脷 .ᐟ TONGUE. in which, your ‘relationship’ with James couldn’t be messier, a situationship based on fights and low-key hookups, tearing at each other like it’s second nature—all sharp words, dirty looks, and the kind of tension that never really goes away. because the thing about james? he knows exactly how to hurt you—and you hurt him right back…
❛ 赵雨凡 𝑥 idol!reader ❜ 𓈒𓈒 based on my baby @tinygladiatorworm ‘s request
⚠︎ smut, angst, multiple sexual scenes, violence, james is mean but reader isn’t all that better, denial, toxic dynamics, james is an asshole but listen to me NEVER in bed, ghosting, industry problems ( sasaengs, rumors, bullying. ), alcohol abuse, situationship, soft!dom james, tit job, unprotected & protected sex / multiple positions, oral, masturbation, gaming sex [more to come]
taglist : @jakeycakeys @justpassingdontworry @crypticscarrift @ja4hyvn @taelvvrzz @heejakexx68 @kienhawon @jinniepilled @eczlipse @wxnizz @sonyui @seokiify @seonghwaswifeuuuu @beomchuu2 @iuuuugdh @cupcakeangel9 @2166v @meyesthethird @yuudaiinhs @kieangelic @jjamiesmess @t0m1efan @boundlesstroopersurvivor @kpopsmutty69 @yufanmeal @lcvemonth @2bamgyu @I3xyisfatal @jjujjukeukeu @spacexdough @sourcandyfish @viciousdarlings
You rolled your eyes so hard it actually hurt, tossing your phone onto the silk duvet of your bed.
Lock my doors? Who the fuck does this fucking little bitch think he is?
As if he hadn't already broken through every single one of your defenses months ago, making sure you were now opened raw and spread on a fucking platter for him - aphrodisiac foods and all.
You knew exactly what he was doing playing that toxic game where he'd insult your existence one minute and then pull you against him so tight you could feel his heartbeat the next.
Grabbing your oversized hoodie, you didn't even bother changing out of your stage makeup, the glitter still clinging to your eyelids like shimmering armor. You knew you were playing with fire, but the adrenaline of a fight was the only thing that made you feel alive lately.
Maybe that was the whole problem.
Every argument with James sent something electric through your veins, sharp and addictive, the way his jaw clenched when he was angry, the way your pulse quickened when neither of you backed down, the way every cruel word felt like a challenge thrown across a battlefield.
It was exhausting. It was toxic.
It was also the closest thing to feeling alive you had found in months.
Silence bored you, peace made your skin itch.
A fight with James could have your heart hammering against your ribs so hard it felt like it was trying to escape.
It made you feel seen. Seen in the worst possible way, maybe, but seen nonetheless.
Because no one got under your skin the way he did and you hated him for it.
You hated how he could turn a harmless conversation into a screaming match. Hated how he knew exactly which buttons to push. Hated how anger always burned hotter when it was directed at him.
And maybe the sickest part was that, somewhere between the insults and slammed doors, you found yourself craving it.
Not because fighting felt good, but because it was the only time neither of you pretended not to care.
Ten minutes later, you were standing in the hallway of the Cortis dorms, your knuckles rapping sharply against the wood, and your keys in your hand ( which you’d hoped you could stab through his stupid face ).
The door swung open almost immediately, and there he was, hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, looking absolutely wrecked but still somehow infuriatingly handsome.
"The hell you doin' here?" James muttered, leaning heavily against the doorframe. His voice was raspy, thick with the remnants of alcohol and irritation. He looked you up and down, his gaze lingering a second too long on your legs before he scowled. "Thought you'd be tucked in at 9pm, acting all high and mighty like always.”
"You're a dick, James," you snapped, stepping past him into his space without waiting for an invitation. "Juhoon told me you were out here throwing a tantrum like a child."
"A tantrum?" He let out a dry, bitter laugh, closing the door with a heavy thud behind you. He stepped into your personal bubble, looming over you so you had to tilt your head back just to meet his eyes. The tension was thick enough to choke on that familiar, jagged energy that always preceded a blowout or a breakdown. “You’re the one who came here. I was just drunk, it wasn’t that deep.”
"Not that deep?" You scoffed, a sharp, melodic sound that felt jagged in the quiet of the dorms. You stepped closer, your chest nearly brushing his, refusing to let his height intimidate you. "You're literally texting people like a fucking psycho, James. You're embarrassing yourself."
James let out a huff, the scent of expensive whiskey and something uniquely him that warm, musky scent that always made your stomach do a traitorous flip hitting you full force.
He didn't back away. Instead, he leaned down, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark and swirling with a mix of intoxication and pure, unadulterated irritation.
"Embarrassing? Please," he sneered, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before snapping back to your eyes. "You love it. You love comin' over here in the middle of the night just to tell me how much of a prick I am. You're addicted to the drama, y/n. Don't even lie to yourself, that’s embarrassing."
He reached out, his fingers catching a strand of your hair, tugging it just slightly not enough to hurt, but enough to make the contact feel intentional, aggressive.
"You're so damn extra," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave, turning low and dangerous. "Walkin' in here looking like that...full of attitude. You think you're so tough, huh? Like you're too big for this shit?"
He stepped even closer, forcing you to take a half step back until the edge of his kitchen counter pressed into your lower back. He loomed over you, his presence heavy and suffocating in the best possible way.
"You're a menace," he whispered, his thumb grazing your jawline, his touch surprisingly soft compared to the venom in his words. "A tiny, loud mouthed, beautiful menace. And you're drivin' me fucking crazy."
His eyes searched yours, searching for the spark of a fight, for the retaliation he knew was coming. He was baiting you, pushing you to the edge because he knew that once you tipped over, there was no going back to being 'just friends' or 'just a situationship.'
"So, what's it gonna be tonight?" he challenged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You gonna scream at me 'til your throat hurts, or are you gonna shut the fuck up and actually do something about it?"
You let out a sharp, mocking laugh, refusing to let his proximity intimidate you even as your heart thudded a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
God, he was so predictable, using his hands to distract you when he knew he was losing the verbal war.
You reached up, grabbing the front of his shirt with a white knuckled grip, pulling him down until your foreheads collided.
"You're so full of yourself, thinking i’m the only one addicted to this," you hissed, your eyes flashing with a mix of fury and hunger. "Maybe I didn't come here to scream, James. Maybe I just came to remind you exactly who it is that actually puts up with your bullshit."
Without waiting for his smug comeback, you stood on your tiptoes and crashed your lips against his, the kiss less of a romantic gesture and more of a collision hard, desperate, and tasting faintly of whiskey.
The moment your lips crashed into his, a low, guttural sound escaped the back of James's throat halfway between a groan and a growl.
He didn't do gentle. He didn't do "sweet."
The second you initiated the contact, his hands moved from your hair to your waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of your oversized hoodie with a bruising intensity, as if he were trying to pull you inside his very skin.
He kissed you back with a frantic, starving energy, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that felt like a battle for dominance. It was messy, teeth clashing, the taste of whiskey and salt and pure, unbridled tension coating your mouth. He tasted like the chaos you both thrived in.
"Fuck," he breathed against your lips, breaking the kiss for just a fraction of a second to catch his breath, his forehead still pressed hard against yours. His eyes were blown wide, the pupils swallowing the iris, looking dark and predatory in the dim light of the apartment. "You're such a brat. Always gotta have the last word, even when you're using your mouth for somethin' else."
He didn't give you time to retort. His hands slid down from your waist, gripping your thighs and hoisting you up so you had to wrap your legs around his waist just to stay upright. He backed you up against the counter, the granite cold against your skin, but he was pure heat.
"You think you're so smart, huh?" he muttered, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear, sending a violent shiver down your spine. He nipped at your lobe, his voice dropping into that rough, drawl that always made your knees weak. "Thinkin' you can just walk in here, look all pretty and smug, and make me forget how much you pissed me off hours ago?"
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze heavy and hooded, his thumb dragging roughly over your bottom lip, smearing the remnants of your lip gloss.
“I still hate you.” He declared, as if you could care less.
He leaned back in, his kiss deeper this time, more possessive, his hands roaming your body as if he were trying to memorize every inch of the girl who knew exactly how to ruin him.
A wicked, dangerous thought flickered in the back of your mind. You weren't just going to let him have his way not tonight. He thought he was the one in control, the one who could just summon you with a few drunken, messy texts and expect you to fall into his lap.
You leaned into the chaos, matching his intensiyty with a fervor that was almost manic, let your hands slide under his shirt, your nails grazing the skin of his back, tracing the muscles there just enough to make him hiss through his teeth. You kissed him like you were trying to consume him, your movements calculated and devastatingly effective. You knew exactly where to press, how to tilt your head, how to let your breath hitch in a way that he could feel against his skin.
You felt him react the way his breathing hitched, the way his grip on your thighs tightened until it was almost painful, and the unmistakable shift in his body as he grew hard against you. He was losing it. The smug, cocky James was being dismantled by the very person he'd spent the last hour insulting.
Just as his hands began to slide lower, just as he let out a sound that was finally pure and honest, you pulled back.
It wasn't a gradual retreat, it was a sharp, sudden break. You slid off him, your feet hitting the kitchen floor with a soft thud that felt deafening in the sudden silence.
James stumbled slightly, his hands grasping at empty air where your waist had been seconds ago. He blinked, his eyes glazed and dark, looking completely dazed and desperately needy. "Yo... where the fuck are you going'?" he rasped, his voice cracking. He reached for you, his movements uncoordinated, his face a mask of confusion and sudden, intense frustration. "Y/n, don't be a bitch. We just-"
"We just what, James?" you interrupted, your voice cool, smooth, and entirely too calm for someone who had just been devouring him. You reached up, smoothing down your oversized hoodie, your expression unreadable despite the glitter still shimmering on your eyelids. "You were 'just drunk,' remember? You said it wasn't that deep.“
You turned toward the door, a small, triumphant smirk playing on your lips that you made sure he couldn't see.
"Wait, hold up," he growled, stepping toward you, his chest heaving. He looked wrecked hair a disaster, lips swollen, and a look of pure, desperate irritation on his face. "You're really gonna do this? You're gonna leave me like this? That's low, even for you."
"Get used to it you manchild," you tossed over your shoulder, grabbing your keys. "You wanted a tantrum? You got one. Goodnight, James."
As you walked out the door, you could practically feel his gaze burning a hole in your back, his frustration radiating off him in waves. You knew he was standing there, probably cursing your name under his breath.
And that was exactly the point.
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