#maybe i’m just exaggerating bc i get emotional like that but

[mitskiluvr]

that body never belonged to you in the first place

[thehighladywrites]

THIS ISN’T GOODBYE, THIS IS SIMPLY SEE YOU LATER…

⋆˙⟡ pairing: ex husband/baby daddy rhysand x fem reader

⋆˙⟡ summary: people who love each other will always find their way back. you and rhys divorced a few years ago, but you will always love each other

⋆˙⟡ warnings: 18+, mdni light angst, hurt to comfort, fluff, smut, violent behavior (not rhysand), misogyny, they’re in love your honor😔

⋆˙⟡ amara’s note: i’m a little iffy about this bc i feel like it could be better but i hope you love it. The smut isn’t really that smutty, it’s more fluffy. Please, let me know what you think; leave a comment😌💗 also english isn’t my first language so if something doesn’t make sense, ignore💀 ALSO LISTEN TO CEILINGS BY LIZZY WHEN YOU GET TO THE RUNNING SCENE PLS IT’S GONNA MAKE SO MUCH SENSE (i hope)

Getting back into the dating scene after your divorce felt strange. Unbeknownst to you, you found yourself unconsciously comparing every man to Rhys, nitpicking on their behavior. Seated at a beautiful restaurant with a guy quite different from your usual choices, things seemed promising until he gave you some backhanded compliments.

“You say you're a doctor? You?” His words grated on your nerves, and you couldn't fathom why he was so shocked.

“Yes, I am. Is that surprising to you?” you retorted.

He chuckled nervously and shook his head. “No, no. I just pegged you for a nurse or something. You know, something more feminine.”

Your hopes deflated. Turns out, this guy wasn't different at all—he was just like every pompous and misogynistic man out there.

Keeping your cool, you fire back with a smirk,

“Is this coming from the person who just told me they bake for a living? I pegged your for a construction worker, you know, something more masculine.” With a smile you excuse yourself from the table, leaving him puzzled and perhaps questioning his outdated assumptions. Your departure left him to contemplate his lacking dinner date skills.

In the search for someone matching the love you'd known, you found yourself in a loop of comparing every date to Rhys. You shook your head, realizing you needed to stop this habit and maybe, just maybe, find happiness beyond those high standards.

With a dramatic exhale, you frowned, blaming Rhys for your lousy love life. After all, he had treated you like a goddess, setting extremely untouchable standards.

—

As if the mother herself had heard your wish, you finally met a somewhat decent man who wasn’t giving you any backhanded compliment or was making you feel uncomfortable. Although he was somewhat nice he was a little bland and not something you would typically go for. He was very nice with your daughters but could have a temper.

But beggars can’t be choosers right?

With utmost tenderness, you approached the conversation with your twin daughters, explaining the new man in your life. In soft words, you explained that mommy and daddy weren't together anymore, framing it as a journey of finding happiness even though you deep down weren’t feeling the happiness you portrayed. You emphasized the still-there love between you and their father, assuring them that sometimes people are just better off as friends.

Even though the news initially saddened them, your gentle touch in explaining the complexities of grown-up emotions, coupled with the warmth of your smile, melted their worries away. As they saw the happiness radiating from you, your daughters embraced the idea, understanding that your heart always carried love for them and their father.

Little did you know that your mischievous baby girls spilled the news to Rhysand, sharing every detail about the man you were seeing, your dates, and even telling him that you still loved Daddy. However, being the little dramatists they were, they exaggerated, making it seem like you were head over heels for him.

Despite almost three years of separation and the seemingly agreement to divorce, the twins' confession ignited a flame of jealousy in Rhysand. The mere thought of you going on dates and being entertained by other men stirred an irrational desire within him to claim you as his own. Witnessing other males treating you and touching you made him feel absolutely murderous.

He hates that you’re not together anymore, hates that you don’t wear your wedding ring even tho he wears his, he hates that he’s not by your side. But most of all he hates himself for ever letting your marriage break apart.

Rhys had attempted countless times to mend what was once whole, to win you back and rebuild what had crumbled. However, you always hesitantly turned him down, insisting that you couldn't put each other through that hurt again.

The fact that the girls spoke so highly of the man you were dating only fueled Rhysand's jealousy and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes dramatically. “Oh, he’s so nice, took us out for ice cream and we went to the theater,” they gushed. He couldn't shake the feeling that it should've been him – watching plays with you and your daughters, taking them out for ice cream together. The longing for the life he once had with you remained a persistent ache in his heart.

Of course he doesn’t let it go the next time you come around to drop off the girls

The joyful echoes of your daughters filled Rhysand's new and massive mansion, quickly greeting their father and saying goodbye before dashing inside, leaving you and Rhysand alone. Observing them run to the living room, playing with their new toys, you couldn't help but smile. With their father's violet eyes and dark hair, they were practically clones of Rhysand.

Caught in the moment, you looked up at Rhysand, finding his captivating eyes already fixed on you.

Fuck.

The intensity of his gaze almost made you forget the dinner plans with your boyfriend.

“I heard you were seeing someone,” he remarked, and you froze, feeling an unexpected twinge of embarrassment. It wasn't supposed to be a secret; you just weren't ready to share it yet. Trying to save face, you swallowed back any stutter and inquired,

“Who told you that?”

“My daughters told me all about him.”

That’s what you get for trusting 6 year olds. Your attempt at secrecy shattered, and you found yourself apologizing,

“Ah, sorry for not telling you about it; it's all very new, but the kids seem to like him. And I promise he wouldn’t be around them if i didn’t trust him.”

Rhysand's jaw ticked in frustration. Well, wasn't that just fucking great? Your daughters not only liked but loved the guy, and here you were, agreeing with them.

“So, you two hit it off. How marvelous.”

You sighed and looked away,

“Please, just don’t.”

Silence hung in the air as you both stood there, the weight of unspoken emotions filling the room. Breaking the silence, you sighed, signaling your readiness to leave your old house.

“Okay then, I'll be leaving now. I'll come pick them up later tonight. Thanks for watching them tonight, I know it was last minute. But, um, actually, can I pick them up tomorrow instead?” you asked, and Rhysand felt a flicker of suspicion, silently praying he was wrong.

“ I thought we agreed on tonight. Do you have other plans?” he inquired, hoping for a straightforward answer.

Your face flushed red as you considered explaining the evening's plans, but it felt wrong to share such details with Rhys. Opting for a lie, you hoped he wouldn't catch on.

“Oh, yeah, I've got some things I need to do at the hospital tonight. You know, just some reports on a few patients. Nothing major, but I might be a bit... worn out tonight, and that's why I need to pick them up tomorrow.”

The half-truth hung in the air, and Rhysand's suspicions lingered, creating a subtle tension in the farewell.

“So this has nothing to do with you going on a date with your little friend? Sorry, boyfriend.”

Before you could respond, Rhysand stepped closer, closing the gap until there was almost no room between you. You backed away slowly until your back hit the front door. His towering presence made you look up at him, a shiver running down your spine. Tilting his head, he approached your ear, and the soft words he spoke, combined with the warm breath on your skin, sent a wave of heat through your body.

“It should be us, love. Please come back to me,” he murmured, and your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the proximity. As his hands came around your waist, turning you around so your back rested against his sturdy chest, it became impossible to leave the embrace of his warmth. Deep down, a part of you didn't want to escape the intoxicating sense of his presence.

He pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms around your middle as his calm heartbeat pounds against your back, his words confessing a truth that breaks your heart twice.

Once, because the vision he paints sounds so ideal – the two of you getting back together, going on dates, playing with your daughters, being a whole family again. It's the life you had once dreamed of, the life you wanted with the man you spent centuries with, the father of your kids, your greatest love.

The second break comes with the painful reminder of why you found yourself in this mess in the first place. Rhysand had been too consumed by his work, constantly holed up in his office, neglecting the precious time with you and your daughters. Despite understanding the importance of his duties, you couldn't help feeling the sting of neglect. It reached a breaking point when your girls tearfully asked for their daddy every night, only to find he wasn't there.

Realizing the toll this dynamic took on your family's well-being, you made the difficult decision to part ways. Telling Rhys that you weren't good for each other at the moment, you emphasized the need for him to work on himself and find a balance between work and family.

As you gather the strength to move out of his grip, facing him becomes the hardest task.

Turning around to meet his gaze, his face reveals the devastation within. His once vibrant features now wear a sad and empty color. You utter words that add another layer to the heartbreak,

“Rhys, please, you know we can't. Someday but not now.”

His eyes gloss over as he whispers,

“Fate was not in our favor, my dear. But I swear on everything I have, I will do my best to earn you back.”

Tears well up as he kisses your forehead, whispering promises of finding a way back to you.

The weight of the unspoken goodbye lingers, and you walk away, hoping that time and healing would pave a path for the future you both yearned for.

Because you did want to be with him, you really fucking did, and you cried the whole way home. Rhys had given you the town house while he lived in the River estate. The tears flowed even more freely as you sat in your empty and silent house.

Each sob intensified as you went to your cold and empty bed, the very one that used to cradle him in – your husband, your heart. The ache of the empty space beside you was a painful reminder of the love that once filled those sheets, now replaced by solitude and the haunting echo of what had been lost.

—

Your puffy eyes opened slowly, abruptly yanked from a deep slumber by the pounding on your door. Glancing at the clock on your desk, the numbers 1:46 glared back at you – who the hell could it be at this hour? Irritated, you stumbled to the door, ready to chew out whoever dared disturb your sleep.

The door slammed open, revealing Sam standing there, visibly upset. Your still-sleepy brain failed to connect the dots fast enough, and it took a moment to register that you were supposed to be on a date with him tonight. The realization dawned, and you found yourself caught in the awkward aftermath of a missed arrangement, facing Sam with both confusion and exhaustion etched on your face.

“Where the hell have you been? I have been waiting for hours,” he exclaimed, his worried and angry eyes searching yours.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, you pulled him in by his hands, urging him to come inside. Apologizing over and over, you hugged him tightly, saying that you fell asleep over and over until he forgave you.

A part of you knew you did it to calm his potentially violent reaction.

“At least your alive. Next time, let me know so I don't look like a fucking idiot,” he said, his comment irking you despite understanding where he was coming from.

Stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around Sam's neck, pulling him into a distracting kiss that escalated quickly.

Before he could say anything more about the situation and grow even more angry you kissed him again, trying to shift his focus elsewhere, which was easy. He lifted you and walked you toward the bed, the same one you had shared with Rhys.

Suddenly, a wave of panic hit you at the thought of another male's scent mixing with Rhysand's. With huffed breath and panicked words, you interrupted the moment, “No, not the bed. Let's just use the couch instead.”

Your urgency left no room for argument as you pulled him toward the living room, desperate to avoid a mix of past and present that could overwhelm you with regret.

—

The birds chirping outside stirred you from your sleep as you stretched in your soft bed. Morning got here quicker than you thought. However, the warmth you felt next to you wasn't just the morning sun – it was Sam. Your eyes opened, facing the clock, you saw it was very early in the morning, 3:57. The memories of the previous hours hit you like a brick. A bigger realization followed – Sam's scent now filled the air, replacing the familiar citrusy aroma that had been your husband’s for centuries.

This revelation overwhelmed you, making you want to throw up as tears welled up as panic set in. Crying over this felt foolish, considering your separation from Rhys, but it made everything feel permanent and official, like there was no turning back. The chance to reconcile seemed lost.

As you stood up, the room spun with regret, and you slithered to the bathroom. The sight that greeted you made your stomach churn – bruises covered your neck, arms, and legs. Your hair was a mess, and your lips were swollen. More tears fell as regret, deep sorrow, and the weight of your choices consumed you.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to be like this at all.

In your panicked state, you stepped into the shower, hoping to wash away not only the physical remnants of the night but also the emotional burden that clung to your every step.

The steaming shower brought no comfort, and as you shut it off and walked up to the mirror, wiping away steam, you saw a hollowness in your own eyes. The water didn't wash away the feel of Sam's hands on you. But you knew you could drink a tonic for the bruises, so you could atleast pretend it never happened.

Frustrated and heartbroken, you couldn't stop the tears from flowing. The one person you needed the most, Rhys, felt impossibly distant, intensifying the ache inside you.

Desperation took over, and wiping away tears, you threw on a robe, downed the healing tonic and quickly ran over to his house. Each step carried regret and a deep yearning to fix what had gone wrong.

Your Rhys, the father of your children, yours.

He was what you needed in the moment, he’d make it all better.

In the midst of irrationality and impulsivity, you could not find it in you to care about the consequences. All you needed was him.

You burst into his estate, slamming open the doors before frantically searching for him.

“Rhys?”

Your attempt at a yell came out as an ugly cry, tear-stained and choked.

Yet, it was enough to grab his attention.

Rhysand descended the stairs, clad only in pants, his trademark messy bedhead on display as worry etched across his face.

It was so unlike you, and it had him speculating the worst.

Before he could ask you any questions, you ran up to him and broke down in his arms. Rhysand immediately comforted you, picking you up, and hauling you upstairs to his bedroom.

No words were needed as he undressed your sobbing form and put you in his shirt before pulling you closer to him, making you sit in his lap.

Your face buried in his neck, tears dampening his skin. Rhysand, familiar with your ways, sensed you’d open up when ready. He sat, holding you, flooding your mind with love and reassurance without a single word.

Rhysand conjured a glass of water, holding it to your lips, ensuring you didn't exert yourself. As you downed the refreshing water, he gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand lingering by your neck. His thumb traced soothing circles on your cheek, a silent gesture of comfort.

“Thank you, Rhysie. M’sorry for showing up like this but I just needed you.”

His gaze intensified, his grip firm yet reassuring as he held your chin, locking eyes with you. With a seriousness that touched deeply, he spoke, his words carrying a sense of unwavering commitment.

“You don’t apologize for it. I’m here for you, no matter what. Do you understand?”

You nod, throat closing up at the wave of emotions,

“I understand.”

He leans forward, kissing your forhead while cradling your head,

“Good girl. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

With teary eyes you look up to him and reveal what’s on your mind.

“I want us back together again. We belong together and I’m tired of pretending we don’t. I miss you so much. You’ve been working on yourself and I’ve been doing the same. I know we’re ready.”

Rhysand remained silent, his eyes studying you carefully. He sensed an emotional storm within you and was hesitant about decisions made in this state.

“I do not disagree. Reuniting our family, especially getting you back, my sweet girl, is my ultimate desire. But, I want you to sleep on it. I want us to discuss this when we're well-rested and more alert. What do you say?”

You knew you were being rash and quick, so you were thankful for Rhysand's guidance. You nodded in agreement.

He kissed your cheek and gently placed you under the sheets, joining you in bed. Rhysand pulled you closer, and soon you were resting on his chest, listening to the steady thudding of his heart.

“I’ve always loved you, Rhys, so much. I hope you know that.”

His heartbeat quickened as he pulled you even closer.

“I know, sweetheart. I love you too.”

—

The chirping birds and soft sunlight streaming through the window woke you up gently. Your body felt completely relaxed and at ease, knowing you were safe and sound. Stretching lazily, you sighed in contentment before rolling over in bed.

You felt the warmth of something next to you, so you snuggled closer, enjoying the comfort. After a few moments, you felt it stir.

The moving object was Rhysand. Your eyes widened, and for a moment, you almost scrambled away in panic before the events of this early morning flooded back to you.

Despite the fact that you had left your boyfriend alone in your house and now found yourself in your ex's bed, cuddled up to him, you didn't feel any panic. Instead, you felt indifferent. You felt surprisingly good, even better than before. You felt right. Like everything was in it’s place.

“Don't panic,” Rhysand murmured softly, reaching out to gently stroke your back. “We need to have that talk, darling.”

Nodding silently, you agreed to follow him downstairs, your mind racing.

You couldn't help but melt around him. There was no need to even use your brain around him. Rhys made everything feel delightful as he began fussing over you. He did everything from dressing you in the cutest outfits to gently brushing your hair. With his big, warm, comforting hands, he led you downstairs, making every step feel like a new chapter starting.

Once in the kitchen, Rhysand set to work, expertly whipping up breakfast as you watched him, a knot of anticipation forming in your stomach. You knew this conversation was important, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort as you observed his familiar movements in the kitchen.

You couldn't help but admire Rhysand as he moved around the kitchen, his muscles flexing with every movement. He had a newfound confidence about him, a certain dad-like aura that only added to his appeal. His masculine energy was buzzing, and combined with his good looks, it was hard not to be drawn to him. Rhys had grown impossibly more majestic and stunningly handsome in the years you were seperated.

Rhysand caught you staring, and a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Like what you see?” he teased, his voice low and suggestive. The heat rose to your cheeks as you quickly looked away, unable to hide your blush.

“Maybe I do,” you whisper teasingly, a hint of mischief in your voice.

“Careful,” he warns with a playful glint in his eyes, matching your flirtatious tone.

As he handed you a plate filled with nostalgic food, you couldn't help but feel touched by his thoughtfulness. He had even removed the bits you didn’t like, showing that he remembered even the smallest details about you. It warmed your heart to know that he still cared so deeply.

After you finished eating, he cleared his throat with a serious yet excited tone and said, “Let's talk.”

With a nod, you accept and he extends his hand, guiding you to a cozy sitting room.

“Where are the twins?” you ask, curious when you don’t hear or see your daughters.

“They’re with Cassian and Nesta. They came and picked them up earlier this morning,” he responds.

You nod again, then sit down on the cushy couch next to him.

“Rhys, I’ve thought about it for a while, and I think yesterday just cemented it for me. I think I’m ready for us again, and I’ve missed us together. What do you think? I mean, do you want me too?”

He flashed you his most sincere and hidden smile he only showed you and grabbed your chin with his pointer and thumb

“Sweetheart, I’ve missed you more than words can express. Of course, I want us to be together again. You are my everything and I will never again risk you.”

He took a deep breath and looked down, his voice filled with remorse.

“I've hated myself for letting you go so easily. I wasn't there for you or the girls, and it will always be my biggest regret. I vow to never again disappoint you and to do everything in my power to earn back your trust in my presence. Please forgive me.”

As the faint burn of the promising bargain tattoo emerges on both his and your wrists, a soft smile graces your lips. With gentle assurance, you reach out and place your hand on his, your touch offering comfort and calmness.

“Rhys, I forgive,” you say sweetly and hopeful. “I've missed you, and I want us to be together again. Let's leave the past behind us and focus on building a future together, okay?”

Feeling his arms around you, you melt into the hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. His touch is comforting, and you revel in the warmth of his warmth. As he gently squeezes your waist, you giggle, feeling a sense of joy wash over you.

He attacked your cheek with kisses, making him land on top of you on the couch as your back rested on the seats.

“But I think we should take it slow. Maybe start off by going on dates.”

He pulls back and looks at you, his gaze intense yet tender. “Yes. Let's take it slow. We have all the time in the world, no need to rush.”

You both sit there, locked in a silent exchange, the air thick with anticipation as you inch closer to each other.

“We definitely shouldn't kiss, right?” you ask, feeling the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

His arms tighten around you as he speaks softly, his words grazing your lips. “We shouldn't.”

The moment your lips touch, tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It's been so long since you felt the familiar warmth of his kisses, the feeling of home in his embrace. Rhysand, your darling, the love of your life—you've missed him more than words can express.

As the kisses grow more messy and desperate, a soft whimper escapes your lips, causing his eyes to darken with desire.

A sudden panic washed over you at the thought of your now ex-boyfriend waking up to find you gone.

“Rhys, I have to go back and end things with Sam,” you blurted out, your voice raspy and flustered between kisses.

Rhys's expression darkened as he heard about your ex-boyfriend.

“I'll handle it,” he declared, determination lacing his voice.

“What does that mean?” you pressed, curious and a little concerned.

He responded with a secretive smile, kissing you again, his touch making you melt into him.

“Don’t worry your little head about it. I got it covered,” he assured, his tone confident and reassuring.

So you let it go. If he said he had it handled, then you trusted him to take care of it.

His assurance left you feeling cared for, sparking a desire for more. More of him, and more of that comforting reassurance he provided.

Before you could voice your need for him, he beat you to it. With a tender kiss on your forehead, he spoke softly.

“I’m going to take you upstairs and make up for lost time. But before we start, I’m going to feed you a little bit more. Don’t argue, you’re going to need the energy.”

Your mind went blank, slipping into a submissive state, ready to follow his lead without question.

With a nod, you rose from your seat, arms outstretched in silent compliance.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured as he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you in his arms. With each step towards the kitchen, his gentle strokes on your hair and whispered promises of what lay ahead sent shivers down your spine, heightening the anticipation of what was to come.

After quickly eating the food he conjured up, you stood up in a rush and grabbed his hand, urging him to take you upstairs right away.

He chuckled and scooped you up, showering kisses on your lips and neck as he carried you upstairs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his middle.

Your nails dig into his scalp, head thrown back as you whimper with pleasure. Your toes curl as his teeth graze against a sensitive spot, his smirk growing against your skin.

“Tell me, darling. How do you want it today?”

You're only aware that you're inside the bedroom when he sets you down in front of the bed.

You know exactly how you want it. You want him to take charge, dominating your every move, just like he used to. Rhys knew how quickly you submitted to him, and he had a hunch of how tonight would go. It was easy slipping into those roles with him in charge. So you look up at him with a shy smile, fondling with the strings of his dark linen pants, and tell him.

“Can we please do level four?”

Pride spread across him at your good manners. He loved that you still knew what to do even after years of not being together.

He would have sent all his loving emotions through the bond if it existed. The absence of a bond between him and you always seemed abnormal. Both of you questioned the Mother’s decision all the time, hiding the fact that you both were scared of the possibility of your mates popping up and claiming the other.

Shaking away his thoughts, he smiled at your words again and complied.

Step by step, he undressed you, his eyes never leaving yours. Rhysand’s eyes dropped to your pebbled nipples, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the intense attention he gave you.

“You still remember the safe word?” he rasped out, his pupils expanding as you nodded, your lips nervously caught between your teeth.

He pounced on you, eagerly kissing you in a brusing manner as he tightened his arms around you. Rhys slowly made you back, resulting in you falling backwards into the bed before he climbed on top of you.

His hands found your waist amd subtly squeezed before sliding up to your boobs and playing with your hardened nipples.

You whimpered in pleasure, making him smile as he lowered his mouth to attatch to your right breast. His wet, warm tounge swirled around the bud, biting and licking soothingly. He repeated the move on the other side, reveling in the way you were squirming under him.

“Is it too much, sweetheart?”

“Not enough.”

So his hand slid down your body until his thumb brushed over your throbbing clit. Your eyes rolled back when he put pressure on it, rubbing tight circles against you. It was almost mortifying how quick you melted and lost your mind.

A few more circles and you’d be cumming. Almost, almost.

The pleasure was short-lived when he removed his thumb, causing you to pout slightly as your brows furrowed in confusion.

“No teasing. You can play later, I’ve missed you too much.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a heated makeout session.

You also wrapped your legs around his waist and whispered against his lips,

“I need you so bad, please. I need your entire being.”

He slipped one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he added another finger and felt your walls pulse around him. Rhys pulled them out before shoving them back in, repeating the move, stroking your walls. He curled his fingers inside as he carefully watched your face morph from a begging expression to a fucked out smile.

“I will give you whatever your heart desires,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you again. As he did, he conjured his massive and majestic wings, spreading them proudly behind him, a breathtaking display of power.

Your wobbly smile melted into tears of joy as you whispered, “There you are,” feeling overwhelmed by the rush of emotions at seeing him again.

Rhys didn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He held onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy, circling it and letting your wetness drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his cock, he used it as a lubricant before he slid himself inside you.

Rhys pulled out and then in again until his entire cock was stuffed in you. He then leaned forward, putting his forehead in the crook of your neck, gently biting and sucking hickies onto your skin. He began thrusting, harder and harder. The entire room echoing with skin slapping, groans and pornstar-like moans.

Rhysand’s gripped your hips in a brusing manner, rocking them back and forth forth as he moved his own hips.

He lifted his head and gently brought his hand to your face, cupping your chin as he murmured,

“You're mine. Mine to love, to fuck, to have.”

You nod eagerly, your need evident.

“Only yours, baby. Forever and always, yours.”

He growled softly and turned your body around so you were on all fours. Gripping your hair, he pulled it back, causing your back to arch against his chest.

Rhysand put his dick back in and pumped deliciously against that spongy spot that had you acting like a mindless fool.

“You got fucked this good while we were seperated, hm?”

His hand snaked up and held your neck, applying a gentle pressure, a hint of restraint, as he taunted you.

Of course, he already knew the answer. But it was always nice to hear it from you.

“M-right, there, no one compares to you. No one could ever, ah fuck, do me this good. P-please, let me cum.”

“Fuck, yeah that’s right. But I think it’s a little too early for you to cum. I told you I wanted to make up for lost time. We’re nowhere near done.”

You let out a whine at the denial, a little vexed that he didn’t give you permission yet. But you knew he had plans so you decided to wait in hopes of getting something better.

“Good things come for good girls, you know that right?”

“I understand. Just keep going.”

You knew you forgot to add a please and were more than happy when he gave your puffy clit a slap.

“Manners.”

“Keep going, please.”

He chuckled at how quick you gave in and kissed your cheek, letting go of your hair and pushing you forward to your elbows and knees. Rhys grabbed your hips and gave you deep, slow and intentional strokes. Almost like he wanted you to cum early.

Rhys kept going for a long time, bringing you to the edge, only to snatch away pleasure in the last second. You were tired but knew all of this was building up into the most intense and powerful orgasm ever.

“Do you know how much I love you? Do you have any idea how deep my love for you goes?”

Cue the waterworks.

Really, his words started making you bawl right there. With concern etched on his face, he gently moved you into missionary, turning the back-breaking backshots into a tender moment. As he pushed in for the last time, he hovered above you, his forearms on either side of your head, kissing your puffy lips.

“I love you too, Rhysie, so, so much. There's really no one I love more than you.”

Your words were raspy and choked, his words were sweet and understanding.

“I know, sweet girl. I know you do.”

Suddenly, a snap felt in your chest. You both locked eyes, breathing heavily as you felt a thread weaving your very souls together. Tears prickled in your eyes at his words.

As the realization of the mating bond sinked in, a warm glow envelops both of you, filling the room with a sense of love and belonging. Rhysand's eyes softened even more, if that's possible, as he gazed into your tear-filled eyes.

“You're my mate,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “My soulmate, my other half.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the connection between you grow stronger with each passing moment. “And you're mine,” you replied, your voice filled with emotion. “Forever and always.”

Rhysand moved quicker and quicker, finally allowikg you to cum.

You were on the verge of passing out, the only reason there was any sort of fight in you left was because of the charged bond.

Before he pulled out, you locked your legs around him and begged him to stay inside. He did and slumped on top of you, his head resting on your raising and falling chest. You ran your hands through his damp, dark hair and reveled in warmth when he wrapped his wings around the two of you.

You both rest for a while before starting up again. Normally, a session like this would have you knocked out cold but you guessed it was the fresh bond.

The entire day was spent tangled in sheets and fucking in showers, other rooms, hallways, kitchens, roofs. Rhysand also sent a mental message to everyone in the inner circle, breaking the news and asking them not to disturb you for at least a week. He also asked Cassian to keep looking after the girls and warned that anyone who got too close would likely die.

—

You and Rhys, lay together in a pile of fluffy blankets and pillows on the floor, the bed damaged and broken from the week’s activities.

“Rhys, do you know what I think? I think it’s kind if poetic that we broke up and then became mates. I mean, it sounds very romantic.”

He chuckled and pulled you closer to his chest.

“You know what? I agree. The Mother does work in mysterious ways. I guess we weren’t ready before.”

You smile at him and nod,

“I’m glad we find our way home.”

With a tender look and a sweet kiss, he whispered,

“As am I, darling.”

🏷️ taglist: @tayswhp @jenjen-0-x @itsinherited @thisblogisaboutabook @luvmoo @se7enteen--black-blog @feyretopia @possiblyphobia @azriels-mate2 @sfhsgrad-blog @readychilledwine @amara-moonlight @tothestarsandwhateverend @blupblupfish @cleverzonkwombatsludge @iloveazrielshadowsinger @cat-or-kitten @dreamlandreader @honeybeeboobaa @queerqueenlynn @rowaelinsdaughter @redbleedingrose @clairebear08 @danikamariewrites @midnight-and-books @ruler-of-hades @annaaaaa88 @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @stasiereads @harryshoobies69 @itsagrimm @a-dorkier-book-keeper @b0xerdancer @erikan809 @glittervame

[yunogf]

lmao i asked bc, as you said in your tags, there was a certain way that it comes across as with how you’re talking about it, so i genuinely wondered bc i was gonna listen to it as well. i’ve been reading plenty of comments about it as well that mostly just lean on “aoty” “soty” “best album ever” and i get that these are (hopefully) exaggerated claims by stans, but i was seriously yet to see a decent comment about its musicality. it’s either about his face in the mv or his voice or the aesthetic of the mv. nothing on the lyricism or the instrumentations or its creativity or depth, so i was hesitant. i get liking it, but i doubt its being “the best”, so when i saw that your comments were the same, i began to wonder if this is another case of exaggerated praises and it’s just... meh at best. nothing new and all that. i am still gonna listen to it on my own ofc but, i guess, since i’m not really his fan, i’m not all excited. amazing debuts usually create tractions of their own, and i don’t hear much for this, but i ain’t judging based on that ofc. anyway, no need to feel attacked. as i said, i was genuinely curious so i asked. i’m well aware that i have ears. i was just genuinely curious about what you actually thought about it, what with your unhinged tags and whatnot. that’s all.

hard to gain traction when ur company announces ur album 2 weeks before it drops!

i was thrown by your wording and i still kind of am but i don't listen to music i don't enjoy and that's across the board for any artist bc....why would i do that lol and maybe ur not in the right circle being a casual fan/non-fan bc I've seen most ppl talk abt the musicality along with everything else 🤔

ik u said u were genuinely asking and i appreciate the explanation but im picking up on an overall unimpressed tone ("hopefully exaggerated" "doubt it being the best" ?) and it feels like u've made up ur mind about jaehyun and his music and ur asking me to give u a reason to change ur mind/care/be impressed but that's not my job ur free to make ur own opinion to me it seems ur going in with a half formed one already but it's music so like it or leave it either way is okay! ur under no obligation!

I'm sorry if being a kpop stan (im assuming...?) has made u feel disillusioned by solo releases tho i understand bc ppl are often overhyped by fans but jaehyun is a music enjoyer who did his homework and worked with artists he himself is a fan of and the payoff is really good music

overall ur ask is very uninformed which if ur not a fan is understandable but as a native english speaker myself listening to an album that is almost entirely in english from a nonnative speaker i have to say the lyrics are very well done they make sense create good metaphor and aren't superficially about balling or making a lot of money (i loathe to hear this often in eng versions of kpop songs lol) and jaehyun is credited as a lyricist on almost every song afaik

the production value is solid "can't get you" has an entire band accompaniment (the trumpet >>>>>) he wrote/worked on "flamin hot lemon" with emotional oranges (one of my fave artists actually <3) so that one is Excellent in every regard esp for a song inspired by cheetos lmao I've said numerous times that none of the songs sound like they were created with the intent of 30 secs going viral on tiktok (a very important differentiation for me) and one of my favorites parts about the title track "smoke" is the outro it's soooo good there's an unexpected bit of piano that he adlibs along with >>>> and the ballad "completely" has a Gorgeous piano backing to it (the lyrics on this one are also so beautiful)

my excitement about the release may have overwhelmed me so i might not have broken down each song beat by beat but rest assured i'm not wasting time on music i don't enjoy

in summation the album is good and on a separate unrelated note he just happens to be really hot ❤️

[captain-hawks]

I'm out picking fig leaves amd red dates rn but I got a post notifications with you being hard on your writing and I just want to come on here real quick to give you a big ole hug. Your writing is BEAUTIFUL and compelling and I love the way you pull so many scenarios out of seemingly thin air. I love all the directions your mind goes and the way you bring to life all the scenarios you weave. And I truly mean to use the word "weave" bc even your short drabbles are rich in world building. They don't feel like little disconnected stories so much as they feel like part of a world that I, as a reader, am somehow already hazily familiar with despite just being dropped into the story. It feels like I've been watching this friendship/love/general relationship grow for a while and someone turned up the volume for this little snippet and it's coming through clearly. It feels like a beautiful quilt of unique crocheted squares that all come together to form something enriching and gorgeous and leaves me simultaneously sated and yearning for more!!! Idk how you do it!! Ilysm and you're the whole reason im even active on tumblr basically. I've been a lurker for at least a decade and a half but reading your work gave me the final push to get over my internet shyness to let people know when i enjoy The Thing They Made. I'm so sorry if none of this made sense btw I am being eaten ALIVE by mosquitoes but goddammit I want to make fig leaf creme brulee and creme anglaise and maybe mesquite honey fig leaf ice cream. I've been putting off making yeasted donuts but it might be time to try so I can make fig leaf custard and shove that in there too 🌿

also I keep getting hit in the head by raining dates. ouch.

i’ve had to re-read this message multiple times today because i just keep getting so overcome with a giant tidal wave of emotions every time i start. 

i don’t even know where to begin to start expressing how thankful i am for all of your endlessly thoughtful and incredibly meaningful observations (that you always put SO much time and effort into sharing with me!!!). no amount of verbal gratitude feels like it will fully suffice to encompass just how impactful your feedback has been and continues to be. the fact that those are your takeaways from my work is genuinely one of the biggest, most lovely compliments i could ever receive as a writer. i’m not exaggerating in the slightest when i say that all of the kind things you’ve said have a forever home in my brain and heart. 

i appreciate you so so so so so very much, friend<3 and i’m so happy you’re doing your thing on here now and interacting because you are literally a whole entire ray of light.

anyway I HOPE YOUR FIG AND DATE ADVENTURES END UP FRUITFUL!!!! i am once again weeping at the promise of what sounds like another incredibly tasty creation of yours 😭

[whoreraccoon]

Sometimes ppl are like “I hate fandoms misinterpretation of characters this character is Not an iPad kid they’re not even the right age to be one!!!!! You’re disregarding the depth of this character and the trauma they’ve went through to get to where they are!!!!!” And I’m like, I thought that was a joke? Like we’re making fun of them by over exaggerating one aspect of their personality and making jokes abt it? I didn’t think those were serious interpretations of that character? Like the persassy thing where Percy is a little shit but like has other emotions and isn’t always a little bitch but sometimes he is so we make jokes abt it bc it’s funny? Maybe I’m just out of the loop but I didn’t think it was “this character is an iPad kid and spends all day playing Roblox /srs”

[violentviolette]

I’m going to try to ask this in the best faith possible bc I realize how like loaded conversations around mental illness and pathologizing behavior is, esp wrt npd and aspd especially. You talk a lot about how pathologizing abuse and otherwise shitty behavior is bad and how with trauma, our behaviors (as I’m cluster b as well, jury’s out on aspd) are usually deeply unhealthy and destructive, but wherein is the difference between just being a shitty person growing up and being antisocial? Or developing npd?

The diagnostic criteria for aspd is like being generally destructive towards ourselves and others, but where does the line become “I was destructive as part of developing aspd” and “I was destructive as a child because society rewards bullies and punishes victims and I was a little shit”? Im, again, not trying to start anything, I am legitimately confused and concerned even where there are people who do not fit the model for aspd but do shitty things and people who do fit the model and do shitty things. What part is the disorder?

The reason I’m not entirely sure if I have aspd is because I’m not entirely sure that the criteria I met as a kid (and as an adult) should be pathologized as aspd. Like maybe I really just am not a good person and shouldn’t slap a “mentally ill” label on it? Just like I shouldn’t expect people to armchair dx bad people with npd and aspd, where is the destructiveness inherent to the disorder and when is it just being a shitty person? I hope I asked this correctly.

Im trying to get a hold of like understanding and unpacking things and I don’t want to further demonize the disorder by saying “oh I did these things so I must be aspd”, but I don’t want to erase my struggles or do that radical positivity where it’s almost infantilizing where “uwu you can have aspd and be perfect nondestructive angels uwu nothing you do ever is bad and you’re valid” either. I may have exaggerated the positivity a bit 😂, I wouldn’t go so far, but I don’t want to further demonize the disorder if I just was a shit person but I don’t want to shit on pwaspd who, I suppose, “aren’t perfect”. Idk. I hope this comes across the way I mean it to.

i think i understand what u mean, and i think, in my opinion, the answer is that there is no such thing as an ontologically bad person. people do things for a reason, and while those reasons arent always good reasons, they're never as simple as "because they're a bad person"

this is especially true when looking at childhood behavior. there is genuinely no such thing as an inherently bad kid. children do not act out for no reason. there is no such thing as a child who is just a little shit. genuinely that does not exist. because children learn their behavior solely from their environment, every willful behavior a child exhibits (so anything that isnt a reflex like breathing or babies crying) they learned from the environment around them. so if a child is behaving badly, that means the adults around it are behaving badly. that means that child is being treated badly first, before they then go on to mimic and repeat that behavior and to be clear im talking specifically about disordered behavior, all kids go through periods of acting out and being emotional and impulsive. so im excluding normal ranges of behavior. because kids that are destructive in these ways are so for a reason, and that reason is never ever because "they're just bad." that is a myth that adults use to excuse, normalize, and justify child abuse, because they dont want to believe and admit that they are abusing their children, that their behavior is a problem that needs to change. if a child is exhibiting deep antisocial behavior, if they're destructive, if they lie, if they hurt other kids or animals, if they dont show remorse or any emotional connection to their actions, if they're emotionally volatile, if they're acting out in aggressive or dangerous ways, if they're mean and vindictive and go out of their way to hurt others, if they take joy in causing others discomfort and upsetting them, then those children are being abused. those symptoms do not manifest for no reason or because a kid is just a shitty person. that'd be like saying an infection isnt caused by bacteria entering ur bloodstream, it's just something that happens to some people because they suck, u know? the wound cannot come before the blow. in order to exhibit these symptoms as children, something has to have happened. for cluster b pds specifically and the overall list of symptomatic behaviors they cover, those things cannot and will not manifest in people unless they undergo trauma through prolonged abuse. if they were being raised in healthy, loving, emotionally stable environments, then they would not be exhibiting those symptoms in those ways.

this is such a huge lie that people who grow up in abusive households get taught, that some people are just shitty and awful and evil, that yea sure there's people with real problems but thats not us, we're just spoiled, selfish, entitled, needy, shitty, ect. ect. bad kids and that's why we're like this. thats why they treat us so badly, because we're just inherently awful and they're just reacting to that. because if they were to admit otherwise that would mean admitting that their behavior is actually the issue and their actions are wrong, so the problem has to just be us, not them.

i dont know if these are things that resonate with u, but i know for a lot of cluster b's we often find ourselves in the beginning going through this period of being like "but im just shitty and thats why im like this" because our entire worldview revolves around logic that isnt actually reality or healthy truth, it's abuse. and because we've lived our whole lives inside that abuse bubble of logic we dont even realize how deeply we've internalized it until times like these

so i think those are important things to consider and remember when thinking about all this and i hope that made sense and was helpful. feel free to ask followups or for clarification if i got too rambly somewhere and lost the point or just made no sense lol

[riverstardis]

crazy little thing called love:

the previous episode’s post isn’t showing up in the tag for some reason? not for me at least

alicia’s parents are back together… but not for long!

cal’s leaving alicia a surprise in her locker because he feels bad about not trusting her but he discovers that she has a second phone💀

ah alicia’s dad’s “business partner”

oh look they’re kissing!

aand he ends up pinned against a skip by his car🙃

LMAOO alicia goes “ethan you remember my mam yeah?” and he goes “yes, you had the gonorrhoea! … sorry…” SKDKFKKFG WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT😭😭😭 ohhh i miss him

oh yeah this is cal meeting alicia’s parents for the first time lol

i love dylan’s outfit

oop cal’s noticed martin holding howard’s hand

lmaoo ethan telling cal how it was awkward having to treat alicia’s mum after the whole sti thing and cal just didn’t know about that at all so ethan explains how she got it off the dad because “apparently he was sleeping around with other women” and cal’s like “well i’m not sure about that last part” 😭😭😭

cal says do you think being a player runs in the family and shows ethan alicia’s secret phone and guesses her pin because she’d leant him her bank card to get drinks one night (her pin is 4421 if anyone was wondering - for her bank and her secret phone💀)

she has flirty messages with “loverboy” that mention scrubs so they know it must be someone in the hospital

it always makes me laugh how ethan is very clearly just as upset, if not more upset, than cal is at this development, and not in a supportive brother way! but cal just doesn’t notice at all😭

cal tries to say martin can’t come into resus but alicia’s like “come on cal, martin and my dad are close” and cal’s like “you’re telling me”😬😬 so of course they then have to come clean

alicia telling them the origin of her nickname ‘scoobie’🥺🥺

“i always loved you jackie, i never lied about that. but you knew my parents, you think my father would’ve accepted a gay son 40 years ago? my friends? so i did what everyone was telling me to do, i conformed. and then i met you and we had alicia, my beautiful little girl, and suddenly i’ve got everything in the world to lose”😥😥

aww he’d been with martin for over 9 years

gem’s had 2 weeks added on to her sentence

cal’s now having second thoughts about meeting up with alicia’s “mystery man” because “maybe sometimes things are better left alone” and ethan goes “we need to know, cal” WE???? then he corrects himself “i mean, you need to know”😭😭😭 ohh ethan you’re soo lucky cal’s distracted

LMAOO louise getting noel and max to model wedding dresses for duffy

“loverboy” turns out to be max and he’s SO confused. ethan’s like “you’re sleeping with alicia? behind his back?” well one of you certainly did! max is still so confused bc he didn’t know he’d been talking to alicia and ethan PUNCHES HIM AND CAL HAS TO HOLD HIM BACK😭😭

that’s soo out of left field for ethan and i remember people at the time theorising that this was a sign of his huntington’s starting as aggression irritability and mood swings are often some of the first symptoms and even now i still think that makes the most sense. with hindsight idk if that’s what the writers were actually going for because they never made it explicit or anything but it could be! the psychiatric symptoms often start years before motor symptoms (the prodromal stage) and ofc from cal’s death onwards it’s impossible to pick out what’s caused by hd from what’s caused by, well, literally everything else, but at this point this really stands out. he’s obviously hurt and angry, as is cal, but his reaction is so extreme and sudden, like his emotional response has been exaggerated

tbh the writers probably just thought it was funny to have ethan reacting in a way that’s obviously not just anger on cal’s behalf but cal still not notice anything suspicious. and it is funny!

alicia tells them she was just pranking max😭😭

“we’ve had fun together, cal, haven’t we? why’ve we stopped?” “i do trust you” “you hardly know me, not really. which is why it worked so well before, it was just” “fun” “everything eventually falls apart when it’s held together by a lie” :( she seems like she’s about to tell him about sleeping with ethan but then she changes her mind

poor alicia :(

aw louise bursts into noel’s interview to tell them how he saved a kids life and the machines can’t do that

aww jackie realises that howard loves and needs martin and goes and tells martin to go and be with him. funny how she didn’t need to try and rape him isn’t it🤔🤔

LMAO charlie and duffy are practising their first dance in the staff room and some others are watching them but then dylan comes in and puts his tea in the microwave without even acknowledging them and they’re all staring at him and he genuinely doesn’t even realise why😭😭😭😭 i love him sjskdkfkk

robyn goes to cal “hey that’s gonna be you and alicia next” yeahhh i don’t think so

they’re all getting ready for the stag do and duffy says to bring charlie back in one piece lmao well they will eventually

max tries to get dylan to come but he’s like “i don’t think there’s a thing in the world worse than stag nights” but then he says they can give him a lift to the kennels because he has to pick dervla up and max is like “you can do whatever you want, you’re driving” “you what?” “everyone else has had a drink” “oh my god this day just gets better and better doesn’t it” skskfkgkgk

alicia tells cal that her parents split up but it’s probably for the best and cal’s like “yeah it’s never easy though, no matter how old you are” hmm interesting… definitely sounds like he’s implying his parents split up which again doesn’t fit with the original backstory richard winsor talked about where ethan stayed at home and had a more family oriented upbringing than cal did does it?

lmao cal makes alicia think he’s proposing and the absolute FEAR in her eyes SJSKDKFK but it’s just lingerie and he’s like “see we can still have fun together”

cal’s like “we good?” and alicia says yeah… but not for long!

alicia goes “bet you give these to all your girlfriends” and cal goes “only the ones i’m in love with” oh poor cal

lmaoo ethan gives cal his stag do t-shirt and shows him his which says ‘barry 2017 world tour “ethan-ator”’ and cal’s like “oh you are not my brother” and ethan just laughs and goes “THE ETHAN-ATOR” DNDKSKJFF just how much has he had to drink already??? he’s also wearing it OVER his shirt???

the cuff link falls out of cal’s jacket as he goes to get changed and he says to charlie “can you believe i nearly blew it all for that?” and charlie’s like “but you didn’t!” but then ethan comes back over, notices it, and goes “hey where’d you get that? i’ve been looking for that everywhere!” and cal is SHOOK but ethan has no idea what he just revealed😭😭

yay the stag the dog and the sheep time!!!!!

[norfkid]

finished playing through Still Wakes The Deep a while ago & still have so many thoughts and questions about it in my brain. i don't make a habit of doing this but i've attempted to articulate (as best as i could, with a mix of some gorgeous & shite screencaps) some of them below. spoilers and gore warning❗️

an obvious psychological symptom is that rig workers that transform into these meatmonsters (google tells me the unknown entity is known as The Shape btw) still retain some part of their subconscious or psyche.

for example, a lot of Muir's dialogue was about being left alone. he was confused bc his friends kept running away, even tho he Just Wanted To Help. his fears were that they’d abandoned him, and more so than the others (which i’ll mention later), he doesn't seem to be aware of the violence and harm he's inflicting on his friends. a beautiful detail adding to that is that i don't think any of the workers Muir killed had been transformed, mutated, or absorbed (do correct me if i’m wrong). like Dobbie and Sunil, their bodies were left untouched and in relatively ordinary sitting positions, in complete stark contrast to the bodies left in the wake of pricks like Rennick and Trots.

speaking of, after the initial incident occurs, we first encounter Trots in the laundry room attempting to use the machines & grumbling about the tidiness of things ("i told them it's not right” / “do they even notice the mess?"). clearly we suspect his mind is infected, showing signs that The Shape is manipulating him in some way, but still he continues slamming the machine doors closed.

Rennick was obviously (a massive cunt. insane kudos to Clive Russell for his brilliant performance btw) fuming at Caz from the get-go. when he's infected he becomes enraged and malicious, shouting after him things like, "i told you to go, McLeary! i'll make you fucking go…" etc. how poetic is it that Rennick, with his inflated sense of ego and pride, becomes a meatmonster whose head is Literally too big for the room.

why were Trots, Muir, Rennick, Gibbo, and Addair the only ones to become like this. was it purely random? did something about who they were or how they died determine their transformation? is there some psychological or biological compatibility with them and The Shape?

regardless of any definitive answers, it’s interesting to think about. what remains of these people’s existence when infected seems to be some rooted insecurity or fear of theirs, or perhaps a continuation/parody of what they were experiencing or thinking the moment before compromise, or maybe it’s simply some grotesque and exaggerated aspect of their personality or behaviour…

this can be said for Caz too, despite not having truly changed, as every time he comes into contact with The Shape he enters this catatonic, dream-like state where he's consumed by his own memories. Suze's voice even seems to haunt him later, and things she’s said reverberate in his mind, manipulated just to torment him.

personally i’d be curious to know if this is all Actually deliberate as part of The Shape’s absorption of their bodies, or if it’s just a by-product or symptom. does it feeds on or use these heightened aspects of humanity (their personalities, fears, emotions) to function? do they have motivations beyond just removing those that intruded in their territory (i have an unarticulated white blood cell/antibodies analogy to compare this to, somewhere…)

another thing i’d love more info on is what exactly occurs inside the human body when The Shape invades. during the game you come across countless assimilated bodies left immobile and static around the rig. they have impossibly contorted limbs, either mutated, or abnormally large, and sometimes they even have extra limbs (i swear i saw a meatpile with three noses somewhere). it's unclear whether this organism actually feeds on humans… but some workers turn into monstrosities and some become these immobile, living macabre sculptures. why? and who's to say any of them are actually even dead?

finally, i feel there there's smth to say about the genetic/biological/DNA motif in this game. it could definitely be described better, by someone who isn’t me, but it’s distinctly symbolic of human beings (and whether it’s deliberate or not, i don’t know).

to wrap this up i’ll just highlight the most significant moment that captured that for me. towards the end of the game you overlook the remains of the upper deck and bear witness to the near-final of The Shape having gradually risen up from the ground. it’s illuminated by a haunting pinkish-red glow, an amalgamation of twisted, fleshy tendrils and metal bridges spiral upwards towards the sky like a double-stranded helix… like DNA…

[sincerely-krp]

no one’s out here sexualizing minors. none of these rps allow minors. they’re all adults. take that out of your argument bc that’s not even at all what we’re talking about // not any of the previous OPs you’re replying to and not even directly replying to you. i just want to take this moment to bring up “barely legal” type of kinks existing, which are usually used as ways to *legally* enjoy sexualizing young people without being, yanno, branded for p*doph*lia. while ur not wrong that anyone above 18 or 19 (whatever the consenting age may be in ur country of choice), the sexualization of minors and the sexualization of freshly legal young adults come from similar places, their youth or “innocence” or power imbalance or physical appearance. i got my own opinions on everything and what i think is creep behavior, i dont care what other people think for themselves, but i’m begging for some self awareness whenever people bring up the “but they’re above [legal age]!!!!! they’re not a minor anymore its fine for them to have sexuality!!!!!” in 'defense'. because often the discomfort isn’t with sexualizing minors (though that DOES happen and no one should be defending btw), it’s with sexualizing young muses ESPECIALLY when they have young faceclaims and young muns. most people who want age gap ships arent out here being like ‘i want my muse to be 18 specifically!’ i guarantee you they’re just picking a legal age on the young side because all they care about is it being legal so they can get off on their fantasies, usually involving the faceclaim - hence the problem when the face is the same age. you can cry ‘the face isn’t the character!!!’ all you want but if it really is about the character and the kink for you then i want to ask the same question someone else did, why DONT you just write the character using an older faceclaim or no faceclaim at all? then at least you’re just sexualizing your own barely legal muse, which has better standing in the “its all fiction” argument. but if having a barely legal faceclaim is so important to you writing your barely legal character, esp. if you’re writing them mostly for the kink, maybe ask yourself why having that real life physical reference to a young faceclaim is so important to you. someone's number age is NOT the only reason people get uncomfortable, it's also how their relative youth/inexperience is exaggerated SO much that their mental, emotional, and sexual maturity basically resembles more of a minor's. them being above the legal age just lets defenders bring up the same old "they arent minors by LAW" argument. i would actually respect certain people more in this if they just said out loud that they want to fantasize about younger legal faceclaims than people who try bring up age and swear that they actually see the character or faceclaim with the same maturity as an adult.

・❥・

[loverboy-cc]

Pardon my rambling. Illness of the mental flavour this fine four in the morning.

On one hand I want to post shit as soon as I’m done drawing but I also like keeping a queue bc then my account doesn’t die for 7-14 business days when my wrists act up not from an obligation to post just bc I like seeing people interact with my art and i know I could take a break and keeping a queue makes it so I can but also I love consistency and I just because I should take breaks doesn’t mean I like doing it and I think I may spend too much time on the internet but I’m not entirely sure what else to do with myself because what else is there to do for me as someone who can’t really go out or do most normal things. I suppose I could read but I already do a lot of that not even just fanfic I read a decent amount of novels im just horribly picky and I find the process of finding novels I enjoy exausting. I could write more music too but I already do that a lot and it’s debatable if that’s better because I end up obsessing over even minor flaws. I want to redecorate my room but I’m not sure if that’s a good idea or if I’m just tired bc I’m pretty sure I forgot to take my meds last night even though I slept what felt like a normal amount. I should also go to bed now bc I did take my meds and I know that’s definitely making my current situation worse but on the other hand I want to run. Which I know is a bad idea last time i tried to go for a run my legs gave out and I was stuck in the cold for 4 hours until my roommate woke up and could bring my wheelchair and I’m not sure when my knees got this bad. Like I could never run because I was asthmatic but it was a different kind of couldn’t like I could technically run it was just a bad idea because I’d have an asthma attack. But now I can’t because I’ll fall and won’t be able to get back up or I’ll be in such severe pain I can’t get home or one time I got lost and just kinda kept walking for almost 2 hours bc I forgot my phone so I couldn’t contact anyone and I shit you not I ended up in the neighbor town (it’s not that far and I didn’t remember crossing the highway either way) and after that I barely got out of bed for like a week. Not that I get out of bed often as it anyway and I think that’s why it feels like I spend too much time online. Because I only really remember being online because it’s the best part of my day. Like I know I have one irl I could be hanging out with but also that is so much effort and I love her dearly but it’s a different kind of yearning I think. I want to be normal just for like a day I want to have friends who want to talk to me and people to spend time with irl. But I also don’t. I don’t want people I don’t want friends and I know that. I want the romanticized version of friends that don’t have drama or problems or complexity and I think that’s why I value my online friends and my mutuals so much because it fills the social need without any of the issues that come with humans and I feel horrible saying that because I know my mutuals are human but online is comfortable and the block button is always a click away and I’m not afraid to use it but also I am because what if I’ve misjudged the situation not that I’ll ever ask.

Edit I’m expanding this because my brain has gone in a very irl dangerous direction and I need to keep my hands busy lest I do something fucking stupid. Sometimes I wonder how much my apathy shows and sometimes I wonder if it’s even apathy because I am apathetic in a clinical sense but I wonder if I’m exaggerating because I get bursts of excitement or feeling but it comes and goes in minutes like. Even then direction I was going isn’t out of and particular negative emotion it was a passive thought and I think that’s arguably more worrying bc instead of being jarring and worrying I considered making a catastrophically bad decision with all the care of someone picking want to have for breakfast. Maybe I’d feel better if I jerked off I don’t think that’s is a great idea but also there’s certainly worse options I’m wondering if this reads as much like a conversation as it feels because I don’t remember writing most of it but also reading it does sound like me but not and I don’t know why that is but I don’t want to think to hard on it so.

[onlyswan]

it’s 🌌 again!!! smiled so big reading your response :,) the part about crying over the sunrise i really feel like i’m the same way 🥹 like just seeing little things in nature and in the world in general make me emotional so easily it’s crazy 😭 all my friends know me as a crybaby hehe i just think it’s so lovely that so many things can bring those reactions out of us like it truly makes life sooo much more bearable and beautiful at the same time. it’s so perfect and kind of full circle that youre able to make others feel the same emotions you regularly do if you really think about it! ugh i have so much brainrot about iw! and your page and your writing in general i feel like i may be visiting a lot just to get my thoughts out please don’t get sick of me 🥹

it genuinely makes my heart happy to be in this space it may sound like i’m exaggerating but i almost feel like i’m going through a portal into another world where everything is cozy and safe and warm with the colors brown and gold everywhere and warm lanterns and stars (hence my emoji hehe) it’s just something that’s really hard for me to explain but it’s like i can let go of my worries and just enter a space where i can almost just float for hours without feeling the time go by. like that’s really how i feel about it aaaaa i wish u could feel the way i do when i’m here cause it sounds like i’m exaggerating but i really do mean it!

as always i hope you’re doing well <3

ahhhh truly 😭 isn’t so amazing that life has these giant things glooming over us that makes us crumble and want to give up but even the tiniest things can hold the meaning of our fortitude? i don’t know the purpose of my existence and maybe it’s okay even if there’s none. as long as there is a sunrise everyday to admire and people to kiss <3

it’s so perfect and kind of full circle that youre able to make others feel the same emotions you regularly do if you really think about it!

🥺🥺🥺 :") it’s honestly something i never imagined to happen like this is something crazy y’all are letting me experience and i’m so thankful.

i feel like i may be visiting a lot just to get my thoughts out please don’t get sick of me 🥹

baby i could never!!!! 😭😭😭 please come by often i love you <3

i wish u could feel the way i do when i’m here cause it sounds like i’m exaggerating but i really do mean it!

the way you explained it feels a lot like when i’m writing so i totally understand :") dhdjfhdjtjf tbh i’m the one who gets worried that i sound like i’m exaggerating bcs i’m always emotional over here about my writing and life in general haha so i’m so freaking happy to hear that you’re in the same page!!!! also reminded me of tangled? which is like one of the things i’d add if i were to make an iw!series starter pack without context (someone who has read all the drabbles do this pls)

[enharchive]

wow. okay. where do i even BEGIN 😣

let me start by saying this fic was SO GOOD the flow was perfect, the plot was perfect, the writing was AMAZING TOO LIKE?&/&?/ this work is nothing short of a masterpiece i am not even exaggerating or being dramatic THIS WAS TOO GOOD i have no idea how u did it omfg 😭 i loved the pacing and the banter was witty too!!!! the relationship between the council was so wholesome and the texts were so CUTE 🥹 i love that we got those virtual interactions along with few real-life ones :”)

honestly it was kind of hard to pick out favorite parts from this fic bc it was just so good but!!!! i did anyway LOL

i knew i was going to love the characters right off the bat. i’m a HUGE sucker for academic rivals to lovers and the way i KNEW this fic was going to be my cup of tea. this sentence confirmed it. i was sure i was going to love ur fic 😎

ALSO THIS???? i love how u’ve said that y/n maybe disliked yeonjun bc they saw themself in him and probably (this is just my deduction) didn’t entirely like what they saw :( idk what it is ab this paragraph but it HIT and RESONATED with me. i genuinely have no explanation as to why 🫡

THIS WAS SO FUNNY LMFAODJ SOO OUTTA POCKET i love how their banter is witty as well as childish!!!! their back and forth is so wholesome 💘

LIKE WOW. my jaw dropped 😭 i support y/n hundred percent but yeonjun was way outta line in this scene with how he just aired out their business in front of the council. i’d say he deserved being put in his place in front of everyone!!!!! (sorry jun i still love u)

THIS..........wow (i just realised i’m saying that a lot but don’t mind me bc that’s what this fic and ur writing is. WOW) i gen don’t have any words like this scene was just so ??? impactful ??? i love the way u have described the emotions here. the angst was angsting sheeeeeesh 😮‍💨

OVERALL!!!! this was an amazing fic and i am in AWE of ur talent. it’s been a long while since i read something so good. keep up the good work op!!!! u deserve all the appreciation u can get <3

mr. vice president // yeonjun

Choi Yeonjun was an ace, and everyone knew it. He was a star athlete, top student, creative genius, school vice-president, and prom royalty. The only person who even came close to his level was you.

at a glance: gender neutral reader, rivals to lovers, high school au, fluff, angst, ft. soobin, beomgyu, aespa's karina and winter

words: 7.3k

warnings: shit tonnes of swearing, brief mention of sports-enforced dieting (not weight related)

——————————

You liked being the best, and you were good at it.

Your list of titles and achievements was long for your age: President of the student council, most promising player on the basketball team, and top performer in every exam season. In any metric you could name, you were always in either first or second place.

The person you had jockeyed for first with for the last four years was none other than Choi Yeonjun, the golden boy, the unstoppable force to your immovable object.

He was the most promising player on the football team. As your Vice-President, you two were the highest-ranking student leaders in the school. Perfectly and equally matched in academics, you both constantly oscillated between the two top spots on the yearly grade rankings. You could’ve been a high school power couple had it not been for one thing: you hated each other’s guts.

Your rivalry was well known throughout the school, although most people saw it as just a mildly petty competition. No one would ever expect such capable, talented, and hardworking students to indulge in that sort of immature behaviour. The only people who knew the true extent of your animosity were your kids.

You and Yeonjun called the other student council members your kids, and they in turn called you both their parents. On the administrative side Yeonjun had under him Soobin, the general secretary, and Beomgyu, the treasurer. On the operations side you led Jimin, head of logistics, and Minjeong, communications and liaison officer. Of course, you two had also fought over who would take admin and who would take operations (the kids voted in the end). Sometimes when you and Yeonjun were acting up too much, one of them, usually Soobin, would say, “Not in front of the kids!”

But as co-leaders of the student body, your school’s star athletes, and joint cohort-toppers, you had a lot in common with each other. Maybe that’s why you disliked him so much: he reminded you of yourself.

——————————

You and Yeonjun were indeed busy bees. Your school days started earlier than everyone else’s, because you were in charge of the morning announcements and had to get ready before assembly. During breaks when the others got to relax or nap or eat you had disciplinary duties, not that either of you ever actually disciplined anyone (snitches get stitches, even for the golden kids). You also finished school later than most; being in the Excellere class for gifted students meant extra, harder, and longer lessons. After Excellere, you both had sports practice two to three times a week. If it was competition season like it was then, you had practice every day. In between commitments you were always stuck in meetings with him and the rest of the student council, or with him and the school principal.

Since school was just about all you did, that meant you were with Yeonjun for nearly every waking moment of your life, barring weekends. And sometimes not even that. You spent far too many of your precious weekend hours with him, either on Zoom calls or representing your school at external events.

“Good morning, Pres,” Yeonjun greeted that morning, punching your arm as he waltzed into the front office like he did every day. He always called you Pres. Never your name, just Pres. You hated it, and you’d told him as much more than once. That only made him do it more. He pointed at the hot pink post-it note on the announcement book. “What’s this?”

“The Spring Festival ticket sales announcement. Jimin finished setting up the website last night,” you told him. “Minjeong says we can start making the announcement every week, and she’ll put it on the school socials after assembly today.”

“Why can’t you do it?” he asked.

You folded your arms. “Because it’s not my job. She’s our communications officer.”

“What is your job, then? You seem pretty free to me,” he said.

“You’re one to talk. Are you still bitter about losing to me, Mr. Vice President?” you taunted, pointing to his student council badge. It was silver and read ‘student leader’, like all the other members’ badges, while yours was gold and read ‘president’.

“We all know I’m equal in rank to you. The President/Vice President distinction is just a formality,” he retorted, but you knew he had been disproportionately upset by the badge thing when you were both sworn in. 

“A formality you gave up being football captain for, and still lost,” you teased. It was childish, but you stuck out your tongue at him anyway. He seemed to bring that out in you.

Student council Presidents were not allowed to hold a second leadership position, so he had turned down the captain role offered to him because he had expected to be appointed President. It was either him or you, that much had never been in question, but he’d gotten cocky. You remembered him being absolutely gutted about losing the presidency to you, not least because he hated the boy who ended up captain. You, however, didn’t really care about your position on your team as long as you got to play. You did, though, care about beating Choi Yeonjun.

“I’m still the best player on my team,” he countered, defensive and equally childish.

“So am I, genius.”

“I am a genius, aren’t I, Pres? That's why I came first in our latest Excellere ranking.”

You were just about to answer when the principal entered the office. It was almost time for assembly to start. As petty as you both were, you knew better than to fight in front of faculty. Yeonjun, having gotten the last laugh, glanced over at you and winked obnoxiously. You’d get a chance to get back at him later.

——————————

Whenever Yeonjun winked or smirked or rolled his eyes at you, you were reminded of the infuriating fact that he was, undoubtedly, extremely good-looking. He was the golden boy, after all, and it was only fitting for that status to extend to his appearance too. Tall and fit, with gorgeous eyes and the stutter-inducing confidence of someone who knew they were attractive. Other students sometimes greeted you both as you walked around the school (neither of you were that popular in the traditional sense of the word, but you were well known to say the least) and he could often make them swoon with just a smile.

But he didn’t date. In fact, as far as you knew, he’d never dated at all, nor even spoke about it. He was too busy for love, something that no doubt caused heartbreak throughout the whole school.

You were the same: you had no shortage of suitors but no interest in frivolous relationships that would only distract you from your duties. Your immature rivalry with each other was just about the only non-important thing either of you allowed yourselves to partake in. You had places to be, battles to win, things to achieve.

That was a mantra you found yourself repeating in your head more and more these days. You were starting to wonder what was even the point of pushing yourself this hard. Maybe you were burnt out.

Yeonjun nudged you with a smirk when he noticed you nodding off. “Tired?”

“I’m fine,” you said, resolute, sitting up straighter and squaring your shoulders. As much as he got on your nerves, he was also the closest thing to a friend you had in Excellere. You sat together in nearly every class.

He snorted, amused. “Are you sure, Pres? Because class is over,” he said, pointing to the clock at the front of the classroom. Sure enough, the teacher and all of the other students were gone. It was just you and him.

You pushed him to hide your embarrassment. “Whatever. Move, I need to get to practice,” you said, grabbing your bag.

He pushed you back, hard enough to knock you back down into your seat so he could get up first. “Me too, sleepyhead. You’re not special,” he mocked, swinging his own bag victoriously over his shoulder with a triumphant smirk.

“I never said I was. Unlike you, I don’t have an inferiority complex,” you retorted, standing back up and rushing out of the classroom. You were not the type of person to fall asleep in class, and you sure as hell weren’t going to stick around to give him the chance to remind you of that.

——————————

By the time practice ended, you could barely keep your eyes open. It was past 10pm now, and you sat at the bus stop in your basketball uniform, knees pressed to your chest. Your teammates had all gone home, but since you always missed physical training due to Excellere, you had to stay behind and complete your three kilometre run after practice.

“Hey.”

You cracked one eye open to see Yeonjun standing in front of you, hands on his hips, peering down at you curiously. You immediately sat up straight, blinking a couple of times as if that would erase your tiredness. “Why are you here?” you asked.

“It’s a public bus stop, and I’m a free man,” he said, pushing you aside so he could sit down next to you.

“Yeah, exactly. It’s a public bus stop, and there’s plenty of room elsewhere,” you scowled, pointing to the abundance of empty space on the bench aside from the spot right beside you. He winked in answer. “I mean why are you getting the bus? I thought your mom usually picks you up.”

He shrugged, balling up his navy blue football jersey and holding it out to you. “She’s busy tonight.” You stared at the jersey in confusion. He scoffed and shoved it into your arms. “Is your brain broken? Put it on.”

“No, gross. It smells like your sweat,” you said.

“Ungrateful bastard. I can see you shivering.”

You shoved it right back to him. “You wear it then, if it’s so cold.”

“Fine.” He yanked it back and put it on, even though you could tell he hadn’t yet cooled down from his practice. His chest was still rising and falling faster than usual, the veins on his arms were still sticking out, and there were still beads of sweat on his forehead plastering his hair to his skin. Idiot. “Do you always take the bus home alone? What about your teammates?” he asked, looking around. It was dark, and he’d never taken the bus at this time of the night.

“They finish before me. I have to make up my PT because of Excellere. Don’t you?” you asked. He nodded. It seemed like you both were always the first students to arrive at school and the last students to leave. You took your phone out to check the bus timings. “Which bus are you waiting for?” you asked. Yours was coming in a minute.

“I don’t know,” he said, stubbornly pretending like he wasn't overheating in his jersey.

“You don’t know? Have you never taken a bus before?” you mocked. “Well, I suppose that’s what happens when you’re chauffeured around everywhere.”

“Fuck off, Pres. Of course I have,” he countered, defensive. “I take 47 home sometimes.”

“47 doesn’t run this late. You’ll have to take mine and get off two stops after me,” you said, not really sure why you were helping him. He had Google Maps and thumbs, after all.

Right as you said that, that very bus arrived. You flagged it down and rushed on board, not bothering to check if he was following you. He was, and he again sat down next to you in the back of the empty bus with a satisfied grin.

You sighed and looked out the window as the bus started to move. “Can’t you sit somewhere else?”

“No, I cannot,” he said, pulling up the sleeves of his jersey instead of just taking it off like he clearly wanted to do.

“You’ll catch a cold if you keep wearing that and sweating in it,” you told him. The bus was freezing.

“That’s not how colds work,” he shot back, immediately pulling his sleeves back down. “For someone who bangs on constantly about how good they are at biology you’d think you’d know that colds are caused by pathogens.”

You took your headphones out of your bag and plugged them in. “Fine, then. Stew in your grubby discomfort.”

He said something else, but you pretended not to hear him, continuing to look out the window. The rest of the bus ride went by in silence, until:

“Hey,” he said again for the second time that night, knocking his knee against yours. You ignored him. He yanked your headphones out of your ears in retaliation.

“Ow!”

“What’s the matter with you today? Why were you falling asleep in class?” he asked, holding your headphones high above his head, out of your reach. During a momentary flash of self-awareness it occurred to you that you were both far too old to be acting like kindergarteners. You couldn’t imagine what the principal would think if she knew this was how her two star students behaved in private. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, preparing to be made fun of, and stood up briefly to snatch them back. “Why do you care?”

“I want to know if you’re sick so I can avoid you,” he replied.

“No, I’m on a caffeine ban,” you answered, somewhat reluctantly. He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Our coach puts us on diets before competition season to make sure we don’t get sick. No caffeine, no sweet drinks, no fried food.”

He laughed, completely unsympathetic. “And you still lost last year?”

“We came in second at nationals,” you retorted, “while I seem to recall your team didn’t even make it to regionals.”

“At least we get to eat whatever we want,” he said, knowing it was a weak comeback even before he said it. Last year was a bad season for the football team; they lost to a school they should’ve easily been able to beat and didn’t even get the chance to compete regionally. You had teased him mercilessly for it ever since, just barely stopping short of bringing your national silver trophy to school and putting it on his desk. Or carrying it into a meeting with him and using it as a drinking cup.

You reached over and pushed the stop button on the handrail behind him. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the deafening sound of all of my medals clattering together. Move. It’s my stop.”

Annoyingly, he didn’t move, forcing you to climb over him to get out and off the bus. He flipped you off as the bus drove away, and you flipped him off right back.

——————————

Two days before your basketball championship, you’d finally admitted to yourself that you were not doing well. All the practices, student council meetings, and weekly Excellere rankings were starting to get to you. Your school days were fifteen hours long, your nights and weekends lost to studying or catching up on the meetings you and Yeonjun missed while in class or at practice. Which was frustrating, because it wasn’t like you hadn't gotten through these things before. You didn't know what was wrong with you this time.

“What’s with all that stuff?” Minjeong asked, watching you force a towel and a bag of toiletries into your locker and slam the door closed before they fell out.

“Yeonjun and I are staying late today to go over the work you guys did this week, so I need to shower here after practice,” you said. “We’ve missed way too many meetings.”

“Yeah, because you’re both busy. His championships are tomorrow and yours are the day after. Can’t it wait?” Jimin said.

You shook your head. “No, you guys are already doing work that’s meant to be ours.” You paused for a second for comedic effect. “Besides, I hope he’s tired after tonight so he loses tomorrow.” They both laughed.

“As expected of the golden kids,” Minjeong said, giving you a hi-five. Yeah. As expected of the golden kids.

——————————

It was 11pm, and you and Yeonjun were sitting beside each other in an empty classroom going over the minutes from the last three student council meetings. His hair was wet from his shower and he hadn’t bothered to get dressed fully, with too many buttons undone, an untucked shirt, and his tie nowhere in sight. You stopped taking notes.

“Can you please put your uniform on properly?” you asked.

He snatched your pen and notebook away from you to add in something you’d been fighting over for the last ten minutes. “Why do you have yours on like that, with everything all done up and tucked in? There’s literally no one else here.”

“You look unbecoming,” you said.

“I’m comfortable. You should try it. You can’t convince me you like wearing your tie and buttoning your shirt all the way up like that,” he said, pointing the pen at your collar. When he was done writing, he looked up at you in satisfaction and smirked, arrogant. “Or am I distracting you?”

You would never admit it, but he was right. On both counts. He was distracting you. “Is Soobin okay? He’s been doing a lot lately,” you asked, ignoring him, looking over your notes again. If there was anything that could get you and Yeonjun to stop bickering for even a second, it was talking about the other council members.

“I think he’s a little tired. Once we’re both done with our competitions we can start pulling our weight more,” he said, humming thoughtfully, as if you both weren’t already doing as much as you could. “But you’re right, the kids have been working hard. We’re not being the best leaders right now.”

“Yeah, we’re not,” you sighed, thinking about how you’d seen Jimin online past midnight a few days ago. You should be doing more.

Yeonjun kicked you in the shin under the table, ignoring your hiss of pain. “You know who’s not okay? You. You’re fucking out of it these days.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine,” you scowled. “You’re the only person who thinks that.”

He rolled his eyes at your pride. “Yeah, but that’s because I know you better than anyone.” You scoffed at that, but he continued, “Seriously, Pres, who else gets you like I do?”

“Who are you, Sigmund Freud? Stop psychoanalysing me,” you said, glancing over your notes one last time, checking to make sure you had covered every point in the meeting minutes.

“So you think I’m smart?”

“No, I think you want to fuck your mom.”

He relented after that, a type of mercy he didn’t afford you very often. You wondered, then, if you really were as not okay as he was claiming. How had he been the only one to pick up on it? No, you were fine. You were fine. There was nothing to pick up on.

The two of you worked in near-total silence for the next couple of hours. That was a pretty standard affair, once you’d both exhausted your barbs and witty comebacks and didn’t have anything else to say to each other anymore. What wasn’t normal, though, was that you weren’t even being bitchy to each other in the comments of your shared Google Doc as you wrote your emcee script. The thought of Choi Yeonjun, of all people, noticing- you were fine.

“We still need to finalise the event schedule for review by tonight,” he reminded you, breaking the silence. You’d completely forgotten about that, and you never forgot anything.

“I’ll do it. You have your match tomorrow,” you volunteered.

“How charitable of you, Pres,” he said, giving you snark instead of gratitude. You didn’t have it in you to retort, although if the kids were around you probably would have. He raised an eyebrow. “What, no comeback?”

Checking your watch, you mumbled, “It’s past 1am. Let’s just finish this script and go home.”

He looked closely at you. You were being weird, he was sure of it now. He could see the resignation in your eyes, the only sign you’d shown in the four years he’d known you that maybe you weren’t quite as untouchable as you appeared. 

“Hey, seriously, what’s wrong with you? I can’t have you breaking now and leaving all the work to me,” he asked, sounding sincerely worried about you for the first time in his life. He had never thought of you as someone who needed to be worried about.

“I’m fine,” you insisted through gritted teeth, “I just-”

You glanced up at him, which was a mistake. The moment you saw concern (of all emotions) on his face, you cracked. You hadn’t cried in front of another person since you were eight years old and broke your leg in a car accident, but now there were tears in your eyes threatening to spill over. Immediately you blinked them away, hoping he would just let it go. Unfortunately for you, however, he had other plans. He laughed and put his arm around your shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Comforting you, dumbass.”

You shrugged his arm off of you, clearing your throat in a futile attempt to ease the knot you felt forming at the base of your neck. “I don’t feel comforted.”

He scowled, leaned back in his seat, and crossed his arms. “Well, then, talk to me.” His tone was so solemn and authoritative that it made you comply immediately.

“People keep asking me for things and expecting me to be able to do everything and saying that I’m capable of anything but I’m a fraud. I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m so tired and I just want it to stop.” At some point during your outburst you’d started to cry, though you weren’t sure when, because his arm was back around your shoulder and he was palming away the tears on your face with his free hand. He hooked one foot around the leg of your chair and pulled it closer to him.

“You’re not a fraud,” he said under his breath, his eyes staring straight into yours and his hand warm against your cheek. You didn’t know why he was being so kind to you, and, more confusingly, you didn’t know if you wanted him to be. Which was mortifying.

Through the sheer power of your embarrassment, you willed yourself to stop crying. “I’m fine. You can let go of me now,” you told him, looking away.

“Right.” He seemed to snap back to normalcy at the same time as you, moving back and dropping his hands. You both got back to work like a switch had been flipped, aggressively avoiding each other’s gazes.

——————————

It was nearly 2am by the time the script was finished.

“You shouldn’t stay up to do the event schedule. We’ll just tell the school we need more time,” Yeonjun told you as you both started packing up. His words, for once, were void of arrogance or mockery. It made you anxious in a way that was entirely foreign to you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you grumbled, turning away. You hated having to ask for more time, to not deliver something you were meant to deliver.

He grinned. “You mean like this?”

Before you’d had the chance to insult him or tell him to knock it off, he took you by the shoulders and stared right at you, his face just inches from yours.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you asked, but your nervousness slipped through in your voice. He smirked, having heard it too.

“Don’t let this go to your head, Pres,” he began, “but I really want to kiss you.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore your quickening heartbeat. “Yeah, whatever. You think I’m hideous. We’re gonna miss the last bus-”

His lips were on yours without your brain having even had the time to process what he’d said. One of his hands shifted down to your waist while the other moved to your jaw, tilting your chin up slightly. Your own hands instinctively came to rest on his chest, and you found yourself kissing him back without thinking. You could feel his heart hammering through his shirt. He was the first to pull away.

Frozen, you could do nothing but stare at him, with your eyes wide and lips still slightly parted. “What-”

“I had to do it. At least once,” Yeonjun whispered, not moving at all either. He was searching your expression for signs of something, you didn’t know what, but when he didn’t find it he let you go. Neither of you said a single word to each other during the entire hour-long bus ride home.

——————————

What a dickhead. How could Yeonjun go from kissing you to ‘idk about pres’ that seamlessly? He had been so kind, so sweet to you that day. You purged that thought from your head as quickly as it had come.

“There’s our president!” Beomgyu cheered as he let you into the meeting room, and the others broke into applause.

“Congrats on winning your finals yesterday!” Jimin added, still clapping.

You closed the door behind you. “Thank you! Sorry for being late,” you said. “I promise I will not miss a single meeting now that my comps are over.”

When Yeojun eventually showed up, he barely looked at you. You didn’t really know why that upset you as much as it did, or what you had been expecting. Once you all started working, however, you quickly fell back into a familiar rhythm along with the other council members.

“Where’s the chit from the popcorn machine vendor?” you asked Beomgyu, sifting through the stack of papers on the desk.

Beomgyu looked up from the printer that he and Jimin were trying (and failing) to get to work right. It was currently spitting out black and white pages that looked like they had been printed in Hell on a Tamagotchi by Satan himself. “What chit?” 

“The nacho store we were going to get cancelled on us last weekend, so I asked Yeonjun to get a popcorn guy instead,” you explained. Fucking Yeonjun. You turned to him. “Did you forget to call him back? It’s been four days.”

He thought for a bit then shrugged, relishing your annoyance. “I guess so. Whoops.”

“Call him now, before he backs out,” you instructed, turning your attention back to the papers.

“Haven’t you ever heard of saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’?”

You didn’t even bother to look up. “Haven’t you ever heard of doing your fucking job?”

He threw the pen he was holding on the floor in response. The other council members exchanged furtive glances.

“Come on, guys. Not in front of the kids,” Soobin sighed, ever the mediator, picking up the pen. You wanted to tell him he didn’t need to clean up after a child, but that would just make things worse. You continued working.

“What’s going on with you two? You’re even worse than usual,” Minjeong said.

At that, you and Yeonjun locked eyes from across the room. He scoffed and looked away immediately. You watched him closely, but you couldn’t read him at all. You were quickly realising that, despite being mirrors of each other and spending almost all of your time together, you barely knew him.

“It seems our Pres is touchy today,” he teased. “They’re a little stressed out.”

You pinned the papers you were holding together with a paperclip and filed them away. “Watch it, Yeonjun,” you warned.

He ignored your glaring at him, your eyes telling him to stop, continuing, “Despite all appearances, they’re not as golden as they so desperately want everyone to think. They even had a little breakdown before their competition.”

Before anyone else could react, you passed the file in your hands over to Beomgyu (what you were doing was technically his job, anyway) and left. The room fell deathly silent.

——————————

Strangely, Yeonjun followed you into the corridor, feeling a weird compulsion to do so. His feet moved under him without him realising. Running after you and shouting your name, he easily caught up with you in just a few long strides. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, forcing you to turn around.

“Let me go.” You shook his hand off of you, unable to stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. This was humiliating.

He laughed lightly, unfazed. “What’s your fucking deal? We’ve said way worse things to each other before,” he said. He had a point. And you did have some sort of tacit agreement with him that nothing was off-limits. Maybe you’d been too naive in thinking that that night was different. That it had meant something.

“Fuck off! I need to go fix your fucking mistake,” you shouted, turning back around. Your voice was trembling.

“Pres, relax,” he teased, taking you by the shoulders and spinning you around before you’d even had the chance to take a single step away from him. He leant down to emphasise the height difference between you two, something he did often that infuriated you to no end, pleased by how easily he could rile you up. “Don’t you know throwing tantrums is counter-productive?”

“I hate you, Choi Yeonjun,” you said coldly, biting the inside of your cheek to try and stop your tears. When all he did was laugh, you pushed him away. Against your wishes, a sob broke its way through your pressed lips and you lost it. You balled your hands up into fists and pounded on his chest repeatedly to get him to let go of you; it was like hitting a brick wall and you both knew it. “I hate you! IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou.”

He stopped. “Are you crying?” You crying once the other day was out-of-character enough, let alone twice in such a short span of time. He was pretty sure he’d never even seen you show the smallest sliver of vulnerability before this week.

“Yes, I’m fucking crying, asshole. I’m glad your snail of a brain finally caught up.” You hit his chest again, so weak you barely disturbed a single fibre on his school blazer.

Any sympathies he might have been forming for you earlier dissipated in an instant. He easily grabbed both of your wrists with one hand to stop you, glowering at you, his jaw clenched. “You should’ve known I would tell the kids. Everything between us is fair game, isn’t it, Pres? Why did you even tell me any of that if you wanted it to be a secret?” he snapped.

All the vitriol in your voice evaporated. When you next spoke, you sounded like a child, scared and upset and betrayed. He had never heard you sound anything like that; it was jarring to the both of you. “Because I thought you would understand.”

There it was. The revelation. Perhaps that was what your entire years-long rivalry with this dick of a man boiled down to: a secret hope that he was struggling as much as you, and a frustration that it didn’t seem like he was. You hadn’t even understood that was what it was until you said it.

He sobered in an instant, his eyes softening in the realisation that he’d gone too far. “Pres,” he said quietly, like he was calling a wounded animal. The guilt in his voice was probably as close to an outright admission of wrongdoing as he would ever get with you. “I didn’t know you were-”

“Whatever, dickwad,” you mumbled, deflated, pulling your hands out of his grasp. “I have to call the vendor before he pulls out of this deal. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Pres, I didn’t know,” he repeated, more urgently this time, still not an apology, following you as you walked away from him. 

You stopped in your tracks and turned back around, your voice now calm and measured, holding up a hand to stop him from continuing. “I will be civil to you for the next week so we can see this event through, but I’m done with-” you gestured vaguely between the both of you. “I’m done with whatever this is. Bye, Yeonjun.”

This time, he didn’t chase after you.

——————————

Why was Yeonjun bringing up the day you both stayed until 2am? The day he kissed you? He made it sound like an average day, as if it had meant nothing to him, but something had clearly changed between you two since then.

He was walking on eggshells around you, trying to crack jokes, and engage you in conversations where he didn’t pick on you. You hated it. It made you feel weak. But you were the only one to pick up on it, which was the upside to every single student council member being up to their eyeballs in stress. None of them really noticed his strange behaviour. Or yours.

The festival kicked off smoothly — so smoothly, in fact, that it took Yeonjun and the rest of the council a whole half hour to realise you were missing. After you and Yeonjun finished your joint emcee duties, they hadn’t needed to call you or report to you for anything.

“Hey, have you seen the pres?” Jimin asked, Minjeong following closely behind her. “We’ve been looking for them everywhere.”

“Nope,” Beomgyu said.

Soobin shook his head. “Me neither.”

Everyone turned to Yeonjun in unison. “I’ll go look for them,” he said, already leaning over to grab his jacket hanging off the back of the chair next to him.

“You can’t leave us too! You’re our second-in-command,” Minjeong pointed out.

“Yeah, whatever. You’re in charge now,” he declared absent-mindedly, not really listening to her, one foot already out the door.

——————————

Yeonjun sprinted straight to the bus stop, ignoring the stares of the other students as he ran right through the festival booths. He got there just in time to see your bus pulling away, letting out a long string of curses that made the elderly man sitting on the bench glare at him. He was usually careful about his behaviour in public, especially when he was in uniform like he was then, but he didn’t care anymore.

Your taunts last week were partly true; he didn’t really know how to take buses, and he really was sort of driven everywhere by his parents. So it took him far longer than it should have to figure out how else to get to your house (he stood there staring at the bus chart for long enough that three different people offered to help him). Even the aforementioned elderly man took pity on him, but not before tsking disapprovingly at his student leader badge and calling him foul-mouthed.

He ran ten minutes from the bus stop he ended up alighting at to your house and reached your front porch without even knowing why he was there at all, but he pounded on your door anyway. You came to the window, peeked out from behind the curtain, and left.

“I can see you, Pres. Open the door,” he called out, out of breath. When you complied, he didn’t even give you the chance to speak. “Why are you here?”

You looked him up and down, deciding to be annoying. You usually did when it came to him. “This is my house. Why are you here?” 

“You know what I meant, dipshit.” How charming.

You let him in and poured him a glass of ice water. It was weird seeing Yeonjun sitting in your living room, like a forced merger of two spheres of your life that you kept separate as much as you could. His school blazer was hanging off the end of the sofa.

“It’s hot,” he said defensively when he saw you looking at it. It wasn’t; he was just sweating from running from the bus stop to your house. He took the glass from you and set it down on the coffee table without using the coaster you’d so nicely placed right in front of him, making you see red. “Four ice cubes? Are you telling me to die?”

“As if you have a superstitious bone in your body, Choi Yeonjun. Is this how you act as a guest in other people’s houses too?” you asked, sitting down beside him.

He loosened his tie and popped the first two buttons of his dress shirt open. “No, just yours.”

“Sure, please make yourself at home,” you said sarcastically. “What do you want?”

“I came to apologise. You disappeared and we all freaked out. God, I can’t believe I’m worried about you-”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Are you sure you know what an apology is?”

“Shut up. I mean-” he groaned in frustration and ran his hands through his hair, something he often did when he got annoyed. “You’re being so difficult!”

“Says the guy complaining about the number of ice cubes I put in his water!”

“For fuck’s sake,” he sighed, putting his head in his hands. “Hang on. Let me start over.”

The living room was completely silent apart from the sound of his heavy breathing. You were about to say something about it — a star athlete being so winded from a short run was pretty entertaining to you — but you decided not to. Your phone dinged. It was Beomgyu telling you the popcorn vendor had shown up late, drunk, and thrown up in the popcorn machine, followed by three increasingly ridiculous reaction images from Megamind. Maybe you shouldn’t have hired a popcorn vendor after all.

“What’s so funny?”

You flashed him your phone screen. “Beomgyu sent me something.”

Yeonjun didn’t even look at it, despite being the one who’d asked in the first place. “I like you,” he declared. 

“Are you having a heat stroke?” you asked, disinterested, typing out a quick reply.

He knocked your phone out of your hand in a huff. “Stop fucking texting Beomgyu.”

Your phone clattered to the floor. “Hey!”

“You are such an irritating person.” He dramatically (as always) got up from the sofa to kneel on the floor in front of you, looking up at you with an indecipherable emotion in his eyes. “I like you, Pres. I have for a while now, but I only realised it the other night. I got scared and I lashed out, but that doesn’t make what I said okay. I betrayed your trust and I’m sorry.”

Your head started spinning, and your heart leapt up into your throat. I like you. Your jaw would’ve dropped open had it not been for every muscle in your body going rigid at once. He casually sat back down next to you, picked up his glass, and took a sip. As if he hadn’t just delivered you the single biggest shock of your life. You could barely get his name out of your mouth.

“Yeonjun, I-”

“Look, you don’t have to say anything. I just needed to tell you because it was driving me crazy. You drive me crazy, actually-”

You grabbed his tie, pulled him towards you, and kissed him. If he was surprised by your boldness he didn’t show it, his hands easily finding their way to your waist as he kissed you back. His lips were cold from the ice water.

“Thank you for the apology. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He broke the kiss, laughing breathily. “I can’t think straight when you’re kissing me. I didn’t hear anything you said.”

You flicked him lightly on the forehead, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I said thank you for apologising. I appreciate it. But I’m still mad at you.”

“I know,” he said. Right at that moment, both of your phones went off at the same time. “We should get back to school.”

He stood up, casually took your hand, and started walking. You didn’t pull away.

——————————

Although you did it often, being in school this late at night with no one else around never quite stopped feeling other-worldly. Your body was tired, but your mind was still awake and buzzing and alive. 

“I’m sorry I made you miss the festival,” you said as you finished making your rounds through the school to check each room one last time, switch off the mains, and lock the doors. 

“You didn’t make me do anything.” Yeonjun took your hand in his again and gave it a comforting squeeze, before adding, “Don’t be so full of yourself.”

The words were familiar, but his tone and the warmth in your cheeks were not. Choi Yeonjun of all people was making you act shy and blushy. Revolting.

“The golden boy of the school just confessed to me a few hours ago. How could I not be full of myself?” You stopped walking and turned to face him. “I like you,” you mocked, an over-dramatic caricature of his voice.

Yeonjun groaned and hid his face in his hands. “God, I can’t believe I actually said that. Like a character in a Netflix original.” You laughed, wondering if you’d ever laughed with him, not at him, before.

He’d called his mom earlier and told her not to pick him up — he wanted to take the bus with you, even though it would take him twice as long to get home. Leaving the school, you both turned to look back down the empty corridor.

“I guess this is the end of our late nights,” he mused. Your competitions were both over and there were no more events to organise for the year. All that remained were your final exams.

“Until our Valentine’s Day celebrations,” you reminded him. “Jimin wants to start planning that next week.”

He retorted immediately, “I don’t.” As the lights of the corridor started to turn themselves off (they were on automatic timers, which you found very annoying), he leant down, cupped your face gingerly in his hands, and kissed you twice.

“I want to do this.”

——————————

thanks for reading <3

-minastras

[lovelovex]

x

[valentinemailbox]

mad over things that i could have prevented if i’d just agreed with an ex friend during an argument i had with them two years ago

[sunshinereddie]

omg YES! as a former “brace face” w/ big ass glasses, I’ve decided that Eddie & Richie definitely had braces.

I’m imagining Eddie getting them when he’s kinda older (probably like 16) and Richie getting his the next year. Eddie was definitely super particular about not eating popcorn/bubblegum/caramel/etc. and keeping his retainer clean after he got them off. Whereas Richie did not give a single shit. He definitely ate whatever he wanted and he ALWAYS forgot to wear his retainer afterwards.

God now I’m thinking abt Richie making fun of Eddie for having to get braces at all and then Eddie getting back at him for it when Richie has to get his own. Richie refusing to show the Losers his teeth. Richie vowing to not talk to anyone ever again once he realizes that he also has a lisp. That vow breaking the same day bc someone shoved at Eddie and he can’t help but tell them to fuck off. Eddie is totally flattered but he just ends up telling Richie that he broke his little vow.

Thinking abt Eddie leaving lunch five minutes early everyday to clean out his mouth and rinse his retainer. And Richie hates it bc he wants to spend every waking second w/ Eddie. But he can’t really explain going to the bathroom w/ Eddie everyday so instead he teases him abt it.

And for Richie and the rest of the Losers it’s no big deal, just a silly little joke. But Eddie starts skipping the retainer cleaning and staying for the whole lunch period. One time he’d even went as far as to not put his retainer back in after lunch. When Richie asks about it next period he claims he forgot, but Richie knows better.

That night Richie sneaks through Eddie’s window. He’s already in bed but he’s staring at the retainer case in his hands. Richie knocks twice on the window, getting his attention. He lets him in but he almost looks apprehensive. “Dude, what are you doing here? We just saw each other like five hours ago.”

“A whole five hours? God, not a minute too soon!” He’s smiling but now he feels kind of stupid for showing up. He didn’t really have a plan in mind but he knew he had to talk to Eddie. At least his joking tone made Eddie smile too.

“Yeah yeah yeah, just get in here.”

They end up shooting the shit for a little while, just sitting on Eddie’s bed and trying to make each other laugh (albeit quietly, last thing they need is Sonia waking up and all hell breaking loose). Once he decides that Eddie is comfortable enough, he ventures into the real reason he’s there. “Listen Eds-“ “don’t call me that” “shut up, you love it.”

“Listen Eds, as much as I love “Rapunzel-ing” it for a laugh, I actually came here talk.” And just like that, Eddie’s calm exterior melts away. “O-oh. About what?” He starts to fidget and he goes a little rosy in the cheeks.

“Nothing bad man, just… I noticed that you aren’t like- doing your usual routine. You know, with your retainer or whatever.” God. Now they’re both blushing. Eddie seems to ignore it for the time being though, instead opting to stare wide eyed at Richie. Fuck. Damage control.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to like- I dunno. I’m not trying to be weird. Is it weird? God, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just- you were- I mean! A-are you okay? I guess… is what… am asking?” Why? Why did he say it like that?! Holy shit. Talk about word vomit. Eddie appears to be battling emotions, he looks like he wants to laugh or maybe cry.

“God Rich, calm down.” He’s smiling, Richie’s gonna go ahead and take that as a win. “I uh, I guess I just didn’t think you’d notice? I mean, in hindsight it makes sense that you would. You were the one making jokes about it…”

“Fuck. Eds, man, you gotta know I was just fucking around! I didn’t mean to make you like- feel bad or whatever-“

“it’s not really about the jokes Richie it’s-“ he cuts himself off, gripping the sides of his hair and huffing an exaggerated sigh. “It’s just that, I know I’m being kinda anal about it. Don’t make the joke I know you’re about to make.” Richie’s teeth click as his mouth falls shut. He had, I’m fact, been about to make that joke. Eddie’s shoulders sag with something like defeat, but he quirks a little smile at Richie anyway.

“I know it shouldn’t matter if I miss a cleaning or forget to put my retainer back in for one goddamn period! I just-“ his voice trembles and that all it takes for Richie to pull him in. His long arms wrap around Eddie’s smaller frame as he clings to the back of Richie’s tee shirt.

“I just feel so trapped. Every time I think I’m getting better about all that placebo bullshit, I fall back into the same patterns. I can’t just not clean out my retainer or forget to put it back in! Not when all I’m thinking about is the ways it could fuck up my teeth. The teeth we paid to fix. God. I just feel like I shouldn’t be so worried about it. But I can’t not be worried…” he’s filling shaking now. Richie tries to calm him down by rubbing his back and evening out his own breathing. “I want to be brave. Like when we killed It. But I don’t think I am. That might’ve just been a fluke you know?”

“Shut up man, you’re plenty brave.” He has to pull back so he can see Eddie’s face. He looks like he might cry and his fingers dig painfully into Richie’s biceps. “Okay, maybe it shouldn’t be so hard to let loose but- fuck man! You’re trying to unlearn all that shit! The fact that you’re acknowledging it and actively trying to stop doing that shit is brave man. And you’re telling me about it! If you thought all of us losers were suddenly well adjusted after killing that clown then you’ve got another thing coming. We’re all fucked up, we’re all losers, but we’re losers together. And we always got your back. We love you man.” It’s probably the closest Richie’s ever going to get to telling Eddie he loves him but it’ll have to do.

Eddie calmed down a lot during Richie’s little spiel, thank god. He’s not that good at regulating serious emotions. A few tears escaped but he’s sorta, shyly smiling at him.

“Yeah okay, whatever man. No need to get all sappy on me.” He lightly shoves at his shoulder, making Richie light up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh yeah? Well maybe if someone wasn’t blubbering like a little girl, I wouldn’t have to get all sappy on you.” And just like that, they’re good again. All smiles and shitty jokes at each other’s expense. Richie wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

Omg idk why I got invested in that so quick but anyway! I have more to say!

Richie always gets red bands, literally every time he gets his wires adjusted. Eddie usually goes with clear bc he’s a “killjoy” as Richie always says. However, the last wire adjustment Eddie has falls on the same day one of Richie’s does, so naturally Richie gets Eddie to agree on matching bands. The perk of having Went as their dentist is they can pick any combination of colors they want. They decide to go with every color available to them, in a sort of rainbow pattern, to make up for all the times Eddie got no color at all. They show the rest of the losers & Bev takes a picture of them cheesing at the camera.

-

Went also let’s them customize their retainers, Richie’s is a sparkly (you guessed it) red with a baseball bat picture on it. Eddie’s is a sparky blue with a little classic car on it.

-

Went always wraps up Eddie’s appointments w/ a pat on the shoulder and a “thanks for making sure Richie uses his retainer”.

-

When Eddie gets his braces off he eats so much caramel popcorn that he throws up.

-

Richie calls Eddie late one night, a few weeks before senior portraits, trying not to freak out. He’s weirdly worried about having braces in his portrait but Eddie talks him down. Went ends up taking them off just two days before the portraits were taken. Richie calls Eddie a little tearfully to tell him the good news.

-

When Eddie sees Richie again after the 27 years he remembers that they had braces around the same time. He also notices that Richie’s teeth are less than perfect. He scolds Richie about not using his retainer but all he does it laugh and throw an impossibly long arm around his shoulder. “God, I missed you man.”

-

Okay that’s it. O__O sorry I got carried away again lmao :,) it’s bc I lost my retainer two weeks after I got it and all my teeth moved back :,) talk abt adhd brain ;__;

-🫀

AAAAHHHH TELL ME HOW YOU MANAGED TO TAKE SUCH A CUTE LITTLE HC AND TURN IT INTO A WHOLE BEAUTIFULLY HEARTBREAKING MINI FIC ;_; AAAHH EDDIE DOUBTING HIMSELF AND HIS BRAVERY..... BEING SCARED OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF FALLING OUT OF HIS ROUTINE (bro i relate SO HARD. when i first got my braces off my family went out of town for a day and i left my retainer at home by accident and i literally cried so much because i thought my teeth were gonna go back to being fucked up.... anyways eds and i are the same person).... BUT ALSO RICHIE BEING THERE TO COMFORT AND SUPPORT HIM..... LSKRJGSKNRG I LOVE IT SO MUCH !!!!!!

also, i LOVE the idea that during the reunion eds can tell that richie hasn't been using his retainer !!!! literally such a small detail that no one else would ever notice, but of course eddie does :')

ALSO ALSO !! going back to richie teasing eds about his lisp and then him having to get braces as well- im just imagining that eddie loves the fact that richie has braces now, not only because he thinks that'll show richie a lesson in teasing him, but also since richie has a lisp and when he does speak he generally avoids words containing the letter "s", eddie thinks that he will enjoy it when richie stops calling him "eds" and "eddie spaghetti"...... but for some reason eddie almost feels like..... he misses it ??? and he tries to ignore the feeling of relief when richie says fuck it to his lisp and just starts speaking again, and comes back with all the nicknames <3

in conclusion, richie and eddie brace face supremacy

[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

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