#smhhh

disappearing when you get too tangible, falling just out of his grasp when he needs you the most, to only reappear in the dead of night right outside his doorsteps. fleeting and sending shivers down your spine, when he stops replying to your texts and uses body to reply months later. completely forgetting each others presences, until you can’t no longer shake the fantom touches left behind on your bodies— like your trembling skin never forgot.

“i know you’d keep coming back to me, regardless.”

your words plague him, and he’s tired of it replaying in his mind when beomgyu sees you weeks after your last meet, seemingly in a date with some other random guy in the nearby mall. you silently pass each other with such swiftness it’s almost ghostly, letting your eyes talk instead. he hates that you’re absolutely right, but he knows he can turn this around just as fast with a quick “you up?” text. he knows you’d fight your instinct to forbid this cycle from continuing on and on, but still open your door to him when he arrives.

and it does continue, ignoring each other’s spiraling emotions to join once again once the carnal, bodily instincts overtakes your reasoning and senses in dire need. the way you stare at each other in public only a fragment of how heavy it becomes when you open the door to him that night, his feline eyes directly meet yours and, staring right into yours without adjustment like they’ve committed your height to memory. and you stand there, letting him tower you and show you his stupid smirk. and he takes in your unamused look, showing him the stupid roll of your eyes — that’s when he’s truly set on making them roll harder with pleasure later.

sometimes you just miss the way his hanging chain felt between your teeth and his cock filling you in ways you can’t find anywhere else.. sometimes you thrive in the unadulterated loathing painting his dark expression when you suddenly appear, revel on how he still lets you pin him down and ride him just how you know he likes. sometimes he just misses your cries when he bites onto your cheek like a rabid animal after snaking his arm around your neck and squeezes away your air. sometimes he missed the feeling of the adrenaline rush from just your taste, when you’re shoving your panties into his mouth to avoid his truthful words as he practically folds you in half and snaps his hips harder.

it’s comfortable, how easily accessible and obscure it all is when you receive what you want, a fulfilling feral fuck, until the need becomes more. ruining each other.

like how beomgyu ignores you completely for months and goes out in public with another fuck toy when you need him the most, or how you escape the moment he’s aludes he’s getting more attached in another way you don’t need.

but that’s what brings you both back in a sudden rush. it’s what brings all the tension, what makes it rise until it falls out of your lips in gasps the next time he’s pumping deep in your guts. all that forbidden yearning, building up so high until it trembles out his body in an earth shattering orgasm. then cycle repeats.

he ruins you, and the more he does, the more you’re sick of his hold on your throat, figuratively and literally. you ruin him, and the more you do, he’s sick of you spitting on him, figuratively and literally. you don’t know why you keep pushing away from each other, nor do you want to know, seemingly using your mind numbing sex as a means to keep down your heaviest, deepest thoughts from pouring out in front of each other.

but somehow you both end up becoming palpable for one another. fully fleshed and physically real in each other’s presence, when it’s suppose to be nothing but a dopamine outlet. so how did it become something that felt more hollow?

maybe it’s the hatred you feel now. how beomgyu knows your true feelings and uses it against you, how he fixes that stupid fucking smirk because he knows what makes you crumble, how his name was your first gasping breath after waking up in a cold sweat from a sinful dream. how he pinpoints everything back onto you, blaming you and knowing he’s right.

and just when you think you can get away and hide yourself from his hands that continuously break you apart, his words torture you, whispered in your ear since the last time he’s touched your needy body. “it’s too late for you, and you know you want it more.. more than me.”

gyu has that hatred too. with how well you push him to the edge of his instincts without instigating it, how you ghost him after directly telling him you know the affect you have on him — loosening the flimsy string of his true feelings with enchanting words and dimming lights. how shaky your name feels huffing out his lips when he soils his hand with his cum as he sits alone in his bed while you’re off doing who knows what, ignoring him. how you pinpoint everything back onto him, blaming him and knowing you’re right.

it’s fine, he can’t complain, you’re just giving him a taste of his own medicine. he knows he does the same for you, gets irrevocably close to your soul and pulls away to leave only the sensations behind.

you’re both insanely dangerous.

“i know you feel my mark on you, right?”

“shut up—”

“how you need it, desire it.”

“i don’t need you—”

“hate me but crave my touch. you fucking hate me.” words hiss through clench teeth, shuttering the barriers that were built strong for this kind of relationship.

“mghhhh, shut your fucking mouth—”

“yet you take me in when i’ve been so horrible to you. you allow me to mess you up entirely because you need me, want me, no matter how much you deny. isn’t that right, pretty?”

“you… fucking g-ghosted me, when i needed to cum.. the most.”

“oh and you’re mad about that?” invalidating, but catching the slip of another emotion that’s not written into this agreement. “but you deal with it, right?”

“hate you—”

“you can’t escape me.” nor the cycle of this fucked situation, but you both know nobody is pulling away anytime soon.

sometimes you’re both wishing this could all disappear for your own sanity and wellbeing, but the unnaturalness of it all is too thrilling and bewitching; a sinister illusion.

like a ghost.