asked him out—and lied about how I felt about him,” You said, “And okay, why would I fight over a guy with my best friend but now that I’m thinking about it… it’s fucked up right? She lied that he dumped her and begged me to avoid him. You saw how she acted the other night just because he talked to me. What was that about?”

You weren’t going to go into full detail about the past because you owed Jungkook enough to not tell Taehyung about everything he said but he needed context.

“And I know it’s in the past so I should just move on but I can’t,” You admitted, “I still like him but if I… I get with him Miyoung would never let me forget that she dated him first, even if he liked me. It’s just all so confusing and overwhelming and it sucks that I’m letting it get to me like this but… it’s not fair.”

Once again, Taehyung didn’t say anything but he could tell you were feeling emotional by the way your voice began to shake.

“I like him, and not in the way I liked him before but I like this new him too, and it’s not fair that even if she lied or even if she snaps at me about shit that doesn’t matter, I will still feel guilty,” You finished.

“Y/n,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “Obviously I don’t know everything that happened back then but… I think that if you feel for him what he feels for you, it shouldn’t matter what she says. And honestly, I just… I wish you could see that there are so many people who care about you so much and you don’t have to put up with being belittled by someone who is supposed to be your best friend just because you have history. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the past, if it’s upsetting you now then clearly it still matters so don’t try to downplay your emotions.”

“But she’s my best friend,” your lip quivered.

“Then what am I?” He forced his lip to quiver as well.

“You’re my best friend too,” you sniffled.

Taehyung mimicked your expression, “Then as your best friend, I’m telling you to stop trying to make excuses for people who don’t treat you right—and go fix it with this guy.”

“Bu—“

“Y/n, I know you,” Taehyung sighed, “And I know that you’re not going to do anything if you think it upsets her but she doesn’t deserve a friend like you. You deserve to go be with whoever you want. I don’t care about what she says and at this point neither should you. I know that right now it’s confusing and you’re overwhelmed but if you’ve been ignoring me you’ve been ignoring him—I hope because if it’s just me that’s cold—and if the girl I had feelings for ghosted me… I’d be hurt.”

Jungkook was not hurt. He was… y'know, perfectly fine and that’s what he kept telling himself. It’s not like you made any real sign of feeling something for him too after hooking up and maybe that had just been a casual, one time thing. He can handle that, he’s grown.

Sure, he sort of spilled his damn heart out to you just for you to storm off on him and not reach out to him in days but he’s not bothered by it at all. That’s why when his two closest friends called Saturday night asking him to go clubbing… he said yes.

It was a chance to possibly let it go, forget it even, but it wasn’t easy. He was aware that he was possibly reading too into what happened the other night but could you blame him? You’re suddenly all about him and spend the night at his place where you wake up in his arms before going out to eat. It was like the perfect set up for a what if yet it went all wrong. Clearly it was his fault for being hopeful.

“So who else did you say is meeting us here?” Jungkook asked Hoseok for confirmation as he passed him a drink. The music played loudly in his eardrums that it was borderline painful and he wanted to leave more than anything but there was that stupid what if in his head.

“Jimin’s joining later on and so is Namjoon and his girl,” Hoseok said as he made sure everyone else had what they ordered, “Oh, and Y/n too, I think.”

“Y/n?” Jungkook tried clarifying. Hoseok smiled, “I know, it’s weird, Y/n seriously rarely comes out but all of a sudden she’s starting to more. I mean, lately she has, probably since around the time you got back?”

Jungkook let his friend go off to do whatever he wanted while he stood there seemingly frozen. Tonight would be the first time in days that he sees you—talks to you—and he’s not sure how to handle it. There’s nothing he can do about it either because he hasn’t confided in anyone yet but it’s painfully obvious that he’s waiting for you.

Yoongi noticed first, like he usually did, and tried talking to him, “What’s up with you? You’ve been antsy since the party, will you finally tell me where you ran off to?”

“Yeah man, don’t think we didn’t notice when you disappeared,” Jin said with a slight wink, “We just want to know with who.”

“Y/n.”

He could see you from the corner of his eye when you joined them at a table they had found. You came with Jimin by your side and a shy smile on your face. He assumed it was Hoseok who had screamed your name considering how he hogged your attention with a huge grin and Jungkook felt nervous all of a sudden.

As embarrassing as it was, Jungkook had nearly forgotten what he was asked until he looked back at Yoongi and Jin who looked at him expectantly. A nervous laugh escaped his lips as he shrugged, “Did you guys miss me too much?”

“Sneaky guy, don’t change the subject,” Jin laughed before letting Jungkook shift his attention back to you, making it painfully obvious where he was focused.

You felt a little nervous to be out tonight but after what you had talked about with Taehyung, you knew he was right. You acted strange with Jungkook after he opened up his side of things to you and it was plain wrong. Part of you isn’t even sure if he’s actually interested or not since he didn’t reach out to you this week and it made you wonder if he was really upset.

And if he was, would that mean that he didn’t want to speak to you?

“I need a drink,” you mumbled to yourself more than to the others but it made a good excuse to at least try. You looked at Jungkook for the first time since you got there and cleared your throat to awkwardly ask, “Jungkook, do you mind going with me?”

“Get me another, will ya?” Yoongi asked with a sudden wink that made Jungkook do a double take. Was he winking over the drink or him leaving with you?

He nodded his head in response and without question followed you to the bar once more. The bar was packed from all sides and Jungkook had to fight his way to the counter working as a barrier from people pushing at you. If he were to be honest, he wanted to skip the questions and get close to you again but he had to stay strong. He needed answers, right?

“Are we good?” Was the only thing he could think to ask.

You looked at him warmly, sitting down on the stool at the counter with him standing close to you, his hand itching to reach for you. Your lip caught between your teeth as you nodded, “Are we?”

For some reason he didn’t expect to be asked that back. It made him wonder if he thought you were. It was undeniably embarrassing to have you walk out on him like that after he thought it had been going good but did that mean he was truly upset with you?

“Yeah,” he nodded stiffly, blinking nervously and looking to the bartender who noticed them a while ago but had to attend to earlier customers first, “But uh, I guess I am just a little confused by it all. Did I do something to upset you? Was it what I said?”

“No, no, I’m sorry, it wasn’t you,” You blurted out, “It was me, I wasn’t thinking straight and I feel really bad about leaving like that.”

“Then why didn’t you just call or even text me?” Jungkook asked honestly, “I… I think that’s what bothered me the most.”

You looked down at your hands, “I'm sorry. I didn’t talk to anyone, seriously, and I did think about reaching out to you but I don’t know, I’m really bad at explaining things.”

“Well can you try? I know it was sudden but I thought it had been going good,” Jungkook said and the longer he tried getting to the bottom of this, the more annoyed he felt that you couldn’t just say it, “I think I’ve made it clear now how I feel about you and all I’m asking is for you to do the same.”

“I—yes,” you stumbled over your words, “I mean, I’m trying to be clear now but I’m doing a shit job at it. I did have a good time with you but it was honestly, really out of character for me to yknow… and then the whole Miyoung thing and I’m sorry but it was just a lot all at once. It’s definitely not fair to you that I acted that way, but I do have feelings for you.”

He let out a sigh, feeling unsure how to take it and stuck between wanting to smile in relief and wanting to be upset. You didn’t text him, nothing. How is that fair? He wanted to reach out to you but after the way you left he thought he would just make it worse if he kept bothering you. The bartender finally got to you two and he let you speak first as he tried gathering his thoughts a little more.

“But what does this mean?” Jungkook asked now, “I want you and you want me, right? So, what does this mean Y/n because right now I’m still confused by it all. If it’s because of Miyoung then—“

“No, it’s not, honestly,” You said, reaching for him, pinching the bottom of his shirt between your fingers to pull him toward you, “I don't care what she thinks anymore, I like you and I should have just said that from the beginning.”

The pull was harsh and had him looking down with his lips slightly parted in surprise, “Y/n, you’re not being fair.”

You knew it. You knew you probably ruined your chance now and coming to see him had just been a waste. You nearly let go of him when he continued, “You can’t ignore me and walk out on me and then just tell me you want me too, expecting everything to be fine.”

He had to be tough. He can’t just let it go even though you’re saying everything he wants to hear.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you said with a slight frown, “I can leave if you want me to.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, unable to help himself anymore as he closed the distance between you two. He circled an arm around you and pulled you into a hug, “Why would I want you to leave when I’ve been waiting for you to get here?”

“What?” You asked, hands finding his waist as he held you, “I thought you were mad.”

“I was,” Jungkook said, “So you don’t know how annoyed I am with myself right now. All it takes is for you to sweet talk me a bit and give me those eyes of yours for me to fold, that’s embarrassing.”

“Jungkook,” you said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have walked out like that. I should have texted you and if you want to be mad, I get it. If you want to think it over an—“

“And what if I don’t?” He asked looking down at your pouty lips and glossy eyes, “What if I just want to let it go and be with you without any more problems? Can I do that?”

His tone was surprisingly firm and you couldn’t do anything but nod, “Okay.”

It didn’t change the fact that you still felt bad because it seemed like you were being let off the hook easily but what else could you do? Jungkook really did seem ready to move past it and that’s why you came here in the first place. You just hadn’t expected it to be so easy and it made you feel bad.

When your drinks were ready, you opened up a tab despite his protests to just put it on his and the two of you got back to the group like nothing had happened. There was still a lot that needed to be talked about before you told anyone about what happened but it’s not like they were all oblivious.

Jimin, for instance, had been keeping an eye on you two at the bar since you left and had seen the majority of your conversation but he didn’t bring it up. Instead he watched silently for your little glances in each other’s direction and shy smiles. It was obvious to Yoongi too that Jungkook was in a much better mood now than earlier and it wasn’t hard for him to figure out why.

Perhaps for the same reason you had suddenly started joining them more often, being more comfortable too.

It had been a slow start for the two of you after the night at the club. Neither one of you seemed to want to rush into things but at times there was a strong pull. Tonight was going to be your first official date but you were keeping that information to your friends until you figure out if this works or not.

Jungkook picked you up from your apartment and drove to a nice restaurant where the two of you sat for dinner. He was very attentive to you, making sure your glass was always full and all your needs met and it was a surprisingly good feeling to be taken care of this way. You’ve dated in the past but you can’t say you’ve always chosen the right ones. You had a tendency to lean toward the ones who were overly forward with you because in your mind there was no doubt they liked you.

At first it would be nice but then you would realize that it was more of a conquering feeling to them than actually wanting to be with you and you would be left heartbroken. That’s part of why you rarely put yourself out there.

Jungkook is different though, he always has been. When you first met him he was forward but aloof. You never expected him to actually like you because you couldn’t see the signs clearly and the way things turned out it just never worked. Now that he’s been back he’s almost like an entirely different person in the sense that he’s ready to go for what he wants and it’s sort of admirable.

If you had been able to do that back then maybe you would have had him sooner but there was no point in dwelling in the past. He was here now and so were you. Honestly, knowing that there's something that’s been brewing between you two for a long time made it easier to feel confident around him.

“Why are you so pretty?” Jungkook couldn’t help but ask even if his mouth was full. He was trying not to smile too as he said that.

“Oh my god,” You felt your face heat up, tempted to hide behind your hand. It took you a moment to think of a response and it was surprising for the both of you to hear you say, “Why are you?”

Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly in hopes of not seeming too affected by your words. It didn’t work and he broke out into a grin, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Dinner was filled with small flirting here and there. It’s crazy how well you and him seemed to get along when you stopped worry about other things. He made you smile, really smile and you made him feel giddy whenever he talked to you. He wanted to spend his night with you and nobody else.

“Are we going to meet with everyone else after this?” You asked as he pulled your chair out for you and you got up from the table. After some back and forth arguing, he eventually took care of the bill despite your protests and the night felt near its finish much to your disappointment.

It was the weekend and you’ve been trying to go out with your friends more and they had asked to meet up later—but both you and Jungkook had to tell them maybe.

“Do we have to?” He asked, taking your bag in one hand and holding yours with the other, “You think they’ll get a little suspicious if we’re both gone?”

You walked with him across the restaurant toward the entrance. You weren’t paying much attention to the people you passed, “I’m sure they know.”

Your response surprised him a bit and he couldn’t help but ask, “Really? Has it been that obvious?”

“Yeah, Jimin called me out on it the other night,” you shrugged, reaching for your bag to look for chapstick while he led you to the front. You couldn’t meet his eyes because you sensed where this was going.

“What’d he say?” Jungkook asked slowing his pace for you.

You blinked nervously, distracting yourself with your lipbalm as you tried sounding casual, “He asked why we were being so sneaky at the bar.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, opening the door for you as he said, “Damn, what did you say?”

“I said because we’re together.”

You tried being slick about it and slide past him without much attention but it was useless. He stood in front of you with a smile on his face, “Oh, we are? I don’t remember you clarifying that. Can you remind me when you asked me to be your man?”

“Oh god, don’t act like that,” you whined shyly.

“I’m sorry baby, I gotta hear you say it with your own words. What’d you tell him?” Jungkook blocked your path, hands finding your waist and keeping you from running. He liked making you flustered and you had no idea how you left him with a racing heart.

You pouted, looking at him seriously, “Jungkook.”

The two of you stood outside the restaurant looking like a playful couple that maybe had one too many drinks but it was all Jungkook’s fault. He wouldn’t let it go to rest and even had the nerve to smirk as he teasingly said, “That’s not how you say ‘Boyfriend’.”

“You’re ridiculous, we talked about this,” you said, focused on his chest to hide your embarrassment.

Jungkook just grinned mischievously, “What did you tell him?”

“I said you were my boyfriend,” you mumbled into his chest.

“Your what?” He asked trying to step back and get a good look at your face, “Come on baby, don’t get shy on me now.”

You whined, “Jung—“

“Your what?” He was laughing now, not caring for whoever might pass them and stare because he felt good. Too good to be affected by a stranger’s judgement.

“My boyfriend,” you sighed with embarrassment, “You heard me the first time, goof.”

“That’s what I thought, alright, you ready to go?” He asked with a chuckled as he took your hand in his ready to walk with you to the car.

“Y/n?”

You both stopped in your step, wondering if it really was your name you had heard. You looked back toward the rest, eyes threatening to widen with surprise as you looked at the person who stood at the entrance. She was with a group of people all headed inside but when she saw you, she stopped.

“Miyoung, hey,” You cleared your throat awkwardly, your demeanor changing completely.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” She asked as her eyes trailed behind you where Jungkook was looking at you with worry and confusion. He wanted to make sure everything would be alright, knowing how Miyoung would react. He didn’t want your good night to be ruined over something petty.

“What do you mean? I’m uh, I was just having dinner,” you said stiffly, looking back at Jungkook which proved to be a mistake because it seemed to solidify his presence to her.

“With jungkook?” She asked with a snappy tone. Miyoung shooed away her friends, telling them to go in without her as she approached you.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Her brow arched with amusement, clearly ticked off and in disbelief by what she saw before her. Like usual, the situation seemed much worse than it really was.

It was time for you to be up front. What’s the point in putting yourself out there and letting yourself open up to him if you wouldn’t have the courage to make it known? You swallowed dryly, “Because we’re… dating.”

Jungkook had stepped back from the situation, not wanting to worsen it so he stood off by a light post not too far for a smoke break. He tried distracting himself with lighting his cigarette but he couldn’t help but freeze up when you said that. It brought a shy smile to his face as he waited for you to finish.

“No, you’re not,” Miyoung scoffed looking back at Jungkook as if betrayed by him too. You blinked with confusion, what did she mean you’re not? Did she expect you to be joking or back down? “We are.”

Miyoung stood in front of you now, slightly taller, “Y/n, you’ve been ignoring me for weeks and now you’re saying you’re dating my ex boyfriend? What kind of friend are you?”

This time it was you who scoffed lightly, looking away from her to try and process what you would say but you had spent too much time already trying to think it over, “The thing is, um, I’ve been kind of wondering the same about you.”

“Me?” She looked down at you genuinely taken back, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat and tried to gather the courage to just say it. You could feel Jungkook around, listening but giving you space and it was like a push start for you to say what was really on your mind, “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m the only one who puts effort into being friends and I don’t see the point in always fighting. We’re not together, we don’t have to be friends if it always has to be some sort of argument. It’s getting tiring at this point and I think maybe it’s best we just distance ourselves from each other.”

“You’re kidding, right? I’m like the only person who really cares about you, Y/n. Don’t act stupid.”

Although that made Jungkook want to intervene and tell her how very wrong she was, he didn’t. He didn’t want to speak for you. He knew you could speak for yourself and he should let you, even if he was itching to cut in.

“No, I don’t think you are. I know you think you are so you always tell me you are, but you’re not. People like me for me and not just because I’m friends with you,” you said coldly and your tone was definitive it left her speechless. It had to be one of the first times you were ever remotely close to snappy with her and she didn’t expect it.

“I know it’s hard for you to think of me as my own person but I don’t have to do what you want,” You said, “And I think you only boss me around and act sneaky behind my back because you’re threatened by me.”

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. What you said left her rendered quiet. You waited too, waited to see if she would tell you to stand down but she didn’t and you didn’t give her time too, “ But I think I should go, I don’t want to bother your dinner any longer—and uh, maybe we just shouldn’t contact each other anymore.”

Jungkook had forgotten about his smoke break, jaw nearly to the floor at how confident you sounded. It was obvious you had never spoken to Miyoung that way but she couldn’t even deny what you said. You did it so casually and like you couldn’t care less which made you seem mature compared to Miyoung’s tantrums.

“Why was that kind of hot?” Jungkook asked as you finally reached him under the light post. Miyoung had stormed off with an evil glare that he ignored telling you how “You’re done”.

He looked down at you with hazed eyes, amazed and enamored. You scrunch your face curiously, “What was?”

“You, right now,” He chuckled, reaching for your hand in his, “Kind of scary too. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you tried to laugh it off, “I wasn’t mean, was I?”

It was so dumb of you to still be worried about it but you couldn’t help it.

“No, you were calm and casual but that was so scary,” Jungkook gasped dramatically, “Because I know you were mad at her—… it was mean but only a little and so very very hot, and you’re doing all this in that dress…”

Without meaning to be, Jungkook was sort of like your hype man. You were worried about being too harsh, you still are, but he made you feel better about it. Part of you will never not feel in the wrong for being with Jungkook but you’ve gotten the rest off your chest and it felt good. Maybe you were a bit mean or maybe you weren’t, you could never be entirely sure but Jungkook seemed to be on your side no matter what.

“You like my dress?” You asked him with a teasing smile as he held the car door open for you.

“I really do,” he played with his lip ring, looking down at you.

“Then take it off me.”

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook whispered to himself as he looked around the parking lot, “Here?”

You broke out into a laugh as you sat down. Your words got to him easier than you thought and he sighed, “You can’t say that shit to me, Y/n. I’ll actually do it.”

“Let’s go back to my place and see if you can keep your word then,” you told him, watching him close the door with a tense jaw just thinking about it.

You can’t do this to him. You can’t be shy and cute one second and then act like that. You can’t. That’s not fair to him. How is he supposed to not be affected when you say things that get his heart racing while looking so cute? Was this what it would be like dating you? Just constantly caught by surprise?

He did like the way you stood up for yourself. He liked that you spoke your mind more freely than before and he takes joy in hearing you flirt back. In the beginning it felt like he was the one always trying to get you to talk to him or notice him and now you’re saying things that make his head dizzy.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, yknow?” Jungkook asked after the painfully long car ride back to your apartment. He was removing his coat as you sat on the edge of your bed to undo your shoes.

You let out an amused laugh, “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you act all shy and innocent and then you say shit that…” Jungkook let out a groan, “I can’t explain it, you just drive me crazy.”

“In a good way or bad way?” You asked, following him with your eyes as he closed the space between you two until he was at the end of the bed standing in front of you.

“A good way,” he said softly, “I’m finding more sides of you I’ve never seen.”

“And you like it?” You asked shyly, feeling his hands curl around your jaw.

“I do, a lot,” he confessed brushing his lips against yours, “I don't know what I would’ve done if I lost my chance with you again.”

::.

NO PART TWO

oml yall this took me forever to come up with 😭 I went through at least six other ideas before deciding on this one and I can’t tell how happy I am with it yet but I tried my hardest not the disappoint 🥹 I miss being more active and taking to you all but life has been so busy lately

please let me know how you feel and I promise I’ll try to be more active 🫶🏽

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @skzthinker @unnatae @beautywine @lilliankoo @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @whoa-jo @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @dream-cvtcher @jksjx @kissyfacekoo @joyjunk @caro134340lina @hyunjinswifeee @oldermenluverrr @caro134340lina @olivialeesstuff [taglist is too long so I’ll have to make two versions of it]

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norcumii · 3 months ago

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My family watches Wheel of Fortune some - most? - nights when dinner coincides with it. I grew up with many fond memories of spending the night with one of my grandmothers, and after a day of her explaining her incomprehensible Stories as we watched I don't know how many soap operas, we'd watch Wheel together and I'd be awed by her skills.

Nowadays it's me and my folks loudly commenting - we're truly terrible backseat drivers with VERY strong opinions about strategy that might well not hold up under actual competitive conditions, and we're aware of that, but it sure doesn't stop us yelling in derision every time someone picks the "Thing" category.

Last season was the host's last - Pat Sejak's retired, which given some health scares, is totally understandable. Tonight was Ryan Seacrest's first on the job, and...

well...

We were all underwhelmed. I loathe the new set - not that it's the first time that's happened - and some of the new style of camera angles are disconcerting and not what I'd prefer, though that might all just be Not Liking Change. The part that stood out to all of us, however, was Seacrest just did not vibe well. He seemed uncomfortable, a little too handsy not in a "LAWSUIT!" kinda way just a "dude back off please personal space!" kinda way, a bit too try hard and self-conscious of the failures. Watching him snap into a WILDLY more comfortable persona in the last 5 seconds when he went from "ZOMG I am hosting WHEEL o_o" to "Ah, promo-ing a thing for the network, I can do this in my sleep!" was astonishing.

I keep reminding myself it's his first night. I keep reminding myself that he's now responsible for Wheel and its 45+ seasons of history. I keep reminding myself he's trying to step into the shoes but not replace the former weatherman we've all had in our living rooms for freakin' DECADES, and that's a HELL of a steep learning curve.

I also keep thinking about Sam Reich putting his friends through increasingly complicated and deranged Shenanigans for our amusement WITHOUT a shred of that awkwardness, and all I can think is "skill issue."

#wheel of fortune #ryan seacrest #sam reich #Norcumi has opinions #i would tag for Game Changer for my own purposes but I'm terrified of this breaking containment as is

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thatsouthernstate · 1 year ago

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July 18-19, 2023

If I keep holdin' out

Will the light shine through?

Under this broken roof

It's only rain that I feel

I've been wishing out the days

Oh, oh, oh, come back

I have been planning out

All that I'd say to you

Since you slipped away

Know that I still remain true

I've been wishing out the days

Please say, that if you hadn'ta gone now

I wouldn't have lost you another way

From wherever you are

Oh, oh, come back

And these days, they linger on

And in the night, I been waitin' for

The real possibility that I may meet you in my dreams

I go to sleep

If I don't fall apart

Will my memories stay clear?

So you had to go

And I had to remain here

But the strangest thing today

So far away and yet you feel so close

And I'm not gonna question it any other way

There must be an open door for you

To come back

And the days, they linger on

And every night, what I'm waitin' for

Is the real possibility I may meet you in my dream

Sometimes you're there and you're talking back to me

Come the morning, I could swear that you're next to me

And it's okay

It's okay

It’s okay

I'll be here, come back, come back

#today’s vibes #hmmm… too much to say #but mostly that i love this song so much #it has now been in iconic scenes in two of my favorite shows which I think is really cool #syd and carmy laying under that table having THAT talk in the Bear #just incredible #and — I bet no one else in the world remembers this but —#Lyla garrity crying through gritted teeth over street while tim riggins comforts her right before their first kiss in Friday night lights #I mean just a goddamn masterpiece #I see parallels!#but I can’t think about it too much because thinking about fnl too much rn will make me even more emotional than I already am #anyway…. I love my friends and the beautiful people in my life that keep me sane and are always honest with me…#the ones that aren’t are really really stressing me the fuck out rn and I truly hate it #that is all #I’m NyQuil-ing myself to sleep because on top of everything else I’m sicky #so if none of my posts make sense tonight you know why

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s-ccaam-era-crepe · 2 years ago

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being silly normal about w.bg on the dash baby <33 (spoilers for newest episode (109))

2020 mike my beloved oml and jamilla voice reveal i love them <3

aLso the drastic cover difference to all the other seasons i love it but it hurrts <3 /pos

mike continuing to 'design" jam's theme song despite them saying they already had one and him singing it over the recording ough <33

also the 108 excerpt hurt just as much as when i heard it the first time gods

im so excited and scared for wednesday this week <33 but season 10 sounds extremely fun so far !!

#camera talks #wbg spoilers #anyways i was relistening to 'i have been to the future' As One does #and bro Spirit sorta slaps ngl !!! really vibing with it rn <3 #also just relistening to 'i must be a loser' that one is so >>>>#im having wbg feelings tonight TM if you couldn't tell #the beginning of 108 (dream part) hurts me so much and yet i relistened to it twice today #harlan truly does so good with all his voice acting #also yeah i relistened to the newest episode what about it </3

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leejenowrld · 1 month ago

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‘love me back?’ — one

pairing — mark lee x reader

word count — 22.2k words

genre — angst, smut, fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden love

synopsis — mark lee goes from being the quiet kid at the river court to the star basketball player on campus, reigniting old tensions with his brother, jeno. as jeno’s girlfriend, you’re pulled into the rivalry, but it’s mark who captivates you. his touch, his presence—he stirs something deep inside you that you can’t shake. as the tension between the brothers grows, so does your forbidden connection with mark, forcing you to confront where your heart—and body—truly belong.

chapter contents/warnings — college au, small town vibes, 2000s teen show vibes, this fic is heavily based on one tree hill, reader is in a relationship with jeno but it’s far from healthy or loving, depictions of lust and physical connection rather than emotional intimacy, slow burn with emotional (and sexual) tension between reader and mark, basketball is a heavy theme, mark being a key player, reader uses drugs and drinks to avoid facing her emotions, struggles with communication and vulnerability, messy dynamics with themes of abandonment and insecurity, escapism, toxic sibling rivalry between jeno and mark, oooh guys jeno is a jerk! bad boyfriend jeno, explicit sexual content involving rough and emotionally detached interactions with jeno, reader makes out with mark, soft mark, emo boy mark, confident mark, understated and hot mark, references to drug and alcohol use as coping mechanisms, swearing, explicit language and competitive sports tension.

[fic ml]

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX

───────────────────────────────

The air in the room is thick and hazy, the low-hanging smoke curling in lazy spirals above your heads, seeping into the fabric of your clothes and the sheets. The bedside table is cluttered with half-empty bottles—beers, vodka mixers—and a vape pen with a fading light. The faint scent of weed lingers, clinging to the mess of discarded clothes on the floor. It should feel comforting, familiar, but it doesn’t. Everything feels muted, dulled, like you’re watching your life from a distance, the numbness settling deeper with each passing second.

Jeno lies beside you, shirtless, his body warm against yours. Your head rests on his chest, where his heartbeat thuds unevenly, just as it always has—never steady enough to soothe you, never grounding like you wanted it to be. Tonight, it feels even more erratic, like something inside him is pulling further away. Your fingers trace lazy circles over his skin, the motion slow, almost mechanical. It’s a routine now—this closeness that never truly feels close.

He’s quiet, too quiet, and it irritates you more than it should. You inhale sharply, the vape pen slipping between your lips before you exhale through your nose. Shifting closer, you press a kiss against his neck, letting your lips linger longer than usual, hoping he’ll respond. But there’s nothing—not a sigh, not a flicker of acknowledgment. Just the steady rise and fall of his chest, his mind somewhere far beyond the room. You pull away, frustrated, the weight of the past hour pressing down on you.

“Jeno,” you murmur, your voice catching slightly, as if the words are stuck in your throat. Your lips linger near his jaw, hoping for a reaction, for something to pull him back to you. But all you feel is the faint twitch of his hand on your waist, a gesture that once held desire but now feels empty, mechanical. It’s not what you’re looking for, not tonight.

You move again, this time more insistent, straddling his waist, your hands pressing against his chest, trying to ground yourself—or maybe trying to ground him. You tilt his chin toward you, forcing his eyes to meet yours, but they’re glassy, distant, reflecting the dull light of the lamp more than any real emotion. “Are you even here?” you ask, half-joking, but the frustration behind your words cuts through the haze in the air.

“Yeah,” he mutters, but there’s no conviction in his voice. His eyes flicker to the ceiling again, avoiding yours, like he’s searching for an answer there that he can’t find in you.

You let out a sharp breath, your fingers tightening on his chest as you lean down, brushing your lips against his in a kiss that’s supposed to feel familiar, intimate. But even then, his response is slow, almost hesitant, like he’s going through the motions, doing what’s expected but feeling none of it.

Your heart sinks a little, and you pull back just enough to study his face, the way his jaw tenses and his gaze remains distant. The dim light casts long shadows across his features, making him look older, more worn down than he should. Something is eating at him, gnawing at the edges of whatever you have left between you.

“What’s wrong with you?” The words come out more accusatory than you intend, but the irritation bubbling inside you won’t let it rest. You both know what this is—it’s been like this for months now. Physical, surface-level. No connection. No real emotion. But tonight, it feels worse. Heavier.

He finally shifts beneath you, his fingers brushing against your hip, but there’s no spark in the touch, no warmth. “It’s nothing,” he says, his voice thin, barely more than a whisper.

“You always say that,” you mutter, the words bitter as they leave your mouth. You push yourself off of him, sitting at the edge of the bed, your hands in your lap as you glance over at the cluttered mess around you. Bottles, smoke, scattered clothes. It’s all a blur. “Is this really what we are now? Me trying, and you always somewhere else?”

You run a hand through your hair, glancing over your shoulder at him. Jeno doesn’t answer right away. He just rubs his face with his hand, his other arm falling limp beside him, like even the effort of responding is too much. “It’s just the game tomorrow,” he mumbles, but his words lack conviction.

“The game?” You repeat, incredulous. You turn to face him fully now, your frustration spilling over. “You’re thinking about basketball right now? We’re here, and all you care about is some stupid game?”

Jeno sits up, finally breaking the contact between you. His hands are tight, clenched in the sheets as he avoids your gaze. “It’s not just the game,” he snaps, his voice sharper now, the edge of something deeper cutting through. “It’s Mark.”

The name lands heavier than you expect. Mark Lee. Jeno’s half-brother. The one he rarely mentions, the one who has always been at the edges of your awareness but you’ve never had a reason to think about him. You’ve seen him around but only from a distance. He was never at the parties, never a part of the crowd Jeno ran with, always separate. always… distant. Mark’s never really mattered to you. Until now.

“What about him?” You ask, your voice slower, more careful.

Jeno lets out a short, bitter laugh. “He’s back,” he says, the frustration creeping into his voice.

“Back how?” You mumble, feeling the tension building. Mark had been around since you and Jeno were children but he had always been a part of the background, you never expected that to change.

Jeno shifts beside you, you watch his jaw clench, his fists tightening on the sheets. “Back into my life. Out of nowhere. He’s on the team now—just showed up like he had something to prove, and Coach didn’t waste a second. Benched me, gave him my spot.” The words are clipped, tight with barely concealed anger.

You sit there, trying to process it. You’ve seen him before, alone at the river court after hours, earbuds in, completely disconnected from the world you and Jeno are a part of. Calm, composed, like nothing touches him. It strikes you how different he is — how he’s always stood apart from Jeno’s chaos.

He pauses, jaw clenched, and you can feel the anger bubbling underneath, the years of resentment suddenly in the open. “My dad’s losing it. He never wanted Mark around. Hated him from the beginning—he’s always seen him as the mistake, the one thing he can’t stand to face. But now Mark’s back, and it’s like this unspoken challenge. Like Mark’s here to prove he’s better, or he can take everything that’s mine.”

You shift uncomfortably, unsure how to respond to the intensity of his words. “Jeno… I’m sure it’s not that deep. It’s literally just basketball.”

His gaze snaps to you, deadpan. Anger flickers in his expression, a tightness in his jaw that hadn’t been there moments before. You’ve said the wrong thing. You can feel it. He looks at you like you don’t get it—like you don’t understand him at all.

There’s something wild in his eyes now, something untamed. “It’s never just been basketball,” he says, voice sharp, frustration lacing every word. “He’s always wanted everything I have. He’s always been there, lurking. And now he’s coming for everything—my spot, my life.” He pauses, his voice dropping lower, quieter, almost as if he’s afraid to say it out loud. “And you.”

The words hang heavy in the air, sinking into the silence that stretches between you. You stare at him, stunned, trying to process what he’s just said. And you. A chill runs through you. For a moment, you don’t know how to respond, how to make sense of what he’s implying.

───────────────────────────────

Jeno pulls up to the river court erratically, tires skidding on the gravel as he parks. The way he moves—quick, aggressive—mirrors the tension that’s been building between him and Mark for days. You’d rather be anywhere but here, surrounded by the weight of this impending showdown, but for Jeno, this is his element. He thrives in moments like these, where all eyes are on him, where the crowd fuels his need for attention and validation. Every glance, every whispered conversation from the sidelines—Jeno drinks it all in, the girls batting their eyes at him only adding to his confidence.

You feel the stares too. You and Jeno aren’t just well-known—you’re desired. The kind of couple everyone talks about, whispers about behind your backs. People want to be you or be with you. You’ve seen the way their eyes follow you both, lingering a little too long, filled with envy and something darker. It’s intoxicating, usually. But tonight, the attention feels heavier, more suffocating, like it’s pressing down on you, trapping you in this moment where everything feels like it’s about to break.

The river court itself is buzzing, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. The sky is a muted purple as dusk settles in, casting a hazy glow over the court. The river runs just beyond, the sound of water rushing in the background, a soft but constant reminder of the tension flowing through this moment. The court is cracked, worn from years of use, but it has a certain rawness to it—gritty, real. The streetlights flicker to life as people gather along the edges, their shadows long and looming over the pavement. There’s a strange energy in the air, a mix of excitement and unease, as more people file in. Jeno’s supporters are far bigger, louder, their voices filling the space. They want a show, and Jeno is ready to give it to them.

“Welcome to the river court showdown!” Lee Donghyuck’s voice cuts through the murmurs, playful and dramatic as he addresses the growing crowd. You don’t know him well—he’s Mark’s best friend, always lingering in the background. His narration carries a light-hearted tone, but the way his eyes flick between Mark and Jeno makes it clear: this is personal. “Ladies and gentlemen, the stakes are high, and you can feel the intensity in the air. We’ve got a battle of the brothers tonight. Mark Lee, our underdog, taking on the one and only Jeno Lee.”

Your gaze shifts to Jeno as he steps onto the court, confidence radiating from him as he bounces the basketball in his hands, his eyes scanning the crowd like a predator surveying his territory. Across from him, Mark stands still, calm. He doesn’t thrive on the attention like Jeno does—he doesn’t even seem to notice the crowd. His focus is entirely on the game, his eyes sharp, determined.

Donghyuck’s voice carries on, “In one corner, we have Jeno—star player, campus legend. And in the other, Mark—cool, calm, and collected, with everything to lose.” There’s a hint of admiration in his tone when he talks about Mark, and you catch yourself paying closer attention to him too. You’ve never really noticed Mark before, but now, as he steps forward, there’s something about the way he carries himself that draws you in. The quiet confidence, the determination in his eyes… it’s hard not to watch him.

The game starts fast. Jeno wastes no time, dribbling aggressively, his body coiled with energy, every movement sharp, intentional. Mark, on the other hand, is methodical, almost serene in the way he moves, his eyes never leaving the ball. Jeno talks trash as they play, his voice loud enough for the crowd to hear. “You don’t belong here, Mark. This isn’t your world.”

Mark doesn’t respond, his focus unwavering. You can see it—the way his eyes track the ball, his calm under pressure. He’s not here to prove anything to Jeno; he’s here for himself. Every shot Mark takes is calculated, precise. He moves with a fluidity that surprises you, and you catch yourself watching more intently than you expected, noticing the subtle shift in his posture, the way his eyes sharpen when he finds an opening. There’s something intimate in the way he plays, an art to his determination that makes it impossible not to be drawn in.

“And Mark with the shot—boom! Nothing but net!” Donghyuck’s voice is filled with excitement, and the crowd reacts with gasps. You can hear the surprise rippling through them. Jeno wasn’t expecting this, and neither were they. “He’s got game, ladies and gentlemen. Jeno might have his work cut out for him.”

Jeno’s frustration grows with each point Mark scores. You can see it in the way his movements become more frantic, more desperate to overpower Mark. But Mark doesn’t falter. He doesn’t need to respond to Jeno’s taunts, and doesn't need to engage in the mind games. His eyes are always on the prize, his determination unshakable.

As the game continues, it’s clear that Jeno underestimated his brother. Mark isn’t just holding his own—he’s thriving. Each basket he makes feels like a step out of the shadow Jeno has cast over him for so long. For Jeno, this is about dominance, about keeping Mark out of his world. But for Mark, it’s about more than that. It’s about carving out his own place, about proving he can hold his own.

Jeno dribbles back, eyes narrowing as he pulls up from way beyond the three-point line, his body coiling with the kind of confidence that comes from years of dominance on the court. His movements are fluid, almost graceful as he rises to take the shot, the ball leaving his fingertips in a perfect arc. For a second, it looks like it’s going in—like he’s about to remind everyone why he’s the best. But just as the ball reaches its peak, Mark appears out of nowhere, launching himself into the air, his arm extending at just the right angle to block it.

Donghyuck's voice bursts out in excitement, “Jeno shoots… and misses!” he pauses, eyes wide with amazement, “holy crap, did you see that? Someday men will write stories about that block, children will be named after that block and Argentinian women will weep for it!”

The sound of the ball slapping against his hand echoes through the court, followed by the stunned gasps from the crowd. Jeno stumbles back, shock and disbelief flickering across his face as the ball ricochets away, the confidence he’d had only moments ago shattered.

“Mark with the rebound. He’s fast. He’s focused.” Donghyuck’s playful tone turns serious as the game nears its end. The tension in the crowd is palpable, and you can’t help but feel it too. But more than that, you’re watching Mark now—really watching him. The way he doesn’t let anything distract him, the quiet intensity in his eyes as he takes his final shot. There’s something about him in this moment that feels… different. It’s not an attraction, not yet, but a subtle curiosity. The way he moves, the determination etched into every step—it draws you in, and you can’t help but wonder what else lies beneath that calm exterior.

“And that’s it! Mark Lee wins!” Donghyuck shouts as the crowd erupts, the shock clear on everyone’s faces. Mark’s friends swarm the court, cheering loudly, their celebration unrestrained. You watch them from the sidelines, a small, subtle smile pulling at your lips. You don’t know why, but seeing Mark win… it makes you happy. There’s something about it that feels right, like you’ve been waiting for this moment without even realising it. You haven’t smiled like this in so long.

Jeno walks toward you, his face twisted in frustration and defeat. “It’s not a big deal,” you say quietly, trying to diffuse the tension.

Jeno laughs, though it’s not a sound filled with humour. “He’s not gonna quit the team now. I lost the bet.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You bet on it?”

Jeno’s face hardens, and the way he looks at you makes your heart skip a beat, but not in a good way. His silence is unsettling, and you can feel the shift in the air between you. “What did he bet if he won?” you ask, your voice quieter now, a sinking feeling creeping into your chest.

Jeno looks at you, his jaw tight. “You. He bet that he gets you.”

The words hit you like a slap, the weight of them sinking in slowly. You’re stunned, unsure how to feel. Part of you is angry at Jeno, furious that he would treat you like an object in some stupid rivalry. But another part of you—the part that watched Mark play tonight, the part that saw something different in him—can’t shake the way you felt watching him on that court.

───────────────────────────────

The drive back to Jeno’s house is suffocating, the silence hanging heavy in the air like a storm about to break. You’ve tried speaking, tried breaking through the wall he’s built around himself, but he just stares straight out of the window, his jaw clenched tight as if he’s grinding through every word he doesn’t want to say. His silence grates on you, each passing second tightening the coil of frustration in your chest.

Finally, you snap, your voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. “Why the fuck would you agree to let me get involved in any type of bet? Aren’t you my boyfriend? Aren’t you supposed to protect me?”

Jeno doesn’t answer, doesn’t even turn to look at you. His expression remains stony, detached, like you’re not even there. It’s as if every emotion between you is locked behind that clenched jaw. The frustration inside you bubbles over, boiling under your skin as he pulls up to his apartment, the car jerking to a stop. Before you can say anything more, he throws the door open, slams it shut, and storms toward the house, leaving you sitting there, stunned.

You follow him, heart pounding, already knowing what you’re about to walk into. But it still hits harder than you expect when you push through the front door: another one of his fucking parties.

The bass from the music vibrates through the floor, the walls practically shaking from the force of it. The air inside is thick—sweat, alcohol, smoke—all mingling into a nauseating fog that clings to everything. Half the campus seems to be packed into the house, bodies pressed together, laughing, shouting, grinding. It’s chaos. It’s chaotic, a celebration party that was meant to mark Jeno’s victory but he lost. He didn’t expect to lose so now he’s throwing himself into this mess, trying to forget how Mark beat him.

Jeno doesn’t even glance your way as he strides straight into the centre of the party. The second he steps inside, the energy shifts. All eyes are on him. Girls bat their eyelashes, offering coy smiles and glances, waiting for him to notice. The guys are quick to slap him on the back, giving him their usual praise, eager to bask in the glow of his attention. He soaks it up, drinks it in like it’s the only thing keeping him afloat.

Without a second thought, he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd. You stand there, invisible, feeling like an afterthought. You watch as Jeno gravitates toward a group of girls, the kind you’ve seen around before—the ones who always seem to be in his orbit, looking for a chance to get close. They laugh at something he says, their hands grazing his arm, their gazes hungry. And Jeno, your supposed boyfriend, leans into it.

You watch as one of the girls, dressed in a tight, glittering dress, dances close to him, her body pressed against his as they move to the beat. Jeno’s hands rest on her waist for just a second—nothing more than a passing touch, but it’s enough to sting. Enough to make your stomach twist. She leans in to whisper something in his ear, and he smirks. It’s a look you’ve seen before—not necessarily malicious, just confident, like he’s always known how to handle this kind of attention. His eyes are a bit hazy, a mix of alcohol and the mood of the night, and he doesn’t even glance in your direction.

The other girls join in, dancing around him, their bodies brushing against his as the music pulses through the room. Jeno doesn’t move away, doesn’t stop them, but he’s not exactly encouraging it either. He lets it happen, lets them touch him, lets the night sweep him up. You know it’s not about forgetting you, not about pushing boundaries—Jeno’s always had this natural pull, the kind that draws people in without him even trying. But tonight, it feels different, harder to shake off, like he’s just letting the moment take him, unaware of how much it’s affecting you.

Your chest tightens, and you stand there, rooted in place. It’s not like this is the first time—Jeno’s always been the guy who draws attention effortlessly, always the one people gravitate toward. But tonight, there’s something sharper about it, something that feels a little too close. You know he loves you, but watching him in the middle of it all, surrounded by all these girls, it feels like you’re invisible for a moment. Like maybe, just maybe, he’s forgotten how much he means to you. But deep down, you know it’s just him getting caught up in the night, not in them.

You make your way upstairs, needing space, needing to breathe. The noise below feels like a weight pressing down on your chest, suffocating you. Jeno’s room is as much of a mess as the party downstairs, but it’s quieter at least. You go straight to his drawers, pulling out bottles of whatever alcohol you can find, downing shots without caring about the burn in your throat. Then it’s the drugs—whatever pills and powders he’s stashed away. You don’t think, you just take them. Anything to numb the anger, the frustration, the feeling of being trapped and ignored.

You grab your laptop from the desk and plug your phone into the speaker, blasting your own music. The party music below is lame, anyway. With the alcohol and drugs starting to take effect, you focus on your screen, your fingers flying across the keys as you work on your art assignment. You pull up the digital image you’ve been editing for days, your eyes scanning the lines and colours as you tweak the lighting, adjust the shadows—anything to keep your mind off Jeno, off the party, off everything.

An hour passes before Jeno stumbles into the room, high out of his mind. He’s still reeking of sweat and alcohol, his shirt half-untucked, his eyes bloodshot. He glances at your screen, scoffing.

“What are you wasting your time on now?”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to start another fight, but the irritation flares up anyway. You keep your eyes on the screen, editing a tiny detail on the photo, hoping he’ll leave. But he doesn’t. Instead, he walks over and turns off the speaker, his smirk testing you.

“You know nobody listens to this crap,” he says, challenging you with his gaze.

“Why the fuck did you allow me to be bet on?” you snap, unable to hold back any longer. The question is sharp, bitter.

Jeno rolls his eyes and shrugs, as if it’s not worth discussing, as if it doesn’t matter. His casual dismissal makes your blood boil.

“Don’t fucking roll your eyes at me,” you seethe, standing up from the bed. “Don’t give me attitude. You’re the one throwing your lame parties and celebrating what? That your brother beat your lame ass today?”

Jeno shakes his head, irritated. “That’s why I came here now,” he mutters, his words slurring slightly. “To ask you if you wanna come party with us.”

“‘Us’?” you ask, folding your arms. “So that means the guys and the girls you’re fucking around with? The ones you let grind all over you like you don’t have a girlfriend standing right there?”

Jeno’s expression tightens, his jaw clenching as the accusation hits him. His eyes flash with frustration, but for a moment, you catch a flicker of guilt before he quickly masks it. His lips press into a thin line, his nostrils flaring slightly, as if he’s holding back from snapping. He sighs, exasperated. “And me.”

“And the guys,” you repeat, rolling your eyes.

“You know what, Y/N,” he says, his tone shifting to frustration. “I’m getting really tired of this. I came here to spend time with you.” He points at you accusingly, his words biting.

“Yeah, me and half the campus,” you shoot back, referring to the party downstairs.

He throws his hands up in defeat. “Whatever. You wanna be a bitch, that’s cool. Just sit here and listen to your loser rock and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you glare at him, your voice sharp as a knife. “How about you don’t see me tomorrow?”

Jeno’s face falters for a moment, and he looks at you, something softer trying to break through the haze of alcohol and frustration. “Look… I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low. It’s an apology, but it feels half-hearted, like he’s saying it because he knows he should, not because he means it.

You shake your head, ignoring him as you push past. The anger burns too hot, and his apology barely registers. You brush yourself past him, the touch brief but cold, leaving him standing there in the doorway, stunned and alone.

You breathe heavily, trying to calm the anger still simmering in your chest. Each inhale feels shaky, your body betraying just how rattled you are. Jeno’s words, his actions downstairs, the careless way he allowed those girls to hang on to him like you didn’t matter—it all echoes in your mind. You need to escape, to get away from the suffocating weight of it all. With nothing else to do, you make your way downstairs, the pounding bass and shrill laughter filling the space like a cloud of smoke you can’t shake.

You’re halfway to the kitchen when a few of your friends spot you. Their faces light up, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. They pull you into a conversation, their voices high-pitched and bubbly as they compliment your dress, touching your arm and admiring the way the tight black fabric clings to your curves.

“Oh my god, that dress is insane on you!” one of them gushes, her eyes wide with admiration. “Jeno is so lucky…”

You smile, the kind of smile you’ve perfected—wide and warm, just enough to convince them you’re engaged. “Thanks,” you reply, your voice light, pretending to match their energy. It’s easy to slip into this act, to fake the excitement, the warmth. You’ve done it before. But inside, everything feels hollow, like there’s a wall between you and the rest of the world.

As they chatter on about the party, about boys, you catch a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror. The dress is tight, black, hugging every inch of your body. The neckline plunges just enough to catch attention, the fabric pulling at all the right places. Your makeup is flawless—lips painted a deep, sultry red, eyeshadow smoked out in a way that makes your eyes pop. To everyone else, you look like the life of the party, someone who belongs here. But looking at your own reflection, you feel detached, like you’re watching yourself from outside your body.

You’re about to respond to one of your friends when something catches your eye—someone. Your breath catches in your throat as you notice Mark Lee standing across the room. You freeze. Your friends’ voices fade into the background, the party around you slipping away as your focus zeroes in on him. What the hell is he doing here?

Mark doesn’t belong at parties like this. It’s obvious in the way he stands, surrounded by people yet somehow separate, distant. He’s smiling, his lips curved upward, but there’s a casual awkwardness in the way he holds himself. His shoulders are tense, and he fidgets with his hands as if he’s not entirely comfortable with the attention.

You watch as a few girls, practically draped over him, giggle and bat their eyelashes, clearly trying to catch his eye. Mark’s friends are laughing, slapping him on the back like they’re celebrating something. You can tell his status is rising after his win today, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at how quickly people are flocking to him. It’s almost comical. Yet, unlike Jeno, Mark doesn’t seem to bask in it. He’s not soaking up the attention or feeding off it. Instead, he shifts awkwardly under their gazes, like the weight of it all makes him uneasy.

There’s something… different about him.

You find yourself studying the way his body language contrasts with the energy around him. Where Jeno would be centre stage, loving every second of the spotlight, Mark seems almost out of place, as if he’s trying to navigate a world that doesn’t quite fit him. It’s… endearing. His discomfort, the way he’s clearly not used to being the centre of attention—it draws you in, makes you curious in a way you hadn’t expected.

A small, quiet laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it. You can’t help but find it amusing, how different he is from everyone else in the room. And just as quickly as you let yourself slip into that moment, his eyes meet yours.

For a split second, your heart stutters, and your breath catches. His gaze holds yours, steady and intense. You can’t look away, even though every part of you wants to. It’s as if the rest of the room melts away, the noise, the people, the party—it all blurs into the background. There’s only him.

Mark’s eyes are dark, deeper than you’d expect, and the tension between you feels thick, almost suffocating. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something behind his stare—something that sends a jolt through you. It’s unsettling how deep it cuts, like he’s seeing straight through you, into a place you didn’t want anyone to go.

Your stomach twists, the feeling both terrifying and magnetic. You should look away, but you don’t. You hold his gaze for longer than you should, and the tension between you builds with every second that passes. His stare is steady, unblinking, as if he’s waiting for something, as if he’s testing you. And the longer it goes on, the more you feel like something has shifted—something subtle, something dangerous.

Finally, you tear your eyes away, your heart racing in your chest. You turn, your movements quick and sharp, almost desperate to break the connection. But the weight of his gaze lingers on you, even after you walk away, the tension hanging in the air long after the moment has passed. Something has shifted, and you can feel it deep in your bones.

You don’t know what it is, but you’re certain of one thing: you’re not ready to face it yet.

You storm off, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and betrayal, the thoughts of Jeno’s reckless behaviour and the bet swirling in your mind. Every step feels heavier, like the weight of everything that’s happened is pressing down on your chest. The muffled noise of the party below fades into the background as you climb the stairs, heading straight for Jeno’s room. The air feels thick, the kind of tension that wraps around you and makes it hard to breathe.

He bet on you.

The thought keeps ringing in your mind, making your stomach churn. It’s a hollow realisation, but one you can’t shake—like every guy in your life somehow views you as a prize, something to win or lose. Your chest tightens with anger, but it’s not just aimed at Jeno. It’s aimed at Mark too. He was part of it. Part of the game, the manipulation.

You reach Jeno’s room and shove the door open, needing the space, needing to breathe. The familiar smell of his cologne mixed with weed hits you. The room is a mess, clothes and empty bottles scattered everywhere, a chaotic reflection of everything wrong between you and him. You step inside, your hands trembling slightly as you try to make sense of everything swirling in your mind.

But before you can take a breath, you hear footsteps behind you.

Your heart skips, the sudden sound catching you off guard. You whip around, expecting Jeno, but instead, it’s Mark standing in the doorway. His expression unreadable, his hands tucked into his pockets like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Hey,” Mark says, his voice soft but carrying through the tension in the room.

You stand in shock, your eyes narrowing in on him. The last person you want to see right now is Mark Lee, of all people. “What do you want? Why are you following me?” Your voice comes out harsher than you intend, but you don’t care. The anger flares up, twisting in your chest. “Why are you even in Jeno’s room? Do you want me to call him?”

Mark’s expression shifts, his lips curling into a half-smirk that makes your blood boil. “Yeah, you won’t do that.” he says, voice calm but biting. “Bit of a weird relationship you guys have, huh? You’re his girlfriend, but he spends the night flirting and touching other girls?”

His words hit harder than you expect, cutting deep. You swallow, trying to hold back the frustration bubbling inside you, but it spills over anyway. “You’re not allowed to talk about my relationship,” you snap, stepping closer, the distance between you narrowing. “How dare you… how dare you tell Jeno that you wanted me if you won the game earlier?”

Mark chuckles, the sound low and dry. “Just when I think Jeno couldn’t be more of a jerk,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I changed my mind, alright? I agreed that if I won, I’d quit the team. Did he bother telling you that, or did he just let you believe the worst?”

You freeze, stunned. The weight of his words hangs heavy between you. “Why would you… why would you want to quit the team?”

Mark’s expression softens for a moment, the tension easing slightly from his posture. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because I’m tired of this,” he says, his voice quieter now, more genuine. “I don’t want to be in Jeno’s world anymore, competing with him over every little thing. Basketball used to be fun for me, but not when it’s all about one-upping him. It’s exhausting.”

You stare at him, processing the weight of what he’s just said. He’s not just tired of the rivalry—he’s tired of everything that comes with it, the constant competition, the games, the need to prove something. It’s so different from the way Jeno sees things.

You truthfully had no idea how intertwined Mark and Jeno’s lives had become recently. It feels strange, realising you’ve been standing on the outside of something so tangled. You’re meant to be Jeno’s girlfriend, yet you’ve never seen this side of his life—not until today when he mentioned Mark while getting ready for their showdown at the river court. That was the first time he had ever really talked about his half-brother with you, and even then, it was brief, distant, like he was giving you only the surface.

And now here you are, standing with Mark, getting a glimpse into the mess that you’ve somehow been pulled into without fully understanding it. It’s like you’ve been involved in their rivalry without even realising it, and yet you can see the toll it’s taken on Mark. The weariness in his voice, the way he talks about Jeno—it’s clear he’s already fed up. He’s exhausted, but from your perspective, you’ve only been witnessing it from the outside, catching pieces of a story you were never let into.

You’re confused, not truly understanding the dynamics between Mark and Jeno or the tension in their family. You’ve met Jeno’s dad before, and it didn’t take long to realise he’s an asshole. Controlling, dismissive, and always pushing Jeno toward something—whether it’s basketball or his own toxic expectations. Now, hearing Mark’s side of things, it makes sense why he wouldn’t want to be associated with their dad or get sucked into Jeno’s world. You’re not surprised Mark is tired of it all.

You notice the sadness lingering in his eyes, the exhaustion etched into his features, and it makes something twist in your chest. It’s clear he’s been carrying the weight of this rivalry far longer than you realised. You don’t fully understand the complexities between them, and a part of you wonders if you ever will.

You change the subject, not wanting to push him further into a conversation that clearly brings up so much for him.

“So… you did bet on me at first,” you murmur, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. “Why?”

Mark steps closer, and suddenly the air in the room feels different, heavier with a tension that has nothing to do with anger. His eyes lock on yours, and for a moment, you feel like he’s seeing right through you. “Because I’ve always noticed you,” he says, his voice lower, more intimate. “The way you laugh when you think no one’s watching. The way you bite your lip when you’re lost in your own thoughts. The way you don’t let anyone in, but you have so much more to give than what people see.”

The words send a jolt through you, leaving you speechless, flushed. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. The room feels smaller, the tension between you thick and suffocating.

Just as quickly as he’s drawn you in, Mark shifts the conversation, breaking the intensity of the moment. His gaze drifts to the bedside table, where a stack of vinyl records sits. He curled an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. “No way Jeno listens to music this good,” he comments, his fingers brushing over the edge of a record. “Oasis?”

You blink, the sudden change in tone catching you off guard. “He doesn’t,” you mumble, glancing at the records. “They’re mine.”

Mark’s smile widens, genuine and warm. “Didn’t think Jeno had that kind of taste. But you… this makes sense. You’ve got good taste.”

You shake your head slightly, still processing the shift in the conversation. Jeno always made fun of your music, always complained about how outdated and boring it was. But Mark… Mark seems to appreciate it.

He looks around the room again and spots your laptop, the digital art project you’ve been working on still open on the screen. He steps closer, leaning over to get a better look. “This… this is good,” he says, sounding almost impressed. “Really good.”

You brush off the compliment, shrugging. “It’s nothing, just something I mess around with.”

“No,” Mark says firmly, turning to face you, his eyes serious. “You’re talented. You need to take this seriously. Be proud of yourself for once.”

You blink, the unexpected praise catching you off guard. Jeno never really cared about your art. Whenever you’d show him a new project, he’d glance at it, offer a half-hearted “cool,” and move on to whatever was on his mind. But hearing it from Mark—someone who’s not even in your life—feels different. It feels real.

You turn away slightly, suddenly feeling exposed. “It’s not a big deal,” you mumble, trying to dismiss it, but Mark doesn’t let it go.

“It is a big deal,” he insists, his voice soft but firm. “Look, I know I’m a complete nobody to you, and I don’t know everything about you, but I can tell that this… this is something you care about. You’re good, really good, and you shouldn’t brush that off.”

You swallow hard, his words sinking deeper than you expected. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, like he sees more than what you’re used to showing people. Like he’s seeing the side of you that even Jeno never bothered to notice.

The tension between you shifts again, but this time it’s softer, quieter. You feel yourself calming down, the anger that had burned so hot before now fading into something else—something you can’t quite put your finger on. It feels like Mark is seeing you, really seeing you, and that makes your chest tighten in a way that’s hard to ignore.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. The question slips out before you can stop it, and you feel vulnerable, like you’re revealing more than you want to.

Mark’s gaze softens, and he steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe because someone should be,” he says quietly. “Someone should tell you how good you are. How much you matter. How much you deserve more than what you’re settling for.”

The words hit you hard, and you find yourself struggling to breathe. Mark’s standing so close now, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, and for a moment, you forget everything else. You forget about the party downstairs, the chaos with Jeno, the bet. All you can focus on is the way Mark is looking at you, the sincerity in his eyes.

You want to say something, anything, but the words are stuck in your throat. There’s a strange electricity in the air between you, like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous and exciting all at once. Your mind is telling you to stop, to pull back, but your body doesn’t move.

And then, before you can fully process what’s happening, Mark reaches out, his fingers gently brushing against your arm. The touch is soft, tentative, but it sends a jolt through you.

“Mark…” you murmur, unsure of what you’re even trying to say.

But he’s already pulling his hand back, stepping away just enough to give you space, the intensity of the moment easing. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a small laugh, but it’s not out of amusement—it’s out of the tension that’s still lingering between you both.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low. “I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just… I don’t know, I felt like you needed to hear that.”

You stand there, your heart racing, and for a second, you don’t know how to respond. Everything feels charged, like you’re balancing on a knife’s edge. You know you shouldn’t feel anything like this. He’s Jeno’s brother, after all, and this is already messy enough. But the way Mark looks at you, the way he speaks to you—it feels different. Different from Jeno. Different from anyone.

“I should go,” you finally say, the words shaky and unconvincing.

But before you can make a move, Mark stops you again, his voice soft but commanding. “Wait.”

You turn back, meeting his eyes again, and the tension that had briefly eased floods back, stronger than ever. He looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes are full of something you can’t quite place.

“Why are you with him?” Mark asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

The question catches you off guard. You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. Because deep down, you’re not sure you know the answer anymore. The connection you once had with Jeno feels distant, hollow, like it’s slipping through your fingers the more you try to hold on.

Mark takes a step closer, and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. His presence is overwhelming, and for the first time tonight, you feel truly seen. Not as Jeno’s girlfriend, not as someone who’s part of the chaos—but as yourself.

“Because,” you start, your voice shaky. “It’s easier than admitting that maybe we’re not right for each other. It’s easier than dealing with everything that’s falling apart.”

Mark’s eyes soften, and for a moment, he looks like he understands you in a way no one else has. He doesn’t push you for more, doesn’t make you feel guilty for your honesty. He just listens, and that feels like something you’ve been missing for a long time.

There’s a long silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s heavy, charged with all the things you’re both not saying, but also filled with a strange sense of calm.

And then, Mark’s voice breaks through the quiet.

“You deserve better than ‘easy,’” he says softly, and his words sink deep into your chest, stirring something you’ve been trying to ignore for too long.

The room feels smaller, the air between you buzzing with something electric. For the first time, you wonder if maybe Mark’s right. Maybe you do deserve better. Maybe ‘easy’ isn’t enough anymore.

And just like that, everything between you shifts again.

───────────────────────────────

The next morning is a blur of regret and a pounding headache, the hangover hitting you harder than usual. You drag yourself out of bed, thoughts of last night swirling in your mind. Mark. You can’t stop thinking about him, the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. It’s unsettling how much it affected you, how easily he got under your skin. You’d never noticed him before, never cared to, but now… now it’s different.

He looked right into you, saw things no one else had ever bothered to. That scared you. How could he do that in just one conversation? It’s unsettling how easily he got under your skin. You’d always been in control of how people saw you—polished, popular, the girl everyone wanted to be. But Mark… he saw past all of that. And you hated that. You couldn’t allow it.

As you walk through campus, your usual routine kicks in. The stares, the whispers—they follow you like they always do. You’re well-known, well-liked, and that’s how it’s supposed to be. You slip back into that role easily, the confident girl everyone looks up to, the one they envy or want to be. But today, it feels different, like something’s off. Like you are off. The mask you wear is starting to slip.

You push open the heavy doors to the stadium, the noise of squeaking sneakers and the thud of basketballs filling the air. The gym is mostly empty except for the cheer squad and the basketball team, both deep into practice for the big away game this weekend. The space is vast, the polished wood floor stretching out in front of you, the high ceilings making the place feel both overwhelming and hollow.

Karina, your best friend, is standing in the middle of the court, already in full drill-sergeant mode. She’s wearing the same cheer outfit as you—tiny, sultry, and sexy. The short skirt clings to her hips, barely covering her thighs, and the tight top shows off just enough skin to turn heads. Her long black hair is tied back into a sleek ponytail, and her dark eyes flash with intensity as she barks orders at the other girls. Karina’s passionate, sometimes too much so, running practices like boot camp. You’ve known her forever, and while she thrives on drama, partying, and popularity, she’s a good person underneath all that chaos. She’s just someone who loves living on the edge and always ends up in trouble.

“You’re late,” Karina snaps when she sees you, her voice sharp. She rolls her eyes dramatically and gestures for you to start warming up. “If you’re not gonna take this seriously, don’t even bother showing up.”

You give her a half-hearted shrug, too hungover and distracted to care. “I overslept,” you mutter, pulling your hair into a ponytail and adjusting the skirt of your cheer uniform. The fabric clings to your skin, the skirt short enough to leave little to the imagination. You stretch, trying to ignore the lingering headache and the thoughts of Mark that refuse to leave your mind.

Karina goes back to yelling at the other girls, demanding perfection in the routine, and you start practising alongside them. The others around you are gossiping, their voices filled with excitement as they gush over the basketball players—how hot they look in their uniforms, who hooked up with who, and which guy is the best in bed. You block them out, going through the motions of the routine as if on autopilot.

But then, you feel it again. That familiar, heavy gaze. You lift your head, and your heart skips when you see him.

Mark.

He’s across the court, dribbling a basketball with effortless ease, but his eyes are on you. He’s wearing the team’s uniform tank top, his last name, ‘Lee,’ boldly printed on the back. The sleeveless jersey hugs his broad shoulders, showing off his muscular arms, the definition of his biceps catching your eye. It fits him well—too well. The fabric clings to his torso, outlining the muscles beneath, and you curse yourself for noticing.

What a fucking liar. Didn’t he say he was quitting the team? So why was he here now, practising like nothing had changed?

Mark dribbles closer, and as he moves past you, you can’t stop yourself from striking up the question that’s been bugging you. “I thought you quit,” you say, your voice sharp with accusation.

He pauses, turning to you, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I did,” he replies smoothly. “But I realised something this morning—this court is where I belong. No one’s gonna stop me from being here. Not Jeno. Not anyone.”

His words are like a challenge, and it makes something in your chest tighten. He stands there, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to say something more. You narrow your gaze, trying to keep the frustration from bubbling over. His presence was throwing you off balance, making you question things you didn’t want to face.

Mark doesn’t seem fazed by your silence. In fact, he starts talking again, asking about cheer practice, making small talk like nothing’s wrong. But you can’t let yourself engage. You give him blunt, clipped responses, barely meeting his gaze. You can’t afford to let him break through your walls again. Not in front of Karina and the other girls.

He huffs, his voice carrying a teasing edge. “Why the hell are you a cheerleader anyway? You’re the least cheery person I know.”

Before you can answer, you notice the other cheerleaders staring, their eyes flicking between you and Mark. Some of them—the same girls who were flirting with him at the party—are watching closely, whispering to each other, their expressions curious. You feel exposed under their gaze, like they can see right through you, like they know something’s happened between you and Mark even though that was far from the reality.

You force yourself to act indifferent, cold. You put up the walls you’re so good at building, the ones that keep people from seeing the real you. But Mark’s not fooled. He sees through it, and it only makes him more determined. His gaze lingers, and you can feel the weight of it even as you turn away, trying to focus on the routine.

The tension between you is subtle, a quiet current that hums beneath the surface. You don’t know him well enough for it to be anything more, but there’s something about the way Mark watches you—calm, measured, like he’s trying to figure you out. It’s unsettling how easily he manages to chip away at the front you’ve put up, the one you use to keep everyone at a distance. He doesn’t push, doesn’t challenge you outright, but his presence is enough to make you feel exposed in a way you’re not used to.

What bothers you the most is how Mark seems to notice things others don’t, like he’s already picking up on pieces of you that you barely acknowledge yourself. He doesn’t say much, but the way he looks at you—steady, unflinching—feels like he’s seeing past the version of you that everyone else accepts without question. It’s not that he’s right, exactly, but the fact that he might be makes you uneasy.

Mark catches you stealing small glances at him as the practice goes on. You falter in your movements just enough for him to notice, and each time you feel his eyes on you, your skin prickles with awareness. It’s infuriating, really—the way he’s always watching, like he’s waiting for you to crack. And what’s worse, you can’t stop yourself from glancing back.

You refocus, forcing your attention on Karina, who’s still barking orders at the squad, her long black hair swaying with every step. She’s relentless, her intensity dialled up to eleven. “Come on, Y/N,” she snaps, clapping her hands. “You’re half-assing it today. Get your head in the game!”

Karina’s passion for cheer is unmatched. She runs these practices like military drills, pushing everyone to their limits. It’s part of why she’s cheer captain, part of why the girls respect her, but it’s also why they gossip about how extra she is behind her back. But you know that her heart is in the right place. She loves this life. The drama, the popularity, the excitement of being at the centre of it all.

The cheer team lines up for the final drill, a complicated pyramid. As you climb into position, you catch Mark watching again, this time closer than before. He’s dribbling lazily nearby, as if he’s waiting for an excuse to talk to you. Your stomach twists, frustration and something else swirling in your gut. You turn away, focusing on the balance, ignoring him.

But as practice winds down, and you’re stretching by the edge of the court, you feel his shadow fall over you. He’s closer now, leaning against the wall, the basketball spinning lazily in his hand. You can’t ignore him any longer.

“I thought you were serious about quitting,” you mutter, not looking at him, your fingers digging into your muscles as you stretch.

Mark doesn’t answer right away, his silence speaking volumes. When he finally does, his voice is low, laced with that teasing tone he always seems to have around you. “I was. But sometimes plans change.” His eyes are locked on yours, and you hate how steady his gaze is, how it makes you feel like he’s peeling away your defences one layer at a time.

You scoff, rolling your shoulders back as you stand. “You and Jeno are going to kill each other. What’s the point?”

Mark’s eyes flicker, his jaw tightening for a brief second before his usual calm mask returns. “Maybe. Or maybe this is the only way to settle things between us.”

You’re taken aback by the intensity in his voice, but you don’t show it. Instead, you shrug, grabbing your water bottle and taking a long drink. “Whatever. Just don’t drag me into it.”

Mark steps closer, and you freeze, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. “You’re already in it,” he says, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Whether you want to be or not.”

You blink, trying to process what Mark means. Of course, you’re involved—you’re Jeno’s girlfriend, after all. But there’s something in the way Mark says it, something that feels deeper than just the rivalry between him and his brother. He’s looking at you like he knows something you don’t, like he sees the storm brewing before you even realise it’s there.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can say anything, the doors to the court open with a loud bang, the sound echoing across the gym.

All eyes instinctively glance toward the entrance as Jeno strides in, exuding the kind of confidence that makes it seem like he owns the place. There’s an effortless swagger in his step, the kind that turns heads, drawing attention without even trying.

He’s late, but he doesn’t look like someone who’s been through a rough night. His hair, though slightly tousled, is styled in that perfect, careless way that still manages to look deliberate. His basketball jersey clings to his broad shoulders, the material showcasing the lean muscles of his arms as it moves with every step he takes. His name ‘Lee,’ is plastered boldly across his back. His skin glows with a faint sheen, his body radiating a kind of heat that makes you—despite everything—take notice.

Coach Suh’s voice booms across the court, cutting through the tension. “Lee Jeno! You’re late! Get your ass over here—this isn’t a damn joke.”

Jeno just shakes his head, a smirk pulling at his lips as he runs a hand through his messy hair. The sound of his laugh echoes through the gym, but it’s empty, lacking its usual charm. Instead of walking toward the rest of the team, he strides toward you and Mark, his gaze flicking between the two of you.

His expression is tight, frustration radiating off him, but it’s not just about being late. The way his eyes fix on Mark makes your stomach clench—this wouldn’t end well.

“So,” Jeno drawls, his voice low and laced with bitterness, “not only do you want my life, my spot on the team, but you also want my girl?”

The words hang heavy in the air, his accusation sharp. Mark doesn’t move, his eyes narrowing as he watches Jeno, his calm exterior refusing to crack.

Your heart pounds in your chest, panic rising as you feel the tension between them ramping up like a ticking time bomb about to explode. You can see it in Jeno’s posture—the way his fists clench, the way he’s getting ready to square up and the way his jaw tightens—he’s not going to let this go easily.

You step in quickly, hoping to defuse the situation before it spirals out of control. “Jeno, let’s just go, yeah?” you say softly, stepping closer to him. You put your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you, hoping your touch will calm him down. “We’ll skip practice and hang out like we used to before. Please, let’s just leave.”

For a moment, Jeno doesn’t move, his gaze still locked on Mark, but then he turns to you, his features softening just slightly. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Baby, I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You swallow, the tension in the air heavy, but you nod, wanting to end this. “It’s okay,” you whisper back. “Let’s just move on, okay?”

Jeno pulls back, his smirk returning as he glances at Mark one last time before turning fully to you. He speaks loud enough for Mark to hear, completely ignoring his brother’s presence. “I’ll pick you up later, yeah? We haven’t fucked in so long. I’ll make sure you have a better time than last night.”

You freeze, his words making your skin prickle. It’s meant to sound playful, teasing, but there’s an edge to it—something bitter and insecure. You can sense it in the way he’s trying too hard, covering his unease with cocky charm.

But you’re horny, above everything else, you really want cock. His cock.

“Okay,” you smile, leaning up to kiss Jeno softly, the warmth of his lips against yours a temporary distraction. Still, you can’t shake the feeling of Mark’s eyes burning into you from across the court, watching the whole interaction unfold.

───────────────────────────────

The gym was alive with the roaring of the crowd, the heavy pounding of feet against the polished hardwood echoing through the space. It was the big away game, the one everyone had been talking about for weeks. You stood with the rest of the cheer team, pom-poms in hand, cheering and supporting the boys. The energy was electric, the entire stadium buzzing with anticipation. You could feel the excitement coursing through the air, a mix of tension and adrenaline that had everyone on edge.

The crowd was packed, faces blurred together, and their cheers were deafening. The thud of basketballs against the court, the squeak of sneakers, You glanced around, spotting Karina, who was already screaming her head off, hyping up the team and the crowd, her long black hair bouncing with every movement. She was intense, as always. The bright cheer uniforms only added to the energy, and despite the tension in the air, you couldn’t deny how it all came together. You loved being part of the noise, even if you felt disconnected at times.

Your eyes were naturally drawn to the court, where the basketball players were in full motion. Mark was everywhere—sprinting down the court, dribbling the ball, his focus intense. He was confident, fully immersed in the game, his movements fluid and controlled. It was hard not to notice how good he was, how easily he fit into the rhythm of the team despite everything that had happened. He belonged there, and it was becoming more obvious with every passing second. The crowd roared when he made another shot, and you could see the respect from his teammates growing, even from the coach, who’d been unsure about Mark’s return at first.

You’ve crossed paths with Mark more than ever lately. Now that he’s back on the team, it’s like you can’t escape him. Every practice, every game, he’s there. At first, you tried not to think much of it. You were with Jeno, after all. But there’s something about Mark that draws your attention, whether you want to admit it or not. Something in the way he moves on the court, the quiet confidence he carries with him, a calmness that contrasts with Jeno’s intensity.

The tension between them is palpable. Jeno had always been the star of the team, the one everyone looked to. But ever since Mark returned, that’s been changing. Mark was gaining attention—not just from the coach but from the teammates too. He was good. Really good. And every time Mark made a clean shot, a perfect pass, it only seemed to stoke the frustration in Jeno’s eyes.

Jeno was playing tonight, just not in his usual position. And it was clear that something was off. Every time he had the ball, he hesitated, glancing toward Mark before passing to someone else. He was purposefully ignoring his brother, and you could see the frustration building. Mark was calling for the ball, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Come on, man! Pass the ball!” Mark shouted, motioning for the pass.

Jeno ignores him, pushing forward and taking the shot himself. It’s a miss, and the other team grabs the rebound. Mark’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes locked on Jeno, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

The tension keeps building, and you feel it, feel it in the way Jeno glares at Mark during the timeout, feel it in the way Mark brushes past him, his shoulders stiff with barely contained anger. It’s only a matter of time before something snaps.

And then it does.

In the final quarter, with the clock winding down, Jeno gets the ball again. He dribbles down the court, and Mark is wide open, calling for it. The crowd yells for Jeno to pass, but he doesn’t. Instead, he goes for a three-pointer, and the ball bounces off the rim. Mark’s face tightens in frustration, and as soon as the play stops, he storms over to Jeno.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Mark demands, shoving Jeno’s shoulder. “You had to prove something by missing a shot you knew you couldn’t make?”

Jeno’s eyes flash with anger as he pushes Mark back, his jaw clenched tight. “You think I’m gonna let you take my place? You don’t get it, Mark. This was my team before you showed up, and it’ll be my team long after you leave.”

Mark doesn’t back down. He steps closer, his voice calm but cold. “You don’t own this team, Jeno. Stop acting like I’m here to take everything from you.”

Jeno scoffs, his voice rising, the frustration boiling over. “That’s exactly what you’re doing! You want everything I have—my spot on the court, my life, my girl—” He stops short, his eyes darting to you for a split second before he looks back at Mark. “You want what’s mine, and you’re not getting it.”

Mark’s jaw clenches, and before anyone can react, Jeno takes a swing. The punch catches Mark in the chest, but Mark doesn’t fall back. Instead, he lunges forward, shoving Jeno hard enough to send him stumbling back. The crowd gasps as the tension explodes, and the game halts as the two brothers start throwing punches.

It’s chaos. They’re grappling, shoving each other, fists flying as they tumble to the ground. Teammates rush in to pull them apart, but the damage is done. The anger, the resentment—it’s all out in the open now.

“Is that what this is about?” Mark growls, his voice low as he’s dragged back by a teammate. “You’re scared I’ll take everything you think is yours?”

Jeno spits, his eyes burning with rage as he shrugs off the hands holding him back. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? Just because you walked back into my life and everyone suddenly loves you. But you’re nothing, Mark. You’ve always been nothing.”

The words sting, and you can see it in Mark’s eyes. There’s hurt beneath the anger, hurt that Jeno’s words have dug up, but he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he straightens, his chest heaving with effort as he holds Jeno’s gaze. “I never wanted to take anything from you, Jeno,” Mark says quietly, but the weight behind his words hits hard. “I just wanted a chance to be something without having to live in your shadow.”

Jeno doesn’t respond. He just glares, his fists still clenched, and it’s clear that, despite everything, he’s not ready to let go of his anger.

You watch from the sidelines, your heart racing. The fight, the words they’re throwing at each other—it’s like you’re watching years of tension unfold right in front of you. And though you know you should be on Jeno’s side, your heart twists when you see the way Mark looks, the way he’s trying to hold himself together while everything falls apart around him.

Jeno looks at you, expecting you to come to his side, to back him up like you always have. But you can’t. Not this time. Not when you can see the pain in Mark’s eyes, the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to hide. You hesitate, your mind racing with everything that’s happened, torn between the loyalty you owe to Jeno and the empathy you feel for Mark.

Before you can think too much, you find yourself stepping forward, your voice soft but clear. “Jeno… maybe it’s time to let this go.”

Jeno’s eyes snap to you, his expression shifting from anger to disbelief. “What? You’re taking his side now?”

“I’m not taking sides,” you say quietly, but the look in Jeno’s eyes tells you he doesn’t believe that. “I just think this has gone too far. Both of you need to stop before it gets worse.”

Mark stands there, silent but watching you, his gaze steady, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do next. And for a moment, you catch the flicker of something in his eyes—gratitude, maybe, or understanding. It’s brief, but it’s there.

Jeno lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Of course. Of course, you’d side with him.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of Jeno’s words, but before you can respond, the coach steps in, finally ending the fight and calling off the game.

As the crowd disperses and the players start to leave the court, you find yourself standing in the middle of it all, your heart heavy with everything that’s happened. Jeno storms off without another word, and Mark lingers for a moment, his eyes meeting yours once more before he turns and walks away. Jeno’s jaw was clenched, fists still balled as he stormed off the court. He didn’t look at you, not even once. Not after the fight started and not when he walked away, the tension radiating off him in waves.

You waited outside the locker room, hoping things would cool off, but Jeno was waiting for you. The moment your eyes met his, you knew this wasn’t going to be just another argument. There was something different in his gaze—something deeper, angrier.

“You let him get to you,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration as you stood before him, trying to keep your own emotions in check.

Jeno’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You think this is just about him getting on my nerves?” His voice was sharp, filled with a bitterness that made your stomach twist. “It’s never been that simple. He keeps trying to edge me out. First, he steps onto the court, taking my place there, and now…”

He paused, the weight of his words heavy in the air. When his eyes finally met yours, there was something raw in his gaze, something that made your chest tighten.

“And now it feels like he’s trying to take you too,” Jeno muttered, the accusation hanging between you like a loaded gun.

The shock hit you like a wave, leaving you speechless for a moment. “What? What are you even saying?” you stammered, though the crack in your voice betrayed the strength you were trying to summon. Your heart raced, and your hands trembled slightly at your sides.

Jeno’s frustration boiled over as he stepped closer, the intensity in his eyes almost too much to bear. “I’m not blind, Y/N. I see it. The way things have changed between us… The way you look at him when you think no one’s watching. You’ve been different, distant. You think I haven’t noticed?” His voice was laced with something that felt like betrayal, something that cut deep even before you could fully process what he was accusing you of.

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, but even as the words left your mouth, they felt hollow.

“Am I?” He scoffed, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you.

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, the tears already threatening to spill over. “I’ve been trying, Jeno. I—”

“Trying?” he cut you off, his voice harsh and biting. “This is you trying? Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re slipping away from me. You’re slipping away, Y/N, and it’s because of him. Admit it.”

The tears finally broke free, sliding down your cheeks before you could stop them. It was too much—the accusations, the anger, the way he looked at you like he didn’t recognize you anymore. “I can’t do this,” you murmured, shaking your head, your voice barely holding together. “I’m trying, but you—”

Without waiting for his response, you turned and bolted, your feet moving before your mind could catch up. The sounds of the gym—shouts, sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, the dull thud of the basketball—faded behind you as you disappeared into the dimly lit hallways. The air was colder here, the emptiness wrapping around you like a shroud. But it couldn’t stop the sobs from rising in your throat, harsh and relentless, each one cutting deeper than the last.

You couldn’t remember the last time you cried. Not like this. Not the kind of tears that felt like they were tearing you apart from the inside out, like they’d been building for years, waiting for this very moment to break free.

Your chest heaved, your breaths ragged and uneven as you stumbled into a dark corner, sliding down against the cool wall. The hallway was silent, save for the sound of your sobs echoing back at you. You felt so raw, so exposed, like every layer of protection you’d built over the years had been stripped away in an instant. Vulnerability wasn’t something you allowed yourself to feel often—maybe ever—but here you were, unable to stop it.

Tears blurred your vision, and you pressed your hands to your face, trying to muffle the sound of your cries. But it was no use. The emotions had taken hold, refusing to let go. The anger, the hurt, the fear of everything unraveling—it was too much.

For so long, you had kept it all together, every crack patched up with a smile or a dismissive shrug. But this time… this time you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop the flood. And it terrified you because you didn’t know what came next. What was left when all the masks came off, when the facade you’d worked so hard to maintain finally crumbled?

You don’t know how long you’d been sitting there, curled up on the cold bench in one of the quieter hallways, your face buried in your hands as sobs wracked your body. Time felt like it had lost meaning, and you were too exhausted to care.

But when you heard soft footsteps approaching, you didn’t move. You didn’t have the energy. A familiar presence settled next to you. You felt it before you saw him, the warmth of his body close to yours, the quiet concern that radiated from him.

“Y/N,” Mark’s voice was soft, almost tentative. He crouched in front of you, his face level with yours, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

The question felt absurd, considering the mess you were in, but something about the way he asked it—so gently, so genuinely—caught you off guard. He wasn’t demanding answers, wasn’t prying. He just wanted to be there.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, trying to brush him off, but your voice cracked, betraying you. Your hands trembled as you wiped at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together, but it was no use. You couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Mark didn’t push. Instead, he quietly sat beside you, the weight of his presence comforting in its simplicity. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fill the silence with empty words. He just stayed there, his quiet strength offering more support than you’d realized you needed.

And then, before you knew it, you were crying again. Harder this time. The tears came in waves, overwhelming and unstoppable, and you felt yourself crumbling under the weight of everything you’d been holding in.

Without a word, Mark wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest in a gesture so simple, yet so needed. He held you close, one hand gently rubbing your back as the other rested on your shoulder. It wasn’t forceful or overwhelming—it was soft, steady, like he was offering you a safe space to break down.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soothing, steady. “You don’t have to hold it in.”

His words were like a lifeline, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to let go. To stop pretending, stop fighting. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his chest as the tears flowed freely.

Mark held you through it all, his presence grounding you, making you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t alone in this. He didn’t say much—just whispered reassurances when the sobs became too much, his hand continuing its slow, comforting motion on your back.

When your sobs finally began to subside, you pulled back slightly, your eyes puffy and red, your breath still shaky. You met his gaze, and for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to hide.

He wasn’t judging you. He wasn’t expecting you to be strong or put together. He just… saw you. The real you. The vulnerable, broken, messy you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, thick with emotion.

Mark’s gaze softened, his hand still resting gently on your back. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to go through anything alone. You deserve better”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. There was something in his voice, something in the way he looked at you, that made you believe him. Made you feel like, for the first time in a long time, someone saw you for who you really were—and didn’t turn away.

You nodded, your throat tight, and Mark gave you a small, understanding smile, his hand lingering for just a moment longer before he pulled back, giving you space to breathe.

───────────────────────────────

The next few weeks passed in a blur of practices, games, and strained silence. You and Jeno had settled into a routine of avoidance—every fight left more scars, and neither of you seemed to know how to bridge the growing gap. Every interaction felt heavy, filled with unspoken words and bubbling frustration that neither of you could release. Even the once-effortless sexual connection between you had started to lose its spark, leaving behind a dull ache in its place.

But the only constant, ironically, was Mark.

But you tried to hide it because Jeno was beginning to suspect something. You denied all accusations. Maybe you were just acting petty, trying to make a point and prove Jeno that he was wrong even though you knew he was right. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because you were scared—scared to open up to Mark, scared to admit that the feelings stirring inside you weren’t as simple as you wanted them to be.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything—that your stolen glances, the way you lingered a bit longer than you should during practices, was just harmless. But deep down, you knew better. Something was growing between you two, an unspoken pull that had you circling each other in quiet tension.

Today, it all came to a head during practice.

You moved through the stretches with fluid precision, your body bending and arching with every calculated motion. The gym lights flickered overhead, casting a golden hue on your skin as you twisted and turned, giving the cheerleaders around you a preview of the sultry moves you had perfected. Each stretch felt like a deliberate invitation, especially when you bent low, ass pushing out, skirt rising just high enough to leave little to the imagination. The hem of your cheerleading skirt barely brushed the tops of your thighs, teasing the smooth expanse of your skin as you moved.

Your body felt alive, the beat of the music in the background fueling the slow, rhythmic sway of your hips. You could feel the stretch in your thighs, the way the muscles tensed and released as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other, the fabric of your skirt rising dangerously high with each movement. Your arms lifted above your head, drawing attention to the curve of your waist, the way the tight cheer top clung to your chest, accentuating every dip and curve.

You knew eyes were on you. You felt it.

But one set of eyes burned hotter than the rest.

Mark’s gaze was a constant, heavy presence, dragging over every inch of your body as you moved. He wasn’t trying to hide it. No, he wasn’t even subtle. Every time you bent low or did a quick flip of your hair, his eyes were right there, drinking in the sight of your ass, the bare stretch of your thighs. His gaze was intense, following the rise and fall of your body as though he was committing every detail to memory.

Your skirt rose a little higher as you shifted into a new move, a slut drop, your thighs tightening as you lowered your body, giving him an even better view. You felt the air against your skin, the way the heat of the gym mingled with the cool brush of fabric as it rode up higher with each deliberate movement. It made you feel powerful. Sexy. You were showing off, and you knew it.

Mark’s reaction was immediate. His jaw tightened as he watched, his fingers gripping the basketball tighter than necessary, veins bulging along his forearm. The way his eyes roamed over you, dark with want, made a shiver run down your spine. He didn’t blink, didn’t even bother pretending to focus on the practice drills.

Instead, he was laser-focused on you.

You caught his gaze as you straightened up, standing tall with a cocky smirk tugging at your lips. His eyes stayed glued to you, a hungry look darkening his features. You felt a thrill rush through you, knowing you had his full attention, knowing he was checking you out in front of everyone. Your body burned under the weight of his stare, heat pooling low in your belly. It was addictive, the way he looked at you like he wanted to devour you right there in the middle of the gym.

You could feel Jeno’s eyes on you too, burning with barely concealed jealousy as he watched the unspoken tension pass between you and Mark. But you didn’t stop. You didn’t care. The power you felt from knowing Mark couldn’t keep his eyes off you only fueled you more. The harder Jeno stared, the deeper you sank into your movements, stretching further, leaning into the seductive rhythm of the routine.

And then it happened—Mark, distracted, let the basketball slip from his grip. The sound of it bouncing toward you pulled you from your trance just in time to see it come flying in your direction. You barely had time to react, the ball missing you by mere inches, the whoosh of air sending your hair flying.

The entire gym fell silent.

All eyes were on you now, the attention turning from curious whispers to outright gawking. The cheerleaders stopped mid-practice, their gazes shifting from you to Mark, wondering what the hell was going on. The basketball team paused, a few muttered chuckles floating through the air as the ball rolled to a stop at your feet.

Mark was still staring, his eyes now filled with something darker, more heated than before. The moment felt charged, the tension between you two palpable, hanging thick in the air. You could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze, their confusion, their curiosity. But none of that mattered. All you could think about was the way Mark was looking at you—like he was undressing you with his eyes, like he couldn’t get enough.

You huffed, breaking the silence with a sarcastic snort. “Nice arms,” you quipped, crossing your arms over your chest as you tried to shake off the tension.

Mark didn’t smile, didn’t laugh. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear it, his gaze burning into yours with a quiet intensity. “Nice ass,” he murmured, his voice dripping with something dangerous, something that sent a pulse of heat straight to your core.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the air between you two thickening with a different kind of tension. You could feel the flush rising in your cheeks, the way your body responded to the boldness of his statement, to the low rasp of his voice. Your throat tightened, and for a split second, you forgot where you were, forgot that the entire gym was watching, that Jeno’s eyes were on you, burning with fury.

You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you stood there, locked in Mark’s gaze, the heat between you almost suffocating. It was subtle, so subtle that no one else in the gym could pick up on the charged moment passing between you two. But you felt it. You knew it. And from the way Mark’s eyes stayed on yours, dark and hungry, you knew he felt it too.

The whispers around you grew louder, and you could feel the cheerleaders and basketball players glancing at each other, sensing the tension but not quite understanding it. But the look on Jeno’s face said it all. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed with a mix of anger and suspicion as he watched the two of you, his body tense with barely concealed rage.

You could feel the weight of Jeno’s stare as he marched toward you, his presence heavy and commanding. “Let’s go,” he snapped, grabbing your arm, his grip firm as he pulled you toward him, his frustration barely hidden beneath the surface. He didn’t even glance at Mark, but you could feel the seething anger radiating off him in waves.

Mark’s eyes didn’t waver. He watched as Jeno led you away, his gaze steady, like he was daring you to say something, to do something. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The air between you and Mark was thick with tension, the kind that lingered even as you walked away, Jeno’s grip tightening on your arm as if to remind you of where you were supposed to be.

──────────────────────────────

It’s late, and your apartment smells faintly of the popcorn Karina had insisted on making. Your legs are lazily draped across her lap as she scrolls through her phone. A few of the other girls are scattered around the room—Winter, Ryujin, and Ningning—chatting animatedly, their voices buzzing like static. You’re not particularly invested in the conversation, but you’re here anyway. You couldn’t avoid it. It’s part of the routine.

The girls gossip about the usual—boys, parties, and who’s been hooking up with whom. But tonight, there’s a different energy in the room. They all have questions about what had happened earlier, and you can feel their curious stares burning into you.

“What was that about?” Winter is the first to ask, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. You know exactly what she’s referring to, but you don’t really know how to answer. To you, it was nothing. Of course, Mark would make a comment like that. You looked hot today, and he’d noticed. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Winter presses on, unwilling to let it go. “You can’t tell me it was nothing, especially after seeing how Jeno dragged you out? I wonder what happened after that.”

You glance at her and sigh, deciding to give her the raw, unfiltered truth. “Nothing,” you start, watching their eyes light up in anticipation. “At first, Jeno was mad, pissed even. But then I sucked his cock, and he fucked me against one of the lockers in the guys’ changing rooms.” You pause for effect, wiggling your eyebrows as you finish, “He’s definitely forgiven me.”

The girls burst into giggles, some of them clapping like you’ve just given them a piece of juicy gossip they’d been dying to hear. They choose to ignore the toxicity of it all, the fact that you and Jeno had been using sex as a band-aid for your issues for weeks now. You and Jeno barely talked anymore. Every argument, every moment of tension, was resolved with a quick fuck rather than any real conversation. But you don’t say that part. You leave that truth buried beneath the surface.

“So… Y/N, would it annoy you if I made a move on Mark?” Karina’s voice cuts through the laughter, sharp and filled with a hint of vindication as she looks at you from the corner of her eye.

You can’t help the way your face tightens, annoyance flashing across your expression before you can force it back down. You plaster on a smile, lying through gritted teeth. “No, why would it?”

Karina leans back, raising a perfectly arched brow as if she doesn’t believe you for a second. “Just seems like there’s something going on between you and Mark. He’s been staring at you non-stop lately.”

“Just seems like you and Mark have nothing in common,” you bite back, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested in him now. Is it because he’s gotten more popular?”

Karina doesn’t flinch at your retort. Instead, she gives you a slow, deliberate smile. “Maybe,” she says, her voice cool, like she’s playing a game she knows she’ll win. “Or maybe it’s because I think he’s cute. And honestly? I’d love to take his virginity.”

Your chest tightens, a wave of something uncomfortable rippling through you. You weren’t expecting that. “Take his virginity?” you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady, but you can’t hide the slight edge in your tone.

Karina doesn’t miss it. She leans in, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. You know, how fun it’d be to corrupt him. Break him in a little. He’s so… quiet. I bet he’s just waiting for someone to show him how it’s done.” Her voice dips lower, more seductive. “Imagine his hands on you, not knowing what to do at first, but learning… fast.”

The other girls are eating it up, hanging onto every word Karina says. They laugh and nod along, and Winter even adds a low whistle.

“Girls…” Winter chimes in, her tone playful. “I don’t think he’s a virgin. It’s always the quiet ones with the big cocks who know exactly what they’re doing.” She sighs dramatically, leaning back into the couch, adding a moan for effect. “I bet he knows how to use it too.”

You roll your eyes. “No, he’s definitely a virgin. I can tell.”

The room fills with chatter as the girls go back and forth, arguing over whether Mark is as inexperienced as you claim or secretly a sex god in disguise. The conversation takes on a life of its own, filled with explicit fantasies and wild speculation.

“Honestly, there’s a rumor going around that he’s fucking Giselle,” Ryujin adds, her tone more serious, like she’s spilling some kind of secret.

“Giselle?” Ningning scoffs. “Please. She’ll fuck anyone with a cock.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s been so chill lately,” Winter says, laughing. “He’s getting laid!”

The conversation feels like it’s spiraling, the air heavy with innuendo and teasing, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of irritation beneath the surface. You’re trying to laugh along with them, trying to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought of Mark with someone else.

But the truth is, you don’t really know what to feel. You’ve been keeping your distance from Mark, trying to navigate your mess of a relationship with Jeno, but there’s something undeniable growing between you and Mark. Something you can’t quite put your finger on.

Karina leans in closer, her voice low. “Come on, Y/N,” she says, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. About what it’d be like with him.”

You glance around the room, the girls all watching you expectantly, and for a moment, you feel cornered. The weight of their expectations pressing down on you.

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Like I said, he’s probably a virgin. Nothing to think about.”

“Virgin or not,” she says, her lips curling into a smirk, “he’s still hot. And honestly, I think the quiet ones are always the best in bed. All that pent-up energy…” She trails off, her voice laced with suggestion as she winks at Winter, who giggles.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the sudden heat rising in your chest. The last thing you want is to picture Mark like that—especially not with Karina talking about him like he’s some kind of conquest. But the image creeps in, unbidden, and you quickly push it away.

“Anyways, I heard Jeno’s gonna invite him to his party this weekend,” Karina continues, her voice light and casual, but you can hear the underlying excitement. “I think I’ll make my move then.”

You groan, slapping your hand against your forehead. “Why is he inviting him?” you mutter under your breath. This wouldn’t end well—you could already see it.

Karina shrugs, her smirk widening as she leans back against the couch. “Shouldn’t you know? Aren’t you his girlfriend?” There’s a teasing edge to her voice, and it grates on your nerves, making your blood simmer just beneath the surface.

You clench your jaw, shaking your head as you try to ignore her, but the annoyance is creeping in, settling deep in your bones. You don’t want to think about Jeno, about Mark, about whatever mess you were tangled up in between them. And you definitely don’t want to think about Karina making a move on Mark at Jeno’s party.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, standing up from the couch, “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than your little plan.” You cross the room and grab your phone from the coffee table, feeling the girls’ eyes on you the entire time.

Winter giggles softly behind you, her voice sing-song as she chimes in, “Come on, Y/N. We’re just messing with you. No need to get all worked up.”

You turn, giving them a forced smile, but the tension in your body refuses to dissipate. “I’m not worked up. Just… tired.”

Karina’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, her smirk still in place. “Sure,” she says slowly, like she knows more than she’s letting on. “Tired. Right.”

You let out a small sigh, knowing there’s no point in arguing with her. She thrives on this—the drama, the teasing, the tension. She always has. But right now, all you want is some space to clear your head.

You head toward the door, your phone clutched tightly in your hand. “I’ll catch you guys later,” you call over your shoulder, already halfway out the door.

──────────────────────────────

The music thumped through the walls of the house as you stood at the front door, adjusting your mini black skirt that barely covered anything. It was tight, short, and see-through, leaving little to the imagination. The lace thong you wore underneath was clearly visible if someone looked hard enough, and you had no doubt that people would be looking tonight. Paired with heels, your favorite jewelry, and a form-fitting top that highlighted every curve, you were dressed to kill.

Jeno opened the door, his expression softening into a smile as he took you in. His eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the skirt, and you felt the heat already building between you two. He pulled you in for a kiss, his lips warm against yours as his hand slid down to rest on the small of your back, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin. The promise of what would happen later was clear in his touch.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured against your lips before pulling away to greet Karina and Winter behind you with a hug and a quick nod.

His eyes were back on you immediately, dark and filled with lust as they traced the lines of your daring outfit. You smiled giddily at him, excited for the night ahead. You already knew how the night would end—tangled in sheets with his body on top of yours, all heat and passion. It was the one thing you both were still good at, even when everything else seemed to be falling apart.

The party was already in full swing, the bass vibrating through the floors as the scent of alcohol and smoke filled the air. The lights were low, casting the room in a warm, golden glow, with people sprawled across the couches and dancing in the center of the living room. Laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses created a chaotic but comfortable atmosphere. You could feel the buzz of energy around you as you stepped further into the house, bodies pressed together as the night unfolded. You were already excited for the night, already anticipating the way things would go later with Jeno. The fire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know—tonight would be intense.

But then you noticed Mark.

He was across the room, dressed casually in jeans and a simple white t-shirt, but somehow he stood out more than anyone else. His presence seemed to fill the space around him, and your eyes found his before you even realized it. He wasn’t hiding the way he was looking at you either. His gaze trailed over your body, lingering on your legs, your hips, the tight skirt that hugged your every curve. There was something deliberate in the way he looked at you, and it made your heart skip a beat.

You huffed, quickly looking away, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened. What were you doing? You were here with Jeno, after all. But when you turned back, you saw Jeno walking toward Mark, and your heart sank. You were ready for things to blow up, expecting another confrontation, but to your surprise, Jeno greeted him with a nod and an indifferent expression. At least they weren’t killing each other.

Just as you were about to relax, you saw that Mark wasn’t alone. A girl stood beside him—someone you didn’t recognize. She was quiet, her eyes wide as she glanced nervously around the room, like she wasn’t used to this kind of environment. There was something shy about her, something that made you uneasy for reasons you couldn’t explain.

Jeno greeted her too, his smile a bit too bright as he introduced himself. “I’m Jeno, nice to meet you.”

The girl smiled shyly and introduced herself, but there was something else—a quick, knowing look exchanged between her and Jeno. It was subtle, but you caught it, and it sent a strange jolt of unease through you. What was that about?

Shaking your head, you turned toward the kitchen, needing a drink to calm your nerves. You grabbed a bottle of vodka, pouring yourself a shot and knocking it back quickly. Then another. You didn’t stop until the burn settled into your veins, dulling the edge of whatever was eating away at you.

Just as you set the bottle down, you felt the air shift—the unmistakable presence of Mark sliding in beside you, close enough that the warmth of his body brushed against yours. His voice cut through the noise, low and teasing, carrying that familiar edge that always seemed to pull your attention.

“Taking it a bit far tonight, aren’t we?” You turned your head slightly, catching the smirk playing at the corner of his lips. His eyes, dark and sharp, flickered between the empty shot glasses and then back to your face.

You rolled your eyes, feeling a familiar mix of irritation and something else—something that made your heart beat a little faster. “What do you care?” you shot back, but there was no bite in your voice. The warmth from the alcohol was already settling into your veins, and maybe that was why you felt more relaxed around him. Or maybe it was just him.

Mark leaned in closer, his arm brushing against yours as he rested his hand on the counter beside you. His scent—clean, warm, with a hint of something that made you want to lean in—filled the small space between you. “Just looking out for you,” he said, his voice casual, but the glint in his eyes told you there was more to it, lingering for a beat longer than necessary before returning to your eyes. It was subtle, but enough to send a small shiver down your spine. You swallowed, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as you glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Looking out for me?” you echoed, your voice carrying a hint of sarcasm, masking the way his presence was making you feel things you weren’t ready to admit. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Why don’t you look out for your date?” you shot back, your voice betraying more jealousy than you intended.

Mark chuckled, the sound low and smooth, his attention fully on you. “She’s not my date,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes locked on yours.

You swallowed hard, caught off guard by how disarming he could be. “Who is she, anyway?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent, though the question lodged itself in your throat.

Mark glanced over his shoulder, nodding toward the girl he’d walked in with. “My best friend.”

You blinked, surprised by how easily he said it. You had assumed… well, something else entirely. “Oh,” you murmured, unsure how to respond.

Mark grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. “What? Did you think I’d bring a date to a party knowing you’d be here?”

You felt the heat creeping up your neck, but you quickly masked it with a small smile. “I didn’t think about it that much.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Mark said, his voice dipping lower as his gaze flicked down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, sending a shiver through you.

The air between you felt charged, every unspoken word and lingering glance thick with an intensity neither of you was willing to name. The tension simmered quietly beneath the surface, weaving itself into the playful banter, the stolen glances. You both danced around it, staying in this delicate balance, where each smile, each teasing remark was a way to keep things light—yet everything about the moment felt intimate, personal. Neither of you dared to break the fragile line between what was said and what was truly felt.

But before you could say anything else, you felt a hand on your waist—Jeno.

You gasped softly, your mouth widening in surprise as you realized he had been watching you and Mark the whole time. His eyes were calm, surprisingly calm, but there was something underneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. You smiled brightly at Jeno, hoping to diffuse whatever tension was building. “Hey, baby. Do you want to dance?” you asked, your voice laced with forced cheer.

He shook his head, his expression soft yet serious. “Y/N, can we talk?”

You blinked, caught off guard by how gentle he was being. Jeno wasn’t usually like this—calm, collected. This was new. Maybe this was it, the turning point you’d been waiting for.

“Yeah, sure,” you said, following him as he led you upstairs to his room. Your heart pounded in your chest as Mark watched you go, his gaze heavy, but you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t.

Once inside Jeno’s room, you wasted no time, slipping your top over your head, your mind already racing toward what usually came next. You turned to him, expecting to see him ready to go, but instead, he sat at the edge of the bed, head lowered, fingers gripping his knees. His expression wasn’t what you were used to—stormy, tense. He wasn’t undressing. He wasn’t even looking at you.

Confused, you moved closer, kneeling in front of him. Your hands reached for his belt instinctively, trying to pull him out of his mood the way you always did. “Jeno, come on,” you murmured softly. “Let me suck you off. I’ll make you forget whatever’s on your mind.”

But instead of the usual eager response, his hand gently covered yours, stopping you. He shook his head, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “Y/N, not tonight.”

You paused, your hands frozen mid-movement. “Jeno?”

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Sit down, Y/N.” His voice was soft, but firm as he gently pushed your hands away, motioning for you to sit beside him. “We need to talk.”

Jeno ran his hand through his hair again, the tension in his posture evident. His gaze softened as he looked at you, the weight of his words settling between you both. “We need to stop, Y/N. Stop pretending we’re a compatible couple.”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. “What are you talking about?” you whispered, though deep down, you knew exactly what he meant.

Jeno sighed, his voice thick with emotion. “You know it’s not working anymore. You feel it just as much as I do.” His eyes met yours, and for the first time in a long time, you saw the depth of his sadness. “We’ve been together for so long, but it’s not enough. It hasn’t been for a while.”

Tears immediately welled in your eyes as you shook your head, refusing to accept it. “But we’ve been together forever. We’re supposed to be together, Jeno. What do you mean it’s not enough?”

Jeno’s expression was full of regret, but his resolve didn’t waver. “I know it feels that way, but think about it. How many days have we really been happy lately? It’s just fights, making up through sex, and pretending everything’s fine. But it’s not. We both know that.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. You didn’t want to admit he was right. “I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I can’t. I don’t know how to… I don’t know how to be without you.”

Jeno leaned forward, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said softly. “You still have me, okay? I still love you, and I always will. But we both deserve more than this. We deserve to be with someone who makes us happy, not just someone we’ve been with because it’s comfortable.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you let out a shaky breath, your chest tightening. You hated how much his words resonated with you. You hated that he was right. But what scared you more was facing the truth, admitting that your relationship with Jeno was broken, that it had been for a while.

“I can’t do this,” you choked out, your voice thick with emotion. “I’d rather just… I’d rather keep pretending. I can’t face the truth, Jeno. I don’t know how.”

His eyes softened even more, filled with understanding. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. You don’t have to lie to yourself, Y/N. It’s okay to admit that things are messed up. It’s okay to be scared.”

But that was the problem. You weren’t good at facing the truth, at being vulnerable. Emotional intimacy terrified you, and you’d spent so long hiding behind the idea that everything was fine, that you could just patch things up with sex and avoid the hard conversations. Being honest, being real—that was something you’d never been good at. You’d rather live in the illusion than face the mess underneath.

Jeno seemed to sense your hesitation, your fear. He gently pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you as the sobs finally wracked your body. “I’m here,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m not leaving you. You’ll always have me, but this… this relationship, it’s not good for either of us. And it hasn’t been for a long time.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping you afloat. The thought of not being with him terrified you more than you could admit. “I don’t want to be alone,” you whispered, the words broken between sobs. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“You’re not alone,” he murmured into your hair. “I’ll always be here for you. But we can’t keep doing this, pretending we’re happy when we’re not. It’s not fair to either of us.”

His words were like a dagger to your heart, twisting painfully because deep down, you knew he was right. But the truth was too heavy, too overwhelming. You’d spent so long avoiding it, pretending that everything was okay, that hearing it now felt like your world was crumbling.

“I still love you,” Jeno said, his voice steady despite the emotion in it. “I love you, but we need to stop hurting each other like this.”

You pulled back slightly, your tear-filled eyes meeting his. The sincerity in his gaze made it hurt even more. “But what do I do without you?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t know who I am without you, Jeno.”

He reached up, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. “You’ll figure it out. And I’ll still be here, even if we’re not together like we used to be. You’re stronger than you think.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you leaned back into him, unable to fully let go. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to admit that everything was falling apart. But Jeno was right—you were holding on to something that had died a long time ago, and the thought of letting go felt like losing a part of yourself.

For a long time, he just held you as you cried, his arms the only comfort you had left. But eventually, even that had to end. Jeno stood up, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back.

“I’m gonna go,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “Take some time for yourself. You’ll be okay, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything, your throat too tight with the weight of everything. You just nodded, tears still falling as you watched him leave the room, his presence fading with each step. And as the door closed behind him, you felt the crushing weight of reality settle in, the silence echoing in your chest where your heart had been breaking all along.

You were alone. And for the first time, you couldn’t hide from the truth anymore.

Later that night, Mark finds you huddled on the ground, your knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, trying to hold it all in, but you’re failing. Your body shakes with sobs that you can’t control, and when you hear footsteps approaching, you tense up.

“Mark, now is not the time, please go away.” Your voice cracks as you cry out, lips trembling. You cover your face with your hands, not wanting him to see you like this, broken and vulnerable.

But Mark doesn’t leave. He doesn’t even hesitate. He gets closer, kneeling down beside you. The quiet rustle of fabric is the only sound, and you shiver as he drapes his jacket around your shoulders. It’s warm, and it smells like him—fresh and clean, grounding you in a way you didn’t expect.

“Jeno told me to come,” he explains softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You look up, confusion flooding your tear-streaked face. “What?” The question falls out, barely coherent, as you swipe at your face, painfully aware of how horrible you must look—mascara smudged, makeup streaked, and eyes puffy.

Mark doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he moves even closer, and before you know it, he’s pulling you into him, gently guiding you onto his lap. You don’t resist. His arms wrap around you, and you straddle him, your body sinking into his warmth as if it’s the only safe place you can find.

The sobs come harder now, uncontrollable, and you bury your face in his shoulder, clutching onto him like a lifeline. He holds you tight, one hand smoothing down your back, the other resting against your hair, cradling you like something fragile. His soft whispers, the way he gently hushes you, the quiet “it’s okay, I’m here,” all create this bubble around the two of you, making the world fade away for a moment.

Mark’s presence doesn’t fix anything, but it makes you feel less alone. There’s no judgment in his touch, no expectation. He lets you cry, lets you fall apart in his arms, and that’s what breaks you even more. You’ve been holding it in for so long, pretending everything was fine, pretending you were fine.

You don’t know how long you’ve been like this, pressed close to him, when he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “What happened?”

You suck in a breath, pulling back just slightly, though your forehead still rests against his. Your voice is small, fragile. “He broke up with me.”

Mark’s expression softens, his lips parting as he lets out a quiet “Oh.” There’s no surprise in his voice, only understanding, only compassion. He doesn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless words. Instead, his hand finds its way into your hair, gently smoothing it down, his touch so careful, as if he’s afraid to hurt you more than you already are.

He doesn’t ask for details, doesn’t push you to talk more. He just holds you, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you, offering you a calm in the midst of your storm. His fingers stroke through your hair, and his other arm is firm around your waist, keeping you anchored to him as you cry quietly into his neck.

And somehow, in the quiet of his embrace, with his soft breaths brushing against your skin, the weight of everything doesn’t feel quite as suffocating. The pain is still there, sharp and unrelenting, but Mark’s presence makes it bearable. He makes you feel seen, heard, like it’s okay to not have it all together.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself feel. You let yourself break. And Mark is there to catch every piece of you, holding you together when you can’t do it yourself.

The silence between you feels intimate, not awkward. It’s comforting, the kind of silence that says more than words ever could. His arms stay wrapped around you, and for now, that’s all you need. You just let him hold you.

“Mark,” you whisper, your voice shaky, barely audible as you shift closer to him. Your thighs press against his, caging him in. You bite your bottom lip, feeling the tension crackle between you, and notice his subtle groan as his hips press up slightly.

“Yeah?” he responds casually, though his voice is rougher, his restraint evident.

“You’re hard,” you mumble, your tone matching his, casual, as though stating a simple fact. The firmness presses against you, unyielding, hot even through the layers of fabric between you. The heat of him radiates into your skin, the outline unmistakable as it pushes against your thigh. Your words hang in the air, blending with the warmth that rises between you, making the closeness more intimate than it should be, despite the simplicity of the moment. The feeling is undeniable, solid and real, as though the space between you is shrinking with every breath.

Mark shifts slightly under you, groaning low in his throat. He doesn’t try to deny it. “Yeah, I am,” he says, his voice deeper now, gravelly. He lets out a slow breath before adding, “It’s because you’re—”

But before he can finish, you crash your lips against his, silencing him with a kiss so intense it feels like you’ve both been waiting for this moment forever. Already straddling his lap, you press yourself closer, your thighs locking around him tighter, your body molding against his. Your fingers curl into his hair, pulling him into you as if you’re afraid to let go.

Mark responds instantly, his mouth moving against yours with a passion that catches you off guard. His hands slide down to your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you even closer. The kiss is messy, intense—tongues tangling, soft moans escaping between your lips as the heat between you grows unbearable.

Your hips move of their own accord, grinding down on him, and you feel the hardness pressing against your core, making your breath hitch. His hands roam up your thighs, sliding under your skirt, pushing the flimsy fabric up higher until it’s barely covering you. He grabs your ass, squeezing hard as you rock your hips, the friction between you igniting every nerve in your body.

You moan softly into his mouth, the heat between you both growing unbearable. When Mark’s hand moves down to smack your ass, the sound is sharp and commanding, making your body jolt in response. “Mark,” you gasp, the name slipping out in a breathless moan. His name was a broken plea on your lips as his hands continue to roam, guiding your movements as you grind harder against him, feeling the friction build between your bodies.

His hands are everywhere—palming your ass, guiding your movements, pressing you harder against him as you grind down. The heat, the friction, the way he kisses you with an intensity and desperation—it all sends your mind spinning. You feel his desire in every touch, every grip on your skin, and you want more.

You arch your back, pressing your chest against his, the kiss growing even more desperate, your tongues tangling, breaths mingling as soft moans escape between your lips. His hands pull you closer, as if he can’t get enough of you, the tension building with every second, every movement.

Mark stands, lifting you effortlessly, his strong hands gripping your thighs as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. You can feel the heat of his body through his clothes, every hard muscle pressing against you. Before you even register what’s happening, he tosses you onto the bed, Jeno’s bed—and the realization of where you are only adds to the illicit thrill running through you.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the chiseled muscles beneath. His chest is broad, his arms flexing with every movement, each line of his body carved like stone. Your gaze traces over the defined ridges of his abs, the muscles contracting with every deep breath he takes, and your heart races, pulse pounding in your ears.

Then your eyes drop lower, and you can’t help but stare at the bulge straining against his jeans. The thick, undeniable outline is impossible to ignore, and the sight makes your breath hitch, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as your anticipation skyrockets. The raw need between your legs intensifies, and you press your thighs together instinctively, biting your lip as you imagine what’s coming next.

Mark moves closer, his hands reaching down to undo his belt, the metal clinking as he loosens it. But just as his fingers graze the zipper, you catch the flicker of doubt in his eyes. It’s subtle, just a brief hesitation, but it’s enough to shift the atmosphere. The dangerous, primal intensity in his gaze softens, and for a moment, he looks at you—not with the hunger you’ve seen, but with something deeper, more conflicted.

You don’t say anything, but you feel the weight of the moment hanging between you. His hand pauses at his waistband, and he swallows hard, his jaw clenching. The air thickens with the tension of everything unspoken, and for the first time, you both hesitate, the thrill of the moment colliding with the reality of where you are—of who you are.

Mark leans over you, his hand brushing against your cheek, the gentleness of his touch a stark contrast to the heat that had been building just moments before. His thumb runs over your lower lip, lingering there as if he’s warring with himself, battling between desire and restraint.

“We can’t,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost regretful.

You blink, still lost in the heat of the moment, your body screaming for more even as his words register in your mind. “What do you mean?” you ask, your voice breathless. You reach for him again, your fingers already working on the button of his jeans. “Come on, Mark… we don’t need to stop. I’m on the pill so you can cum inside of me, I don’t mind.”

His groan is deep, almost pained, as he steps back. One hand drags down his face, his frustration clear as he shakes his head. “It’s not that,” he mutters, his gaze conflicted. “You just broke up with Jeno—he’s my brother. And we’re in his room. You really want this to happen here? You want me to fuck you on his bed?”

Your response is immediate, unwavering. “Yes.”

He stares at you, huffing out a breath of disbelief. “Y/N…” he starts, voice softer now, laced with something between guilt and restraint. “No. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. Not like this.”

For a moment, everything pauses. The weight of his words crashes over you, bringing with it a wave of reality you’ve been avoiding. The intensity of what almost happened—the way you nearly crossed a line that, once crossed, couldn’t be undone. Embarrassment starts to creep in, settling in your chest like a heavy stone.

You sit up, hurriedly pulling your clothes back on, avoiding his eyes as the thrill of the moment fades, replaced by a deep ache you didn’t expect. The tension between you feels different now—charged, yes, but laced with something more painful. Something you can’t quite name.

Mark doesn’t say anything as he watches you, his chest still rising and falling heavily, the conflict clear in his eyes. You know he wants you, you felt it, but there’s a line he won’t cross. Not like this. And you hate that it makes sense. You hate that he’s right.

As you stand, buttoning your skirt, you bite your lip, fighting the urge to cry. You weren’t ready for all of this to stop so abruptly. You didn’t want to face the truth of the situation or the complicated mess your feelings had become. And more than anything, you didn’t want to be alone tonight.

“Do you want to come to mine?” you ask, the words shaky, but you force them out. There’s a part of you that fears he’ll refuse, that this will be the moment everything falls apart completely. But you can’t help but hope he’ll still want you, even if not here. Not like this.

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. His expression is unreadable, his eyes searching yours for something you’re not sure you can give. The silence stretches, your heart pounding in your chest, the fear of rejection threatening to overwhelm you.

Then, finally, he nods, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His hand reaches out, offering to help you up, and for the first time since this whole mess started, there’s a flicker of tenderness in his gaze.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice soft, yet sure. “Let’s go.”

Relief washes over you as you take his hand, the touch of his fingers grounding you, soothing the frayed edges of your emotions. As he helps you stand, the tension between you shifts again—not gone, but different. The heat is still there, simmering under the surface, but it’s mixed with something softer now, something that feels more real.

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Back at your apartment, the quiet felt almost surreal after the chaos of the night. The familiar warmth of your space wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, a stark contrast to the lingering tension still buzzing between you and Mark. You felt the shift in the air the moment you stepped through the door—the atmosphere was softer, quieter, more intimate, and the reality that it was just the two of you sank in.

Mark followed you inside, his eyes taking in your surroundings with quiet interest. The apartment was all yours for the night, a small comfort in itself, and you were already beginning to sober up. Mark, as if reading your mind, immediately took care of you, handing you a bottle of water. “You need this,” he said softly, his tone gentle, but there was an undercurrent of care in his voice that made your chest tighten.

You took small sips, the cool water refreshing as it slid down your throat, grounding you back to the present. Meanwhile, Mark wandered around your room, and you couldn’t help but watch him, feeling something shift between the two of you.

Your space was a reflection of you—a safe haven filled with little pieces of your world. The fairy lights you’d strung up glowed softly, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. The air smelled faintly of lavender, the scent of your candles lingering in the air. Your walls were lined with your art, pieces of yourself you rarely shared with anyone else. There were posters of abstract designs, dreamy landscapes, and sketches that felt like fragments of your soul on display.

Unique and delicate things decorated your shelves—a crystal lamp you had found at a flea market, a few small plants in pots you had painted yourself, and a collection of books you loved but hadn’t read in ages. The room felt like a mix of creativity and chaos, an organized mess that somehow made sense only to you.

Mark’s eyes moved from one corner to the next, a small smile tugging at his lips as he took everything in. He seemed fascinated by the art on your walls, lingering over certain pieces as if trying to figure out the stories behind them. You could see the admiration in his gaze, the way he appreciated your space without needing to say much.

“You really made this place your own,” he commented softly, running a hand over one of the posters, careful not to disturb it. “It’s beautiful..”

A warm flush crept up your neck at his words. You weren’t used to someone appreciating your space like this, not in such a genuine, heartfelt way. Mark wasn’t just complimenting the decor—he was complimenting you, the person who had created this world.

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling shy all of a sudden. “It’s nothing special.”

Mark shook his head, still gazing around. “It’s special because it’s yours.” His voice was soft, sincere, and it made your heart do a strange, fluttery thing in your chest.

“Can you help me get my necklace off?” You ask, smiling as he’s already making his way over to you.

Mark’s fingers worked gently at the clasp of your necklace, his touch soft and deliberate. You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access as he carefully unhooked the delicate chain from around your neck. The warmth of his fingers brushing against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, but it wasn’t from the cold—it was the softness of the moment.

He moved slowly, taking the necklace and walking over to your jewellery stand. You watched as he placed it neatly on one of the hooks, his movements calm and precise, as if he had done this a hundred times before. There was something almost tender in the way he handled your things, treating them with care, as if they were an extension of you.

Mark turned back to you, his eyes soft as he reached for your earrings next. His fingers grazed your earlobe, and you held your breath, feeling the closeness between you both. The quiet of the room wrapped around the two of you, making the moment feel even more intimate. One by one, he removed each earring, placing them in their designated spot, never once rushing or making you feel hurried.

The silence was filled with unspoken words, a shared understanding that neither of you dared to voice. When he was done, he looked back at you with a small, almost shy smile. “There,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You needed to clear your head, to shake off the growing feelings you had for him, so you excused yourself to take a shower. As you stood under the warm spray, washing away the remnants of the night, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way Mark had looked at you. The way his presence had shifted from something casual and playful to something deeper, more intimate. The thought scared you, but it also made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

When you finally stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a soft bathrobe, you found Mark sitting on your bed, strumming a gentle tune on a guitar. You paused, tilting your head in confusion. Where did he get that from? You didn’t remember him carrying a guitar around at the party or on the way home. Had you really been that out of it?

“Where did you get a guitar from?” you asked, narrowing your eyes as you watched him hum and play a melody, his fingers dancing over the strings with ease.

He looked up at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I always carry it around.”

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms as you leaned against the doorframe. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed if you brought a guitar with you to the party.”

Mark chuckled, his laughter soft and infectious. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing the room to sit beside him on the bed. “So, you play basketball and the guitar?” you teased, feeling more relaxed now, the tension easing into something more playful.

He nodded, plucking a few more notes before setting the guitar down. “My major is music.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, Troy Bolton.”

He chuckled along with you, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “It’s way past midnight,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, more serious. “You should get some sleep. Don’t you have lectures tomorrow?”

You shrugged, already feeling the weight of the day catching up to you. “I’m not going.”

Mark gave you a pointed look. “Don’t say that. Yes, you are.”

You sighed dramatically but didn’t argue. Instead, you moved to the other side of the bed, pulling back the covers and sinking into the soft sheets. The warmth of the bed, combined with the softness of the moment, made your eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

As you began to drift off, you noticed Mark standing up, throwing a blanket onto the chair in the corner. You frowned, sitting up slightly. “You don’t need to sleep there,” you whispered, your voice soft and almost shy. “Come here. There’s so much space in my bed.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a small smile. “It’s literally a single bed.”

You rolled your eyes, patting the space beside you. “I just want someone to hold me so I can sleep.”

For a moment, Mark hesitated, his eyes searching yours. But then he sighed, his expression softening as he crossed the room and slipped under the covers beside you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close in a way that made your heart race, but also made you feel safe.

Mark held you tightly, his arms pulling you closer, enveloping you in his warmth. You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the soothing rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in so long. His breath was warm against your forehead, gentle, almost protective, as he leaned in and whispered, “Sleep well, Y/N.”

The sound of his voice, low and intimate, sent a soft shiver down your spine. His words weren’t just a wish; they felt like a promise, like he was going to hold you through the night and keep you safe.

His hand, large and warm, rested softly on your waist, fingers brushing against the bare skin under your shirt with the lightest of touches. It was a subtle, almost unconscious gesture, but the intimacy of it sent your heart fluttering. He didn’t pull away; he stayed close, his body pressed gently against yours, grounding you in the moment. Every small shift of his body, every breath he took, seemed to ease the tension that had been weighing on you for so long.

You let your hand rest on top of his, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. His fingers instinctively intertwined with yours, the touch delicate yet reassuring. It was more than just physical contact—it was the silent understanding that you weren’t alone anymore, that he was here, holding you through it all.

His lips brushed lightly against your forehead, a featherlight kiss that made your heart swell. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in his tone wrapped around you like a blanket.

With a soft sigh, you let yourself relax completely, your body melting into his. You could feel the last remnants of stress slipping away, replaced by the steady, calming presence of Mark beside you. His embrace was warm, solid, and it made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in what felt like forever.

As your eyes fluttered closed, you let yourself fall into a deep, peaceful sleep, your mind finally quiet, the weight of the world finally slipping away, knowing he would be there when you woke.

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authors note — surprise!! i’ve been teasing this one for a while and just wanted to drop it without any prior warning :) this is gonna be a long ride and have many more parts so comment if you want to be on the tag list :) send an ask through telling me what you thought or interact !! thank you

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madamechrissy · 1 month ago

Text

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you, you x Nanami, Satoru Gojo x some hoes

♔ Warnings: Heavy, heavy fucking angst, jealousy, smacking, cunnilingus, fingering, loss of virginity, toxic attraction, Gojo is toxic, reader is toxic. OOC. SO MUCH TENSION. Say hello to Mr. Nanami again. Split POV. SLOW BURN remember that.

♔ Word count this chap: 12.2k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you - Don't read this if you want a nice Gojo lol.

Comments/ reblogs always appreciated 🥰

Part Six- Masterlist - Playlist

Part Seven- Like a Black Hole

Satoru’s POV

That night

Satoru stomps away from your door, hating the sounds of your sobs, they break him so, tears annoyingly cloying to his own white lashes. He brushes them back as he furiously turns then, clinging to the banister, trying to catch a breath. He’d just had you in his arms, fuck! He just had your lips on his, he just watched your beautiful face as he made you cum, him, Satoru, not…

Not the other man in your heart.

Satoru thought for one moment he could have you, he could truly have you, fuck it’s so maddening, how much he wants you, how he still tastes that honeyed arousal all over his tongue, can still smell how sweet you are, can still feel that soft, silky skin on his fingers. You’ve sank into him, so much so it’s impossible to think of anything else but you.

He had only even invited them earlier in the morning because you’d hurt him so fucking much, looking at him with that cold, icy look. ‘You’ll never be any of my firsts.’ You’d said it so coldly, and you were right, he wasn’t any of them, not a single fucking one, aside from your horrible first kiss, a kiss he’d barely brushed those lips, avoiding pressing too much, because even then…

Even then he’d wanted you.

That first night, when he’d left you so hurt, so broken with his cruelty, and he’d seen you in that chemise, those stockings covering those perfect legs, your nipples pressed against that silk… even then he’d craved you. But he couldn’t fall for it, no he had to hurt you, had to make you hate him, and he wished he didn't succeed so damn well.

Satoru feels so stupid, so stupid, god he just wants to hold you!? Hold someone, and fuck if he hadn’t done that in so goddamn long, not since her, not since Adelia. The goddamn doppelganger of you, the woman who ruined him, she was the last to elicit such feelings, but the difference was…

He wants you more, fuck kissing you was better than anything he’d ever felt, and pleasing you had him so close he almost came right in that carriage just drinking up that wetness. When your eyes looked at him in those gardens earlier, when he started to see what your mother had done to you, what he had inadvertently made worse, the pain he’d wrought, it killed him.

Those eyes that glittered under that soft moonlight, that looked at him with such desire in that dark carriage, and fuck when he carried you in, it made him think, that wedding night, when he refused to. Fuck why couldn’t he carry you, why did he do this, make it to where he’s begging to taste his own wife, begging for anything from you, so pathetic, you make him desperate just existing.

Where he’d thought he could fuck women and forget you, even when they all pale in comparison, he can’t stomach it tonight. He knows you’ll run off to that man tomorrow, fuck you’ll probably lose your innocence to him, he would not care, he would not care if he had to be second, if he had to beg for just some of your affection. He would still do it, because nothing felt as good as you.

If he could have just stayed away.

How can he stay away from you though?

He had you, in his arms, hands on your backside as he pressed you against the wall, and fuck it took everything not to fuck you there, you were so close to just being his if even for tonight. Until his previous actions, filled with pettiness and hurt, came back to haunt him, and he worries now he can never fix this, fix this goddamn mess he caused himself.

How was Satoru to know he’d fucking fall for the woman he wanted to hate so bad? How would he know he cannot hate you, not one bit, because all you’ve done is stay strong and brilliant no matter the horrible shit he threw at you so fucking casually, how you got a mouth right back, how your back was so fucking straight as you threw your knives back at him.

How you so easily found someone clearly enamored, how could you not, just look at you, the most beautiful creature he’d seen, yet he’d told you that you were unattractive, passable, average. You’d take all those hits and it clearly broke you, though you didn’t show it, he could tell when your face fell, when he felt your shoulders shake with sobs.

He was horrible.

Was he any better than his piece of shit father? He certainly was not good enough for you, and if he had any care whatsoever for you, he would tell you to go be with that man, he’d leave you be. He’s allow you some happiness, but Satoru is selfish, fuck he’s selfish, to try to drag you into his black hole, to make you suffocate with his anger, with his words, with his falsehoods.

You deserved to be happy, you deserved to bake cookies and have some man fawn over you, fuck you deserved the world, and all he’s given you is suffering. For one moment he thought something could change, be repaired, when he’d held your hand under that tablecloth, when he’d finally done one decent thing for you, a pathetic, paltry thing.

It wasn’t enough, of course, but he thought briefly how beautiful it felt, to live in the lie of being in love with each other, to be together truly, not to live this… what was this exactly? What was it that Satoru Gojo, the Duke, had brought upon both of you? This sadness, this sorrow, this anger, it was all of his doing.

Even when you’d seen Satoru fingering that maid in those gardens on your damn wedding day, even when he ignored you during that ceremony, you genuinely tried to be with him at your wedding night. You’d brushed that hair until it was shimmering, you’d had color on your cheeks and lips, clearly done by your Nan. You’d worn the most beautiful, sexy little thing, and he’d told you lies boldly.

He’d heard your sobs when he left that night, he pictured you, so small and helpless, so devastated, and he’d thought ‘good’ because crisis averted, you hated him, and he’d never fall in love. But then he couldn’t stop craving you, the more you pushed him away, the more you ignored him, he couldn’t help but want your words, your touch, even if it was a smack in his face, a curse word.

You consumed him before, but it worsens with every interaction, especially when he could be so sweet with you, just for that beautiful moment, when he could tell you how pretty you are, truly. When he could drink in your beautiful soul, that is what sets you so apart from any woman he’d known, that kindness in your soul to a creature like him who could never deserve it.

You’d covered for him, you’d forgiven him for some of his actions, how could you forgive him, how could you? Don’t you realize he doesn’t deserve it, even if he craves it, even if he needs it, but you opened to him, he watched you open, even though he knows you’re so scared to, and you should be, because what does he do, but disappoint you, time and again.

He stomps down the stairs of his manor, feeling it so cold and empty before you got here, and now you bring so much to it, he even loves sitting with you at breakfast, he’d not tell you so. He’d like it even more if you ate, like he’d forced you to this morning, a paltry attempt at righting things, when he just causes more and more anguish, this time unwillingly.

Satoru hates himself.

“You!” Satoru first heads to the butler, who is serving these two women more of Satoru’s champagne. “That’s it, you can find employment elsewhere. Read the room, goddammit man.”

“Your grace!”

“No, stay the night, and I’ll have a stipend for you ready with recommendations, you’re lucky you’ll even get that. After this, I never want to see your face again.” The butler leaves quickly, Satoru wanted to be much more cruel, but he knew the man had family, so his stipend would be generous.

But fuck that insolent butler.

The girls look at Satoru, smiling curiously, infuriating him worse. You’re so much more beautiful, so much more class in you, even when you’re being a wanton little whore, you out class and out shine everyone. How could he even stomach another woman now that he’s felt you cumming, now that he’s drank you?

“And you two, leave.”

The girls stop giggling then, looking at each other, then at Satoru, curiously. “Whatever do you mean, Satoru? Clearly… she’s not even here! She ran away like a little-”

“Do not speak of her.” He says through gritted teeth, yanking their glasses of wine out of their hands. “You have no right to speak about a Duchess, not either of you, not one word.”

“She’s clearly upstairs now, why ruin the fun?” Lady Elaine says, and Satoru’s mistress scowls.

“Because he wants her, he speaks of her-”

“Yes I want her, why the fuck wouldn’t I!?” He says then, so tired of this annoying, insecure and cloying mistress. She starts to sniffle, tears down her face. “Jesus, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of nicely for the month, so you can find another man to do so. Bloody hell you’re annoying.”

“It’s not just that, Satoru-”

“Don’t call me by my first name.” He says then, through his teeth. “I’ll ready a carriage for both of you.”

“Duke Gojo…” Lady Elaine says softly, and he rolls his blue eyes, looking at her seriously. “You do know she was with a man that night?”

“Yes I damn well know, and I was fucking you.” His - former? - mistress pouts again, lip trembling, so goddamn annoying.

“Yes, but you’re a Duke, and a man. Surely-”

“You’re married, Lady Elaine. Want you husband to know I fucked you on your hands and knees last night, my seed spilt all over your backside?” Satoru asks then, with a white brow shot up, and she gasps, sputtering. “Didn’t think so. Do not speak ill of my wife.”

“Your wife!? You both don’t even-”

“Enough. Get your things.” Satoru stomps off, asking his attendant to ready a carriage to take these annoying women home, even though he knows it matters naught, that you’re already done with him right now. He still can’t touch them, can’t look upon them, can’t hear their words about you, wrought from jealousy.

But he’d said worse things.

How can he call you a whore when you do what he’s pushed you to, when if he’d just been the smallest bit kind, you’d have been under him instead? When you both clearly had the most intense connection he’d ever felt, when he lost himself in your pretty eyes, when he lost himself in your kisses.

So now, the Duke Gojo, lies in his cold, empty bed, staring up at the ceiling, painted with intricate angels that he studies, when the angel he wants to study cries in the room next to him. The candles on his nightstands cast flickering shadows across the room, and he feels his coldness, he shivers, aching for a body he’d never held.

Satoru wasn’t a man that cried, not after what she’d done to him, he’d made sure to stop any emotions from that point, to become a cold version of himself. Even his best friends, Shoko and Suguru, had not been as close to him, had noticed his change, long before you, they just did not realize the depth of his cruelty. You have been punished for just looking the way you do.

Prettier than any angel on his ceiling, which blur through his intense emotions, as his heart thuds in his chest, as it feels like someone is squeezing it like a vise. The tears stream down his cheeks, unnoticed by anyone but himself, as he thinks of your rejection, your pain, and the chasm he’s created between you two, the one he thought he could repair just by pleasing you.

He’s such a fucking fool, even then, you’d asked him to explain, you were going to give him a chance, but how could he express it, express his pain and inadvertently his stupidity. How could he ever hope to build something or repair something he himself destroyed before it ever started? Satoru has never felt so helpless, so lost, this wound of seeing you like this hurts more than her cheating on him.

So Satoru cries quietly, not wanting anyone to hear his weakness, his sorrow. It’s a stark contrast to the man he’s always portrayed to the world, to you, this cold, unfeeling man. No, for you he burns, fuck he yearns for you every moment he breathes, every second his heart beats, and now he feels you slip through the fingers you should have never been in.

You have cracked his mask somehow, you’ve seen who he truly is, even if for that one beautiful moment, or who he was before her. That terrifies him because now he knows he’s not immune to love, no matter how much he closed himself off, no matter how much he threw himself into pleasure, he’s not immune to the pain, and it’s a worse pain than he’s ever felt, the aching in his heart for you.

He thought he knew what love was with her, with Adelia. Fuck even her name makes him sick, even her teary eyes as he paid her an enormous amount to leave the country and never come back. As she’d pleaded her damn way, trying to convince him it was his father’s fault, and sure it was, but he’d walked right in on her, riding his damn father and moaning, laughing about Satoru.

His dad had brushed it off with a cruel laugh, he’d always made sure to have several mistresses around, and Satoru watched his mother endure, watching the pain in her eyes, as he knew his mother fell in love with his dad. And he always wondered how she had, but now he saw it, now he knew.

Satoru had become like the person he hates the most in this world, he parades mistresses right in front of you, fuck even his father had kept his actions to the bed chamber, not right in the open. Satoru left that door open for you to see, for it to hurt you, so you’d never try to know him, so that you’d hate him, even his piece of shit father had more class.

How did you kiss him, after he did this to you? How could you even look at Satoru Gojo, were you that much of an angel? Were you that kind hearted, to the point of being foolish… you are foolish to have kissed him back, to have let him touch you, to have cried out his name.

‘Satoru, Satoru!’

Fuck.

He slams a hand over his face, feeling the cold air blow through the windows, he should shut it but he just cannot, he cannot move, he’d like to freeze to death, he’d like to let you be free of him. Maybe he should actually give you that annulment now, let you live your happy life, it’s what you deserve, you don’t deserve him, his cruelty, his confusion.

But he’s too selfish.

He’s always been good at pushing people away, but you’ve stuck now, like a thorn in his side that’s burrowed deep into his heart, despite his best efforts of keeping you so far. Just one look from your eyes, just one brush of his big hand on your waist, over those corsets you wear so tight, fuck he wants to rip them off you, see you fully, completely, not in bits and pieces, the full picture of you.

Has that man seen you fully?

Satoru is sure he had, fuck he saw your breasts first, as you had so blatantly said, coming home with marks and smirking at him, Satoru had made even you act cruel, and he did deserve your cruelty. He did not deserve the slightest kindness, and even now he will not even open up, because he doesn’t know where to start, it’s no excuse for his treatment of you, an innocent young lady with a heart too kind.

The bed feels like a prison, the silk sheets a mockery of the warmth and comfort he craves, the warmth of your delicate body, one that drives him to insanity. He’s been so lost in his own despair for so long, now he feels so much regret for hurting the one person he’s grown to need so desperately.

Duke Gojo is a mess for you, for a woman he does not deserve, and likely ruined any chance of ever having.

You’ve tried to ignore him, to push him away, but he can’t bear it, he would never let you, even though he should, not when he constantly needs to feel your skin, taste your tears as he kisses you, tears he brings. He was truly cruel, more cruel than anyone he can fathom, not allowing you to breathe without him invading your space.

It takes everything not to keep begging to come into your room, to not just unlock that goddamn door, he has the keys, and kiss his apologies all over your body. To make you feel so good maybe you could forget, for just a moment, the endless anguish he has brought on you. But he knows it’s wrong, he knows all of this is wrong, he knows it’s likely too late for stupid, pathetic apologies.

He knows you’re in your room, just as he’s in his, both of you suffering in your own silent hell, one of his making. Misery, for what, when he could have had happiness, happiness with you, but because you looked like Adelia he treated you like he would her, no worse than he had her. And what had you done, but be a bright and hopeful bride?

He remembers hating you as you both courted, but he held it in check, thinking surely he had time to marry anyone, but the family bonds pushed and pushed you. God forbid a woman becomes of age and a parent doesn’t throw them to the wolves, and thrown to this wolf you have been, not even knowing what sex was, not even knowing your body’s reactions.

But fuck if Satoru did not want to know every inch of your body, fuck if he wouldn’t just lick you every day and nothing in return, if only you would stay in his arms. And this is what he feared, to be so desperate, to be so pathetic, but pushing you away had not prevented it, not one bit, not when you were designed so perfectly, not when your beauty made his heart falter.

Not when he wanted to know you, truly know you, what made you tick, what made you laugh, what made you cry. Aside from him. He laughs bitterly, turning to his side and hugging the pillow tightly, resting his face on it, imagining himself holding you instead. What would it be like to have you in his arms, not writhing and trying to fight him, but to…

To sleep next to you.

Eventually, the tears slow to a stop, and his eyelids grow heavy. He’s exhausted from the emotional turmoil, the fight with his own desires and the pain of his reality. As he drifts towards unconsciousness, he’s vaguely aware of light footsteps outside his door, so he shuts his eyes, white lashes fluttering, his lips parted as he exhales, feeling your presence.

He keeps his breathing even, pretending to sleep, not wanting to face you, not like this, he hopes you cannot tell he’s cried. When you enter the room, he can smell your sweet scent, like cherries in the sunlight, it’s unreal how sweet you always smell, he could find you anywhere.

He imagines how the candlelight must be illuminating your features just so, imagines if your own eyes are red and puffy from your own tears. You’ve come to check on him, and he can feel the compassion radiating from you, despite everything, despite the fact you should feel nothing.

Your kindness as you close the window, clearly sensing it’s a chilled night, it’s something he does not deserve. And when you exhale, bending low, he feels the softness of your strands of hair against his bare skin. God, he wants to pull you down for a kiss, to capture those full, pretty lips on his own. God even your hair smells so good, as you blow out his candle, engulfing you both in darkness.

When you pull that blanket over him, so caringly, it’s like a knife twisting in his gut, the guilt of what he’s done not just to such a sweet human being, but to a woman he’s feeling things for. Conflicting, intense, terrifying things, and now he knows that all the pushing away just caused you both pain, yet here you are.

Why do you care?

All Satoru is, is this monster, a despicable monster in the dark that’s ruined everything, ruined you fucking life, as you tuck him in, as you tentatively brush his snowy white hair back with careful fingers. For a moment, he considers reaching out to you, pulling you into his arms, but he stops himself.

He doesn’t deserve your comfort, not after what he’s done, he deserves nothing but suffering, not your caresses, not your kisses, and maybe you would fall for him if he did pull you close, maybe you’d melt like you do. Against your will, just as his feelings are for you, as both of you fight the one thing that feels so natural, like breathing, yet breathing is so difficult without you.

Without you near Satoru feels empty, but how can he expect you to fill a void you have no clue of? How can he even expect you now, as he lies there, feigning sleep, and you’re brushing your sweet fingers down one of his high cheekbones. He feels your touch, your gaze on him, the warmth of your presence in his chilly room, in his freezing cold heart.

This is more than he deserves, getting to drink you in, after he’d heard you sob in that room, after he watched the crestfallen look on your face, and all he could do was beg for you, be pathetic. As his dad told him so often when he was younger, ‘Satoru, you’re just pathetic, look at you’ and then he’d made that so true.

But you deserve better than Satoru Gojo’s long standing issues, his anger that was directed at you.

Why are you here!?

With a sigh, you quietly leave the room now, the door clicking shut behind you. Satoru’s eyes remain closed, his heart feeling like it’s been shattered into a million pieces, the emotion stuck in his throat as he clings to that pillow, snug and warm under the blanket you’d draped over him, picturing your beautiful face.

He needed to fucking make this right, you don’t deserve this, even if you chose another man. Satoru can’t change the past, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to make up for it, to see if he could make you happy, to see if he could stop fucking everything up so royally.

But for now, he’s just a man in his bed, a man who’s lost the one thing he never knew he wanted, the one thing he never knew could make him feel so alive and so destroyed all at once.

You.

And so, he lies there, his thoughts racing, until finally, sleep claims him, the first real rest he’s had in what feels like an eternity, brought on by your sweet caresses. But, even in his dreams, you’re there, your sad eyes looking at him with a mix of anger and disappointment. He wishes he could apologize, could explain, could do anything to take it all back.

Where would Satoru Gojo begin?

But all he can do is sleep for now, and those dreams of kissing you, begging for you, as you run off with another man, with that blond man with rough hands, and he’s just sobbing, on his knees. You look at him kindly, and tell him you have no hatred for him, just merely no love, before you dance away, flitting like a pretty little butterfly, as he reaches out, grasping air.

Would this be his fate, constantly wishing that he’d not ruined something, ran it into the fucking ground before he began, only to watch you happy, finally, so far away from him? It would leave him alone, with these endless women, drowning in their moans and alcohol, struggling to forget you, something he chose, Satoru chose all of this.

How could Satoru even breathe if you’re not here?

Your POV

“Where are you going?” Satoru asks the next morning, your neck is sore from tossing and turning, you’re exhausted from the lack of sleep, as you stand in your light blue day dress and bonnet. Satoru is sitting at the white grand piano in the drawing room, pecking keys with his long fingers, in a melancholy tune.

You have to admit it’s quite beautiful however, as he peers up at you, and hits those keys harder and harder, in a crescendo as he towers those notes down, lower and lower. His hands cross each other as he peers right at you, with those stormy blue eyes, and you feel yourself tense as you remember last night, when you’d been in his arms, against the wall.

Fuck he’d made you feel so insane, like an all consuming madness, and then you realized it before it was too late, that you were a fool. You’d been willing to give this man everything and all he’d given you was some pleasure, some attention, were you truly so pathetic that it only took that? Were you so keen to excuse the endless insults, the endless parade of women?

The endless torture this beautiful man who plays the piano so expertly, as he’d played you, it’s as if you’re fading off listening to it.

“I’m off to take a walk to town, it’s been so long. Hello, Satoru.” You coo at your puppy, who is running in circles around your feet, and you’re giggling at his cute expressions as he plays. Duke Gojo is staring seriously at you, his jaw clenched, his lips together tightly, studying you so carefully. “What are your plans, Duke?”

“My plans?” He laughs hoarsely, coming up then, the note ending in a high pitched screech as he walks toward you, drinking you in with that azure gaze, as if he remembered everywhere he kissed.

You are a horrible person.

You are such a fucking fool.

If Satoru Gojo just touches you a certain way, you melt in his arms, you are just like putty, ready to be molded for one of his whims. And how can you be so apt to do so!? How do you have no self control with this man, you, who has had so much control her entire life, you, who has always been the picture perfect lady, but now you do not know yourself.

“My plans are worrying where you’ll be.” His husky voice breaks you out of your reverie, as he tilts your chin up with two fingers, as his vulnerable words and looks threaten to ruin you.

“Why worry about me?” You whisper back, and he sighs, leaning down, forcing you to step back, making him glare.

“Why worry? Did last night mean nothing to you!?” You laugh then, harshly and without humor.

“Of course I thought it meant something, but it did not to you!”

“Yes it did! You have no idea-”

“Duke Gojo, stop this, just stop this game. You’ve gotten my hatred, you said you never wanted to lay with me, you get that as well. You get everything you initially asked for, why can’t you leave me alone?” You demand then, tears threatening, your chest heaving with shallow breaths, throat so tight.

He grabs your shoulders with his huge, warm hands, as you shiver from the coldness of your soul. “Because it’s not true, it’s not true at all. How could I not want you!?”

“You can’t just say that. And it matters naught, so what if you want my body finally, you do not even know me.” He blinks then, brows drawing together, his snowy long lashes low over his eyes.

“I know you very well. Did you forget?” He’s caressing up the sides of your breasts now, and you tremble, shaking your head.

“Not my body, me. Do you know a single thing, do you care to? Just because you… find my body attractive, at least I’m assuming…”

“Your body is fucking gorgeous. I want to see all of it.” He’s pulling you against him now, and you shake your head, trying to ease out of his grip.

“You don’t know me. You won’t open up to me. You don’t care about anything, and you hated me until you decided you want to what, fuck me first? Claim me? It means nothing.”

“Then stay, then stay and let me try to get to know you. Please.” You want to, fuck you want to, but you can’t fold so easily for this man, for this cruel monster, even if for once he’s kind, you cannot trust him. The man that had so coldly ruined you the first night, the night of your wedding.

How could you forget?

Sobbing on that goddamn floor, then him being so nasty, flaunting Catherine, fucking a random woman on the table, telling you not to exist!? His nasty demeanor, his cruel words, and you could still see yourself making love to him, letting his insane passion consume you both. The borderline of hatred and passion that threatens to destroy you from the inside out.

“You made your choice for us before you even knew me.” You say softly then, as tears fall down your face, and you watch him visibly gulp.

“Please, it can’t be too late. Please.”

“Then tell me, give me something! Fuck, anything Satoru!” You shove at him, and he shuts down, right in front of your eyes, driving you fucking crazy. You sigh, shaking your head. “You shut me out, and expect me to open up? That’s such bullshit.”

“Just don’t go, I’ll do anything, don’t see him.”

“And you-”

“I sent them home! Immediately. For good.” He says, and you gasp at that, blinking rapidly, your heart thrumming in your chest.

“You… immediately?” You ask then, as he confirms what you wondered at before.

Satoru nods then, cupping your face, and you hate what his touch does, not just physically… but emotionally. You crave comfort in the man that brought you all of this pain, as you shut your eyes, mentally steeling yourself for what you’d have to do. To turn him down, when everything in your body craves him, because you just can’t keep going on like this.

“One right thing changes nothing.” You say softly, and watch him be crushed, watch you crush him with your words. You don’t want to say this, you want to believe him, forgive him, kiss him… fuck you want to be that fake couple you all were, to believe the dream, but you’re not that stupid.

“So I can’t ever earn your forgiveness?” He asks softly, and you sigh, looking away then.

“I’ll forgive you, I already have forgiven some things… but it changes nothing. We will not be together soon, and we both can move on from this.”

His face hardens, his grip tight on you. “From ‘this’ What, torture of having to be with me?”

“Yes!” You snap then, turning away and taking several breaths. “Now I have to ruin the happiness I have, because I was a fucking idiot for you.”

He follows you to the door, slamming it now, pressing against your body, his hard body consuming your small one, hands gripping your waist, burning you, everything Satoru Gojo did burned you. You burn for his touch, for his kisses, even if you fucking hate him, even if you hate yourself for it. He’s shooting desire hot through you as his breath against your neck makes you shiver.

“I’ll do anything, let me pleasure you again? Please.” He’s begging, the man who said he’d never want you, gripping you between your thighs over your layers, and you’re whimpering against your will.

“We cannot.” You whisper, making him sigh, kissing against your neck, rubbing against your heat, having you dripping in moments. “We must not. We will not be together, it’s what you wanted.”

“I didn’t know what I wanted.” You exhale, head falling back, as he constantly pulls you to him, like some moth to his flame, as you ache to feel him, as you feel him slowly wrecking your psyche, in this endless push and pull, that will only end in you being crushed. “I’d die to feel you again. Anything you want I’ll do.”

Fuck.

“You won’t open up, you won’t… explain… fuck.” Satoru’s kissing hungrily on your neck, as your hand press against the door, and you’re throbbing around nothing, fuck it would feel so good to let him. You suck in a breath, shake your head, steeling yourself. “I’m seeing him.”

“Please, don’t, I can’t stand it. Please.” His desperation nearly gets you, Satoru could stab you, make you bleed, then whine in your ear and you’d forgive him, you’re so stupid for this toxic man. You hate your body’s reactions, you hate your heart faltering for him.

“I have to tell him what I’ve done.”

“What, let your husband make you cum harder than you ever have?” His words against your ear threaten to destroy your resolve, until you turn around, shoving him back, ignoring the shrunken pupils, making his eyes look insane. Ignoring those glossy lips and his beautiful face.

“It’s not right. None of this is.”

“How is it not right? It’s what we’re supposed to be doing. Fuck, more… if you’d just let me show you, I could make you feel even better-”

“It’s just physical, that’s it, some… reaction.” You take several breaths, as you watch Satoru’s face fall. “It will likely ruin my only happiness, what we did, so you’ll see me sad and depressed again. But not for long, because I can’t wait to annul this marriage, to be free of you.”

He blinks back emotions of his own, and your heart shatters at the glossiness in his eyes. “Give me a fucking chance first!”

“You do not care for me, not one bit! You do not love me. You just want my body, that’s not enough Satoru.”

“As if he doesn’t just want your body.”

“You’re wrong. I suggest you invite those ladies back over, because you’ll not have me in your bed. I can’t fucking take that sort of pain, I was so stupid last night, thank god they came.”

Satoru slams his hand on the door by the side of your head, glaring down at you now. “Fuck that! You know that’s-”

“Let me go.” You say then, through gritted teeth, and he rakes a hand through his white hair, sputtering.

“So there’s just no fucking chance at you?” He says then, and you turn away, hand on the door knob, shoulders shaking as you hold in your sobs. “Answer me, insolent fucking brat.”

You say nothing, walking out the doors then, leaving his devastated face that you can’t stand to see, ignoring his protests as you go to devastate another man with your stupid actions.

“Darling!” Nanami Kento answers the door to his apartments with a grin, but when he sees your serious face, it falters, then his blond brows draw together, that strong jaw tightening. “Is something wrong?”

“Can we talk, Kento?” You ask softly, and you watch him gulp, nodding tersely, letting you in and shutting the door behind you both. Your heart is racing in your chest, stomach feeling so sick, as you think of what you’ll have to say.

“What’s wrong? Did I cross a line last time?” He says, and your heart hurts so badly you damn near can’t breathe, clutching your chest as he stands in front of you, and you feel the walls closing in, dreading hurting him.

“No, not at all. Not one bit. No, you are… Kento, I…”

“Do you need to sit?”

“I… n-no, I should say this and then get out of your sight, surely.” Kento frowns in confusion, a line forming as his brow knits in concern.

“Nothing would make me want you out of my sight.” He whispers, and you shut your eyes as he’s deftly holding your arms in his rough, warm grip.

“I was intimate with Duke Gojo.” He blinks then, gasping, his lips falling apart as he steps back, and you feel like collapsing under your stupid actions, hugging yourself as you watch his face fall.

“You were what with him? What do you mean!?” He chokes out the words, and you take a breath for courage.

“He pleasured me. As you have.” He turns then, raking a hand through his blonde hair, scoffing. “I have wronged you, severely-”

“You let him touch you? Why would you, I don’t fucking understand, the man that said you’re a pig, the one that fucks women in front of you? The man that had you afraid to eat a goddamn cookie?” He is speaking through his teeth, glaring then, and you shrink back, tears welling up in your eyes, as you feel disgusted at yourself.

“I’m so sorry, Kento. I had to tell you, it wouldn’t be right if I continued on, and you had no knowledge.”

“I… what… you… why…”

“I wanted to thank you.” You’re sniffling, tears rushing hot down your cheeks as you watch the pain on his features. “For making me feel so special, for listening to me, for being… so many of my firsts. I am only sorry you met me, that you got hurt by me, please forget about me. Please live your life, and find someone worthy, so that I will be just a bad memory.”

His mouth opens, brows raised, as you cover your face, sobbing into them, turning away then and stumbling to the door. “Where are you going?”

“To leave, so you can forget me. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me.”

“And you’ll be with him?”

“No. I’ll get an annulment, for I cannot go on with him. But it matters naught, it’s no longer something you should worry for. I deserve no kindness.” You choke on a cry then, hand on the knob, but his stops over yours, making you shiver, as he cups your face then, tilting your head. He swipes your tears softly, further breaking your heart, that you’re such a fucking fool.

“Are you running away, Duchess?” He whispers, and you look at him in confusion.

“You cannot want to look upon me. Did you not hear what I’ve done!?”

“You did something with your husband. I expected you to have already been intimate with him, it was surprising when you were not. Did you not think I knew such a role as a… the other man… would not entail that? I’m more surprised you let someone so terrible touch you. Please come talk.”

You gasp, turning a bit towards him. “You do not need to help me with the annulment, with anything. I’m horrible! Don’t you see!?”

“You are not horrible.” You laugh without humor, as you look at his tired, sweet hazel eyes, that are way too fucking kind.

“I am! I let him, I did, don’t you understand I was disloyal?”

“So what, you wanted to feel desired by the man who made you feel so terrible? It’s an entire trauma response. You can’t blame yourself.” He’s caressing your face, and you can’t stand it, can’t stand what you’ve done.

“You’re being too nice! You should hate me!” You shove at his hard chest then, as you struggle more and more to breathe, hands numb, so numb you have to shake them, and he frowns at you, lines in his cheeks deepening.

“Hate you? How could I hate you? You came to tell me, you clearly care for our relationship. I knew this was a possibility. You think I don’t want you now?”

“How can you! How can you!? Nanami…. Fuck I can’t… fuck…” You’re gasping for breath, your throat so tight, like something is sitting on your chest, you nearly collapse, and Nanami holds you then, as you cannot speak.

“Darling, what’s wrong? Please, sit. What can I do?” How can he be so kind to you, you don’t deserve it, any of it. You’re the awful woman who almost laid with Gojo, after everything. You open your mouth to speak, but now you’re feeling fuzzy, as you can’t get a breath. “What can I do!?”

“As-as-”

“Asthma?” He asks gruffly, and you barely manage a nod, as you are seeing black spots, as you’re fading. He rushes off then, coming back with hot black coffee steaming in one of his ceramic cups. “Here, please, drink.”

You gratefully put your lips to the rim of the cup, sipping and then coughing into your hand, so embarrassing, but he urges you to drink again, as you cough up more and more, air flowing finally to your lungs. He continues to feed you sips, deftly unlacing your corset with his free hand, rubbing your back, as you start to come to, with greedy breaths.

You take a deep one, tears dripping off your lashes as you look at him, at his exhale of relief. “Fuck, you terrified me. Are you okay?”

“Thank you… how did you…”

“My nephew has it as well. I should have noticed sooner, you always rub your throat here.” His thumbs brush against your throat, and you swallow nervously, overwhelmed, starting to get upset again, but Nanami is brushing your hair back gently, sighing. “You do not need to get that upset, it makes it so much worse.”

“How can I not be upset that I wronged a man like you!? I hate myself, I hate myself so much!” You’re sobbing holding your hands to your face now, and Nanami gently takes them down, tilting your chin up, and you slowly try to come to, breasts heaving up and down.

“Do not say such things. I do not hate you.” He says softly, his voice breaking in the middle, eyes glimmering with his own emotions, Nanami was always so calm, so collected, but now…

“I hate me enough for you too. Your life would be better if you never met me, if I never-” He slams his lips on yours then, hands gripping your wrists tightly, and you sink into him, into the kiss, before yanking away. “I don’t deserve your kisses! I don’t deserve any attention from you!”

“Will you let me decide what you deserve?” He whispers, pulling you closer, until you’re flush against his chest. “I wish you did not hate yourself, because I feel quite the opposite. I love so much about you, your smile, how you are so different from other nobles, you’re so humble, so sweet. I love your laugh, and how comfortable your presence is.”

“Nanami, you can’t like me. You can’t.” You sniffle more, and he’s got an arm wrapped around your waist, making you feel so safe, so loved almost, when you don’t feel you deserve it. You watch him sigh, as he kisses your forehead, and your eyelashes flutter shut. “You cannot be fine with this, you deserve someone you can have fully, not in pieces!”

“I’d take pieces of you over any whole person.” You kiss him back fervently now, straddling his lap, as your tears flow down your face, and he’s kissing them, his hands ripping off your corset then, shocking you for a moment as you catch a breath.

“Why do you care? Why do you want me?” You ask, through your tears, and he cups your face, gazing at you so seriously, as you feel him hard against you.

“Why wouldn’t I want you? I ache for you, you’re all I can think of, wishing you were here, with me, not with him. Not being destroyed, to the point of hating yourself. Wishing to see that light in those eyes, that girl I met.” You sniffle again, teeth clenching, hands gripping in his hair, as you both taste each other’s breaths.

“She’s dead and gone, Kento.” You whisper brokenly, and he shakes his head, pulling you even closer, so close you can’t breathe.

“She is not, she is right here.” Kento’s hands slide up your stocking clad thighs, pulling you firmer on him. “You will not let this ruin you. I will only leave this if you do not… want me.”

“Kento, how could I not!? How could anyone not want you!”

“I say the same to you. Can you not see what I do?” He kisses you again, and you exhale against his lips, as your tongues meet, as he’s undressing you right on his living room floor, as you’re fervently unbuttoning his shirt, kissing down his chest, his hot skin, earning his sexy soft moans. “Darling… you’re upset. I must stop.”

“Yes I’m upset, I’m upset I hurt you.” You say hoarsely, running your hands down every hard muscle. “I’m upset I was an idiot. A whore.”

“You are no whore.” He says angrily, and you shake your head.

“Oh, I’ve become one lately. Look at me? What I’ve done, hurting you-”

“Let me decide what I can and cannot take.”

“Then take me.” He pauses, at your insanely bold words, as your pulse pounds so hard you can feel it thrumming your whole body like a beat of a drum. “If you want me, take me.”

“If I want you? You speak so foolishly at times, as if you have no clue your effects, as if I haven’t dreamed of this.” You’re in his arms now, as he easily carries you to his bed, kissing you over and over, taking off the remnants of your dress, slipping his fingers down your slit, watching you arch up, gasping. “The nights where I dream of tasting you again.”

“But I…”

“I care not what happened.” Kento’s hot lips trail down your stomach, as his mouth finds you, and it’s harder than he’d gone before, desperate strokes of a skilled tongue, his thick fingers stretching your entrance, and you’re clinging to him, screaming out and shaking.

“Kento! Mmm!” You’re so close, as he pumps those fingers in and out, as he looks up at you, flicking the tip of his tongue on your clit, watching you as you cum, as you lose yourself in him, in his affection, in his care, and you yank on him, pulling him up. “Please, please, please.”

“What you do to me…” He slides up you, fully naked, as you reach down to his thick length, but he halts you, grabbing your wrist, pinning it above your head, studying you. “You must be sure, I do not want you to regret this.”

You take more breaths, as your addled mind runs everywhere, as you see the man that could love you, that cares, so much he forgives your foolishness, then as you shut your eyes, you see Satoru Gojo’s brilliant blue eyes. The sadness in them, the mystery, the coldness, just yesterday you’d been with him, so close to losing your virginity.

“We can stop. I can pleasure you more, sweet girl.” Nanami says, and you look up at him, as he cups your face, as his blond hair falls over his brow just so, a man that is open, that cares, that has not faltered. A man that just made you cum, who you just adore, and now you feel his hot length on your inner thigh. You raise your hips, biting your lower lip, and watching his eyes shut as he moans.

“I want you to be my first, Nanami Kento. You.” You say then, and gasp when he reaches down, rubbing the tip of his cock against you, and he tenses, the hand bracing himself entangling in your hair.

“I only have so much willpower, I will not deny my Darling what she asks.” You melt, smiling up at him, and he smiles just a bit, leaning down, his weight heavy on you. “Just always be honest with me. Will you promise?”

“I promise, I swear, I will be honest.”

“Even if it… hurts me.”

You choke up again, caressing his handsome face with a free hand. “Even if it hurts, I swear.”

“And this may hurt for a moment. Will you forgive me?” You nod then, gasping in shock and pain when his thick length presses inside your eager little entrance, breaking that little barrier so deep, and he pauses, groaning, resting his head on yours as you’re crying in pain. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Please, give it a moment.”

You feel the burn, as Nanami reaches down, grabbing one of your thighs, pressing in deeper, you feel every emotion known to man as you realize what you’re doing, and that Satoru will hate you. As you feel too full, far too full, so stretched as he pulls back, then presses in again, your teeth clenching from the pain. Nanami looks at you, worry and pleasure mixing on his face.

“You’re too tiny, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You feel so perfect.”

Perfect, huh?

“Please, let me…” Nanami finds your clit, as he kisses down your throat, and you’re staring at his ceiling, hating yourself, hating all that you feel, and wanting to forget it all. You feel him sucking on your throat, right where Satoru had, as you grow wetter under his ministrations, as you feel him sinking deeper, and it starts to hurt less just a bit.

You hate yourself as he moans, as he looks down lovingly at you, concern in his gaze, as he eases back, then slides in again, and you gasp, as it starts to feel good, clinging to his waist. He’s exhaling, kissing you softly, releasing your clit to grab your breasts, to kiss on them, to gently suck a nipple into his mouth. He rolls his hips just so, hitting a spot deep that feels good.

“Ah! Mmm… I… that feels…” He smiles just a bit, pressing kisses on your lush breasts, sliding one hand to cup your face. “Feels… good.”

“I want you to feel good, sweet girl. I want to feel your perfect little pussy tighten around me.” His husky words, along with the motions of his hips, start to work you up, as your body accommodates, as you stretch around his cock, and get wetter. “You’re so beautiful, darling, you feel so good.”

You melt under his praise, as he now pumps into you, more steady, so deep you feel him completely, as he sinks fully in, moaning and cupping your face with both his hands, eyes looking into yours as he works his hips. Nanami Kento is gently making love to you, touching you everywhere he can, kissing your body everywhere he can, as you fall more into it, into the feelings.

The pressure in your tummy.

The slickness of your pussy.

The trembling of your thighs around his hips.

The way he looks at you.

“Darling… darling let me feel you, let me feel you cum on me.” He says softly, urging you, pressing your thighs up and hitting deeper, making your toes curl, your eyes roll back, as he moves quicker. “Please, let me feel you, my love. Please.”

My love.

You blink a bit, eyes focusing, as your hands pull on his hips, as you feel your body rising higher and higher, like when he pleasures you, but more intensely. “Kento, I think I’m-”

“I feel it, let go love, let go.” He whispers, and you do let go, shattering and cumming around him, and he groans loudly, stilling inside of you, as he watches your face, sighing, his eyes flitting back and forth. “Oh, you’re so beautiful.”

“Kento…” You blink away tears, and he kisses you once more.

“I’m close, darling, you’re too tight, too perfect. Can you cum once more?” He asks softly, and you nod, gasping out when he fucks you harder, tip dragging against that same spot, and you cum again, getting so wet, as he pulls out, huffing, stroking his cock now.

Soon stringy white ropes are spread on your belly, and you’re trembling, overwhelmed by what just occurred. You blanch when you notice blood, leaning up the bed and gasping, for Nanami to shake his head, running his free hand up and down your shoulder.

“Darling, it’s normal the first time. Are you all right?” He asks, so concerned, and your world closes in on you.

You’ll just hurt him more!

You just did this, you just lay with a man, who is not your husband, a man you were so sure would hate you, would never want you again. You can’t quite comprehend what even has happened. Nanami is cleaning you, holding you tightly to him, stroking your hair, and you want to sink into his embrace, but you’re so confused, so disoriented, you just take a few breaths.

“Did I hurt you? Please, speak to me.” His concern makes your tummy flip, makes you feel so sick almost as it sinks in.

“It hurt at first, but then it felt really good.” He exhales, squeezing your body tight against him.

“Oh I’m so relieved, I was so worried I hurt you.” You shake your head, and he tilts your chin up, looking down at you. “Darling, thank you for this, for trusting me with something so precious.”

You smile tremulously, as you run your hands through his hair. “Thank you for being so careful with me.”

“Was I? I worry I went too rough.”

“No, you always make me feel precious.” He kisses your cheeks, as you come down, as you collect yourself, and your reality sets in.

“I’m falling in love with you.” You gasp, mouth wide open, tilting your head back to stare incredulously, seeing his cheeks flush. “You need not say it back, I know you are conflicted, I know you’re so hurt from him still. But I needed you to know, I would have never taken your innocence if I did not feel that way, if I did not feel so much love in my heart.”

Your heart breaks, and you can’t stop the onslaught of fresh tears, fuck how many times have you cried today? As you realize his feelings are deeper than you knew, and you have feelings too but you’re so confused, so overwhelmed by Satoru Gojo, and his feverish effects. You cannot make heads to tails your feelings, you cannot put anything together properly.

“Darling it’s fine, I just had to let you know. How badly I wish I could hold you all night long.” You bury your face against him as he soothes you, as he rocks you, as you feel so different, as you’re sore, as your heart is being pulled into so many directions you think it will combust.

“I wish you could hold me all night.” You say, and he kisses you once more, swiping those tears. “I do not deserve you.”

“You deserve much more than you think. You deserve to be happy.”

Happy.

What was happy?

Was it being in Nanami’s arms, in these brief moments of reprieve? Was it baking cookies, was it his sweet kisses, was it feeling loved, was it hearing Nanami Kento is falling in love? Why then, do you feel so fucking sad, as you think of what Satoru will say, how he will feel. Why do you care, when he fucked how many women!? Why do you care!

Why is he in your goddamn head? As you’ve made love to another man, as Nanami took all your firsts, and as he’s whispering sweet encouragement in your ear, as he helps you dress. As Nanami is kissing you over and over, and your body is so sensitive, as you try to make any sense of anything.

“I have news of the annulment, fuck I got distracted.” You giggle a bit, softly, blushing, and Nanami grins. “There it is, a little laugh for me.”

“Oh, Kento…” You lean up, kissing his chin, as you both sway as if to dance alone in Nanami’s quiet, warm living room, imagining a world where this was your home, how would that feel? “You forgiving me, it makes no sense, but I am glad that you did. I would miss you so dearly.”

“And I would miss you. He has agreed to meet next week, will you be able to do so? Are you ready to try to leave?” You nod then, even as this sinking feeling pulls, you shove it far, far away. You and Satoru were toxic, you hated each other, you were horrible, you both cheated on each other, then hurt each other, and others.

It must end before it begins.

“I wish I could take you back to my room, hold you all night… I wish you didn’t have to go…”

“Nanami, this is what I meant, you’re hurt.”

“I am stronger than you seem to think. I told you, you’re worth any pain.”

“I don’t want you in pain.” You sigh, kissing him over and over, soft and sweet little pecks, and Nanami finally lets you go, brushing your hair back.

“The pleasure of being in your company, of being inside you-” Your breath catches, as he’s whispering in your ear. “Eclipses any pain.”

You sigh, snuggling against him. “Kento, you’re too good for this world.”

“Nonsense. Please be safe, please see me soon. I count the moments until our next meeting, before you even leave.” You both hold hands, and you smile shyly, as you step out into the evening air. “Are you fine to walk, it’s getting dark.”

“I am fine, it’s not far. Good night Kento.”

“Good night darling.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk away, as you are trembling, as the world crashes on you, as you realize you entangle an even larger web than before, as you realize it’s all going to end up with everyone hurt.

You still hate yourself, even if Nanami thinks he loves you.

You walk in the manor, and see Satoru there, at the dinner table, sipping on a drink, looking at you, at first hopeful, then analyzing, his eyes everywhere, and he stands, gripping the glass so hard it shatters into a million tiny pieces. You stand there, sullen and silent, not bragging like before, not in some delicious mood, no you hate yourself more and more.

Satoru walks to you, long strides with his tall legs, until he’s facing you, until his hessian boots touch your slippered feet, and he tilts your chin up, seeing the marks Nanami left, and he chuckles darkly. He grabs you by your hair, pulling tightly, forcing you to look him right in his broken blue eyes, you gulp as you do, as you feel so horrible you can’t take it.

And why.

Why?

He’d done this since the beginning!

Why!?

Why do you care.

Why…

“You fucked him, didn’t you!?” He demands, and all you can do is look down, as he cups your face, with emotions screwing up his beautiful face. “You fucked him, just say it, just say it.”

“I did.” You whisper, and he lets you go roughly, walking to the table, pulling everything off and it crashes to the floor. You tense as you watch him, as you feel yourself already tight in your throat again, you feel your body going numb as you watch him pace, hands in his snowy white hair.

“How could you!? How could you! I sent them home, I’ve waited all day for you, and you were letting another man take your virginity!?” You just sob, brokenly, into your hands, shocked your eyes have wetness left.

“We will… be not together… soon. Annulment. I’m getting one. What does it matter what I do?” You say, in a hoarse, weak voice, and Satoru scowls, grabbing you by your arms then.

“Why would you not give me a chance!”

“Why would you not give me a chance when we met! As soon as we met, you decided this all!” You shove him off you, and smack him then, only for him to smack you right back, shoving you against the table, bare of anything, his face full of rage as you both bear handprints on your faces.

“You stupid fucking girl. So stupid. I begged for you, I was pathetic for you, bloody hell I despise you. I hate you so fucking much.” He’s squeezing your face, and you just cry, eyes shutting.

“I deserve your hatred, as you deserve mine. We both are nothing to each other, nothing! Do you see!?”

“Oh, I see, crystal fucking clear. I’m not good enough, am I?”

Your eyes go wide. “What!? No, you’re just fucking cruel Gojo! You’re mean, you’re nasty, you think eating me out makes it all okay! No!”

“And what sort of whore fucks a man like that, huh?” You glare up at him.

“You, you’re the sort of whore, huh! Fucking mad it wasn’t you?”

“Fuck you. Fuck you.” He’s squeezing you so hard you think you really might break, as you both breathe each other’s air, as you grow light headed, as every inch of you ignites for a man that can’t be yours, a man that hates you. “You exist to destroy me, I knew it from the beginning.”

“You keep saying things like this, as if you did not wish for this, for us to do nothing, I am fulfilling your wishes!”

“All I wished was to know you, to touch you, to be near you, and all you do is crush me. Just like-” He stops then, and you look up at him, eyes fucking burning, as your own hands stop shoving him, just resting, feeling his heart pound against you at an insane rate.

“Just like who?” You ask softly, and he scoffs, leaning low, his lips hovering right over yours, and you hate how you still ache, even after everything, even knowing this was nothing, you want him, you want him.

Why do you?

Why?

Why did you do this?

Why!?

Why do you care?

Why…

“I’ll never open up again to you. Go be a little slut and open your legs for whoever you want, see if I ask to come near you.” You grit your teeth.

“Good! I don’t want you!”

“Good, I will never want you!

“Good!”

“Fuck you, Duchess.” He pulls your hair hard again, and kisses you deeply, overtaking you, bruising your lips, and you gasp, and let him, let his tongue ruin your mouth, let his teeth bite you. He bites your lips so hard you bleed, so you bite him back, and then he shoves you off, chest heaving, red beading his pink pouty mouth. “I hate you.”

“I hate you.” You whisper back, and you hate that it’s a lie, you hate that you care, you hate that his pain hurts you. “I chose someone who loves me.”

“Loves you!? Ha! You’re so stupid.”

“Why, because I think someone could? You just fear no one will ever love you, and I wonder why, maybe because you’re horrible!”

He kisses you again, and you cling to him, tasting the iron of your blood mixing, as you’re moaning, and fuck it feels good. Fuck it’s heady and insanity, and fuck you can’t explain it. It has to stop, it has to. “You’re horrible, a stupid whore. A cold hearted bitch.” He whispers, pulling so hard you think he’ll rip your hair out.

“You helped make me this way.” You bite him again, and he slaps you again, earning you just getting wetter as you smack the fuck out of him back with a loud clack in the air. And damned if you're not wetter than you had with Nanami inside you. Fuck Satoru. Fuck him.

“Hate you so much.” He’s squeezing your throat, and you whimper, earning his soft moan. “Hate you little whore.”

“I h-hate you, Satoru. I’m glad I did it. You get… a taste of… your own fucking medicine, huh?” You whisper, as he squeezes, as he grabs your ass, pressing you against his thigh, and you grind helplessly.

He groans, feeling your heat on his leg, feeling you soak his trousers. “Pathetic, nasty slut, can’t help yourself, can you?”

You suck in a breath, as he presses his thigh up, and you could cum from that. Fuck he’s right, you are, a pathetic slut for this heinous man. “You’re pathetic, man whore, fuck you.”

“I’ll go fuck this entire brothel.” He shoves you then, and you’re coughing, as he walks away, grabbing his coat, and you follow him, furious.

“Oh no surprises there, what do I care, Satoru! What do I even fucking care what you do! Soon you’ll never have to see me again.”

He stares at you, hurt blatant in his eyes, before steeling himself, and you see him, the cold Duke Gojo again.

“Good, I can’t fucking wait.”

Gojo’s POV

Satoru Gojo has two women sucking on his cock that night, as he sips his whiskey, as he thinks of you, of your gorgeous face, covered with his red handprint, as he thinks of leaving handprints all over your slutty body. As he thinks of fucking you better than your silly baker surely did, as he thinks of fucking you so good you scream for him, that you’re convulsing.

Stupid slutty brat, that he still wants, even as he watches the two women make out over his tip, swapping his precum between their mouths. As he pictures another man taking what was his, as he thinks of killing that man, tearing him apart, he sips more of his whiskey, burning a trail down his throat.

“You taste so yummy, your Grace!” One girl giggles, looking up at Satoru and licking her lower lip.

“You do indeed, your grace.” He hums, as they set his glass down, pulling them both to him, each on one thigh.

“Play with each other, would you? Wanna see you both kissing.” Satoru says, and they giggle and kiss, as Satoru runs a hand down their backs, and the liquor has run through him, and he’s just a little dizzy. As he shuts his eyes and pictures fucking your stupid whore mouth until you drool.

Fuck why can’t he stop thinking of you, after you crushed him!?

Why!

Why does he care?

Why!?

Why does Satoru still want you, when he said he never would in the first place, when he swore to himself he was done forever with any women.

Why…

Why do you hurt him so?

Why.

Satoru has two women on a gaudy red bed in a brothel, and he figures fuck it then, fingering one, when he kisses down the other’s stomach, and she gasps as he flicks a tongue over her folds. She’s whimpering, pulling at his hair, like you did, because what did it matter anymore? You weren’t special, you were nothing, you didn’t give a fuck about him.

You fucked someone, who knows maybe he came in you, maybe he’d get you pregnant, maybe you’d go live with him and have babies. Maybe you’d be happy, and if Satoru had love, the love you want, the love you think is real, he’d happily let you go. But Satoru hates you so much now, fuck he hates you, hates how you’ve made him feel things again, just to destroy him.

He’s lapping up this woman, who’s squirting her pleasure all on his face, as the other girl is screaming out, cumming around his fingers, and all he can think of is your taste, is your pretty face. It makes him that much harder, as he dives down on the other woman, while the woman he’d just had cum sinks to her knees, sucking his cock, and he fucks her throat.

When Satoru fucks into one of the women, he doesn’t know their names, he doesn’t care, not when he cried over you, not when you broke him, not when he’s watching the other woman lick her cunt. Not when they’re laying on top of each other, and he’s fucking one, then the other, not even then does he care to know their names, not even then can he forget you.

Satoru can never get over you, the one that was never his. And he wanted it this way, didn’t he? Now he’d never get you, what a fool he was to have thought so, not when you’re in the arms of another, not when you gave yourself away, not when he still would take you, still would die to have you

The girl who brushed his hair back and tucked him in, who were you truly? You were right, Satoru did not know you, and you did not know him, all he knows is that he burns for you.

All he knows is that he can’t cum, not when he’s picturing you instead, not when he wishes he could feel your needy, slutty cunt with his cock. He can’t even be disgusted by you, you’re too goddamn gorgeous, he wants you too much, he’d take you anyway, he’d take you right after you fucked someone.

And he hates himself for it. Satoru hates himself, and he hates you. He hates that he feels something, he hates that he feels so much, he detests your pretty face, he can’t take your haunting looks. He hates that he understands what you did, that he can’t blame you even in his fury, because you did what he pushed you to do. You just reacted to him, and here he was.

He was a fool.

How could he think a couple right actions would save something that never even got started? How could these two pretty women not do hardly a thing, in any goddamn position, in any pressure on his cock, as he tries to fall into them, to hide the pain, the darkness, that sucks him in, the darkness of his feelings.

You are a black hole, you suck him in and leave nothing.

Your POV

Satoru Gojo is a black hole, he sucks you in, and leaves you with nothing, he scatters you into pieces, crashing to the earth with the weight of his gravity. Satoru Gojo hates you, and he’s fucking his whores, and you can’t stop thinking of him, of the pain in his eyes, in the words he said, so mysterious, in the way the man grabs you, looks at you, with anger, with lust with…

Not love.

It was not love, it could not be, no Nanami loves you, Nanami treats you so right, Nanami cares. Even after all you’ve done, he cares. And you should not feel bad for your actions, you should not feel bad for wanting to be loved, not when you’re with this black hole of a human being.

Then why does it hurt so bad?

Why?

Why do you picture him on top of you?

Why!?

You hate yourself, and you hate yourself so deeply, it’s like you’re unrecognizable, like there’s nothing of you left. Satoru Gojo saps the air from your lungs, he makes you burn for him against your own goddamn will, he makes you question yourself, he consumes you. With his stupid blue eyes, with his demeaning, nasty words that excite you.

Even as you touch your cheek, feeling the sting of his hand, still throbbing from his hits, your nipples tighten in response. You’d lost your virginity today, but you lost more than that, you’ve lost yourself, as you stare at the ceiling, alone in this empty goddamn room, in the cold house, and you rub your throat, as you struggle to catch a breath.

But how could you breathe with Satoru near?

Why did you wish he could take your breath away, why would you gladly give it to him, when he does not deserve it, why do you hate yourself more than you did this morning? Why do you see him, and his stupid pretty face, why does the biting kiss of his cruel lips do more to you than anything else? Why do the very thoughts of him have you panting in your bed.

Your heavy eyes shut, tired of crying, as you fall into a dreamless sleep, as you sink into the cold sheets of your bed, a bed that feels like a prison. In a home that doesn’t feel like a home, but feels like pure hell, hell that you just want to drown in, for a chance to see Satoru’s evil goddamn soul. For him to let you in.

Why are you like this?

Why…

ao3 chap : https://archiveofourown.org/works/58976983/chapters/152639695

A/N: Well... mmhmm. Hope you all um, enjoyed!? This traumatic ass insane chapter. Did you think they were going to make progress yet? Oh no, dear readers it's a toxic, enemies to lovers slow burn. I put alot of work into this so I hope it shows <3 I put these out very fast, but I do not enjoy the pushiness of some people demanding chapters out even quicker! I'm writing 10k plus chaps in less than a week lol. Please respectful when asking for updates.

Love you all SO MUCH. I can't wait to read your thoughts, I just love them :)

Until next time, dear Masochistic readers.

Part Eight

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