#and all of my old insecurities are rearing their ugly heads and i want to cry just thinking about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hearts-hunger · 3 years ago

Text

hollow to the touch || sam kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: At a party, you let your insecurity get the better of you and act out in jealousy, and the consequences cut deep for both you and Sam. At home, both of you hope that love is enough to fill up every hollow in a lover’s heart.

Pairings: Sam Kiszka x Reader | Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff | Word Count: 5.6k | Warnings: negative body image, allusions to infidelity, fighting, smoking

Title Song: “Holland” by Novo Amor (my number one angsty sammy song)

A/N: So, I like to break my own heart? I guess? I don’t really know where this fic came from, but I loved writing it! Please let me know what you think — since I don’t write angst that often, I know there’s lots of ways for me to improve :) I hope you like it! ♡

This night just kept getting better and better.

You held your glass in a tighter grip than you needed to, jealousy rearing its ugly head as you looked across the sea of partygoers. There, in front of god and everybody, your boyfriend was laughing and talking and having a grand old time with the prettiest girl in the room. It made your blood boil.

The rational part of you recognized that you’d been awful company as soon as you stepped through the door, so you couldn’t exactly blame him for wanting to spend time with someone else. Though Sam had tried his level best to coax you into having a good time with him, he’d given up when you found a spot at the bar and told him to let you be. He’d done so, giving you a fed-up roll of his eyes but still opening a tab for you before he left.

You took another sip of your drink, watching Sam and that Hollywood starlet type who hung on his every word. Whatever the rational part of your mind said, it all went out the window at the sight of the two of them enjoying each other’s company.

She was gorgeous. Her lithe body was wrapped up in a wine-colored dress, jewels glittering at her neck as they caught the light. She was fashionable, confident, effortlessly sexy. She looked right at home at the lavish party filled with Nashville’s musical elite.

You fussed with the neckline of your own dress, a starry, rose-colored cocktail dress frothy with tulle and crinoline. You’d loved it when you bought it, and Sam had said it made you look as sweet as cotton candy. It didn’t hurt that it hid the parts of your figure you weren’t so fond of under a high waistline and a belled-out skirt. You’d chosen it tonight to match the tiny rose and champagne-colored details on Sam’s black suit, and he’d told you how pretty you looked and made you blush.

As soon as you’d stepped into the party, though, you immediately felt out of place. You stood out in the sea of stunning, elegantly vogue partygoers, and you were a little surprised at how quickly insecurity sank its claws into you. You were a shy, small-town girl in a sweet little pink dress, and you were incredibly self-conscious. Sam had offered you his arm and inadvertently made it worse, showing you off like you were the most beautiful woman there.

You’d taken your insecurity out on him and been unkind, telling him to take you home when you’d not been there five minutes. He tried to puzzle out what was wrong, but you were too embarrassed to tell him. Finally, confused and frustrated with your sudden change in attitude, he’d left you at the bar like you’d said you wanted.

“I’ve listened to some of their music,” you heard the girl in the red dress say, her voice drifting over the crowd. You couldn’t miss the way she looked at him, all doe-eyed and drawn to the effortless charisma Sam possessed in spades. He was ravishing in his all-black suit, his short hair almost curly and his eyes darkened with a little bit of smokey makeup. He, too, fit right in with everyone at this party, and they made a handsome pair.

Their conversation was lost to you again, and you fussed with your earring until it hurt.

It wasn’t just that you couldn't hold a candle to her. What really stung was the thought that Sam was having a better time with her than he would be with you, even though that was entirely your fault.

That was the problem, really. You knew you were being a handful, and for such a silly reason. Worse, you knew that if you’d just admit how you were feeling, Sam would do everything in his power to make you feel beautiful and confident and comfortable. You were raw with guilt and angry at yourself, but you were embarrassed at the mere thought of pulling Sam away from the party he’d been looking forward to because you couldn’t manage your own insecurity.

You fought to control your discomfort, feeling it quickly reach the point of irritability and nastiness the longer you sat there. And then, as if the universe was conspiring to make this the worst night of your life, you saw Sam put his hands on her.

She’d stumbled, probably tripping over her wobbly heels and unbalanced by the wine she’d been drinking. Sam immediately moved to catch her, steadying her with one hand while somehow managing to keep his own drink from spilling. They laughed as he straightened her back up, and then his free hand was back in his pocket and it was like the whole thing had never happened.

Like you were possessed by it, the self-consciousness and jealousy that had been gnawing at you finally reached a fever pitch and sent you spiraling.

You downed the last of your drink and set it on the bar, hardly needing the boost of liquid courage to spur you towards your spiteful, half-cocked scheme. You saw Sam perk up when you left the bar, and you knew that even from across the room, he’d kept a protective watch over you.

You hesitated for a second, all those ugly feelings warring with a simple want for his affection. You could be honest with him, and he wouldn’t be upset with you.

But then his beautiful companion said something that made him laugh, and your bitterness roared to life again.

You found yourself on the outskirts of the dance floor, only a few feet away from where Sam and the girl were standing by the deejay. Shutting off the part of you that begged you not to do something so stupid, you found the closest single guy you could find and asked if you could dance.

He was delighted to have you join him, and though you knew it was wrong, you felt a cruel thrill of pleasure as he put his hand on your waist. He was good-looking in a stocky sort of way, like a football player, and he wasn’t shy as he drew you close enough that you could feel him through the bell of your skirt. The music switched to a pop song you knew Sam would hate, and you reached your hand up to rest on the guy’s shoulder.

Before you’d even made it halfway, a familiar, wiry hand took hold of your wrist and snatched your hand back.

“Pardon us,” Sam said to the guy, smooth as could be while you fumed and tried to get your wrist out of his grip. He just squeezed you tighter.

The guy’s eyebrows shot up. “Is this your girl?”

“Isn’t she a prize?” Sam agreed, a stiff smile on his face. “We’ll let you get back to the party now.”

To his credit, the guy swung his gaze to you even though he could not have been more eager to avoid getting tangled up in a lover’s quarrel.

“You’re ok with this?” he asked you. “You know this guy?”

You were flush with embarrassment and anger, but you wouldn’t cause trouble. Not that kind of trouble, anyways.

“Yes,” you bit out. “He’s my boyfriend.”

The guy was satisfied with that, and he wasted no time distancing himself from the two of you. Sam watched him go for a second, and it was more than enough time for you to get slammed with wave after wave of guilt, frustration, and fear.

You’d absolutely lost your head. What could have possessed you to do such a thing? You held tight to your jealousy to keep from bursting into tears, trying to remind yourself why you’d gone and done such a foolish, ugly thing, scrambling to find a way to justify it. You bit back the apology that threatened to spill out, worried he was too angry with you to listen, furious at the embarrassment that burned hot across your face at the mess you’d caused.

He didn’t seem to notice your raging emotions, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. He started towards the hallway, all but dragging you behind him.

“Let me go!” you snapped, slapping at his hand. He didn’t, and you had no choice but to follow him into a quieter but still crowded part of the house.

“Sam!” you protested. You tried to pry his fingers off of you, and he stopped and turned to face you.

“Quit that,” he said sharply. “You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you run off to find somebody else to fuck around with.”

“Let me go,” you said again, furious.

He gave a bitter laugh. “Oh no, sweetheart. You’re not getting off that easy.”

He started walking again, and you fought him every step of the way to the far side of the house. It was much less crowded back there, and Sam had no trouble finding a place for the two of you to be alone in the gorgeous old study.

He let you go when he’d locked the door behind you, and you put as much distance between you and your boyfriend as you could.

“You care to explain what just happened out there?”

His tone was low, but he was livid. You turned from the window, your determination not to talk to him quickly undone by your defensiveness.

“You first,” you spat.

He stepped towards you. “I don’t have anything to explain. You, on the other hand, need to get started saying something real quick.”

You gave him a disdainful look. “Or what?”

He worked his jaw.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked. “That I’ll go find somebody else and hurt you like you hurt me?”

He shook his head in disgust. “I won’t do that to you, no matter how much I want to right now. But if you won’t talk, I’m taking you home and staying at Danny’s until you’re finished with this little act.”

“What act?” you demanded. You marched over to him and dug an accusing finger into the breast of his jacket. “I was doing the exact same thing you were doing with that girl.”

“You were not,” he snapped, batting your hand away. “Don't try and pin this on me. She and I were just having a conversation.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but something made you think better of it, if only for a moment. He was right, as much as it burned you to admit; there had been nothing inappropriate in their interaction. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and you’d let your insecurity run wild until you’d gone and done something you knew would hurt him. You’d treated him badly, and you were ashamed of it.

And yet, as you remembered the way she’d made him laugh, you were flooded with jealousy again. You shored up the bitterness of your guilt and shame and turned it into anger, because it was easier to fight with him than to ask him to forgive you.

“Must have been an awfully engaging conversation,” you said venomously. “What were you talking about?”

“Who cares?” he asked, clearly exasperated with the question. “I don’t know, just stuff. Music. Her job. Normal shit.”

“Hm. And were you still ‘just having a conversation’ when you put your hands on her?”

He looked unimpressed with your attempt at getting a rise out of him.

“She tripped,” he said. “As you clearly saw. She was a little tipsy and lost her balance. I couldn't exactly let her go careening to the floor, now could I?”

You almost wished he had.

“So, let’s recap, shall we?” he said. “I was having a conversation with someone and I offered her a hand when she tripped. All perfectly normal things to do. But...”

He looked at you with barely restrained fury. “Remind me what you were doing.”

You knew from his expression that he knew exactly what you’d been doing, and it made you a little sick to your stomach to know he’d seen the whole thing. But you couldn’t take it back now, and you let your anger spill over to mask the guilt.

“We were talking,” you said.

“Talking?” he repeated. His face was flushed with anger. “You were practically grinding on him!”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. We were dancing. So what?”

“So what, huh? That’s the best you’ve got?” Before you could get out of reach, he pulled you flush to him, one hand pressed hard against the small of your back.

“I’m the only one allowed this close to you,” he said, his voice dangerously controlled. “Dancing or not. Are we clear?”

When you didn't answer, he pressed you closer.

“You could have gotten yourself into trouble,” he said, and for the first time, you heard something like fear in his voice. “It could have been so much worse.”

Despite his anger, you were surprised how quickly you melted at the feel of him holding you, his body warm and lean and strong against you. If you were honest with yourself, you wouldn't have expected any less from him than this; you wouldn't have wanted anything less. His anger was protective, rightfully jealous of your affection; it spoke volumes that he loved you enough to be this upset with you. Against your better judgement, you let him hold you.

“He didn't do anything,” you said. It wasn't the complete truth, but you hadn't let it get out of hand.

He shook you a little, like he was trying to make you see sense. “He was holding you like this, wasn't he?”

You were a little lost in him. “No.” Nobody ever held you like this except Sam.

His eyes flashed with frustration. He knew his touch was all but draining the fight out of you, and he couldn't quite decide if he was ready for your argument to end.

“What if something had happened?” he demanded. “What if he'd tried to hurt you?”

You felt a flicker of indignation and opened your mouth to say you'd had it under control, but nothing could have been further from the truth. If you'd had any control at all, you wouldn't be in this mess.

You put your hand to his chest and pushed him back in contempt.

“You don’t control what I do, Sam.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t. But I am responsible for you, and I have to fix whatever you break.”

You tried not to think about the damage you'd done tonight.

“I deserve for you to show me some respect,” he said. “And I deserve for you to talk to me instead of making a fool of both of us just to get my attention.”

You flushed with shame and fury.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you spat. “If I wanted your attention, I would have just asked for it.”

That was an outright lie, and both of you knew it, but you weren’t going to let go of it.

“I mean, do you think I want your attention right now?” you asked spitefully. “Because I couldn’t have been clearer about wanting to be left alone. You practically dragged me in here.”

“You embarrassed me,” he said, his voice icy. “More importantly, you embarrassed yourself, and I was doing you a favor getting you out of there before it got any worse.”

You couldn't tell if the sting of tears you felt came from hurt or anger. You knew you were an embarrassment.

“Why did you even bring me if you’re so embarrassed by me?”

“I wasn’t,” he said. “Not until you were dirty dancing with that guy in front of the whole world. I brought you because you said you wanted to go. I brought you because I thought it would be nice to spend time together.”

He gave you a contemptuous look. “This’ll teach me, I guess.”

That one smarted, and you nursed the bruise of it to fuel your ire.

“Fine,” you said. “Don’t bring me to any more of your fancy parties. Find a different date for every one. See if I care.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to get a hold of his anger. He took a deep breath.

“What the hell’s going on with you?” he asked. “Did I do something to make you angry?”

He’d been nothing but sweet to you all day, but you’d wound him up so badly now that he was looking for ways he’d slighted you. You stamped out the spark of guilt that flared to life in your chest.

“Other than flirting with some girl?” you asked.

“I wasn’t flirting with her and you know it,” he snapped. “Cut the bullshit and just tell me what’s wrong.”

No. You couldn't bear to. After all this, after the mess you’d made, after you’d wounded him and fought with him and driven him to the end of his patience with you, you couldn’t admit why you’d done it. You were too ashamed.

He closed the distance between you and, to your utter surprise, cradled your face in his big hands.

“I wanted to be with you,” he said, earnest despite his frustration with you. “I would much rather have been talking with you. But you were so upset with me when we got here, and you wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. You told me to leave you be and I did.”

You swallowed back the feeling of tears that grew stronger with each passing moment.

He sighed and let his hands drop. “I wish that instead of putting on a show, you’d just come to me instead. You should have just admitted you were jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you lied, stung by how easily he’d read you. “Why would I be? I didn’t have anything to be jealous of.”

He looked at you like he was seeing you clearly for the first time all night, and you blushed vividly.

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed, but not in the unkind way you’d meant it. He looked at you evenly, and you hated how vulnerable you felt.

“I love you,” he said after a moment, and it was like a sucker punch. Every bit of fight went out of you.

“Even when you do things to hurt me,” he said. “I love you, and I think you’re beautiful, and I won’t ever hurt you.”

You barely managed to bite back a sob.

“And I don’t want you to think you have to pull some crazy stunt to get my attention,” he said. “You have it. You have all of me. No matter what.”

You felt so heartsick it was like a physical pain.

“Sam,” you started. “I...”

You couldn't make yourself say it. The fear of his rightful anger when he knew why you’d done such a foolish thing made the words stick in your throat.

He shook his head.

“Forget it,” he said, tired and defeated. “I don’t...”

He took a deep breath.

“I forgive you,” he said. “And I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”

“Sam,” you said, your eyes welling with tears. His forgiveness cut you like a knife, and you needed to explain yourself, even if just the thought of it scared you to death. Maybe if you said it quickly enough, if you let the words rush out of you —

“It’s ok,” he said, putting up a hand to stop you from saying anything. “It’s not... going to make things any better at this point, sweetheart. It’s ok.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep the tears from falling. He’d given you more than enough chances to explain yourself, to apologize; if he wanted you to be quiet, you would.

“Alright, let’s...” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, like he was warding off a headache. “Let’s go home.”

“Are you...” You trailed off, timid as you looked up at him.

He sighed. “Am I what?”

You fussed with your earring, anxious. “Are you going to stay at Danny’s?”

You’d asked it so quietly you weren’t sure if he’d heard you. After a moment, he reached out and pulled your hand away from your earring.

“Quit that,” he said, and you didn’t deserve the gentleness in his voice. He let you go, and you twisted your hands together in front of you.

“No,” he said finally. “I’m not going to Danny’s.”

He unlocked the door and opened it for you, and though he didn’t tuck you against his side like he would have usually, you were thankful he didn’t leave you to find your way back outside on your own. You waited patiently by the door while he closed the bar tab and said his goodbyes, apologizing to the host for leaving so soon with a friendly smile on his face. His smile vanished as soon as he led you outside, and you felt your heart drop to your shoes.

You turned your body as far away from him as you could when you got into the car, curling up in the passenger seat with your head leaning against the window. Your dress spilled over the gear shift, and he moved it aside as he turned the car on, careful of the little stars that were liable to fall off with any rough handling.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, bundling your skirt and making sure it was out of his way. A flurry of the little stars came loose and glittered on the seat and the floorboard. You grimaced. “Sorry.”

“‘S ok, sweetheart,” he said gently. He swept his hand over the console, and a few stars sparkled on his fingers.

“I like it when you wear that dress,” he said. “It’s my favorite of yours. Makes me think of — ”

“Cotton candy,” you said, cutting him off. “I know.” You wished he wouldn’t be sweet to you, not now. You didn’t deserve it. You felt hollow, aching with shame and regret.

He nodded. “Yeah, well... I think it’s very pretty.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, unable to stop a few tears as you turned your face away from him. “Thank you.”

Neither of you spoke the whole way home, and you wore a perpetual blush from the few telltale signs of crying you couldn’t manage to keep hidden. His right hand flexed uncomfortably, used to holding your hand every time he drove, and it only made your tears come faster.

You were relieved to get home, and you tried to repair yourself as much as possible as you followed him inside.

“Go get a shower,” he said, tossing his keys on the catch-all table in the foyer. “You’ll feel better.”

“You don’t want to go first?” you asked. You were still unsure of his mood, anxious to do all you could to keep this fragile peace in place.

He shook his head. “No, you go first. I’m gonna smoke a cigarette.”

You walked a few steps towards your bedroom, but then remembered you needed his help getting the zipper undone.

“Sam,” you said quietly. He looked up at you, and you blushed.

“Can you... would you mind unzipping me?”

“Sure,” he said. “Turn around.”

You did as he said, and you shivered as he brushed your hair aside and pulled your zipper down.

Neither of you moved, and you held your breath, waiting to see if he would touch you. His knuckles glanced down the curve of your shoulder blade, and your breath came in a shaky exhale.

He pulled his hand back.

“There you go,” he said, stepping back from you.

You didn’t turn to look at him. “Thank you.”

You went to your bedroom as he went out to the back porch, and you felt like a marionette whose strings had been cut. You let the dress fall to a candy-pink heap on the floor, looking at yourself in the mirror with nothing but shame and contempt.

You’d been awful to him. The thought wouldn’t let you be as you showered, and you replayed the night over and over until you were thoroughly sickened by yourself. You thought of how you would feel if Sam had done something like that to you, if he’d found a girl to get too familiar with because he hadn’t just been able to be honest with you. If he’d intentionally hurt you. If he hadn’t even apologized or tried to explain.

You sank to the shower floor and cried, trying to keep quiet even as breathless sobs wracked your body. You’d allowed yourself to be overwhelmed with insecurity instead of coming to him like you knew you should have, and it hadn’t just hurt you; it had deeply wounded the person you loved more than anyone else in the world. You didn’t know how he could forgive you.

You had to tell him the truth, and you absolutely had to apologize. He deserved your honesty and to know how sorry you were for hurting him, and you deserved whatever you got in return.

Trying to collect yourself before you did, you forced yourself to stop crying as you dressed and waited until your breaths were steady again until you left the bedroom. You were in your pajamas, your hair still dripping a little, and you fussed with the hole in the sleeve of your sweatshirt as you went out to the living room.

From out on the porch, you saw the glow of a cigarette and heard Sam’s low voice, too quiet for you to make out what he was saying. The cigarette flared as he took a drag, and you tried to decide whether or not to go out to him.

Finally, bucking up your courage, you pushed the sliding glass door and stepped outside. You could barely make out Sam’s face in the dim light from the kitchen.

“Let me call you back,” he said to whoever he was on the phone with. You heard a muted agreement and Sam hung up, pocketing his phone without taking his eyes off you.

You stood in silence for a moment, and you fidgeted under his gaze.

“Who was that?” you asked.

“Josh.” He took a last drag and put his cigarette out, leaning back against the railing. You didn’t have to ask to know what they’d talked about, but you wondered what Sam had said and how Josh had reacted to it.

You wished he would say something. You still couldn’t get a read on his mood, unable to really see his expression or parse his body language. He was open towards you, but he didn’t make a move to come closer, and you respected the distance he kept between you.

“I know you said it wouldn’t make things any better,” you said, feeling like if you didn’t start speaking you’d lose your nerve altogether. “But I want to...”

You trailed off and looked up at him, aching with guilt, wanting to run and hide instead of lay yourself bare in front of him.

“I want to try and explain what happened. Please.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. He stuck his hands in his pockets.

“I’m listening.”

You couldn’t help a shaky sigh of relief. You’d wondered if he’d even let you speak, and you hurried on before he changed his mind.

“I know you weren’t flirting with that girl,” you said, starting with the easier truths before you tackled the hardest confessions. “You were only talking, and I shouldn’t have gotten upset. Especially when I was the one who left you, not the other way around.”

He didn't offer a reply. You looked up at him and took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the vulnerability your honesty required.

“I was jealous of her,” you admitted. “Like you said. I saw you touch her, and I let my jealousy get out of control. I went to dance with that guy to h-hurt you.” Your voice broke on the last two words, and you bit your cheek to keep the sudden flood of tears at bay.

“I wanted to hurt you,” you said, your voice shaky and tight with shame. “I wanted to make you jealous too. It was ugly and selfish and absolutely inexcusable. You don’t know how much I wish I could take it back.”

You sucked in a breath, but you couldn’t stop the tears any longer.

“And it’s not an excuse,” you continued, “but I wasn’t jealous because I thought you would do anything. I just... felt so out of place there, and I was so self-conscious and uncomfortable that I let it twist everything. She was so beautiful, and she made you laugh, and both of you fit in to the whole... I don’t know, ‘beautiful people’ thing where everybody was so fashionable and gorgeous and sophisticated. And I let my insecurity ruin everything instead of just being honest about it.”

He sighed, and it was full of heartache and sorrow.

“That’s why you were so upset,” he said, as though everything was finally clear. “I thought it might be, after, but... why didn’t you just tell me? I could have — I don’t know. Helped, somehow. I would have tried to.”

You knew he would have. You pressed a hand to your lips to keep from sobbing, and you noticed you were trembling.

“S-sam,” you managed. His name was ragged in your voice.

He pushed off the railing. “Yes, sweetheart?”

Your expression crumpled. “Can you — I know I shouldn’t ask but — can I please have a hug?”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than you were being held close, wrapped in a bear hug with no hint of hesitation or unwillingness. You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest, sobbing miserably.

“I’m so sorry,” you said between hiccuping breaths. “I can’t believe — I don’t — I don’t know how I could hurt you like that, Sam. I don’t know how you can ever forgive me.”

He tightened his hold. “I already have,” he said, and it was completely sincere. “I’ve already forgiven you. I love you.”

You shook your head and couldn’t stop crying.

“You can’t. You can’t have forgiven me. I was so awful to you.”

He moved his hands to cradle your cheeks, and he tipped your face up towards him. You looked up with utter contrition, helpless under his steady gaze.

“I love you,” he said simply, firmly. He brushed his thumbs over your tear-streaked face. “I forgive you.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “Sam — ”

“Please don’t cry any more, sweetheart,” he said, his voice impossibly gentle. “It’s breaking my heart just to look at you.”

“I'm sorry,” you whispered.

He kissed your cheek. “I know you’re sorry. Please don’t be upset any more. I forgive you.”

You drew an unsteady breath.

“I love you,” you said brokenly.

He kept up his gentle kisses. You’d always known he loved you, but you’d never known just how deeply he did until now.

“I love you,” he said against your skin. “Nothing is ever going to change that, I promise.”

You felt yourself settle under his touch, safe and loved and completely forgiven. You stayed in his arms and he held you, both of you patching up each other’s heartbreak until everything was healed.

He ran a soothing hand over your back.

“I wish I’d known how you felt,” he said. “It should have occurred to me that there was... something else going on.”

You looked up at him. “I should have told you.”

He nodded. “I wish you would have. I want you to, next time it happens.”

“I will. I promise.”

He kissed you, tender and sweet.

“Because when you do,” he said, pausing to kiss you again, “you know what I’ll tell you?”

You felt yourself smile for the first time that night, and it was still a little wobbly.

“What will you tell me?”

He brushed your hair behind your ear. “I’ll tell you that you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Sam,” you said gently.

He smiled.

“I’ll tell you that I love every inch of you,” he said, pressing closer to you. “And I think you’re smart and funny and kind and sweet. I’ll tell you I’m proud of you and wild for you and so in love with you.”

He rested his forehead against yours. “I’ll tell you I’m the luckiest guy in the world to be with you.”

You sighed and let him kiss you, melting against him as he deepened your kiss and left you breathless.

“I love you,” you said when he let you come up for air. “Sam, I love you.”

His smile was warm and gentle. “I love you too.”

He slipped his fingers under the collar of your sweatshirt, his knuckles running over your collarbone. “And I’ll say it to you as much as you want, for as long as you’ll let me.”

His touch warmed your whole body, gentle and intimate and ardent. He touched the fingers of his other hand to your jaw and tipped your face up to kiss you again.

“Let me take you to bed, sweetheart.”

You pulled back a little. You knew he’d forgiven you, but...

“You want me?” you asked. Your voice was shy, hopeful.

“I love you,” he said. “I want to be close to you.”

He looked at you with such tenderness you thought your heart might break, and you knew you wouldn’t deny him anything in your power to give. Not when he’d given you so much of himself.

“Okay,” you said softly. “Be close to me.”

—

When you were in his arms, after, you brushed your fingers over his cheek.

“I love you,” you said, as gently as you could.

He pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder and held you close, and every hollow in your heart was filled.

“My love,” he said softly, tenderly. “I love you too.”

gvf taglist: @brooke-gvf, @gretavanfleetistheloveofmylife, @freeeshavacadoo, @jillygabrielle, @mtjoi, @bonejaws, @frickin-bats, @the-chaotic-cow, @permanentmess, @loopylemmings, @downbad4gvf, @angelbabyivy, @bluebonnet-sonnets, @livieweasley, @loganrwebb, @h-e-l-l-o-s, @cherrycolawhip, @screechesincoherently, @lilcuutiee, @joshkiszkasbunion , @almost-a-ladybug, @ytmanwhore, @theweightofstardust, @sierraahhhh, @eeeloraaa, @ultimate-sdmn-trash, @deadbeat-z, @joshysgf, @brokenbellz, @dolls-skin, @gvfrry, @s0livagant, @cowboysamkiszka, @evilhagspage, @bumblebeeswrite, @katie-gvf, @ghostly-luck, @ange-must-die, @stardustdanny, @weightofdreams-gvf, @aureummel, @lupinevanfleet, @sarakay-gvf, @tripthelight-fanfic, @teddiie, @garagebandvanfleet, @dakotadovato

forever taglist: @punkgeekcryptid, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl, @bobbydearest, @sugarsweetkiss

i’m so thankful for each one of you! if your url isn’t highlighted, it’s because tumblr is dumb and won’t let me tag you :( please fill out this taglist form or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to any of these lists, or if i’ve forgotten to tag you! ♡

#i hope you guys like it <3 #i'm a lil nervous bc it's not what i usually write but i hope it's ok!#sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fluff #sam kiszka angst #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #sam kiszka #maddie writes stuff!

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1kook · 5 years ago

Text

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?”

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence.

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jjk♡#jeon jungkook #mine

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lioncssv · 2 months ago

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"To think, I was trying to be civil," Vitani stated, the lie rolling smoothly off her tongue as her eyes moved to the other girl. Pretty, but lacking substance. It wasn't a fair judgement for a first time meeting ( if a quick eye rake could even be called a meeting ) but it made her feel better to think. Strange as it was, as Vitani really wasn't heartbroken about losing Tiffany, her insecurity, the feeling of not being good enough, always found a way to rear it's ugly head.

Pupils drifting back to the blonde, she lifted an eyebrow. "Mm, no. Unlike all of your little minions, my life doesn't revolve around yours." Minions that she had been incredibly jealous of for a point in time. "Pardon me for wanting to say hello to an old friend."

she was drunk . she was loose . she had the most eye catching girl in the room's arms entangled in her hair , short-cut manicure grazing her scalp , breath hot and warm against her collarbones . tiffany didn't necessarily believe there were any place higher than the pedestal in which she normally resided , but this moment - this moment of carefree delusion - almost made her switch her tune .

almost .

the familiar croon of one vitani kagai caught the blonde's attention in a way that , were she not wildly intoxicated , would have had her searing with anger . instead , she grinned wildly , whispered something to the brunette who was wound around her that had her giggling and then peeling off , before turning marbled blue eyes in her ex-girlfriend's direction . " that's the best you got ?? look what the cat dragged in ?? " tiffany drawled , fluffing curls that had been mangled as she dragged the pad of her thumb along her lower lip . " what does that make you ?? what the cat shit out ?? "

#& chats.#& tiffany mutton.

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limetimo · 2 years ago

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I watched The Other Woman the other day and now my brain is making me sad with a modern AU James cheating on Regulus and Regulus finds out and blames himself a lot because James is James and adhkj. And Regulus realises his whole life is devoured by James, his friends are James' friends and he works at James' dad's company and he's raising Harry and Neville even tho he's always been afraid to have children and the only person he can talk to about all this is his husband's lover. he's afraid to tell Sirius because sirius picked james over him once already and regulus wouldn't be anle to bear it happening again

Lily is a cut-throat lawyer and when she finds out her boyfriend of two months is married she drops him like a hot potato because she's not a homewrecker. Regulus is already pretty wrecked tho and Lily recognises that he's in a difficult situation and offers the listening ear and a comforting shoulder

"Was he your first?" Lily asked. He shook his head. "I used to date my friend Barty at high school." Lily hid a vince in her wine. She couldn't imagine marrying a second boyfriend any more than she could imagine marrying the first. And high school was - so long ago! "It wasn't very good. He was… hurting me." The faint smile on his lips was the most heartbreaking thing. "But at least from him I saw it coming."

anyways regulus recconects with barty (who's still in jail because of the involvement with murdering of neville's parents, it's a whole thing) and evan (who's dying of cancer for some reason wtf brain? But he's also totally up to taking regulus live in if he decides to leave james and that's sweet of them)

neville notices papa is very sad all the time now and makes him a picture at school to cheer him up and that's what convinces Regulus he HAS to address the issue with James. He can't let it affect the children

As like in the movie Lily invites James to her office and she's there as an emotional support friend for Regulus as he lays out the options they came up with: marriage counseling, divorce, some variation of polyamory. Regulus is pretty much too sad and tired to care about himself he just wants what's best for the boys.

Idk why james cheated in the first place but unlike the dick in the movie he doesn't try to lie about it. He knows he fucked up and he's willing to do everything he can to fix that. They do the marriage counseling and on the counselor's reccomendation they both take separate therapy too. They consult a child physiatrist on how to best handle the situation regarding the boys, and have some very difficult conversations with them.

they find out harry is the baby Lily got from a drunk one night stand and gave up for adoption because she didn't want to be a mother and couldn't find the father

sirius finds out/is told and is super upset on Regulus' behalf probably punches james too and there's a lot of crying on everyone's part

regulus takes more time for himself to feel like his own person again. The first friend he'd made in years was his husband secret lover how pathetic is that? So he starts going out more like he joins craft classes n stuff to meet new people, his mental health gets loads better (he's been a right mess because all the old insecurities and trauma from his childhood reared their ugly heads)

idk if it ends with all three of them going separate romantic wasy or if it ends up with jegulus jily regulily or jegulily, and I think it should stay open ended

#AU #regulus black #james potter #lily evans #I dont want to write it id make myself cry too hard but also i need to get it out of my head

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ohmyronpa-imagines · 3 years ago

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May I have some fluff headcanons for Ishileon? (Ishimaru x Leon)? ;v;

Fluffy Ishileon headcanons

Of course you can! Sorry for the wait! -Mod Hajime

The way they got together was hilarious.

Ishimaru was Leon’s Bi awakening and Leon freaked out.

However, thanks to his wingman’s Mondo, and a reluctant Kyoko, he successfully wooed Ishimaru.

He left gifts for Taka, offered to walk him back to their dorms, and helped Taka whenever he wanted.

But, Taka was oblivious to Leon’s crush. So eventually Leon shouted, “Be my boyfriend!” In the hallway. During class hours.

Taka was blushing but accepted Leon’s wild confession.

Leon’s loud and eccentric behavior didn't seem like it would match Taka’s, but they made it work.

On their one month anniversary, Leon took Taka to his favorite band’s concert. They danced together and had fun. Taka allowed himself to be a little less uptight for Leon.

Taka would tutor Leon, making sure Leon didn’t fail his tests.

Insecurity would sometimes rear its ugly head, but they shut it down together. Through the magic of cuddling and watching a movie or listening to music.

Taka gave Leon gifts all the time. From flowers, jewelry, souvenirs, or vinyls, the gifts were endless. Leon did his best to give him gifts as well, but he preferred to be a little more intimate. Like dates.

Their first kiss was on their three month anniversary. They were watching a firework show. After the final explosion, Leon leaned in and kissed his boyfriend.

It was a magical moment for both of them. After they parted, Leon whispered “I love you.”

Taka kissed him again.

Their dates varied from concerts, working out, or just regular old movie dates.

Being competitive in nature, they always tried to one-up each other. Be it who could plan the best date, who gave the best gifts, best kisser, anything.

Leon gets giggly after Taka kisses him, he never expects them and when they happen, he melts.

Even though he liked being professional, Taka couldn’t resist holding Leon’s hand in public.

They showed each other off to everyone.

Definitely that couple that never left their honeymoon phase.

Leon and Taka were one-hundred percent sweet on each other.

#mod hajime #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #leon kuwata #ishileon

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wayward-dreamer · 4 years ago

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Life’s Lessons - Part 8

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Acknowledging Feelings

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader (eventual)

Other Pairings: Female!Reader x OMC - Mark, Female!Reader x OMC – Ethan (past, mentioned)

Word Count: 7,651 (texts, thoughts, song lyrics in italics).

Part Summary: It’s Y/N’s birthday dinner, which quickly takes a turn when Mark forgets himself and insults someone. Despite trying to cheer her up, Y/N begins to have her doubts about Mark after another chance to take things to another level, fails.

Warnings: Angst, Insecurities, Dean’s self deprecation rears it’s ugly head, Mark being an ass, Fighting, Making up, Smut: Handjob, Vaginal Fingering, Protected sex, Premature Ejaculation, Female Masturbation. 18+ ONLY. Fluff, Dean being sweet (yes, that’s a warning)

Music: Good Love by Briana Buckmaster, Love Is a Battlefield by Pat Benatar (Y/N and Charlie getting ready scene), Take My Breath Away by Berlin (Y/N and Mark making up scene).

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: Thank you for your wonderful comments and words of support! It means more to me than I’ll ever be able to properly express! I really hope you enjoy the rest of this journey as we move forward! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Life’s Lessons Masterlist

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics! Check her out for all your AU needs!!!

Friday brought not only Y/N’s birthday dinner later that night, but a full school day and Ben’s last day. Y/N stood to the side as she watched him hug all of his friends’ goodbye at the end of the day, her heart breaking a little as she saw a few of them wipe tears away. There were promises of visits in the future, catching up online and even playing video games. It was always hard to leave your school friends behind, and Y/N thought about how it wasn’t much different than when she left her home to come to Lawrence.

She smiled as she saw Ben walk over to her, a small gift in his hand. She smiled at him as she opened it, “World’s Best Teacher” printed in black letters on a white mug.

“I love it” she told him.

“Thanks for everything” he said, smiling.

“You’re so welcome. I know you’re going to do great” she smiled, lifting her hand. He high fived her. He picked up his bag and walked towards his mom’s car, Lisa leaning against it. As Ben said one last goodbye, Y/N took a deep, nervous breath as she saw Lisa walking towards her.

“Lisa.” She nodded as she steeled herself.

“I just want to say thank you for everything you’ve done for Ben” Lisa said, a small smile on her face.

“Well, he’s a good kid and I’m sure he’s going to do really well for the rest of 8th grade and into high school” Y/N said, a small smile on her face too.

Lisa nodded, looking like she wanted to say something else. “I just… I want to apologize. If I’ve ever been awful to you-” she said, but Y/N cut her off.

“It’s forgotten” Y/N said, simply. She wanted to let everything be in the past now that Lisa was starting over in her old hometown.

Lisa nodded, as she looked at Y/N. “He needs someone like you.”

Y/N blinked a couple of times, shaking her head. “I don’t-” Lisa smiled, causing her to stop what she was saying.

“Someone who’ll love him for exactly who he is and won’t try to change him into something he’s not” she explained, shaking her head.

They looked at each other for a few moments, before Lisa offered up her hand. Y/N took it, shaking it before letting go.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N” she said, as stepped back a couple of steps.

“You too” Y/N said, giving a nod as she watched Lisa turn and walk away.

She watched as she and Ben got into their car, and pulled away from the curb, driving away. Y/N hadn’t been expecting any kind of apology from Lisa, but at least it meant there was no ill will, and everyone could move on with a peaceful mind.

Y/N looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, as she pinned her hair back on the sides slightly, to be out of the way while she did her make-up. Charlie was next to her, using Y/N’s hair curler to fix her hair. Y/N’s “Badass Women” playlist was on in the background, Pat Benatar among others helping them to get ready for the night. She laughed as she watched Charlie trying to re-enact the moves from Love Is a Battlefield. Cas and Meg would pick them up soon to drive into the city for her birthday dinner.

“Dorothy’s coming to dinner straight from work. I’m really happy you’ll finally get to meet” Charlie smiled.

Y/N smiled too. “Me too. I’m excited to hear what she’s been up to in Chicago. What she can talk about, at least.”

Y/N went back to getting ready. She did her make-up, lighter this time than when the girls went out together; the night she met Mark. She put on her foundation, did a very light pink eye-shadow and winged liner, and a pink lip. She smoothed down her high-neck, long-sleeve top and made sure it was tucked into her leather mini-skirt properly. She went to her bed and sat down, lifting her leg to put on her black over-the-knee heeled boots, over her thigh-high stockings which disappeared under her skirt.

Charlie had just finished getting ready in a blue dress and brown boots, when they heard a car horn sound a few times. Y/N put on her silver dangly earrings, and then put on her long fawn coat. She picked up her small black bag as Charlie walked out first, and locked up her house. She and Charlie sat in the back of Cas’s car as he drove them into the city, through the drizzling rain.

Once they got to the restaurant and sat down, they all relaxed a little, thankful they made it in time. Dorothy arrived just as they sat down, coming in straight from work. As their first round of drinks came, Y/N frowned and looked down at her phone. Mark hadn’t called to say he was running late, which led her to conclude he was still working.

“Y/N, any word from Mark?” Meg asked, slightly concerned.

Y/N tapped her phone and didn’t see any notifications, as she shook her head. “No. He must be running late at work. He said he’d leave early, though.”

“It’s pretty bad out there, I made it here just in time before it started coming down” Dorothy said, looking outside the window at the rain.

“Well, hopefully he’ll be here soon” Charlie assured her, rubbing her hand up and down Y/N’s arm.

“Yeah” Y/N frowned, pressing the phone to her ear as she tried his number again.

Another thirty minutes passed with no word. She had called him and left a message when he didn’t pick up, plus sent him a few texts. She was about to give up and start thinking the worst, when Mark walked through the door, weaving around the tables with an umbrella and a bouquet of roses in one hand, and a small wrapped box in the other. Y/N got up with a smile and met him halfway, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. Her heeled boots made her only an inch or two shorter than him. He was unfortunately still in his suit from work, but at least he looked good.

“These are because I’m late” Mark said, handing her the flowers. “This is because I adore you” he kissed her forehead, then handed her the gift. “And this is for your birthday.”

“Thank you.” She pecked his lips quickly before they came back to the table and sat down. She decided to ignore the fact that he got her roses, which she didn’t like. He didn’t know that yet and she didn’t want to hurt him by saying anything in that moment. Mark sat down on the other side of her, next to Meg. He quickly ordered a scotch and soda when a waiter walked by, before turning to the group.

“Well, it’s good to see everybody” Mark smiled, his arm automatically going around the back of Y/N’s chair, his hand caressing her arm.

Y/N opened her gift from Mark and gasped. It was a beautiful silver bracelet. “Oh Mark, it’s beautiful! Thank you!” she leaned in and kissed him, softly.

“I’m glad you like it” he smiled as he looked at her, fondly.

“I really do, but I said no presents.” She shook her head at him, opening the clasp of the bracelet. He took it from her as she offered her wrist. He put it around and closed the clasp.

He leaned in, his lips close to her ear, in a hushed tone. “Well, that’s what a boyfriend does.”

She looked up at him, smiling tentatively. “Boyfriend, huh?”

They hadn’t labelled anything yet and it still felt too soon, but maybe they were at that point and she just hadn’t realized.

“Yeah” Mark said, simply.

After a round of drinks, they ordered dinner. They mostly talked about work as Dorothy filled them in what she could talk about from an assignment in Chicago. Meg told some tales of the hospital, skipping the details as they were eating. Mark spoke of the ad agency and their latest campaign, and Y/N, Charlie and Cas told them how school was going. Once dinner was done and cleared, no one really felt like leaving.

“Should we head to a bar?” Charlie suggested.

“Yes, definitely” Mark laughed. “Y/N?”

Y/N thought about it for a second before smiling. “Fuck it, it’s my birthday weekend! Why the hell not?”

Cas laughed as she linked her arm with Meg’s. “We need to get her out of the school setting more often.”

Charlie nodded as she agreed with them, following behind everyone as they searched for a bar that had space for them.

They found a place that was playing good music and sat down in one of the quieter corners, that had leather couches and throw pillows. They all spread out on the three couches, but Cas got up to order them drinks. While he was at the bar, Y/N looked around, her head bopping to the music as she looked around the place. She liked the vibe, a very whiskey lounge feel, but with framed movie posters on the exposed brick wall and more than whiskey on the drinks menu.

As Y/N looked around, her eyes drifted over the bar in the centre of the room, with bar stools all around. On the far end, she noticed two men laughing about something. As one of them paid for their drinks, the other got up from his seat and put on his leather jacket. Her eyes widened as she noticed it was none other than Dean.

Dean looked around the bar as Sam paid for their drinks. This time. He had met him after work for a drink, something they did as often as they could on Friday’s, when Sam wasn’t too busy with case after case. He shrugged on his leather jacket, ready to head home and kick back with another beer and watch something on TV. He looked around the room, his eyes nearly falling out of their sockets as she saw Y/N looking back at him. What was she doing here?

“You okay, Dean?” Sam asked, having finished paying. He followed his brother’s line of sight and frowned. “Who is that?”

“Um… my-my neighbor, Y/N” Dean stuttered as he replied. He saw Y/N look away, distracting herself with conversation. Cas was there, so was Meg, Charlie, Dorothy and of course, Mark.

“You should go say hi” Sam said, jerking his head in that direction. “She knows Cas?” Sam asked, as he spotted their friend, as he put on his black coat over his charcoal suit.

“Yeah, she’s a teacher at the school” Dean said, looking at his brother.

Sam looked at Dean, narrowing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing” Dean replied, too quickly as he glared at Sam.

“You’re such a liar” Sam chuckled. “Man, if I didn’t have to pick up food for dinner and get home before Eileen, I’d stay and get the full story.”

“Well, you better go before she gets back from work” Dean said, practically shoving Sam before he decided to stay.

“You should go over there, stay” Sam smiled, knowingly. “I want the full story soon, alright?”

“Would you just get, please?” Dean said, gesturing to the door.

Sam laughed as he shook his head, waving at Cas as he had looked up and had noticed them now. Sam quickly left, opening his umbrella as he walked down the path.

Cas waved Dean over, causing him to inwardly cringe. He really didn’t want to go over there but he knew he needed to. Were his friends swearing allegiance to Mark now? He needed to know more. He quickly ordered a whiskey, having stuck to beer with Sam knowing he had to drive back, but knowing he needed something stronger now. He walked over, watching Y/N shift on the couch, closer to Mark, who sat up a little, reaching his hand over.

“Good to see you again, man” he said, offering his hand.

Dean quickly shook it, making sure to let go quickly. “Yeah. So, what’s going on here?” He asked, looking at everyone before his eyes landed on Y/N.

“It’s my birthday dinner” she replied, smiling softly.

“Oh” Dean nodded, a small smile on his face. “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled in return. “Thanks. It’s actually on Sunday, but this one” she said, as she looked over at Charlie. “Had the genius idea that we should do dinner and drinks tonight.”

Dean sat down next to Cas.

“Yeah, she’s pretty smart alright” Dorothy laughed, looking at her girlfriend. Charlie rolled her eyes with laugh and gave her a quick kiss. Dean’s whiskey arrived at the table, and Mark sat forward.

“Alright” Mark got everyone’s attention as he picked up his drink and held it up for a toast. “Happy Birthday to Y/N, who’s about to be 28 years young.”

“Happy Birthday Y/N!” everyone called out as they raised their drinks, clinking their glasses together.

Y/N smiled as Mark leaned over and kissed her, softly. When she pulled away, she saw Dean looking at her and felt her heart sink. She hoped that she wasn’t flaunting her new relationship in his face, beginning to feel like crap, like she might be doing exactly that.

Dean hadn’t realized that’s how old Y/N was. He could see that she was younger than him, but by 7 years? He hadn’t thought it would be that much of a gap. What the hell was she doing kissing him, a guy so much older than her, when she could be with anyone her age? And she was. Or least Mark didn’t look much older than her, maybe a year or two. Dean scowled. She was really better off without him.

There was mostly small talk of the latest Marvel movie that had come out, and then how they hoped the Kansas City Chiefs would fair this season. Dean and Y/N’s eyes kept meeting during conversation amongst everyone, and they’d quickly look away at something else, trying not to bring attention to themselves. Dean felt his blood boiling as he saw Mark wrap his arm around her and them smiling at each other. At one point, as Dean thought he was discreetly looking at her, he caught Mark’s eye and knew that he had been caught. He gulped as he sipped his drink, hoping to a higher power that didn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

There was another round of drinks where they somehow got onto the topic of dream holidays. Dean felt like he couldn’t contribute to that considering the farthest place he had ever been was still within the U.S. He knew that he should’ve left a while ago, but somehow someone would keep the conversation going, and it was hard to find an exit point.

After that, they got back onto the topic of jobs when Mark realized he didn’t know anything about Dean. Y/N frowned when she noticed Mark sway a little as he sat up, knowing he had drunk too much and hoping he’d stop now.

“So, Dean” Mark sat forward, his arms leaning on his knees. “What do you do? I don’t even know.”

“I’m uh, I’m mechanic” Dean cleared his throat against the roughness from the alcohol. “It’s our family business. My grandmother was a teenager when her mother started it during WWII. Then my dad grew up there and started working there. Then me.”

“Wow” Mark nodded, but he scoffed a little. “Really?”

Dean eyebrows furrowed, wondering why he’d be confused by that. “Yeah.”

Mark hummed as he raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of his drink. “Didn’t you want to do more with your life?”

The silence that fell around their little corner was deafening. You could hear a pin drop despite low hum of other patrons in the bar and the music, and you could cut the tension with a chainsaw; the sound of it would’ve been welcomed at that point.

“Mark” Y/N hissed as she glared at him. She could feel the anger rising within her.

Dean gave him a tight smirk, jaw clenched as he looked down at the amber liquid in his glass. He looked up at Mark and pinned him with an unreadable expression. “And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

Well, I just mean it’s kind of a limiting job, isn’t it?” Mark shrugged. “I know-” Mark started again but Y/N cut him off.

“Mark” she said, through gritted teeth. “That’s enough.”

Mark looked at her and his face fell. He quickly realized his mistake.

“Well, I’m pretty sure there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the path Dean’s taken” Charlie chimed in, glaring at Mark.

Dean looked at her with a small smile. He winked at her and then looked back down at his glass, downing the last of it like a shot.

“You don’t know me, Mark. I don’t give a fuck what you think about my life” Dean said, getting up from the couch. “I’m getting another drink.”

“I’ll come with you” Cas said, joining him as they both walked away.

Dorothy excused herself to the restroom, as Meg and Charlie and started whispering amongst themselves. No doubt talking about what just happened.

Y/N turned to Mark, absolutely fuming at this point. “How could you say something like that?”

Mark had realized that got a worse reaction than he thought and turned to her with apologetic eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to sound so bad.”

“If you knew him, you’d know how hard he’s worked to get where he is. You’d know that he has all of these amazing plans to expand and build the business even further” Y/N told him, defending Dean and his passion for what he does. His love for what he does.

Mark looked at her, a confused look on his face. “He’s told you all that? When?”

“It doesn’t matter when” she sneered. “He did tell me, yeah. He’s a good man and he doesn’t deserve what you just said to him.”

He rubbed his face, written with worry and guilt. “Fuck.”

“I think you better go over there and apologize” she said, still glaring at him.

He nodded but took her hand in his. “I’m sorry” he whispered, looking at her. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, her anger coming down to a simmer. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Mark nodded, looking like a kicked puppy. He picked up his drink and got up from the table, walking towards the bar where Dean and Cas had gone.

Charlie turned in her seat as Y/N turned to her friends.

“You okay?” she asked, rubbing her hand up and down Y/N’s arm.

“Yeah” she sighed, as she lifted her hand patted hers. “I just can’t believe he said that.”

“He’s had a bit to drink, maybe he can’t hold his tongue quite as well as others” Meg shrugged.

“Yeah, maybe” Y/N muttered, shaking her head as she looked down at the table.

Dean waited for the bartender to bring him a neat double of whiskey, as Cas stood beside him. He wasn’t ordering another as he still had to drive the girls back home.

“You alright, man?” he asked, patting Dean’s back.

“Yeah” Dean nodded. “He just doesn’t give me a good vibe, that’s all.”

Cas looked at his friend. Dean was almost never wrong about the vibes he’d get from people. He tapped Dean on the back as he saw Mark walk over. Dean turned around, sighing heavily as he saw him. Cas patted him on the back before he walked away, when he saw Meg waving at him to come back.

Dean really didn’t want to see him right now, but he also knew that Y/N probably had something to do with this, so he would have to. For her sake.

“Listen, Dean… I am so sorry, man. I didn’t mean to be such a jerk, I-I feel like crap” Mark apologized, looking scared.

As much as Dean wanted to take him because he was bigger than Mark and absolutely could, he wouldn’t do that to Y/N.

“We’re good” Dean nodded.

Mark sighed in relief. “Great.” He was about to walk away when Dean stopped him.

“Can I give you some advice?” Dean asked, jaw clenched as his gravelly voice was eerily calm.

“Sure.” Mark gave a small nod to continue.

“You can say whatever you want about me, I don’t give a shit.” Dean pinned him with a glare. “But you better make it up to her.” Dean looked over at Y/N. She was trying to smile as the girls were most likely distracting her, but it wasn’t reaching her eyes.

“Yeah” Mark sighed. “I think I’m in the doghouse.”

“Well, you did just ruin her night, so I’m pretty sure that’s not uncalled for” Dean sneered.

Mark shook his head, squinting at Dean but he didn’t say anything.

“Just…” Dean said, trailing off as he continued to look at Y/N. He turned to Mark and knew that despite his doubts, he had to trust that this guy would be good to her. “Take care of her. Okay?”

Dean drank the last drop of his drink and didn’t wait for Mark to say anything. He left his glass on the mahogany surface of the bar as he walked away. He heard Mark walking behind him, and once Dean turned, he saw Y/N hug him.

“Alright, we’re going to head out” Cas said, wrapping his arm around Meg. They both hugged Y/N as did Charlie and Dorothy, who were going with them.

“See you tomorrow night” Charlie told her. Y/N, Charlie and Meg had planned a girls’ night in, wanting to wake up on Sunday for Y/N’s birthday.

“Can’t wait” Y/N smiled, as she squished her friend in a hug.

She pulled away, seeing Dean put on his leather jacket. Dean looked at her, offering a small smile.

“Bye” he said, quietly to her.

“Bye.” Y/N had only just managed to get that out as he walked away towards the exit.

“Are you going to be okay to drive?” Cas asked Dean. Dean knew that it was more than just about driving home, though.

“Yeah, didn’t have a lot with Sam. I’m good” Dean nodded.

“Okay” Cas said, as they hugged, tapping Dean on the back a few times and pulled away.

Everyone went their separate ways with promises to catch up soon.

As Dean drove home, he thought about what had happened at the bar. He loved what he did for a living and he was proud of what he had achieved. It just pissed him off that Mark assumed he knew his life. He really gave off a weird vibe and he really hoped that Y/N would be safe with him. She had already been with one asshole. She didn’t need another.

Y/N walked into Mark’s apartment, dropping her bag on the kitchen bench along with her flowers, and hanging her coat on one of the high stools at the kitchen bench. She looked around the studio apartment, with its big windows that gave a great view of the city around them, clean industrial lines and steel applications in the kitchen. She turned to face him with a look of sadness mixed with raging anger. He shut the door and turned to her, still sporting that kicked puppy look, as he took off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of another kitchen bench stool.

“I’m so sorry I ruined your night, baby” he bemoaned, standing in front of her now. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Just promise me that you’ll never talk to people like that again” she said, firmly. “I mean it, Mark.”

“I promise, honey. I do. I really do” he stammered, trying to reach out for her hand.

“I really do mean it, Mark. I hate seeing people being put down for the things that make them happy. I won’t stand for it” she repeated her meaning, sternly.

“I promise, Y/N. I swear it” he pleaded, his hand still out.

She eyed him, really looking at him to see if he was telling the truth. He seemed genuine enough even though there was still a bit of doubt in her mind, but she had to take a chance.

She offered her hand, smiling slightly. “Okay.”

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Her smile got a little bigger at that, as he pulled her in.

“Let me make it up to you now” he said, taking out his phone. He pressed a few things and suddenly music started to play within the apartment.

“You’re cheesy as hell, Mark Jenkins” she snorted. He was far too charming and managed to somehow get her out of her mood, which she was grateful for, as he tried to salvage this night for her.

“Oh, you love it, Y/N Y/L/N” he smirked, as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

Watching every motion

In my foolish lover’s game

On this endless ocean

Finally lovers know no shame

Turning and returning

To some secret place inside

Watching in slow motion

As you turn around and say

Take my breath away

Y/N wrapped her arms around Mark’s neck, pushing herself closer to him as they kissed, heatedly. Soon, all of their clothes were being thrown off and around the room as they kissed. She reached out and took his length in her hand, stroking him as he leaned down and nipped at her breasts through her light blue, lacy bra. His hand came down and rubbed the outside of her matching panties, and she felt herself growing wetter as he continued to touch her.

“Fuck, that feels good” Mark groaned, as her hand continued to pump him, her wrist twisting every time it moved up over the head. It prompted him to hook his fingers in her panties and move them to one side of her inner thigh. He rubbed his fingers against her pussy, feeling how wet and warm she was. His thumb circled her clit as two of his fingers slipped inside her, moving in and out, causing her to throw her head back.

“Mark” she moaned as she looked up at him.

Mark lifted her up and carried her across the large studio apartment, gently dropping her on the bed. He reached for her thigh high stockings and pulled them off one at a time, before pulling her panties down her legs and throwing them over his shoulder. She pushed herself back to rest her head on the pillow, as Mark opened the drawer of his nightstand, taking out a foil packet. Y/N gulped, slightly nervous as she remembered how things went the last time they got to this stage. She pushed the thoughts away, as Mark opened the packet and rolled the condom onto his hard length.

Mark held himself up on his hands, as Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned down and kissed her, as he guided his shaft to her entrance. He pushed into her slowly, until he was buried inside her. She sighed at the feeling of him, looking up at him with hooded eyes. He pulled back slowly, before pushing in again. Her hips met his, signalling to speed up. He began thrusting a little faster, causing her to moan. His eyes fluttered closed as he continued to move inside her.

“That good?” he asked, biting his lip.

“Yeah” she moaned. “Keep going.”

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby” he groaned, as his thrusts started to become faster.

Y/N frowned a little, as she looked down to see him moving faster.

“Mark, wait-” she said, but was cut off by his loud grunt.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” he called out, his hips bucking into hers.

He thrust into her one last time and groaned again, as his release filled the condom. His eyes were still closed as he rolled off her and onto the bed, breathing heavily. Y/N eyed him with wide eyes, not being able to believe what just happened. He came. After 10 seconds.

“That was amazing” he muttered, a grin on his face.

Maybe for you she thought to herself.

Mark opened his eyes and took the condom off. He threw it in the trashcan next to the nightstand and cleaned himself with tissues. He turned back to her with the same grin, leaning his head on his hand.

“You came, right?” he asked, his other hand running up her body, cupping her breast over her bra.

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings and say “no, because you finished before we even really started”. Did he really think she had? If he had to ask, that means she didn’t. Clearly he didn’t know that.

She smiled up at him. “Yeah.”

“Good” he smiled, as he leaned in and pecked her lips.

Mark got up from the bed and she watched his naked form walk into the kitchen to get some water. She felt horrible for lying, but she wasn’t going to hurt his feelings and bring it up just after sex. Well, lack of sex for her. She sat up on the bed and found her panties on the floor. She picked them up and put them back on, and then put on her thigh high stockings. She got up and started searching around for her clothes. Mark watched her and raised an eyebrow as she started getting dressed.

“You’re leaving already?” he asked.

She fixed her skirt into place, as she tucked her shirt back in. She looked back at him and smiled. “Yeah. I should really go. The girls coming over tomorrow, and I want to clean the house before they do.”

“Okay.” He nodded, slightly disappointed. “I’ll call you Sunday” he promised.

“Looking forward to it” she whispered against his lips.

She pecked him once again and moved away. She slipped her boots back on and walked over to the bar stool to pick up her things.

With one last look at Mark, she blew him a kiss and then walked out of the apartment. In the Uber back home, as she stared down at the roses in her lap, she lamented to herself about how familiar the disappointment she was feeling in that moment was to the last time she and Mark tried to sleep together. Before he couldn’t keep it up, and now he couldn’t last a little longer. She thought about how maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe he was tried from work, but it didn’t seem like he was. Maybe if they tried again, he would be fine. She shook her head as she lifted it to stare out the window, rain droplets rolling down the surface.

Maybe it was her fault. Her past insecurities started to circle around her mind, as she came to the conclusion that maybe he wasn’t attracted to her. He kissed her like he was and touched her like he was, but maybe when it came down to sex, she just didn’t cut it. If he couldn’t keep an erection and now, he couldn’t hold back his release for a little longer, then maybe he was trying to rush everything because he couldn’t stand to be near her.

She really hoped that wasn’t it and it was just the evils of her past emotional abuse popping up again to play mind tricks with her.

Later that night, she was in bed and staring up at the ceiling. Having been left completely unsatisfied with her sexual encounter, she was now incredibly frustrated. A thought came to her as she turned on her side and opened her bottom drawer. She reached in and took out the item she was looking for, placing in on the bed next to her as she turned onto her back. She closed her eyes, as her hand moved down to her breast, her nipples straining against the fabric of her oversized sleep shirt. She rolled the nub between her thumb and forefinger, biting her lip as she began to feel her walls clench from what she was feeling. Her hand moved down under the covers and pulled the bottom of her sleep shirt up. She began to rub her fingers over her panties, feeling her arousal begin to wet the fabric.

Her mind conjured up images of her boyfriend, images that morphed into fantasies of them ripping each other’s clothes off, as his hips moved against hers, her head falling back against the pillows. She quickly moved her panties down her legs, kicking them off her feet as her hand reached for the pink stimulator. Turning it onto the first setting, she held the mouth of it to the bundle of nerves, instantly feeling the vibration run through her body.

She moaned loudly; knowing that no one would hear her in her own house was freeing, allowing her to be as responsive to her own pleasure as she wanted. She felt the wetness between her legs grow. The image of them locked in passion suddenly changed. Instead of Mark, she was seeing Dean on top of her. He looked so goddamn gorgeous and he was making noises come out of her that she wished he could do in real life. Her moans became louder. The vibrations continued to stimulate her clit, bringing her closer to her release.

“Dean!” The loud cry of his name left her lips, as the coil snapped and she came, her arousal slicking her inner thighs.

She smiled as the dream faded and her eyes opened, her breathing deep and heavy as she came down from her high.

As Y/N stared up at the ceiling, her breath settled back into a steady beat. The clouds of sexual fantasies in her mind cleared. However, as they did, nothing had changed. She could still see his beautiful face smiling at her, still feel his muscles against her hands. Like it had all been real.

She found herself wishing that it was, and not feeling guilty at all that it wasn’t her boyfriend she had been thinking of.

The next morning, Dean stood outside on his porch, waiting as Lisa and Ben picked a few last-minute things from the house. When Ben walked out, Dean gave him a small smile, but the kid could barely look at him, glancing away as he walked down the porch stairs. It was killing Dean to know how unhappy Ben was, but at the end of the day, the kid would’ve suffered if he and Lisa had stayed together. Dean wished he had realized that sooner, but at least Ben was still a little young to understand adult problems.

Lisa walked out of the house and down to the car, putting some things in the trunk and making sure the trailer was secure. Dean walked up to Ben, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“You take care of your mom, okay?” Dean asked, as Ben looked up at him.

He gave a little eye roll but nodded. “Yeah.”

“Here.” Dean took out an envelope from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it over to Ben. “This is for you, use it for whatever games you wanna buy, okay?”

Ben’s eyes widened as he opened the envelope. “I can’t-”

“You can, just don’t tell your mom until you have to” Dean winked at him and helped Ben stash it in his backpack. Once he dropped his bag in the car, Ben launched himself at Dean, hugging him.

“Make good choices” Dean said as he hugged him.

“I will” Ben nodded.

He pulled away and looked up at Dean one last time. Dean never thought he would ever even feel like a father figure let alone a father, but with Ben he got to experience it for a few years. He was going to miss this kid grow up but he knew that he made the right decision. For everyone.

Ben sat in the car and waited for his mother. Lisa walked over to Dean, her hands in her back pockets.

“All set?” he asked, as if she was just an acquaintance, and not someone he had spent the last 3 years with. That’s how it felt now.

“Yeah” she said, quietly. “Dean, I’m so, so sorry.”

This was about the hundredth apology he had gotten from her since the night they called it quits. He knew she felt bad and so did he by the end of it after what happened with Y/N, but the time for apologies was done. It was time to move on.

“It’s okay.” Dean leaned forward, and for one last time, he planted a kiss on her head. “Take care of yourself, Lisa.”

“You too, Dean” she said, her eyes looking misty as she looked up at him.

Dean watched as they drove away, feeling lighter than he ever had in 3 years. It dawned on him that he was alone now. It scared him but maybe he needed some time before he found himself in another relationship. Maybe that’s what Y/N was doing with Mark, too.

They would find their way to each other. They both just needed a little time.

Dean picked up his keys from inside and got into the Impala, driving into the main town square. It was Y/N’s birthday tomorrow and he needed to pick up something specific for her. He just hoped he could find it.

Y/N wiggled her fingers as she admired the fresh, dark lavender nail polish on her nails. The girls had come over to stay the night for her birthday the next day, and Charlie had insisted on doing her nails. They all sat at the dining table, an extensive range of polishes in front of them.

“Are we good with ordering Chinese tonight?” Y/N asked, in between blowing on her nails.

“Definitely” Charlie replied, a look of pure concentration on her face as she painted Y/N’s nails.

“Absolutely” Meg replied too, as she painted her own in black nail polish.

“Awesome.” Y/N shifted in her seat to move her other hand in front of Charlie.

“So, how was last night?” Meg asked. “Did everything go okay after we left?”

“Yeah, we talked. He apologized, I told him he couldn’t say stuff like that again. He was pretty remorseful, and I know he had drunk a lot, so I forgave him. I know he won’t do it again” she replied, a little too confidently.

Meg frowned, slightly as she looked between Y/N and her nails. “I sure hope so.”

“He won’t, Meg” Y/N promised.

“He better not” Charlie said, her tone quite angry.

Y/N sighed and looked at her redheaded friend. “How’s Dean?”

“He’s fine, really. He never lets this kind of stuff get to him” Charlie replied, looking up at Y/N from her nails. “I just don’t get a good vibe from Mark.”

“What?” Y/N asked, confused as she shook her head.

Meg and Charlie looked at each other, and Meg shrugged. Charlie looked at Y/N. “Are you sure he’s a good guy? Like… actually good? Not just putting on a show to impress everyone?”

Y/N bit her lip, not knowing to respond. She had started having her doubts after the incident last night, and knowing her friends were feeling the same didn’t bode well.

Meg looked at her and decided that they needed to steer away from this. It was best for Y/N to make her own mind up about this.

“So, after that…” Meg changed the subject with a smirk on her face. “Did… anything fun happen?”

Y/N gulped, her eyes shifting back and forth as she tried to come up with something to say. “Um… yeah. I mean, we-we um-”

“You what? Spit it out, Y/N” she said, her smirk getting wider.

“Did you guys do it?” Charlie asked, curiously.

Y/N huffed a laugh. “Yes.”

“And?” Meg asked, confused.

“And…” Y/N started, watching her friends listening intently. “He came. After ten seconds.”

Both Charlie and Meg’s eyes were blown wide as their mouths fell open.

“Ten seconds?” Meg asked, still shocked.

“Give or take” Y/N replied.

“Y/N…” Meg shook her head, not knowing what to say.

“He was probably just tired from work or he drank too much at the bar. I can’t base what he’s like in bed on this experience” Y/N explained, looking between her friends.

“Yeah, don’t look at me for this one. Sorry” Charlie stated, putting her hands up, as she got up to get herself a drink from the fridge.

“No, you definitely can’t. You just have to try again, when you know he won’t be so tired, and he hasn’t had so much to drink” Meg said, completely straightforward.

Y/N sighed in relief. “So… this is happened with you before?”

Meg smirked a little. “Well, not with Cas, but with other guys before him… yeah. Once or twice.”

“Okay” Y/N nodded. “This has never been an issue with anyone. I mean, bad sex in general, yeah… but never this.”

“Yeah, it can pretty awkward” Meg agreed. She frowned when it looked like Y/N was holding something back. “What?”

“We tried once before… last week and… he couldn’t keep it up” Y/N said, frowning.

“Fuck” was all Meg could say.

Y/N laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Yeah.”

“Okay… I’m gonna be really honest here” Meg said, turning to Y/N. “You need to make sure this is genuine. Not just that you want this, but he wants this, too. If he’s serious about you, then you guys can talk about it and try again and put in the work.”

“You’re right” Y/N nodded, a new determination in her.

As the girls carried on with their girls’ night in, ordering Chinese food and watching their favorite rom-coms, Y/N felt better with what happened with Mark. Talking to Meg had cleared her of any insecurities she had when she was coming home after it happened. She had a feeling that things would be okay if they talked and tried again.

“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Y/N! Happy Birthday to you!” Meg and Charlie sang at the top of their lungs as they burst into her room the next morning.

Y/N groaned but laughed as she woke up, sitting up in bed as she rubbed her eyes. The girls dragged her out of bed as she grabbed her fluffy robe and walked out to the living area with them. They had birthday cupcakes for her, which Charlie revealed she went and got from her place after buying them the previous day. There were some balloons and confetti on the table, and also coffee to go with their cupcakes.

“I love you both so much” she said, hugging them before they all sat down and enjoyed the little desserts for breakfast.

They had a great time continuing to chat about anything and everything. Y/N smiled as she realized how lucky she was to have these amazing women in her life. They had both helped her through a lot, some of it from her past with Ethan, and some of it from her present with Dean and now Mark. She missed her family, but she was beginning to feel like she had one in Lawrence, too.

Once the girls left after insisting on cleaning up their mess, Y/N got phone calls from her parents, her sister and brother-in-law and the kids, Katie and lastly, Mark. She was feeling the love from everyone and she couldn’t believe how happy she was. This time last year was a challenging time for her, getting over her break-up and going to therapy. Now she was in the best place she had ever been. There still some hurdles to face, but she knew those would work out the way they needed to.

As the sun began to set on her birthday, Y/N sat down and relaxed, saving her task of grading papers for her free period and lunch at school the next day. Just as she sat down to enjoy Chinese take-out leftovers and a FRIENDS re-run marathon, her phone chimed with a message. She picked up her phone and looked at the screen. Her eyes widened and her heart began to beat rapidly as she saw who it was from.

Dean: Happy Birthday, Y/N. Check your front door. You can make your dad jealous now ;)

Y/N frowned, shaking her head with confusion. She got up and walked over to the door. When she opened it, she looked around to see no one outside. Shaking her head, she was about to close the door when something on her doormat caught her eye. A large flat square badly wrapped in silver wrapping laid on the mat. She picked it up and walked back into the house, closing the door. She frantically unwrapped the gift, desperate to see what it was. She gasped as she stared down at the gift. She smiled as her eyes glistened.

It was a record. The Led Zeppelin II record she told him she still didn’t have, when she was at his house for dinner. He remembered something she just mentioned, just in conversation. He actually remembered.

She hugged the record close to her chest. She shook her head as she thought about him, and the thoughtfulness of this gift. He knew she loved the band, almost as much as he did, and he went out of his way to get her this.

How the hell was she supposed to move from him if he did things like this for her?

-x-

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 4 years ago

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Fic: Winging It

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Frankie Morales x Jay ‘Lady’ Ray

Warnings: A bit of language and lots of cute baby stuff. Parental insecurities. Mostly just fluff with no plot. Dad!Frankie and Mom!Lady.

Summary: Lady doesn't like mommy and me class very much.

Words: 1,535

A/N: I don't know, I just wanted to have a moment with my favourite lovebirds and their spawn. Frankie x Lady masterlist.

”Uh! Gah!”

Jay laughs a little at the sight of Alma, six months old, doing frustrated push-ups on her play blanket while trying to reach for the red ball which, of course, gets pushed further away from her.

”Damn that fucker, right? Here you go, baby.” Jay rolls to ball back to the baby, who grabs it and proceeds to trying to stuff it into her tiny mouth. That doesn’t work, either, so she drops it, and it rolls away again. Not really having figured out how to crawl just yet, Alma reaches for the ball, almost gets it, but pushes it away even further, then watches in disbelief and disappointment while trying to move after it. Jay expects the baby to start crawling any day now but so far, Alma’s only wagging her lower body from side to side, unable to figure out that she actually needs to move her legs to get anywhere.

”Ah!!” Alma’s exclamation is filled with frustration.

”Come on, honey, you can do it,” Jay tries to encourage her dark-haired daughter. Alma pumps her upper body up and down, stares angrily at the ball, and yells, before slumping down onto her stomach, face in wrinkles.

”You get that from your dad,” Jay sighs. She gives the ball back the Alma, who happily examines it, quiet for a moment. Jay leans against the couch, keeping an eye on the kid but also taking the opportunity to enjoy not having to entertain her, even if only for a minute. God knows that’s all she’s done for months until she picked up her studies and working part-time two months ago.

She wasn’t sure what she thought motherhood would be like: would it come to her naturally or would she struggle with it, loath to be so chained to her gender and the role that came with it? She’s never been good at being a woman and what that entails, never wanted the epithet that so often seemed to follow her around in the army.

She’s lucky to have Frankie. He understands this part of her and lets her be who she is. Being together with him has definitely made her accept her womanhood in a whole new way, and she knows that she would never have had kids with anyone else but him. Frankie adores the baby and is just as hands-on with her as Jay expected. Being a mother is hard, she moves from one extreme to the other: immense pride at how well she is handling being a mother, and constant anxiety about not being a good enough mother. Frankie definitely makes the experience easier and it helps to know that he’s just as worried about his capabilities as a father.

The front door opens and closes and shortly after, Frankie shows up in the living-room. Alma drops the ball at the sight of him and gives a happy little shriek.

”Hey, chiquita!” Frankie crouches by the girl and lifts her up, hoisting her in front of his face, giving her a big kiss. Alma giggles in delight, arms flailing.

”How’s mamacita?” Frankie turns to Jay and gives her a kiss as well. She tastes a little sweat on his upper lip; it’s a warm, sunny day.

”So-so. We went to mommy and me group.”

”How was that? Are they still boring as shit?”

Jay’s had a hard time connecting with the other mothers, or at least some of them: they do not share values or opinions about child rearing, and boy, do those women have opinions.

”The Stepford wives are, well, the same Stepford wives,” Jay shrugs. “I suspect they think I’m a lesbian.”

“Excuse me, what?” Frankie stares at her. “Haven’t you told them about me?”

“Well, not as such. They keep bitchin’ about their husbands – seriously, why do people get married and have kids when it’s so obvious they shouldn’t even be together because all they do is nag? – and how they never help out. I said I’ve never had that problem with my partner, we do everything together.”

“Yeah, I wonder where they got the idea from.” Frankie rolls his eyes.

“I’m not calling you my boyfriend.”

“I’ve told you there’s an easy fix to that, we’ll just get hitched,” he shrugs, bouncing Alma on his thigh.

“And I’ve told you no,” Jay tells him patiently, not having this discussion again. She smiles at Alma, so happy in Frankie’s arms, and then glances up at Frankie again.

“Should I grow out my hair?”

“So you wouldn’t look like a lesbian?” he asks pointedly. “Nope. If you want to do it to try how you’d like longer hair, then yes, why not?”

“Would you like it if I had longer hair?”

“Jay, what’s all this? You never cared what I thought about your hair.” Frankie scoots closer, cradling Alma on one arm and sliding the other around Jay’s shoulders.

“I guess I only today realized that it’s just not about me,” she confesses, leaning a little against Frankie. “Everything I do affects Alma. Every snooty mom who looks down on me because I’m not like her is capable of denying Alma a friend to play with.”

“True,” Frankie agrees, “but do you really want our girl to play with kids whose parents are absolute idiots?”

“It’s not like we can conduct interviews with the parents every time she wants to play with someone in the park,” Jay points out with a weak smile. Frankie grins back.

“She’s six months old, baby. Just relax. We’ll figure it out along the way, okay?”

“So we’re winging it, just like we’re winging everything else with this kid?” Jay jokes lightly, thinking of the stacks of books on parenting and developmental psychology she’s read to prepare herself for this life-long commitment.

“I’m a pilot, I’m used to winging it.”

“Oh my God, you’re so funny!” Jay sighs deeply and makes a gun with her hand, putting it to her own temple and pretending to pull the trigger. Frankie shakes his head and looks down on Alma.

“My comedic genius is wasted here, chiquita. I can’t wait for you to be big enough to appreciate it.”

“You’re going to be the king of dad jokes.”

“Obviously.”

Frankie tickles Alma’s tummy, drawing a laugh from her, then looks back at Jay.

“Don’t grow out your hair,” he tells her softly, “unless you want to, of course. I like your hair. It’s so you.”

Jay smiles and passes her hand over her short-cropped hair. Had it been naturally curly, like Frankie’s, it would coil at her ears and the nape of her neck by now. But it’s straight and she’s overdue for a trim.

“Thanks, baby,” she tells him quietly, happy and grateful for his never-ending support. He nods, then frowns a little, as if a thought just occurred to him.

“Maybe I need to go to the next mommy and me group. Set those women straight.”

”They’d lose their shitif a dad showed up there, especially a hot dad like you,” Jay winks at him. ”Tell them I’m at the gym, they’ll love that. But don’t freak out: those of them who talk the most about how cute their babies are, have the most ugly-ass kids I’ve ever seen.”

She makes a face and then looks down at Alma, who’s making little sounds now, restless on Frankie’s arm.

”I’m so happy we managed to make a baby that’s actually cute.”

”With a mom like you, she has to be cute,” Frankie replies, leaning towards Jay for a kiss. She smiles and meets him halfway, lips separates so she can suck his lower lip, the little patch of facial hair right underneath the lip tickling her skin.

The kiss is interrupted by an angry shout from Alma, who is done with cuddles with dad. Frankie puts her down on her back and she proceeds to immediately turning onto her tummy and once again doing a pushup, clearly aiming for the red ball again. Her tiny brows furrow in frustration as she voices her unhappiness.

”Still struggling?” Frankie asks with a tender smile as he watches his daughter try to figure out crawling.

Jay nods. ”And that goddamn ball isn’t taking any orders.”

”She’s close, though.” Alma's almost getting up on her knees, but does not seem to be aware of it: she’s so focused on reaching her chubby arms forward she’s not realizing that she could use a boost from behind.

”It’s a good thing she’s cute, because she’s not that bright,” Jay scoffs, just as Alma emits a loud shriek and jump-starts in an unexpected engagement of her legs, and bounces forward just a couple of inches. It’s not enough to reach the ball but she seems to understand that she did get closer, because she’s flailing her arms in excitement. Frankie and Jay stare at her, both perplexed.

”Well... she shut me up,” Jay finally admits. Frankie rolls the ball towards Alma, who grabs it and then, quite neatly, spits up on it. She looks surprised, and raises her gaze to her parents.

”Wah-wah!”

Jay hands Frankie the burp cloth and stands up.

“Entertain the spawn, Morales. I'm gonna get dinner started.”

#my fic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x lady

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jenomark · 5 years ago

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➔Summary: For many reasons, you haven’t had sex in a long time. Though you love yourself and your bigger body, you’re always aware that other people might not. After a bad night with someone who didn’t want to be seen in public with you, your best friend Ten offers to set you up with his friend Taeyong.

*This is very body positive, but it does deal with a lot of negative things that are very close to reality for most people. I tried to portray things as accurately as I can, given my own experiences. I know not everyone’s experience is like mine. It’s a very honest outlook on having a one-night-stand or FWB relationship while being a bigger girl.

Mr. No Name. He hit all the right notes and strokes. He was attractive and mildly interesting. More importantly, he said he didn’t care what you looked like, or that it had been awhile since you’d had sex. His clothes flew off mid-air, and you watched them land here and there. Mistakes never landed in one spot, you thought. They peppered your life like seasoning, and even so, life had been tasteless, as of late. You still found yourself craving the morsel that would poison you.

“Can you give me a moment?” you asked.

Nameless stretched across your bed like a God, his arms draped out in what he must have pretended was satin. IKEA might have felt honored. When he spoke, he told you to hurry back quickly. He said he didn’t have that much time, but you suspected he was the type to fuck and leave.

“Okay.” you said.

You left your bedroom, not really thinking that you’d just left a stranger to rummage through your personal belongings. You went into the bathroom and turned off all the lights. You didn’t want to look at your body stuffed into the lingerie you carefully picked out for the occasion. You didn’t want to know what he saw when he looked at you. You hated that you were that girl, but old habits die hard, or rather, they come back from the dead and pick you apart until you’re just bone.

Sex. It never mattered much to you. You would consume it when it came, just a notch above feeling grateful that someone would stick themselves inside of you. You didn’t know if it didn’t matter because it didn’t, or because you couldn’t fathom caring so much about someone that didn’t care for you back. It was easier to skip the hurt altogether and go straight for the parts where you ate the ice cream without the excuse.

“Get a grip.” you told yourself in the darkness.

It had been awhile since you’d had sex because, despite being happy in your own skin, you were still terrified of someone seeing you naked. It was hell to explain how fulfilled you felt as your own person until a man looked at you and diminished your worth by calling you the most unfuckable person in the room. It was so easy for someone to tear down years of hard work and self-reflection for a two second shame fest by a stranger in a passing car, yelling about your weight, or what you should and shouldn’t be eating. And, yes, you hated that you cared what people thought of you, even after all this time.

Enter: Mr. No Name. You called him that because he gave you an alias to call him by, and the fake name didn’t sit well with you. You wanted to ask him why he didn’t want you to know him, but deep down, you already knew. No one wants to be seen with the fat girl. You knew you were completely right when you asked him for coffee, and he looked as if you’d asked him to march around town with a parade float tied to his leg. Not everyone would look at the straight-sized man and the plus-sized girl and think negatively, but there would always be people who were still looking. Maybe you didn’t want to be seen as much as he didn’t want to be seen. Maybe you were also the problem.

Still, you were horny and touch starved. After all, all you wanted from him was sex. That was the agreement. And you loathed yourself for briefly wanting more, for looking at him and his desire for you, and thinking that it could extend beyond the bedroom. Silly you for wanting what some people had. You had to forgive your own poor self-esteem and hope that others would, too.

When you went back to your bedroom, he had passed out on your pillow. He was hugging the other one, his naked body smooth against the fabric. In his sleep, the prospect of him didn’t seem as scary as you thought. You wouldn’t hold it against him. You woke him and told him to put his clothes back on.

“So what?” he said. “Things don’t work out. It wasn’t meant to be.”

You looked over at Ten and felt that he was completely missing the point. It was your fault. You were never honest about how you felt because you didn’t want to bring attention to it. He knew your lingering insecurities as well as anyone, but there were things he could never truly understand. Last thing you wanted was for someone to pity you, or worse, think you’re just making it all up in your head.

“I want sex,” you said. “I think I’m drying up down there.”

“Dating apps.” Ten said, as if his genius idea would save you.

“Absolutely not.”

“You have to start somewhere.”

“I’m not a fetish,” you said. “Dating apps make me realize why I don’t date in the first place.”

“If you wait for things to happen organically, you might miss out,” Ten said. “Do people still do newspaper ads?”

“Are newspapers even a thing?” you asked.

You and Ten looked at each other and shrugged. There were so many things you understood about each other. You sat down and wiped sweat from your forehead. You were supposed to be cleaning your apartment. There was something about deep cleaning that soothed you. And Ten was supposed to be helping, but he was sipping his hot tea and playing around on his phone.

“Can I be honest with you?” you asked.

It felt like now or never. He didn’t need to know everything, just a little bit where you were coming from. There were sirens going off in your head telling you not to say anything to him. Your big mouth couldn’t stop once you were dead set on something.

“Always,” he said, putting his phone down. “Is this about the date?”

You nodded. “It’s about me, too. I’m..I don’t love the body I’m in..sometimes..other times, I love her. She gets me from point A to B. She makes me feel sexy. Forget what makes you healthy and what doesn’t. I don’t listen to anyone else but my doctor. All I know is that I love myself, from my ridiculous long second toe, to my double chin. All of it. And I think that scares people away, and I think I let them scare me away, too.”

“Was he that bad?” he asked.

“He didn’t want to be seen with me. Before we entered my apartment, he asked if anyone knew he was there,” you said. “ I would have cried if I was any other person. You know, I’m not even mad that he was like that. At this point, I expect that more than I don’t. I’m mad that, for one moment in time, I really expected him to be different. He kept saying how much he loved my body, and I didn’t get fetish feelings from him. I thought, “Wow, he could really be the one. He could be the fuck buddy of a lifetime.” Despite fucking it up in so many other ways, he made me feel like a person. I felt wanted.”

“He sounds like a dick.” Ten said.

Slowly, you nodded in agreement. At the same time, you and Ten sipped your drinks, lost in thought.

Then, as if he remembered something important, Ten tilted his head and said, “I know a man.”

“That’s great,” you said, dryly. “I know a lot of men, too.”

‘“No,” he said, slapping the table. “I have a friend.”

You raised your eyebrows. You thought about being sarcastic, but Ten wasn’t paying attention. It was no fun if he didn’t play back. He was excited by his own thought process, the wheels in his head spinning.

“You just want sex!” he said.

“Correct.”

“With someone who will be seen with you in public,” he continued. “So they don’t kill your lady boner. I know a friend who will do that for you.”

“No.” you said, flatly.

“Why not?”

“I’m not a charity case,” you said. “I don’t want a man to fuck me just because he feels bad.”

“This guy isn’t like that.”

You wanted to say that all guys were like that, but that way of thinking didn’t help anyone. It wasn’t true. You knew there were men out there who were what you wanted, you just didn’t know why they were halfway around the world. You thought of Ten’s friends, which were also your friends, by default.

“Which friend?” you asked. “All of them are with someone. Besides, I wouldn’t have sex with any of them. It would be too weird.”

“You don’t know him.”

“But I know all of your friends.”

“Not this one,” Ten said. “He’s in my art class. You’ll love him. Come to Saturday’s class. I’ll introduce you.”

They say fat girls shouldn’t wear overalls. You looked at your tummy in the reflection of a car and pressed your hands against it. Your thighs looked like they were bulging in the little shorts. You shook your head to rid yourself of the thought demons that tried to make you think you were anything less than sexy. Whenever it came to the opinion of men, unfortunately, they liked to show up and rear their ugly heads. You looked adorable in your overalls, and you’d look smokin’ hot out of them.

You weren’t good at art, so you didn’t know how to dress up, or how to behave. You showed up and stood by a bunch of people smoking cigarettes and gossiping. You thought the atmosphere would be more like the movies, and you thanked yourself you didn’t show up in some ridiculous scarf and a beret.

“You’re earlier than I am,” Ten said, hugging you from behind. “That’s not something I can get used to. You look like an art ho.”

“What is an art ho?” you asked.

Self-consciously, your eyes started going towards your reflection. Ten took your arm and led you inside, past the smokers, and right through a door into a cool and brightly lit studio. Ten came every week, and you could see why. The place had a cheery vibe, and everyone around you was smiling and sitting down at an easel. There was food in the corner of the room and all of these prints on the wall that you could look at for hours.

“So,” you said, sitting down. “We just...paint things?”

“Yes, “Ten said. “We get a theme for the day. No rules. No stress or worries. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. All that matters is that you have fun.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re a great artist.”

Ten blushed. “I try my best.”

Taking your place and watching everyone slowly trickle into the class, you noticed how attractive everyone was. You didn’t know what Ten’s friend looked like. You didn’t even know his name. You imagined him in your head, building him up like a clay figure. He had eyes and a nose, he was tall and resembled a beautiful marble statue. You looked around the room and realized there were mostly couples, their eyes finding each other wherever they went. Your eyes kept swimming around the room, too, even as the class began. And that’s when you saw him.

“Whoa.” you said underneath your breath.

He was beautiful. He was tall, like you imagined. So much of his broad shouldered body peeked out from behind his easel. He had black hair, which he swept back from his forehead. He had a smile permanently fixed to his face, and the warmest brown eyes you had ever seen. You physically gulped before nudging Ten.

“Who is that?” you asked.

Ten smirked. “That’s Johnny. All the girls love him.”

You were all the girls. You couldn’t stop staring at him. You wondered if painting him would be too creepy. As class began, you tried focusing on the project at hand, but your eyes kept going back to him.

“I need to get laid, “ you whispered. “I need to get laid so badly.”

“Will you relax,” Ten whispered back. “I don’t need you climaxing in front of my class. I think that’s frowned upon.”

You forgot about Johnny as best as you could and painted the sexiest fruit bowl of your life. You were proud, tired, and most of all, itching at the chance to talk to Johnny. You were thankful for Ten in that moment, so thankful that you could have kissed him. But, your attention was not on Ten. You were thinking about Johnny’s big body slamming you down onto your bed and fucking the still life out of you.

“I want you to meet him now.” Ten said.

You stood fast, your knee knocking into the easel. Several people looked your way because of the loud noise. You waved and tried to shake off the embarrassment. Johnny stood too, his face a model of perfection. He was so happy that it was infectious.

“He’s a little too attractive.” you said.

“Johnny?” Ten asked. “I guess so.”

Ten ushered you forward. As you were getting ready to extend your hand out to Johnny, Ten kept pushing until you were in front of the easel at the end. A man stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Hello, “ he said. “I’m Taeyong.”

You were speechless. You cursed yourself for automatically thinking it was Johnny. The look on your face must have said it all, because Ten needed to cover for you. He told Taeyong your name after fixing you with the longest side-eye in human history.

“Taeyong,” you said. “Right. I’m sorry. I’m just...so..in love with your painting.”

You looked at his painting. It was chaotic. The fruit were different colors and they were all smashed, the seeds ripped out, and the juices flowing. He had more paint on his hands and arms than what was on the canvas.

“This?” he asked. “Thank you. Painting gives me energy.”

Ten put his hand on your shoulder and said he was going to clean up his station. You couldn’t recover from the initial embarrassment, so you offered to go help him.

“It’s okay if you don’t like what you see,” Taeyong said. “I understand.”

Ten gave you one last “I will fuck you up if you ruin this for yourself” glance before disappearing. Everything in you felt apologetic towards Taeyong. It wasn’t even about him.

“It’s not you.” you said.

Taeyong laughed. “That’s usually how the saying goes.”

“No!” you said. “Really, it’s not you. You’re wonderful.”

And you meant it. Though he was different from Johnny and different from what you expected, Taeyong was very handsome. In your mind, you didn’t judge the way he looked because you didn’t want him to do the same to you. You knew how it felt too well, which is why it hurt you that he was feeling that way.

“Can I be honest?” you said. “I think I fucked this up. Ten didn’t tell me anything about you, and I thought you were someone else.”

“Ahh,” Taeyong said. “Imagine the disappointment.”

You could feel yourself growing dizzy. You took a seat in the chair next to Taeyong. When you stood, you were a little taller than him. When you sat, your body felt massive in front of his smaller frame. You looked into his face, into his eyes which didn’t look as upset as they should have been.

“I’m an idiot,” you said. “All these years wanting people to censor themselves for me, and I end up doing it to someone else. Can we start over?”

Taeyong sat. He placed his hands between his thighs and nodded. The way he moved was so cute that you couldn’t help but smile.

“Taeyong,” you said. “Would you like to come home with me?”

“Y-e-eesss.” he said, drawing the world out cutely.

You found yourself back in your bedroom, in a role that seemed too familiar. You were starting to feel scared that Taeyong only came back because of some fat fetish. He had been seen with you in public, had even reached for your hand on the walk back to your apartment, but fear had a way of resurfacing in intimate spaces.

“This is nice,” Taeyong said, gesturing up at the painting above your bed. “I draw on my walls, but this is much more sophisticated.”

You couldn’t seem to talk. Your mouth was dry. You asked him if he wanted a drink so that you could have one to loosen up. He said he didn’t drink much because his neck got all splotchy and red. You skipped the drink and disappeared into the bathroom, like a coward.

“We’re here again,” you said to yourself. “Just fuck him al-”

There was a knock at the bathroom door. You turned on the lights and opened it slowly to see Taeyong standing there.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m good.”

“It’s just that,” he said. “You’re talking to yourself. I talk to myself sometimes, too. Do you want to do this another time?”

He looked so sweet that something in you just toppled over the edge. You didn’t say no. You didn’t say yes. You crossed the threshold and kissed him, grabbing the back of his head. The kiss itself was so soft and tame that you kept trying to make it more aggressive. Taeyong released his lips from yours and rubbed his mouth. He laughed nervously and looked down at the floor. His lips were red and swollen, his eyes more lustful than before when he finally looked back up at you. He stepped forward and kissed you, pressing his body up against yours. Normally, feeling someone's tummy against yours would make you retreat, but you were so lost in the moment that you didn’t notice.

“Bedroom?” Taeyong asked.

“Yes.”

It was Taeyong who guided you to your own bedroom. Your eyes went straight to the painting above your bed. There was a new appreciation for it. When you looked back to Taeyong, he was looking at you like he was looking at art: admiring, questioning.

“You’re nervous,” he asked. “Why?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone.” you said.

You and Taeyong sat on the edge of your bed. You were itching to kiss him, but you felt that the questions on the tip of his tongue would get in the way.

“Being nervous is okay,” he said. “But I want you to know that I’ll take my time and make it enjoyable for you.”

He leaned in to kiss you, his hand pushing your hair out of the way so that he could rest it on your cheek. Your hand was on his thigh. Things started escalating, like you were both trying to one-up the other. Taeyong’s hand was on your breast, trying to figure out the machinations of the overalls. You were rubbing his leg a little too much. He had to ask you to stop or he'd explode. You laid back on the bed and let him hover above your body. Your thighs felt extra jiggly when his hands caressed you. You felt yourself clamming up, and Taeyong sensed it and stopped.

“I’m not entirely comfortable with my body sometimes.” you admitted.

“Do you want to stop?” Taeyong asked. “We can watch movies or play board games?”

“Board games?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I like games.”

You wanted to laugh. Taeyong was much different from Mr. No Name. Being with him felt less like a performance. It was like you were being intimate with a friend, only intimacy looked a lot like awkwardness.

“I don’t want to stop,” you said. “Do you?”

“No.” Taeyong said.

He sloped down to kiss you. His hand continued moving up your thigh and into your shorts. Having someone's fingers inside of you after not having anything for so long felt like an epiphany. You moaned and stopped kissing Taeyong. Not because you wanted to stop exploring his mouth, but because you couldn’t contain your excitement. You opened your legs and let him finger you, his skinny and long fingers jerking in and out of you with zeal.

“Don’t stop,” you moaned. “Don’t stop.”

You came around his fingers quickly, your hand reaching out to grab his wrist. He delicately kissed the side of your neck, double chin and all. You took a minute to catch your breath, but Taeyong was all over you. He unhooked your overalls. He lifted up your shirt to reveal your stomach. Checking to see if it was okay with you first, he kissed your soft flesh. You moved further up the bed so that his face was down below. He helped you remove the outfit, and you finished it off, sitting up on your bed naked and fighting the urge to cover yourself.

“Don’t tell me I’m beautiful,” you said. “Don’t say anything at all about my body. Tell me about yours.”

Taeyong smiled in understanding. He yanked his shirt over his head and pointed at his scar. The pink jagged line was shiny. You yearned to place your lips against it.

“A scar,” he said. He brought his hands up his body, his ribs noticeable. Seductively, he brought his hand back down until his fingers caught on his zipper. It didn’t take much for Taeyong’s baggy pants to fall to the ground. He slipped off his briefs to reveal his soft cock. “Can I show you my body?”

“Yes.”

He was going to come to you, but you scooted to the edge of the bed. You didn’t love the way your body looked while you were sitting, but your attention was saved by Taeyong’s cock. You took over, working him in your hands, and watching as he came to life. You leaned down to suck him, enjoying how he whimpered from the warmth of your mouth. You stopped momentarily to kiss his scar before you were back at it, drawing him closer and closer. Before he could spill, you let him go and climbed back onto the bed on all fours, your ass facing him. The position was easiest for you. You didn’t have to look at men when they fucked you, your fat moving rabidly, and your mind wondering how distracted they were by your body. You waited for him to come to you and thrust his cock into you from behind, but Taeyong didn’t.

“I want you on top,” he said. “I want to see you.”

You watched Taeyong lay on your bed, his body just below the painting. He was relaxing in a bunch of pillows, and he was smiling. If you went on top of him, his small frame seemed like it would disappear underneath you. The thought of your thick thighs rubbing against him made you queasy. Yet, there was something so sexy about him wanting you that carried you forward. It was an interesting situation.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

Taeyong lifted his arms behind his head. “Ride me.”

You gripped his thighs and climbed on top of him. You were hyper aware of your body touching his. You lifted your ass up and tried to situate yourself. As you did, Taeyong’s hands were all over you. He poked and prodded you, smoothing his fingers over your skin and exploring everything there was to see and not see. At first, you froze in place. You had never had anyone feel your body like that, like a painter painting a canvas. You could feel his brush strokes as you closed your eyes, his fingers moving over your nipples, and the way he touched you when he went between your legs.

Lowering yourself down onto his cock, you had to slowly let him in. Every inch was felt, moving inside of you so intensely that every time you moved back up just a little, you wanted to lurch forward in pleasure. Taeyong held your waist and kept his hands there as you rocked over him slowly.

“I forgot how good this felt.” you said.

You hadn’t ridden someone since university. It was the second time ever, and the first time with someone you could actually see yourself liking. You tried pushing the L-word thoughts out of your head. You and Taeyong were only having sex, not dating.

“Faster.” Taeyong said, the words coming out of his mouth surprising him.

You rode him faster, trying not to think too hard about the way your body bounced, or how it looked. He touched you as you fucked him, his hands getting increasingly more desperate. The way he looked up at you made you feel bold. You pressed down on his chest and started fucking yourself on his cock with a new pace, your body slamming down on him hard. The sounds of your bodies slapping together was loud, and at one point, you slowed down because you were scared you were hurting him.

“No,” he moaned. “Keep going.”

You fucked him until you came, throwing your head back and riding the wave. Taeyong watched you with awe, even when you didn’t stop moving. You wanted him to come, wanted to finish him off the way he deserved.

“Give it to me,” you said, fucking him. “I want it, Taeyong. Come for me.”

You pushed your breasts against his chest and kissed him. The moan that broke free from his lips was loud and whiny. You kissed his neck and kept taking his cock until he came, his body stiffening before relaxing. You let him stay inside of you long after he had come, his fingertips drawing love hearts on your skin.

“I was thinking,” Taeyong said. “Tomorrow we should get that drink.”

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