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

[arcane-vagabond]

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[elebicheee]

Insecure Attraction- X-MEN 97!Logan X F!Reader

A/N: I had to exorcise this from my system sksksksksksk. Might make a part two if anyone wants it.

Wordcount: 2142

Summary: Feelings grow like plants, and with plants come weeds that hinder that growth. After a close call on a mission Logan takes it upon himself to train you, and for a fleeting moment you think maybe your one-sided crush isn't as one-sided as you thought. Then you're interrupted, and jealousy rears its ugly head.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. Unrequited love but is it tho? Reader is described as taller than Logan and is referred to as she/her but no physical descriptions are used. Lowkey Jean Grey slander but its due to jealousy and misunderstanding.

PT2 height diff visual aid

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To say you'd spent most of your time in the mansion praying to whatever gods were out there that the telepaths on the property couldn't hear your thoughts was an understatement. Since you moved here everyone has been very welcoming and accommodating. And though you'd been a mutant your entire life, this was the first time you'd ever had to deal with mind readers. And that made you nervous.

Not because you had any sort of nefarious plans or dark treacherous secrets. But because you had a crush. A big one.

And you really, really, wanted to keep it under wraps because the thought of it ever turning into anything seemed so preposterous and far-fetched that your own feelings made you embarrassed. 

It started very slowly, your crush on Logan, so slow that by the time it had blossomed completely the roots were too deeply bedded to simply rip out. You didn't like him at first, he was brash, stubborn and pretty rude. And, not to mention, short. All things that you didn't like, at all. Surely. You'd entertained enough assholes in your life to want anything to do with him at all, and standing at almost six feet you knew how men reacted to feeling ‘lesser’. And by all accounts, you should want nothing to do with Logan-fucking-Howlett.

But here you were. It was strange how people's roles in one's mind changed without notice. 

Your powers were simple, being able to conjure panels of energy that you mostly used as shields for yourself or others. You had a pretty background position on the team, which you didn't mind at all given that before this you'd never really fought much. This relegated you to work on more ‘search and rescue’ missions after the big fights. Your panels allow you to keep buildings steady to give first responders time to get people out or keeping them safe during combat while they did their jobs. It was during these tasks that you saw the cracks in Logan’s gruff facade. 

It wasn't a secret that he all but ran towards the battlefield as soon as a skirmish started. But what most people didn't know was that he stayed, long after the battles ended. His body still healing from the damage, suit torn, he’d help anyone stuck under rubble, he'd take hits from falling debris in their place knowing that he could heal but they couldn't. 

“Fuck!” You heard his gruff voice nearby after the unmistakable sound of falling rubble and a fragile scream. You turned from the pillar you were holding in place to see Logan crouching over an elderly woman, a partially destroyed wall crumbled over his back.

“Logan!” You made sure it was safe to release your hold on the pillar before making your way to him carefully. There was some blood on his part but nothing he wouldn't walk away from. Making sure there was nothing stabbing him, you created a panel between his back and the shattered wall, keeping it firmly in place allowing him to move freely and carry the old woman to safety. Despite the obvious pain he was in he moved carefully, mindful of the old woman's fragility. You stared as he handed her carefully to the paramedics nodding wordlessly at her teary thank yous and walking away. It was only when you heard Scott call for your help that you released the wall you were holding in place, its impact on the floor waking you from your dazedness that you tore your gaze away from Logan's wounded back and continued to do your job. 

That was one of many moments that slowly chipped away at your crude first impression of him, and built something more for him inside your heart.

For the most part, you just observed from afar, convinced that this was enough for you. Because his heart already belonged to someone else. Because men don't like taller women. Because he wasn't the relationship-type unless it involved a certain redhead. Excuses, excuses, excuses. 

Every small act of kindness offered or thoughtful gestures that were meant only for those on the receiving end and no one else made the feeling in your chest tighter. Saving civilians, despite the very real possibility that they were mutant-hating bigots; Or offering reassurance to Morph when they were having a bad day. Every action just crushed your little heart bit by bit.

You wanted to bash your head against a wall.

Once you knew that Logan could be kind, it was impossible to not see every little act of kindness hidden beneath layers of brashness and sarcasm. Like right now.

After a particularly difficult mission you were overwhelmed by the amount of rubble and buildings you had to keep together as first responders cleared the area. Too overwhelmed to notice a rogue sentinel. Which would have gotten you killed, had Logan not been there.

Now you made your way through the simulation currently running in the danger room, dodging and redirecting attacks and falling debris thrown your way from the simulated sentinels. Logan though you didn't get enough time in the field, which made you rusty. And being rusty could mean death. Even though you knew this impromptu training session came from a place of care, you were perfectly fine with your rust. 

“This is so not necessary!” You yelled at him while taking cover behind an overturned vehicle, “I'm not a fighter, I'm a first responder!” A blast shot near your head and you turned and ran further away from the approaching sentinel.

“The Friends of Humanity and the sentinels won't care ‘bout that bub.” Logan answered sharply through the P.A. system, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You're a mutant, that's all they'll see. They'll take any chance they can get to kill ya.” Blocking a direct shot from the sentinel you gasped in exhaustion and ran into an alley. “You're not gonna give em’ that chance.” 

Fuck. He definitely wasn't gonna let you out of here unless you took down that sentinel or you were too wounded to continue. And you preferred it be the former rather than the latter. Partially because the latter came with a scolding, but mostly because you didn't want to break anything during a training session of all things. You took a breath. You weren't great at attacks, mainly because you lacked the control it took to make a plan and then move it, but you could do them. You crouched and looked back at the sentinel, it lost sight of you but it was coming closer, scanning. If you could line your shot just right, you could probably take it down in one shot. You needed to move in close, your focus, or lack thereof, wouldn't allow for any sort of long range attack.

You sighed deeply, feeling the burn of exhaustion in your lungs, and ran out and towards the thing. It was scanning a nearby building, and so long as you didn’t make too much noise you'd have a few precious seconds to get close enough to decapitate the thing. But luck was not on your side since a car you jumped over decided to blast it’s alarm. Great, you'd definitely have to try launching a plane from much farther than you anticipated. The sentinel turned to face you, standing at attention it raised an arm and shot a beam in your direction. You got low, dodging as you rolled in its direction. You focused the shape of the plan in your mind, raised your hand as you ran in the machine's direction and similar to a pitcher, accumulating all the force and focus you could, you threw the thing in its direction. 

Your knees buckled under you, they hit the simulated pavement. You looked up to see that your plane had left a cut on the sentinels face, it was deep enough to incapacitate the thing, but not the decapitation you were planning. But it worked the same. The thing fell forward, debris piling around it and in all directions. But before it could reach you the simulation disappeared. You sighed in relief and sat back.

Logan entered the now empty danger room and approached you. He kneeled in front of you, a smirk on his face.

“Now that wasn't so hard, was it bub?” He asked sarcastically, making sure you weren't seriously injured, but aside from a few knicks and scratches you were fine. Content with that knowledge he offered a hand to you. “Next time we'll try two.”

“Hilarious.” You deadpanned, taking his hand as he hauled you to your feet. You took in the feel of his calloused hand in yours, and for a moment wondered how many times of hurt it took for someone with a near perfect healing factor to have hands as callous as his’. You swallowed the lump in your throat, and ignored the heat crawling from your hand up to your neck. “I am never doing this again, thank you.” You continued letting go of his hand, you looked down at him desperately hoping he couldn't tell how you were feeling inside. With his enhanced senses, you could never know, but you schooled your features.

“C’mon kid, my teachin’ aint that bad.” He chuckled looking up at you. The way he never hesitated looking up at you, never took a step back to measure your height against his, even the first time you met, always added fuel to the fire in your heart. Men were always weird about you being taller than them, but never Logan. Sometimes you wished he would, then maybe you'd be able to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.

“It's definitely intense.” You averted your gaze and bussied yourself with checking where you needed to have your uniform mended. Honestly unnecessary since Hank seemed to enjoy those tasks, but anything that could keep your gaze away from him was welcome. 

“You can handle it.” His voice was deep, husky. And for a single delusional moment you wondered if he was actually talking about the training. 

No. Surely not.

“Well, I'm glad one of us thinks so.” You tried to sound sarcastic, not flustered. You went to walk past him but he stopped you with a hold on your arm. You looked back at him, his gaze was serious, you ignored how it felt to have those eyes on you.

“I'm serious.” His voice was firm, his hand firm on your arm, not letting go. “You can handle this, you need to. You could've died out there.”

“I didn't, I'm fine.” 

“You almost weren't.” He grit his teeth, he brought up his other hand and held your other arm. Now you faced him fully. He was not letting you go. “I can't always be there to keep you safe, I need to know that you'll be okay even if I'm not there.”

“I-” You gaped at him, your face was so hot you feared you'd combust right there. You tried to squirm out of his grasp, but his hold was firm, the more you tried to escape him the firmer his hold became. “I appreciate the concern, but I promise I'm fine!”

“Listen-” The sudden swish of the entrance to the danger room cut him off. Both of you turned to face the door to find Jean Grey standing there. Instantly he dropped his hands, leaving you colder than you were before his touch.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, a hint of amusement on her face. “I can come back later.”

“No.” His answer was so immediate it felt like you'd been shot in the chest. “What do you need Jeannie?” He walked over to her, back to you. 

And there it was. 

She was his Jeannie. His everything. The girl he'd wait forever for even when she's clearly never looking his way, not really. For a moment you just watched them. The way he looked at her, the way she looked at him. Whatever they were saying was completely lost to you. The few feet between you and the pair felt like miles.

The other root took hold. Green and ugly. Jealousy. Was it fair to be so jealous over someone that would never be yours? The warm feeling in your chest turned cold, gripping and painful.

It wasn't fair. She has Scott, why was she still stringing Logan along?!-

Her gaze shot towards you, eyes wide.

Oh no.

no , no, no!

You'd thought too loud. She’d definitely heard you. Logan looked between the two of you, confused. He hesitated, but took a step towards you. 

You pushed past the pair, ignoring both their protests, heart hammering in your ears. If Logan called after you, you didn't hear him. 

You really hated living with telepaths.

[liliasenbyhusband]

Desire, Devotion and Desperation

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Robyn (the roommate) x reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, use of strong language, insecurities, use of mommy

Tags: smut with a bit of angst, established relationship, insecure!reader, massages, sub!top Robyn, reader being called mommy, Robyn being called a good boy, reader riding R strap, both boyfriend and girlfriend Robyn cause gendered terms are fun to play with, begging.

Summary: Reader has a bad day, which triggers some of their insecurities, luckily Robyn is here to help.

Notes: Way later and far more worked out then initially intended, but it’s finally here! To be honest, this was incredibly self indulgent and mostly a way for me to work on my fear of writing smut. I hope y’all enjoy reading it though 🙂‍↕️🫶🏻

Thank you to the best beta reader out there, @imorynn, who is responsible for me not just throwing this in the trash and who always gives me the motivation to continue writing 🫂💕.

Words: ~5.1K

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Your day had been absolutely miserable, everything that could have possibly gone wrong, went wrong. You had had to deal with the most horrible people you had encountered in a long time, and everything that had gone wrong was blamed on you, despite you having no control over any of it. All of this had left you in a foul mood and had fed the negative voice that already plagued your mind far too often. On top of that, old insecurities and feelings of unworthiness reared their ugly heads once more. These feelings, which you thought you had conquered a long while ago, crawling their way back up from the depths of your soul, had been the final straw.

You slammed the door shut as you entered the home you shared with your girlfriend, your mind overwhelming you with its self deprecating thoughts. The harsh sound of the door being thrown shut had caused Robyn to welcome you with a worried frown on her face. You quickly apologized and could feel those negative thoughts become even louder, blaming you for making her worry over something as simple as a bad day. You could see her frown deepen as she asked you what was wrong, while you took off your coat and shoes.

You briefly thought about telling her you were fine, to not worry about it, but you knew she would be able to see right through you and wouldn’t stop prodding till you told her, besides you could really use a listening ear. You saw how she looked at you with such care and worry, and before you even realised it, you were talking, the words quickly spilling out of your mouth.

You told her all about your shitty day as she led you to the couch, though you elected to leave out the return of the annoying, nagging voice, not wanting to be even more of a burden than your mind had already convinced you you were. Robyn listened attentively as you both sat down on the couch, her hand finding its place on your thigh, her thumb rubbing circles in a gentle, comforting way.

Once you had stopped talking, Robyn placed a gentle kiss on your lips, before telling you how proud she was of you for soldering through the day. She was about to say something else when you noticed her eyes landing on your strained shoulders.

“My poor angel, you look so tense… how about you let me help you relax? Let me give you a massage. To help work out some of that tension in your muscles.”

Usually you would have eagerly accepted the offer, her voice was soft and inviting, and Robyn’s hands could perform miracles, she knew exactly how to get your muscles to relax with a couple simple movements. But now you weren’t sure, you desperately wanted her hands on you, taking care of your aching muscles, but you didn’t feel very confident, so undressing in front of your stunning boyfriend didn’t feel like a great idea. On top of that you already felt bad for unloading your bad day on her, you didn’t want to bother her even more.

“You don’t have to… I mean you’ve already done so much by just listening..”

Your voice sounded smaller than you would have liked it to, it wavered as you tried to take a deep breath. You knew Robyn could probably see right through you, she knew you better than anyone.

“I know I don’t have to, baby, I want to. I hate seeing you so wound up.”

She looked at you with such determination and devotion in her eyes that, even for just a moment, your mind stilled its negativity and before you could stop yourself, you accepted her offer.

As you made your way upstairs, your insecurities began to creep in again and by the time you had made your way to the bedroom, your mind had nitpicked everything about your appearance and reminded you just how undeserving of Robyn’s attention you were. You swallowed thickly when she looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to take off your clothes. Suddenly undressing under her intense gaze felt impossible. Robyn, ever the perceptive woman, of course noticed something was wrong instantly and in a matter of seconds had come up with her own solution.

“Why don’t you get ready, while I go grab the massage oil?”

She gently and lovingly kissed your lips before heading out of the room and you silently thanked her for always knowing just what you needed. You pushed down the thought that she really was too kind and good for you as you quickly took off your clothes and made your way over to the bed, laying on it face down in nothing but your… well more accurately Robyn’s… boxers. You calmed yourself with the thought that most of your body was hidden by the mattress and that Robyn would be mostly focused on your back, which seemed to give you some solace.

You watched Robyn walk back in with the massage oil and didn’t miss the way her eyes raked over the skin that was available to her, before your mind could begin to start racing, Robyn’s voice anchored you to the present.

“My beautiful baby, what did I do to deserve you?”

Her voice left no room for arguing, it was filled with clear adoration and genuine awe, you looked away to hide the blush that creeped its way up your cheeks. That blush only deepened when you felt her press a featherlight kiss in between your shoulder blades.

Your thoughts silenced for just a moment as Robyn’s hands made light work of the stress that had left your body an aching and tense mess. You sighed happily as she started to work on the muscles in your shoulders, you let the content moans spill out of you as you felt her hands work their magic.

It was as if Robyn could read your mind, any time a nasty thought about you or your appearance threatened to make its way to the forefront of your mind, she whispered praises in your ear, telling you how stunning you looked, how lucky she was to have you, how she loved getting to help you unwind like this. Every word she uttered pushed the negative thoughts further away, her words of devotion filling your brain instead, making you feel loved and worshipped. The way she spoke them so fervently left no room for doubt or accusations of ingenuity.

This hadn’t been the first time Robyn had helped you deal with your insecurities, earlier in your relationship they plagued you more frequently and even more harshly. Yet never once had she gotten annoyed with you for them, no, instead she had helped you fight them every single day, reassuring you, making you feel loved, wanted, desired. With her help you had overcome them.. or so you thought…you hadn’t felt truly, deeply insecure in a long while, so suddenly falling back into old patterns had hit you harder than you liked to admit.

The insecurity you struggled with the most was feeling undesirable, most other insecurities could be driven away by Robyn’s words of devotion.. but feeling like you weren’t someone to be really, truly, desired.. that one tended to linger, even when the others slowly disappeared back to the depths they’d crawled out of.

Robyn’s hands made their way down to your back, working out any knot they came across as she continued to lavish you with compliments and praises. The combination of Robyn’s bare hands on your skin, feeling the cold metal of her rings as she worked on your muscles, and the way she spoke about you as if you were the most precious thing on this earth, was making a mess of your underwear.

You inwardly groaned at the confusing mixture of feelings that had taken ahold of you and hoped Robyn wouldn’t notice the effects she was having on your boxers. Your boyfriend was just trying to make you feel better, and here you were thinking about her hands slipping lower and helping you unwind in a different way.

By the time her hands had reached your lower back, your moans had turned from moans of relief into moans of need, you silently wished for Robyn to remain oblivious but with how well she knew you… it was unlikely that she was unaware of how she was making you feel right now… still one can hope. You bit your lip and tried your best to think of anything but the way her fingers would feel rubbing your clit instead of your lower back, but failed miserably.

As Robyn’s hands continued their journey downwards and began to squeeze and massage your ass over your boxers, you started to suspect that she might have had some ulterior motives of her own… or maybe she had become aware of the wet spot in your underwear and had decided to help you find a different kind of release.

And then, out of nowhere, it all became too much, the insecurities you had been pushing back and fighting against the entire time flooded and overwhelmed you, once more, any progress you thought you had made, being thrown out the window. Your fear of not being attractive enough led the charge as you felt your girlfriend's hands make their way to your center.

That little voice in the back of your mind began nagging at you again, nibbling at the fragile and unstable peace Robyn had managed to build with her kind words and talented hands. It told you she was only doing this because she had heard your needy moans and felt obligated to, sprinkling in some reminders of how Robyn deserved better and how she could never truly desire you, and did this only to humor you. You tried to push down the thoughts and enjoy her touch.

“Robyn, please.”

You breathed out her name like a prayer, you were unsure what you were asking of her, you needed her desperately, but your thoughts were drowning you, your body and mind sending you both very different and mixed signals. The tension Robyn had spent the last half hour getting rid of, had made its way back into your muscles.

“Do you want me to take care of this mess, baby?”

Her voice was sultry and seductive yet held an unmistakable seriousness and a tinge of confusion, undoubtedly picking up on the tension returning to your body. Her tone made it clear that she wasn’t just teasing, she was asking to make sure, so she could give you exactly what you wanted, her hands stilling their descent as she waited for you to answer.

Your thoughts became even more overbearing, you wanted her, needed her, but you wanted her to want it just as much as you did. You didn’t want her to push herself to do something she didn’t want to do, just to please you.

When you didn’t answer, Robyn’s hands moved away from your soaked underwear and you were sure this was a sign that she did not want you, that your fears had been justified and that she didn’t actually want to fuck you. You groaned, frustrated at your own inability to turn off your mind for just one moment.

You turned around and sat up, not wanting to have this conversation with your back turned to her, and suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable in this position. You grabbed the duvet and covered yourself, as you became very aware of how naked you were when your eyes landed on Robyn’s fully clothed body.

You focused on anything but her face, your own thoughts growing louder by the second. You weren’t sure how to put this into words, part of you just wanted to not respond and ignore she had ever asked the question in the first place.

“I don’t … want you to feel like you have to.. just cause I’m turned on. I want you to want it cause you want me.”

Your voice was small and your body and mind were both sending you very mixed signals. Rationally you knew this was stupid, Robyn had spent the last half hour telling you how gorgeous she thought you were, but gorgeous and attractive or desirable were not the same thing, something your mind had been telling you ever since you felt Robyn’s hand travel to where you needed her most.

Robyn gently took your chin in between her pointer finger and thumb and made you look at her. She always wore her emotions openly, especially around you, and in there it was, in those beautiful brown hues, nearly fully absorbed by her pupils, desire, love and devotion. The intensity of the emotions so clearly displayed not only in her eyes but also on her face, left you breathless.

She didn’t stop looking into your eyes as she began to talk reverently, her voice sterner this time, her honesty and genuity clear in the way she spoke.

“Sweetheart, you don’t understand how badly I need you.. you don’t know the effect watching you come undone by my hands has on me…”

You took in her words, they quietened your negative thoughts ever so slightly, but you needed more to shut up your mind. Taking charge during your more intimate moments had always helped with that, feeling in control tended to silence some of those nasty thoughts, that were brought on by a feeling of helplessness.

Robyn’s statement and previous praises, your desire to get rid of these self deprecating feelings, and the lust and devotion in your girlfriend’s eyes gave you the courage you needed to drop the duvet.

“Show me.”

It was somewhere between a plea and a command, your voice steading a little, but your confidence had clearly not yet returned. You didn’t miss how Robyn’s eyes drifted to your now mostly naked form, taking you in entirely while the hunger in her eyes grew.

Robyn’s hands dropped to her side as you watched her realise what you were doing, a small smirk playing on her lips as she looked up at you with those big brown eyes. She leaned closer to you and began to kiss your neck, some kisses softer, while others were accompanied by her tongue and teeth. In between each kiss she whispered how desperately she needed you, how she couldn’t wait to hear you make those beautiful sounds, and how she had waited the entire day for the privilege of getting to see your beautiful body. Each word fervently hacked away at the insecurities and doubt that had filled your mind.

Soon her mouth travelled south to your shoulders and collarbones, once again each kiss was accompanied by Robyn worshipping you. She breathily told you how wet she was for you and how no one had ever made her feel this needy or horny before, how she couldn’t believe she got to call you hers, and how she would happily spend hours worshipping every inch of you.

Soft moans spilled out of your lips and your hands settled into Robyn’s hair, you listened to every word your boyfriend passionately spoke, trying to fight the blush that threatened to creep its way up your cheeks. As her mouth began its descent down to your boobs, you pulled her back, slightly tugging at her hair, which earned you a whiny moan.

Before she could ask you why or protest, you spoke, your voice steadier than before as your insecurities slowly but surely began to take their leave, being replaced by a bit of confidence.

“Kiss me.”

The pleading tone from earlier had almost completely disappeared, but it wasn’t exactly a proper command yet. Robyn didn’t need to be told twice, her lips were on yours the second the words had reached her ears. She put no effort in trying to hide her desperation as she kissed you, love mixed with lust and need as you took control of the kiss, slipping your tongue into her mouth with ease. You pulled her in deeper, while exploring her mouth with your tongue.

When you pulled away, in need of air, Robyn tried to pick up where she had left off but you stopped her once again, which caused her to whine.

“This isn’t exactly fair, is it?”

A little more certainty filled your voice as you tugged at her t-shirt to get your point across. Robyn took in your near naked form and then her own fully clothed one, realisation dawning upon her. She quickly got rid of her t-shirt and then shot you a questioning look. You motioned to her pants and without hesitation she got up from the bed and took those off as well.

You looked her up and down, your eyes shamelessly roaming her body, taking in the way her simple black bra held her voluptuous breasts, the way her soft belly was still littered with marks you had previously left there, and how she was wearing one of her favourite pair of boxers, that you would most definitely steal later.

Once you looked back up at her face you noticed the slightest hint of a blush, which boosted your confidence even more. Before she could sit back down on the bed, you spoke up again, your voice was now steady and commanding and your back had straightened, as your confidence was starting to fully return.

“Go put on your harness, my good boy.”

You watched as Robyn’s eyes lit up at the use of her favourite term, she didn’t hesitate and did as she was told, her movements hurried, betraying her eagerness. Your eyes followed every movement, biting your lip as you watched her put on the harness, she looked absolutely divine in it. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting up and walking over to her, she just looked too good.

You wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her back against your front. You kissed her neck, biting and sucking, leaving a mark, which made her whimper. Pleased with your work you kissed your way up to her ear, before placing your mouth very close to it, whispering ever so softly.

“Go grab my favourite dildo and get on the bed.”

You reluctantly released Robyn from your embrace and watched her do exactly what you had asked of her. Now that little voice was finally gone, you had a plan to make sure it stayed gone, and Robyn played an integral part in it.

When you focused on your girlfriend once again, she was sitting on the bed, her back rested against the headboard, as she had positioned herself so you could ride her easily. A wicked smirk appeared on your face as you made your way to the bed, stopping in front of it but not actually getting on.

“Tell me how badly you want it. Show me how much you need me to ride you.”

This time it was a proper command, it left no room for argument, you were not pleading, and judging by the way Robyn repositioned herself a little and clenched her thighs together, you were not the only one enjoying this plan to banish your insecurities for good.

She looked up at you with her pleading eyes, not even attempting to hide the desperation in them. Her voice was coated in a thick layer of desire as she tried to get the words out.

“There is nothing on this earth as mesmerising as watching you ride me. I need to watch you cum on my cock, I need it like I need air. I long to hear your beautiful sounds and watch your incredible body shake with pleasure that only I can give you.”

You didn’t hide the small blush that appeared on your cheeks as you listened to her talk so unashamedly about wanting you. You didn’t miss the possessiveness in her voice as she spoke the last sentence, which made a bigger mess of your boxers. You weren’t done yet though, you wanted to see just how far you could push her.

“You can do better than that. Where’s my good boy who knows how to beg?”

Robyn bit her lip when you called her your good boy, the words seemed to have their intended effect as you noticed her clench her thighs once more. Her eyes filled with determination as she spoke again, she almost whined the words as she made it clear just how badly she craved this.

“Please, please ride my strap, mommy-”

Robyn stopped herself mid sentence, her face turning bright red as the title slipped past her lips, she clearly hadn’t intended to say it out loud. You smirked when you heard it, it was a first, she had never called you that before. You didn’t mind it one bit though, because the word had left your underwear completely ruined, and it wanted to make you ride her till she couldn’t take it anymore. It also did wonders for your confidence and shut up any negative thoughts that still lingered.

“Mommy? How long has that been waiting to slip out? How long have you been holding out on me?”

The smugness dripped from your voice, your smirk only growing when she got even more flustered. She was now having trouble holding eye contact with you, as she tried to come up with a response but failed.

You crawled onto the bed, kneeling down next to Robyn, studying her features as she looked anywhere but at you.

“Awww don’t go all shy on me now.”

You teased and cupped her cheek, before making her look at you. You wanted to show her just how much you had enjoyed being called mommy by her, so you took her hand in your free one and guided it to your ruined underwear while you whispered in her ear.

“Feel how wet that made me, my love, there is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Your voice was filled with desire and reassurance as you guided her hand into your boxers, moaning against her ear when her fingers collected the wetness that had gathered between your folds.

You heard her gasp when she felt just how wet you were, you leaned back a little, wanting to see her expression as she realised just how much of a mess she had made. You watched as the embarrassment was replaced by pure hunger and a carnal need.

Robyn pulled her hand back out and gasped at the sight of her fingers covered in your wetness. She didn’t waste any time and took her fingers into her mouth, sucking and licking them clean while looking at you, moaning at your taste.

You watched, completely mesmerised by her movements, a groan leaving your mouth as she released her fingers with a pop. Before you could say anything her other hand tugged at your boxers, while looking up at you.

“Take these off, come ride my cock, mommy, please. I need it so badly. Please let me be inside you, please.”

Robyn whined the words, her eyes pleading as she continued to tug at the waistband of your underwear. You didn’t have it in you to deny her or yourself any longer, so you quickly got rid of your soaked underwear. You could feel her eyes on you the entire time, roaming every inch of your body hungrily.

Once you were fully naked you made your way over to your girlfriend and straddled her lap, hovering your soaked cunt over the strap. You were wet enough to not need any lube, Robyn’s begging, the use of the new title, and the massage from earlier had made sure of that.

Robyn’s hands landed on your hips, you moaned at feeling the cold metal of her rings against your heated skin. You aligned the strap with your center and slowly descended down onto it, your moans growing louder with each inch you felt go inside you. Robyn held your hips tightly, helping you steadily descend onto her cock, her nails digging into your hips when your moans grew louder.

Once you had taken the full length of her strap, you grabbed her shoulders as you tried to even out your breathing, letting yourself get used to the sensation of having Robyn inside you, your walls slowly adjusting around the strap.

You looked down into those hungry brown eyes and felt a blush creep up your cheeks when you saw the devotion and admiration that accompanied the lust and need you had seen earlier.

Once your breathing evened out you slowly began to move your hips, soft moans escaping your lips as your eyes never left Robyn’s.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?”

You husked out in between moans and laughed hoarsely when you noticed Robyn’s eyes lower to your chest. She couldn’t get out any words and instead just nodded eagerly, her eyes transfixed to your boobs.

“Go on then, you’ve been waiting so long.”

You chuckled lowly and within seconds her mouth was on your chest, licking, sucking, biting, as if she had been waiting all her life to have her mouth on you. Your hands tangled into her hair once again and you began to move your hips faster, moans tumbling from your lips as you felt the strap move deep inside you.

“My good boy, you make mommy feel so good.”

You breathed out as you continued to fuck yourself on her strap. You felt Robyn moan against your chest at your words, the sound spurring you on and making your movements more erratic. She pulled back from your chest and looked up at you with such adoration, that it knocked the wind out of you.

You rested your forehead against hers, nuzzling her nose with your own, your breath hitting her lips as you moaned out her name again and again. Her hands began to guide your hips, helping you keep a steady rhythm, making it so the strap stroked the right spot every time.

One of her hands let go of your hip and instead moved to your clit, her fingers slowly circling it, making you moan even louder. Your nails dug into her shoulders, leaving marks, which in turn made Robyn moan.

“You look breathtaking like this.”

She whispered reverently, her eyes never leaving you, her breath fanning your flushed cheeks, as your own breathing became more ragged and shallow. Robyn’s presence, her words, the coldness of her rings, and the grip on your hip, were the only things grounding you in the present as you got closer and closer to reaching your climax.

“Cum for me, mommy.”

Robyn almost pleaded, as if seeing you cum on her strap was the only thing that mattered. The use of the new title, her fingers continuing their movements, and the way she studied every single detail on your face, as if it was detrimental to remember every detail of what you looked like when you were on the brink of coming, sent you over the edge.

Your eyebrows knitted together and your mouth hung open as you let your orgasm wash over you, your hips slowing down but not stopping completely as you fucked yourselves through your orgasm with Robyn’s help, as she slowly and gently circled your clit.

You collapsed into her as the aftershock of your orgasm turned your body into a boneless puddle. Robyn held you closely to her, her arms wrapping around your frame as she pulled you as close to her as she possibly could. It was as if she was trying to shield you from the world, fighting off every bad thing that happened today as she enveloped you in her embrace.

You nuzzled your face into her neck as you tried to catch your breath, letting her hide you from the world for just a moment. You could stay like this forever, being completely surrounded by Robyn, as she took over your senses. The only thing you could smell was her scent, mixed with sweat and the aftermath of sex, the only thing you could feel was her skin on yours, her arms wrapped around you, and her inside of you, and all you could hear was the soft praise she whispered in your ear, as your breathing evened out.

Once you were fully back down on earth again, you placed the gentlest of kisses on the side of her neck, before reluctantly pulling away from her, meeting her eyes with your own. Robyn looked at you with so much love that it completely squashed any negative thought that might have tried to burrow itself into your mind. The only things you could think about was the bliss you currently felt, how much you loved Robyn, and how loved and desired you felt by her. The hand that had previously been on your hip, came up to your face and carefully wiped your hair out of your face and you instinctively leaned into her touch.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, my love.”

Her voice was soft and gentle, as she carefully helped you get up from her lap. You instantly missed the feeling of having her inside you, whining at the loss of the sensation. She helped you lay down on the bed before leaning down to lovingly kiss you, you smiled into the kiss as you kissed her back, pouring all the love you held for her into it. When she pulled back you had a lovesick smile on your face, the bad day you had just had completely forgotten as you watched Robyn get up and step out of the harness, you were completely mesmerized by her beauty.

“You’re so handsome.”

You breathed out, your voice filled with awe and love, as you watched her make her way back to the bed with a towel. You didn’t miss the pink tinting her cheeks, as she whispered a quiet ‘thank you’. She gently spread your legs before carefully cleaning up the mess between them, quietly apologising every time you whimpered because of how sensitive you were.

Once she was done, Robyn pressed the gentlest of kisses against your center, now it was your turn to blush, she did it every time she cleaned you up, and yet you still got flustered each time she did it. She looked up at you with a smirk, her love for you clearly displayed on her face, the last embers of lust still visible in her eyes.

She got rid of the towel before crawling into bed next to you, pulling you into her arms once more, before placing a kiss on your forehead. You would make a teasing comment about how you were supposed to be in charge, but you were too lost in how safe you felt in her warm embrace to form a coherent sentence. There was only one thing on your mind, no matter how bad your day was or how cruel your mind could be, as long as Robyn was by your side, you’d be okay.

[klanced]

this isn’t even about my evil agenda anymore I actually just need to hear your dissertation on voltron/klance x first love late spring

you do evil things to my dick and balls. i hope you know that.

first love / late spring is a very keith-core song, but i think it also applies to both keith and lance... but more specifically, FL/LS is keith pre-relationship, and then FL/LS is lance once they have already started dating.

i'm obsessed with that one interview of mitski where she explained that she wrote this song while she was experiencing her vulnerable first love... and first love is vulnerable. you simultaneously reap the rewards of being known but at the same time, you've now let someone else know you, and now you have to trust them to take care of you. and it's so vulnerable. it's more naked than being naked. and it's so difficult as well because now you're learning a brand new way you can be hurt.

so keith, pre-relationship... he's pining for lance and he is MISERABLE. he's lost control! he feels like he's being consumed by the enormity of his feelings. he's eight years old and small and never asked for this, he never wanted to know he could feel this way. he just wants lance to fucking go already. keith wants to spit vitriol and blame and shame and drive lance away so that when lance leaves him (and he will leave him, like everyone else has), then at least it will be on keith's own terms for once. and keith doesn't, he refuses, to say how he feels. he'll spitefully choke on his confession until it suffocates him. he doesn't want to know what lance might say.

but he also is afraid of lance's reaction because... if lance gives him even a sliver of ground, if there's even a promise of a chance -- keith will fold instantly. he will jump into this love headfirst. he'll do anything if it will make lance stay with him.

and then lance, mid-established relationship... things with keith are perfect, everything is going great, so why does lance feel so anxious all the time? why does he feel so scared when keith looks at him like he's his whole world? maybe the problem is lance. because what they have is real. because he's pretty sure keith is it for him. and that terrifies lance. because lance, deep down, knows he's going to screw this up. and it's not just his heart on the line; he's also going to hurt keith.

keith smiles at him and lance feels sick to his stomach. he wants to tell keith that they might be happy right now, but eventually, lance is going to ruin this. he wants to warn keith that lance is going to break his heart one day.

lance isn't always so negative about himself. during the day, it's easy to let himself be buoyed and enveloped by his feelings for keith. he loves being in love with keith. because the love is real. it's real, and it's there, and that matters. but at night, all those poisonous insecurities and anxieties rear their ugly head, and lance finds himself standing on a ledge over a drop. lance daydreams about spending the rest of his life with keith; lance has never felt so young and small.

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: "My Life, My Love, My Lady" by: @searchingwardrobes

Second rec for this particular Monday is a lovely one shot by @searchingwardrobes which reminded me all over again just exactly why Melanie is one of my very favorite CS fic writers. In just the smallest beautiful scene between Killian and Emma, there is so much love, understanding, and healing, that it is hard to believe it has so much feeling and impact from just a few perfectly chosen words. Our two faves are sharing a quiet moment when an old song is remembered, old insecurities rear their ugly heads, and yet love finds the way through to conquer them fully. A snippet: "She comes to him a bit shyly, and he smiles at her gently as he cups her face with his hand. In her gaze, he can see hesitation. Fear. He doesn’t know if it’s the darkness whispering doubts, or if it’s her same old insecurities, but this is one battle he knows how to help her fight.

            “My life,” he says, kissing her cheek, “my love,” he kisses her nose, “my lady,” he kisses her forehead, then pulls back so he can gaze into her eyes, “is you, Emma.”

            Her eyes well up with tears, and a hesitant smile teases the corners of her mouth. “The Jolly Roger was your home for so long. You had nothing holding you back. Nothing tying you down.”

            Killian shakes his head. “Emma, you said once that you and I understand one another. You, like me, were an orphan. What is the one thing all orphans want more than anything else?”

            “A home,” Emma breathes without hesitation."

Anyway, I'm rambling, but don't miss this heart-squeezing one shot!

"My Life, My Love, My Lady" by: @searchingwardrobes

[jemmo]

i just had to sit with my feelings for a bit bc god i did not expect that ep to hit me so hard, but every moment of minato’s quiet sadness was just heartbreaking. every moment he went back to an empty house, when he had to take the banners down and eat instant ramen by himself bc shin didn’t cook anything, everytime he said “yo, shin” only to get nothing back from shin, that familiar greeting feeling so cold and empty, when he took off his bracelet and put them both away, when he went back on letting shin stay past the renovations, and when he opened that box of fucking cookies that shin had made him, the first gesture we saw in this entire show back in s1 ep1, and he made that same remark bc his shin will always be his shin and that hasn’t changed and that makes it all the harder to reconcile with losing him. and it’s the way minato wouldn’t let himself be sad, that out of fear and cowardice and sadness he’d cling to the hope of shin’s memory of him returning someday when it would all just be right again, bc he might’ve come so far from s1, but he isn’t strong enough to fight when he feels so sad and empty. and i love that the framed and wrote it like this, bc it doesn’t feel like he’s failing or letting shin down, he is just too broken to face it right now, and you see through the ep him becoming more unhappy with the loss of shin in his life until he breaks down. bc of course he loves him, but that sneaking feeling of being undeserving rears it’s ugly head and makes minato believe he is a burden on shin, and it’s not that this is an opportunity to separate bc i genuinely believe he doesn’t want that, but he’d rather wait for shin to remember bc he thinks telling this kid you’re dating a 30 year old would be too much for him to take and too ridiculous to believe, but it has nothing to do with age and all to do with minato’s own insecurities, expect now he can project them onto shin bc shin isn’t in there to bite back and defend minato to himself. it’s almost like this isn’t just about minato fighting for his relationship with shin, bc in order to do that, he has to fight against himself and make himself believe he is enough and deserving, bc that’s something shin has always pushed him into believing, but now he has to do it himself, and I think if he knows it’s for shin, and lets himself believe that he can be this source of happiness for shin, then he can do it. we’ll just have to wait a week to see

[yourkimjaejin]

My Mic Sounds Nice

Here's a little drabble about Aurora's mic. I personally think the choice fits her perfectly!! Enjoy!! ~ Author Izzy

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

While the various chatters of her band mates wove around her head, Aurora sat stock still with a pen in hand. 

To once again celebrate their friendship, as if the wedding rings they all wore were’;t enough, Dream were getting customs mics made. The group already decided to get Yo Dream printed on each one and now they were picking their colors. Ever since they discussed getting custom hand mics, the boys had been throwing around color ideas for weeks. The only one who didn’t speak up was Aurora. 

Now the seven boys were waiting for Aurora to finally make a decision. A choice that most of them all thought was obvious. 

I mean we all know Aurora’s getting matte black, right?

Yeah it's to match her goth soul. 

She knew what everyone expected her to pick but she had another choice in mind, but she kind of felt embarrassed by the vision of it. No matter how much she wanted it. 

Sometimes the rapper doesn’t understand how she still feels like this. These were her bandmates. The same people who have never judged her for changing anything about herself. If anything they encouraged it. Giving the young girl the chance to explore her own self expression in a safe space. But everyone now and again, her old insecurities would rear their ugly head. 

Like now. 

She could feel the managers urging her to write down what she wanted for but the maknae couldn’t make the pen move. 

“Why don’t we head to practice while Aurora makes her pick. By the time she finishes we’ll be ready to start.” Aurora's head snaps to Chenle. The lie rolled off his tongue easily. And their managers buy it just like that. The seven boys walk out the door, Aurora’s eyes following them. Just before the door closes, Chenle turns around and winks at the girl. 

Aurora eyes snap back to the empty design slot on her mic’s order sheet. She wasn’t going there today. Now wasn’t the time to broach any of that. Before she could second guess herself, she wrote down the picture in head. Hoping the final product was everything shoe hoped for.

Months later, Aurora could take her eyes off the carrying case. Her personal microphone was exactly what she pictured in her mind. Purple-to-black ombre and bedazzled. A pastel goth’s dream.

Aurora mic fit her perfectly. The boys couldn’t help but smile. Aurora’s happiness was the most important to them. Seeing Aurora float on cloud nine through their whole practice. put them all in a good mood. 

They could fawn over her and her microphone in their private Aurora-talk chat. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Taglist: @alixnsuperstxr / @1-800-call-ria / @sophrodite / @sunflower-0180

[bubbleteasing]

sharing some of my frank Sinatra acat brain worms bc I literally can't stop thinking about it (I'm a little obsessed with both of ur fics amazing work)

the world we knew is a very acat song but mainly focusing on sans and his dumbassery

"and every bright neon sign turned into stars and the sun and the moon seemed to be ours, each road that we took turned into gold but the dream was too much for you to hold"

this lyric (in my mind) feels like acat sans talking about the old times with reader, the dream before his insecurities reared it's ugly head and killed their blooming relationship but also when reader and sans have good times together they are good

and it sucks because a certain someone keeps fucking it up

I'll cut this off here but if you want to hear more just ask!

Sleepy-batz, I love you, thank you so much for bringing this song to my attention. I’ve always been a Frank Sinatra fan but I haven’t stopped to listen to this one in a while.

A cigarette at a time has been in my mind lately too (since I’m planning to start updating it very soon) and… fuck, I just listened to the song twice while thinking about them. Specially the one timeline where he absolutely destroyed her.

It does feel like it talks about Sans until the song implies the dream was too much for her to hold. Mc is not actively thinking about their past together, but if she was, she would be the one singing this, because he was the one who fucked it up (as you said).

Their times really were good though… I’m not exaggerating when I say that, for a moment, he truly saw himself growing old with her, but alas…

He fucked it all up.

[berthindeath]

While  Tulin  has  never  once  given  her  a  thought  that  he  would  run,  or  that  his  feelings  for  her  were  conditional  hinged  on  them  remaining  as  tether-less  as  possible,  the  worry  still  lingers  in  the  back  of  her  mind.  Old  insecurities  rearing  their  ugly  heads  when  she's  spent  so  much  time  banishing  them.  How  much  work  he  himself  has  put  in  to  help  her  do  just  that.  When  she  looks  at  the  man  that  moves  closer  to  her  now,  she  knows  even  in  this  moment,  he  loves  her.

But  children—they'd  never  come  to  a  consensus  on  it.  It  had  never  been  a  priority  for  them.  And  now,  it's  an  inevitability.  A  life  grows  within  her,  a  life  they  created  and  all  that  comes  with  it.  He,  who  combats  a  death  contract  from  his  own  house,  fights  off  crows  from  not  just  that  old  house  but  many  others.  It's  a  life  they've  grown  accustomed  in  a  way,  Gwendolyn  herself  having  stepped  in  on  occasion  when  they'd  deigned  to  make  an  attempt  on  his  life  in  her  presence.  It  is  a  fact  of  their  life,  one  she  accepted  when  she'd  committed  to  him  completely.

Soon,  they  will  have  a  small  life  to  protect.  Was  that  something  he  was  willing  to  do?

And  then  he's  touching  her  stomach,  a  fact  that  has  her  eyes  burning  with  unshed  tears  as  she  notes  the  smile  forming  that  reaches  his  eyes.  He  isn't  smiling  to  ease  her  worry—he's  happy.

"  Vhenan.  "

Eyelids  flutter  as  lilac  hues  begin  to  swim  with  tears,  his  gaze  meeting  hers  steadfast  and  true  in  the  way  he  speaks.  The  relief,  like  air  she  can  finally  release  but  his  lips  interrupt  it  as  they  press  to  her  skin.  She's  unable  to  halt  the  whimper  that  escapes  her  throat  as  her  arms  loop  around  him.

"  Oh,  my  love—  "  She  whispers  as  tears  begin  to  slip  from  the  corners  of  her  eyes,  somewhat  cut  off  from  kissing  him  back  as  his  lips  find  hers  after  feverishly  pressing  into  her  skin.

"  I  want  a  family  with  you.  "

Her  laughter  is  stilted  with  her  sobs,  overwhelmed  with  each  emotion  she  feels;  the  relief  that  mingles  with  her  elated  joy,  but  wrapped  in  the  arms  of  her  love  for  him  that  he  pays  back  to  her  tenfold.  She  has  never  known  a  love  like  this  nor  would  she  ever  again.

"  Thank  the  lords,  because  we've  made  one  regardless.  "  She  remarks,  colored  with  her  tearful  giggle  as  her  hands  lift  to  frame  his  face.  Thumbs  sweep  the  height  of  his  cheekbones,  gazing  long  into  the  crimson  pools  that  stare  back  at  her.  She  can  still  feel  the  warmth  of  his  hand  against  her  stomach,  thinking  of  what  is  still  to  come.  Gwendolyn  draws  him  in,  pressing  their  foreheads  together  as  she  whispers  reverently,  "  I  love  you  so  much.  "

the  air  unrushed  and  carrying  a  promise  of  peace  —  not  many  people  on  the  street,  no  noise  and  no  threat.  this  is  what  makes  their  current  nest  feel  excluded  from  the  world.  like  their  past  is  not  chasing  and  not  catching  up.  their  peace  should  not  be  luxury.

tulin  stands  still  when  gwendolyn  announces  it.  a  sentence  he's  not  dreamt  would  be  uttered  in  his  presence,  not  in  this  life,  not  to  him.  he  blinks  and  she's  still  his  reality.  the  strain  in  her  posture  causes  his  heart  to  ache.  he's  never  been  this  stunned,  then  he  realizes  he's  to  react.  the  utter  shock  makes  him  ask  that  stupid  question.  "you're  pregnant?"

then  it  sinks  in.  tulin  has  always  been  a  romantic,  it  was  a  part  of  his  soul.  however,  he'd  been  raised  in  the  wrong  hands  and  that  had  been  buried  six  feet  under  til  he  met  gwendolyn.  to  this  day  he  tries  to  shake  off  what  was  woven  into  him.  and  with  each  day  by  her  side,  the  same  gentle  soul  breathes  easier  and  expands.  he  knows  how  terrible  the  world  is  but  there  is  more.  its  beauty  doesn't  go  past  him,  in  fact,  she  walks  toward  him.

shaken  hands  touch  gwen's.  the  first  wave  of  shock  has  passed  and  tranquility  begins  to  set  in.  why  not?  do  they  not  deserve  a  miracle?  something  of  their  own?  the  world  owes  them  that  much.

white  eyelashes  tremble  at  the  second  confirmation.  he  smiles  and  the  lines  about  his  eyes  meet  more  than  lips  move.  he  reaches  and  touches  the  skin  she  cradled  protectively.  his  palm  is  bigger  and  it  splays  on  the  side  of  her  stomach.  a  piece  of  them  both.  a  new  beginning.  a  new  purpose.  of  course  he  accepts  it  instantly.

there's  nothing  to  feel  there  yet  but  the  thought...  his  gaze  has  long  gone  mellow  but  it  sets  on  hers  firmly  and  no  less  lovingly.  "vhenan.  yes,  i  do"  sincerely.  he  engulfs  gwen  in  an  embrace  but  the  hand  on  her  stomach  doesn't  yet  move.  their  chests  press  together  —  heart  to  heart.  tulin  feverishly  kisses  first  what  his  lips  find  and  when  he  draws  back  —  her  mouth.

"i  want  a  family  with  you."  it's  not  a  dream,  it  really  is  his  voice  that  says  it.

[hearts-hunger]

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.”

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[1kook]

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

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[falconiiisms]

Atemu didn't interrupt, he just listened as the man - still just a little shorter than him -; poured out all of the things he must have been harboring for a long time. Truly, his hikari had been holding in a lot more than even the once king himself originally thought he was. As he watched him from Aaru, seeing him grieving his loss, even he hadn't known just how much weighted down Yuugi's heart.

Not until today, not until now as a noticeable wobble entered the hikari's voice and Atemu could see the additional moisture in the expressive eyes. Seeing it again now, seeing the true pain that the other man had been seeming to hide from their friend group.. It had his own heart growing heavy with sympathy and the bitterness of guilt.

He'd hurt him, again. He knew he had, he could see the proof of that before his return. However seeing it from a distance.. While that was still hard to bear, seeing it now in person and directed at him, he too swallowed thickly. Worse, his departure had caused those old insecurities to rear their ugly heads again. The former Pharaoh hadn't a clue that Yuugi had blamed himself, found himself lacking in some way. Worse yet, thought that to be the cause of him leaving.

Even if those fears were in the back of his mind, that was still unacceptable. But to hear Yuugi tell it, it wasn't just in the very back at all. From what he was hearing, these worries and fears had been at the front and tortured him daily. Not just grief at all that he was seeing.. Self deprecation, misplaced guilt that should have never been there to poison that loving and bright heart, mind, and soul.

"Aibou.. I-"

Before the rest could leave his mouth, Yuugi was flinging himself at him. This stunned the once king for a moment, still getting used to touch. A small part of him had even expected the hikari to go through him as had happened so many times before. Instead a warm body collided with his own and shorter arms wound around him tightly. It was instinct that had one of his feet stepping back to adjust and keep both he and Yuugi upright.

But after a moment of blinking, realizing he was being held, finally his own arms went around his partner in return. Yuugi needed this embrace.. Truthfully, they both needed it as Atemu was realizing as a sting appeared behind his eyes. A sting he knew, but wouldn't allow to go any further. This wasn't about him and his guilt, this was about Yuugi and reconciling the past with the present.

"I know that you know this, but I still want to tell you. You did nothing wrong, aibou. You freed me from an eternal existence of remaining trapped. Though, if I thought I could have, I would have stayed with you back then," he said, his voice soft and soothing as his arms slightly tightened around the small of his partner's back.

"I never wanted to hurt you this way. I never knew you harbored such thoughts. However now that I know-" He paused here to pull back and cup soft, pale cheeks in both hands so the full gravity of his gaze met Yuugi's. Though the stroking of his thumbs over that pale skin told well enough that he wasn't angry. Not angry at Yuugi himself at least. "-I want you to have no doubts left. I left because it was what I thought I should do. What I thought I had to do. A long dead spirit has no right to remain in this plane of existence with my purpose fulfilled, I thought. It was never your fault and I'm so very sorry I ever made you feel otherwise."

If anything, Atemu felt he'd let Yuugi down by not noticing this for himself. For not knowing ahead of time what the hikari would think and feel after his departure. After all, hadn't they once intimately known one another's very souls. Hadn't they shared a link between their minds? Who knew them better than each other? And yet this got past him.. How could he not feel he'd let him down?

𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐆𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓   the way atemu looks at him   ━━━━   through eyes beaming with reverence ,   with adoration ,   with   𝑝𝑢𝑟𝑒 ,   𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 - 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 .    being regarded by him in this way is not new in the slightest ,   but yuugi is still getting used to   being face - to - face   with him ;   of   experiencing him   in a real and tangible form that they don’t have to share .   

           his heart pulses like an   𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ,   throbbing as if it wishes to leap from the confines of his ribcage to be with atemu ,   the one that had looked after it with so much   caring tenderness ,   yet protected it with the   REGAL FEROCITY   of a reigning pharaoh .   all yuugi wants is to return the favor ,   to protect atemu ,   too   and give his heart a safe place to rest .   but he worries that he’s not enough :   not strong enough ,   not capable enough ,   not worthy enough .   𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐮 .ᐣ.ᐣ   how can he ever pay back   all that he’d been given ,   when atemu had   𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠   he has to be thankful for .ᐣ.ᐣ

           apparently ,   his perspective is   too limited   ━━━━   for once in his life ,   yuugi is thinking   too much about himself .   as he listens to atemu’s words ,   the lump in his throat expands ,   leaving the   𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧   as his affection and devotion grow too large to be contained by his petite frame .   of course i did all of that ,   he utters in the privacy of his own mind ,   echoing in the   emptiness   of the link they’d once shared .   and i’d do it a thousand times again ,   and a thousand more after that .   

           to yuugi ,   there’s never   enough of himself   that he can offer his loved ones ,   but whatever he has ,   he gives to them without hesitation .   𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐘 ,   𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐀   ‘ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ’ .   perhaps it relates to the nature of their relationship ,   how atemu had once dwelled within him ,   been a   literal part of him ,   but yuugi thinks of him as   love itself ,   of every wonderful thing in his life ,   𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 .   an outsider may deem it a   PEDESTAL ,   but yuugi thinks of atemu as the center of the universe :   the sun he’s always reaching toward ,   despite his own position as the   ‘ 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 ’   to atemu’s darkness .

           “   atemu - kun   [   . . .   ]   ”   he tries to keep his voice steady ,   but it quivers in his throat ,   despite his best efforts .   “   i guess i should let you be the judge of what i’ve done for you ,   and what it means to you .   but you should know    [   . . .   ]   ”   yuugi pauses ,   trying to conceive the best way to communicate the   strong emotions   bursting at his core like fireworks ,   especially since his feelings are so   𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐧 .   “   [   . . .   ]   you should know that doing whatever i can for you ,   even if it seems like i’ll be worse - off ,   is the easiest choice in the world for me ,   ”   he finishes ,     shining violets   glistening with unshed tears .   “   because being able to be there for you is really the only thing that makes me feel   [   . . .   ]   whole .   ”

           rapidly ,   pale lids and long lashes flutter as yuugi tries to blink the tears away .   atemu had seen him cry an   infinite amount of times ,   but having to physically face him this way renders yuugi ashamed that he can’t be   𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 ,   especially considering that’s what he desires to do most .   beyond that ,   he’s not sure   WHY   he’s crumbling so pathetically  ━━━━   but after enduring half a year of cycling through healing and hitting rock bottom   𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫   &   𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧   once he was certain he’d   LOST ATEMU FOREVER ,   being with him again has surfaced complicated and unresolved emotions .   evidently ,   more than anything ,   he is   endlessly grateful   to have him back ,   to see the fulfillment of the promise he’d once made to   𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 .   but ,   to his own detriment ,   yuugi is not selfish enough to ask   anyone   to stay with him ,   and he’s still struggling to think of himself as truly    WORTH STAYING FOR .   confronting that insecurity that had rooted itself even deeper at his core after atemu had left him behind feels like   BREAKING ALL HIS BONES .

           “   i just   [   . . .   ]   ”   he starts ,   squeezing his eyes shut to soothe the   burning sensation   that always comes when he’s about to cry .   “   the last time you told me you wanted to stay ,   you ended up leaving .   and i know   ━━━━   i know you had to ,   i would never hold that against you .   and i   know   that i’m strong enough to be on my own ,   even if it hurts ,   and i’d have to miss you for the rest of my life .   but   [   . . .   ]   ”   yuugi huffs out a heavy breath ,   one that leaves him in a cross between a pitiful laugh and a   yearning sigh .   “   but i felt like i lost you because i hadn’t done enough .   like i wasn’t good enough for you to stay .   i know that’s   not true ,   and it’s irrational ,   and   ━━━━   and dumb .   but i felt it .   ”

           ℎ𝑒’𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑑 .   the words leave him in a   TIDAL WAVE   of emotion ;   it’s a relief to finally unpack what had been so   tightly wound in his heart ,   but there’s an ache that comes with acknowledging it .   yuugi folds his lips inward ,   pressing them into a tight line   to keep them from quivering ,   but ultimately ,   he ends up leaping forward ,   locking his arms ’round atemu’s middle and   𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 . 

           “   thank you for coming back to me ,   ”   he whimpers ,   his body trembling against atemu’s ,   overwhelmed   with the sensation of his warmth ,   with the   𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 .   “   i know it’s selfish of me ,   but i want to spend the rest of this life by your side ,   other me .   ”

[limetimo]

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

[ohmyronpa-imagines]

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.

[lioncssv]

"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 ?? "

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

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.”