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our-future-is-up-to-us-2 · 3 months ago

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sprinkled moondust

Fic number 11 (and my longest one yet, HOORAY!) @narcosfandomdiscord

Prompt #5, Book Of Negative Spaces: Fanwork using a line from a diff show/movie as a prompt.

The line in question: "Do you still like my hair?" from The Queen's Gambit

Word Count: 4.1K (don't ask how I did that)

Relationships: Trent Crimm & Ted Lasso, Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso (very much leaning into that, thank you <33), Trent Crimm & Trent Crimm's Daughter, Ted Lasso & Trent Crimm's Daughter

Warnings: Canon compliant mention + description of a panic attack

A/N: I absolutely adored writing this fic... My first time exploring Tedependent in that 'something more' vein and I took a lot of liberties to what felt right for me! Just wanted to delve into Season 1, considering that I've just finished it <3

The progression in episodes as the snippets go on is as follows:

Episode 1 - Pilot

Episode 3 - Trent Crimm: The Independent

Episode 5 - Tan Lines

Episode 7 - Make Rebecca Great Again

Episode 8 - The Diamond Dogs

Episode 9 - All Apologies / Canon Divergence

~ Read the fic under the cut ~

When Ted first meets Trent, he notices a few things.

One, he’s a journalist, in a crowd, amongst all the others.

Two, he’s attentive. That much is clear when they lock eyes, and Trent straightens up, armed and ready for whatever is to come.

Three, he’s got very nice glasses, two-toned, easily blending in with his face.

Four, there’s something quite alluring about his hair…

But if Ted Lasso, the new manager of AFC Richmond, has to give a compliment of any kind, giving it to the glasses is much nicer than to his hair. At least, it makes him seem… More approachable? Less creepy?

Yeah, that’ll do it.

He can hardly think of his words since he’s so sleep-deprived, and the cameras flash fast, and the water he drinks is full of fizz (absolutely abhorrent!) and all he wants to do is run.

But, he can’t run. He can’t hide.

He’s an American coach of American football, for goodness’ sake! He calls what these folks have ‘soccer’! He refrains from saying that aloud, though, in fear of angering every single journalist present.

At least Trent Crimm isn’t angry. Rather, he’s just stern, calm, to-the-point, and incredibly good at wounding people with his words.

Of course, I’m an amateur, Ted thinks, bracing the questions with a smile, ‘Specially with this British football– Thing. Yeah, I might as well just fuck right off, shouldn’t I?

The manager doesn’t run, thankfully. He doesn’t take the next flight back to Kansas and settle in for the winter. He has to give this a red-hot crack, which is only reinforced when Rebecca Welton covers for him.

He’ll fit in here, with time. If he keeps telling himself that, then he will.

Trent Crimm from The Independent makes his blunt comments, but they may as well show belief, show promise. If he can talk to a complete stranger, someone so odd, with such confidence? Maybe he believes in Richmond.

Maybe Ted Lasso will believe it, thanks to him.

***

He can’t help but smile.

Two grown adults in an Indian restaurant, trying to fight out the spice they’re eating. Ted handles it better, or at the very least, it comes across that way. Meanwhile, Trent Crimm from The Independent looks as though he might explode from the heat, pressing his fingers against his temples as though to manipulate it away.

“How–” Trent practically gasps, quickly sipping his water, “How do you tolerate this?! You said… You said you’d never–”

“Eaten Indian food?” Ted finishes for him, just to spare him the scattered breaths and unnecessary words. “Yeah, that’s right. But I guess it’s tastier than I thought? Very aromatic, crazy like that… Anyway, it’s more so about my friend’s honour, here.”

“Honour?” The journalist leans in, brow raised, “Explain that for me.”

“Maybe I explained it wrong,” He waves a modest hand, “Ollie invited me here, and he got me from the airport to Richmond, so… I couldn’t pass down his family restaurant! Even if it is the most knock-out sorta food I’ve ever tasted!”

The manager is chuckling, chuckling away as he goes for another spoonful of the dish in front of him. He does it like it’s nothing! Maybe Trent’s spice tolerance is truly awful, and that’s all it is.

Maybe Ted is just a whole lot braver than he is, willing to do anything if it means being respectful, or optimistic, or fun. It’s certainly an interesting concept, one that Trent will have to keep note on as the night progresses, hell, as the season progresses, more like!

But he can’t help himself in the way that he notices, tracks the smile that ebbs and flows like the tide.

“I should go,” He excuses after a while of silence, “Deadlines and all.”

“Yeah,” Ted replies amiably, “You do what you gotta do, y’know, for work and so on… But– I really enjoyed spending this time with you, Trent.”

And it’s clear as day, how it shows in the journalist’s face, that expression of bewilderment, disbelief, as though the manager had just insulted his family.

“You really mean that, don’t you?” He gestures vaguely towards Ted.

And when he doesn’t respond, simply smiles, smiles so bright, Trent comes up with his own conclusion.

“Yeah.” He mutters under his breath as he grabs his coat, smoothly shrugging it on as he leaves.

***

A week or so later, Ted receives a text. He almost wants to shrug it off, thinking it’s Beard with some funny chess joke or strange factoid he’s picked up… But now is not the time.

Not now, not when he’s just sat down at the Crown and Anchor, Michelle opposite him.

Mae’s just gone off to get their pints, encouraging Henry to play some darts… He’s off and away, and Ted hears his phone buzz again.

“Sorry,” He murmurs, “I’ll just see who this is.”

Michelle only nods, folding her arms in her lap.

The manager feels himself freeze. No, it’s not some outstanding statement or new recipe from that subscription he’s linked to, no… It’s such a simple thing, such a simple person!

How could he have expected this?! How could this even happen? Since when?

Trent Crimm: I nicked your number from Rebecca. Must stay vigilant and all.

Trent Crimm: Journalism never rests. Feel free to converse as much or as little as you like.

Ted watches and waits as the grey bubble remains: Goddamn journalist’s typing more! Of course he is!

Trent Crimm: :)

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, cracking his own smile.

Trent Crimm with an emoticon. He thinks, beginning to type a response back, The guy’s outdone himself.

***

Ted Lasso: Hey, Trent! Good to hear from ya. A little busy now but I’ll get back to you on all the other stuff asap. Looking forward to more chats!

He finally puts his phone back in his pocket and reaches for his pint.

“Sorry,” He says again, “Things have been, a little, you know,” He shrugs, “Here, there and everywhere.”

“No, I get that,” Michelle’s laugh is soft, her finger dragging against the wooden table, “Do they– I don’t know, do they wrap the fish and chips in newspaper?” She asks, “You must be the expert, now. I just read it somewhere, I think they do that here.”

He shakes his head, raising the glass to his lips and taking a big gulp, “Not here, they don’t. I mean at this pub, right? Might be different in other places, but, it’s all on a plate. Home-style, y’know? And I like that.”

“I’m sure you do, Ted,” She admits with a wobble in her voice, grateful for Henry’s reappearance.

“Whatcha talkin’ about?!” The kid asks, rocking back and forth on his heels. He attempts to withhold the gleeful smile on his face from hitting a regular.

“Oh, it’s nothing!” His mum says, gesturing to the door, “Shall we go?”

His dad nods in response, slowly finishing the last of his drink before kneeling down with a smile.

“You wanna know what we were talkin’ about? Yeah. Just a fun little thing… Imagine you had a doughnut wrapped in newspaper. How cool would that be?”

“Could I learn about dinosaurs?” Henry asks as Ted stands up again.

“If they’re in the newspaper, you betcha.”

The trio walk out in silence and stay in silence, even when Ted parts ways to the place he’s renting out. It’s a wave, a mouthed goodbye, and a punch to the gut.

His only reprieve is another notification. And that’s even if it’s not Trent. Truth be told, he’d like it to be.

Well, He rolls his shoulders, eyeing the screen, Isn’t it nice to have expectations line up with reality?

Trent Crimm: I know we’ve hardly prepared for these communications, and they’ve mostly involved me, prattling on as always. But, I believe I could use a favour from you.

Ted Lasso: A favour? From me? Trent Crimm The Independent asking me for a favour?

Ted Lasso: Well I’ll be. Shoot.

The messages pause, and the manager makes sure to have his eyes partially on the pavement. After all, he’s bound to get lost if he loses focus.

Trent Crimm: I know that you’ve been making Rebecca’s biscuits. And I was thinking, well, there’s a certain someone I know who’d like your biscuits. If you could make some for a week’s time? She’d like it if you delivered them yourself, too.

Right.

That’s new.

A ‘she’, unspecified, in the journalist’s life. And he’s revealing this now? Ted’s mind runs with thoughts as he turns a corner, thankful to see familiar buildings at his left and right.

Who’s this? And who am I to judge? I suppose it’s just a little… Don’t know. Someone needing my biscuits, of all things, not a high-five or pep talk…

Ted Lasso: Curious now. I could make ‘em, since you’ve given me enough warning! Gotta know, though, who’re they for?

Trent Crimm: …

Ted Lasso: Sorry if that’s too personal.

Trent Crimm: No, it’s alright.

Trent Crimm: Well, she’s a three-year-old, so nothing too strong. They’d have to be small as well. Maybe a bit of decoration.

Trent Crimm: If that’s not too tall of an order.

The manager’s staring at the screen so long that he nearly bumps into the door of his temporary flat. He takes a step back and pockets his phone, grabbing his keys and heading inside.

At least he can process this now. At least he can start thinking about recipes for an unspecified girl who’s a three-year-old in Trent’s life. Could be anyone, some kid he’s friends with, it doesn’t really matter.

It just… Sparks so much curiosity in his brain! Someone as sharp as a whip, someone so breathtakingly brutal, hanging out with children? It doesn’t make sense.

He sighs and resumes his communications, realising just how nice it is to talk as much or as little as he likes. To not be… Well, trapped, in conversation. Frozen while the other sits, waiting, staring into your eyes–

His heart grows heavy and yet, his fingers move quickly, vision blurred by sudden tears.

Ted Lasso: You got it, Trent.

Ted Lasso: See you in the press room. I bet you’re already cooking up some questions. If not, talk soon!

Trent leaves him with that stupid emoticon smile.

Ted thinks about it for a while, shakes his head, and decides it’s best to clean up in the form of a shower.

***

The coach manages a deep breath, staring at the ceiling.

Too many thoughts run through his head, and it’s a surprise to him that he’s not physically drowning.

Panic, panic, panic! It’s the only vocabulary he has, and it’s all–

Panic attack. Right. Last night, that sums it up, the stifling heat of the karaoke bar, the crowds, the flashing lights, strangled, nausea.

He made it out just fine, thank goodness for Rebecca Welton. She helped him breathe again, helped him stand up straight, clear out some of the darkness.

She’s likely in her own room now, doing whatever she likes, while he lies here, thinking of panic, his few-hours-ago divorce, and Sassy Smurf.

He keeps his eyes on the ceiling, because if he looks at her, he crumbles.

Oh, and there it is.

Naked body, frayed hair, slow and steady breathing… He can hear her laugh in his head, he pictures last night, you know, the part of the night after the panic attack…

And he had fun. She certainly seemed to have fun, gripping a little too tightly at his moustache in the process.

Guilt gnaws at him, followed by awkwardness, and then, what to do.

Because it’s not something he’s used to, the simplicity and lack of connection that comes with a one-night stand. So, Ted quickly dresses and calls room service for a coffee.

Not for his sake, but hers. She’ll appreciate it.

The hours pass and he’s once again thankful to receive a distraction, also in the form of messages.

A photo from Beard. The coach has to stifle back a laugh, it’s pretty good.

Coach Beard: Found him. He’s in Hangover City.

Of course, how characteristically Nate of Nate to sleep in the bus, awaiting the next day, drunk off his mind, as he would be…

And that’s when she wakes up.

He smiles sheepishly as she stretches, head lopsided on the pillow. To him, this whole thing should lead to other things, more dates, and so on… But there’s none of that. Their ties are supposedly severed here.

“I ordered you a coffee,” He mumbles, “Should be here in a bit.”

“Oh?” She chuckles, blinking back at him, “How good of you. Before I leave, I’ll order an extra large breakfast on your tab.”

And that’s Sassy being Sassy, and how can he deny that?

“Yeah, sounds like a pro move from you… After everything.”

“Last night was fun.”

“Yeah! Yeah, it was.” He rubs his moustache, “Five stars. Certified fresh.”

Right. And that’s the stupidest thing you can say to a girl after you’ve slept with her!

Good news, she doesn’t seem to mind. Even better news, he’s given her a late checkout, because he’s gotta run, and he’ll run.

***

He doesn’t talk to Beard for the entire five hours of the bus trip.

He knows he should, but he’s not in that mood. Mood for not talking? Then something’s wrong.

Ted just shrugs it off, because he knows exactly what it all is, but is that worth discussion? No. No, it’s not.

Instead, something else is better.

Ted Lasso: I don’t just like your glasses, y’know.

Ted Lasso: It’s also your writing.

Ted Lasso: And your hair.

The journalist is probably busy, peak working hours, after all, and the manager doesn’t delete the messages. A part of him thinks it’s from the amalgamation of drunken haze, had a panic attack, slept with a girl he’d just met, followed by the beginnings of divorce.

The truth to the matter is that Ted is being truthful. Trent’s glasses are pretty, what’s better is his writing, his talent, master strokes (if he can even talk like that anymore), and what follows is his hair.

Why? Well… It’s just nice. Someone’s hair can be grey and yet colourful, neat and yet messy. It’s as though it characterises him to a T.

It also looks pretty soft.

Ted Lasso could use some softness right about now.

***

He excuses himself from Rebecca’s office, having given her the allotted biscuits for the day. He almost offered the other box, small and brown, to Higgins.

Not that giving Higgins biscuits is bad. No, he deserves them for all the hard work he’s doing here!

Those biscuits, however, are reserved for a certain three-year-old, and off he goes.

Trent’s given an address, because secrecy can only last for so long, and Ted is not intending to drop these off like a postman.

Especially when he remembers the journalist’s prior wording of things: She’d like it if you delivered them yourself, too.

He sighs as he approaches the door, ringing the doorbell. There’s a ‘welcome’ doormat at his feet, and everything feels… Peaceful. And if not peaceful, then well-looked after.

With no immediate response, he rings the doorbell again. He’s in no rush, but maybe the journalist is out and about, and he’s messed the timing of things up, maybe he’s misremembered the day, or something–

Ted shouldn’t be listening, but being so close to these walls, he listens.

Trent Crimm. Yes, he’s inside the fucking house. No hiding that. He’s laughing.

Not just laughing, but repeatedly laughing, giggling, even, and he’s saying things like, “Alright… Let’s think, shall we? Isn’t that too many?” and, “Oh, you… I look like a Barbie doll now.”

The last thing the coach wants to do is intrude, but he’s leaning against the door… Which is basically him intruding.

Even worse is that when Trent finally answers the door, Ted falls to the floor, face-first.

“I’m terribly sorry.” The journalist sighs, that teasing tone of his ever-so present in his voice. But, there’s also sincerity, because he’s outstretching a hand. Ted takes it with gratitude.

Both of them meet eyes first, before the coach’s eyes very obviously move to…

“Oh, that,” He waves a hand, “Yeah, that reminds me, Ted. Do you still like my hair?”

There’s a smile toying on the edge of his face…

And Ted can practically feel his heart both beating and melting in his chest.

His hair, yes, that, is scattered with one too many things, so Trent’s words told him: Butterfly clips, bow clips, ribbons of all kinds and colours. Hell, it even looks like the three-year-old has tossed some glitter in there.

The coach’s smile doesn’t leave him.

“Yeah, I do, Trent. Work of art. Mind introducing me to the artist?” He says quietly, noticing the girl with an arm wrapped around Trent’s leg.

He nods and picks the girl up, clearly comfortable with her, if anything. “This–” He brushes her dark blonde hair from her face, “Is Seraphina. My daughter.”

Biological, or adopted, or otherwise, Ted’s not to pry. But she’s smiley, cheeky, and clearly has a perfect eye for design, and it shows.

“Oh, hey there, Seraphina,” He waves at her, holding the biscuits up and rattling them, “I wonder what these are…”

The little girl’s eyes widen, and she grins. Trent closes the door behind them all, leading Ted through to the kitchen.

“Mm, I wonder,” He adds as they reach the kitchen island, and he places his daughter on top of it. “Well, you better show her! Can’t keep her waiting.”

He places the box down and watches as she looks between him, the box, and her father. And then… Biscuits.

Round, not his usual rectangular prism, and decorated with icing and sprinkles. Fairly small, but big enough to be broken into pieces.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” Ted laughs, pushing the box in her direction.

“Thank you!” Seraphina’s practically gasping now, tugging at her father’s hand, “Look! The kind man made me biscuits!” “That’s right, sweetheart,” Trent replies, “Go on and try one.”

“Can’t say I’ve cracked the recipe with these,” Ted’s hands move to his hips, “So judge all you like! I don’t mind.”

The toddler leans forward and picks up one biscuit in her hand, still grasping the adult’s slightly calloused hand. She’s quite dainty when she eats, Ted notices that much, and it’s oh-so clear where she got that from…

He can practically pinpoint the moment that the sugar enters her system, that her brain is captivated by the layers of biscuit, icing and sprinkles.

It’s the starlight in her eyes… More so the sudden widening of them, but the manager wants to feel poetic, to take this at full value.

“Do you like them?” Trent murmurs, clearly knowing the answer. “Of course, I do!” She mumbles through her mouthful, pausing to swallow before continuing, “They’re… Amazing! So amazing! Can I write about them, dad?”

That’s when Ted watches the shift, from Seraphina’s starlit eyes to Trent’s, the utter mention of writing leaving him with nothing but pride.

“Oh, you can, darling… Absolutely. You’ll finish those off later, yeah?”

“Mmm, wanna write…” Seraphina replies, moving over to place her in the living room. She sits on the floor with her pens and pencils already scattered about, and gets to it.

That leaves the two adults to talk.

Ted starts by scratching the back of his head, an overwhelming pride filling him, too, “Goshdarnit,” He sighs, “She is the cutest thing… And the biscuits, too. Such high praise.”

“Might sneak a taste in, later.” Trent hums, folding his hands behind his back. His expression then changes, folding itself into something… Neutral. It’s more sincere, so the coach thinks. “Thank you for coming here. For not… Backing out. I don’t know what to tell you, Ted. It’s nice to have company, especially on her birthday.”

He shrugs it off with his usual, “Oh, it’s nothing!” But steps closer to Trent with a laugh, “No, seriously, she is so precious, deserves the bestest birthday, if you ask me.”

The bestest birthday… The words ring in the journalist’s head, and by the time he finishes thinking about them, he’s wrapped up in a hug.

A warm, cosy, meaningful hug.

Trent slowly wraps his arms back around Ted, letting out a hum in acknowledgement. He doesn’t mind how the other is quite a bit taller than him, so he’s sinking into his arms… It’s almost as though he’s being protected.

Nevertheless, when Ted’s fingers linger near his hair, barely just brushing some strands, he doesn’t feel overwhelmed. Instead, it’s a very careful, very gentle sort of thing. After all, it’s clear as day that the manager likes his hair, no matter what form it takes.

They stay like that for a long time, especially because, at one point, Ted tightens the hug ever-so slightly, and Trent reciprocates…

Because nothing is easy in life.

If the journalist knew any more about his circumstances, well… Then he’d know everything, not just the facade he puts up with every passing day.

“I needed to get out,” He mumbles, fingers still grazing Trent’s hair, gently tracing over a particular bow clip, “Out of my head, out of that flat, out of my office. I was lucky enough to make it here without gettin’ lost, and confused, and–”

“Ted.” Trent replies, pulling out of the hug slightly to see his face, to see him opening up, scared, “You’re alright. You’re the most thoughtful, most positive, most persevering person I’ve known. If there’s anything out there, troubling you, which there is… Then I know you’ve got a way to combat it. I’d recommend you take it slow. No point in going fast to reach a poor end.”

“No point in going fast to reach a poor end…” Ted whispers, cracking a smile now, “I like that one.”

Trent smiles too, and it’s a smile that reaches his eyes. “I had a strong feeling you would.”

***

When the football coach leaves, determined to get home and start planning for the final game of the season, Trent reluctantly lets go.

Of course, he, more than anyone, understands the importance of working… But after all this?

He could’ve stayed like that forever, and knows that Ted could’ve, too.

The door closes behind him.

Trent knows, however, on a happier note, that they’ll text, that they’ll see each other in the press room. Maybe they’ll have coffee out somewhere, or he’ll pop over to Ted’s flat for a favour in return.

Because… He might just be wanting, seeking something that he doesn’t quite know how to define.

But, it clearly resides inside Ted Lasso.

***

“Do you mind sharing with me?”

There are two biscuits left.

Seraphina’s pouting, her response of, “Fiiiine, Daddddd…” spewing the same sentiment.

That sentiment being: They’re my biscuits! Ted gave them to me. It’s my birthday, Dad!!!

But Trent just laughs it off, taking a photo of the biscuit packet first, before eating one of the biscuits.

Small, round, crumbly, almost shortbread-like, and sweet!

“Yum…” He ends up saying without realising it, and Seraphina just laughs.

“You love his biscuits too!”

“I do.” Trent says once he’s swallowed the mouthful, “God, I really do…”

He kisses his daughter on the forehead and folds the lid over the biscuit packet, placing the box in the cupboard. Seraphina frowns.

“We’ll have that one tomorrow, alright?”

“... Fine, Dad.”

***

Trent Crimm: Photo Attached

Trent Crimm: These take the cake, Ted, really.

Trent Crimm: Almost glad we didn’t have cake. Thank you again, for everything.

Ted Lasso: Damn, you’re welcome!! I should be thanking you, seriously, though.

Ted Lasso: I know there’s a lot up ahead, but today…

Ted Lasso: …

Ted Lasso: It really flipped a certain switch in my brain. Just a little. So good to see a new perspective.

Trent Crimm: Glad I could help. I mean that, by the way.

Trent Crimm: …

Trent Crimm: <3

***

Ted searches up the emoticon at the speed of light. Because it’s not as simple as decoding a smiley or frowny face.

An analogue heart.

It makes Ted feel warm and fuzzy. Warm and fuzzy in a way that’s like Christmas, with a fireplace on, and cinnamon, and presents.

It makes Ted feel… Appreciated.

Because as much as he tells others he feels the sentiment, it doesn’t always get sent back to him.

This is heart, literally and metaphorically. This is meaningful. This is caring.

He takes a deep, slow breath, and lets it go.

Ted Lasso: Thank you.

Ted Lasso: Truly.

Ted Lasso: But I’m gonna go to sleep now. Goodnight, Trent Crimm from The Independent!

Trent Crimm: Goodnight, Coach Ted Lasso from America.

Ted Lasso: Oh wait

Ted Lasso: One more thing

Ted Lasso: <3

#ava writes #narcovember #narcovember 2024 #trent crimm #ted lasso #tedependent #trent's daughter #fluffffyyyyy auughhhh #THEM!!!#ted lasso fanfic

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kaybaeisgay · 1 year ago

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alright here we go…. these are my One Piece: Live Action thoughts and critiques now that i’ve finished binge watching the show!

overall rating is a 6.5/10 on a Netflix original scale with some episodes being below that and some being above. (EDIT: before you throw tomatoes pls know that i highly enjoyed it!!!!! just had some thoughts on how it could have been improved in my own humble opinion!!)

(spoilers under cut)

initial praises:

the FUCKING CAST. they are all so good!!!! i admittedly had low expectations for some characters prior to watching (i.e. shanks, mihawk, garp) due to how iconic and mysterious they are, but i feel like they all did a phenomenal job bringing these characters to life

THE STRAW HAT CHEMISTRY. from the second i saw the cast interviews, i knew they were gonna be perfect, but the core cast truly was brilliant together

BUGGY 🗣️🗣️🗣️ listen. i’ve always been a buggy denier…… i understood the Power of His Ponytail for others, but never really got it for myself. that being said…….. JEFF WARD POPPED OFF. imo buggy had potential to be either just okay or the worst part of the show. and jeff, my guy, you knocked it out of the fucking park

visuals!!!!! the practical set was beautiful, and the coloring was so perfect for how fantastical the one piece world is. it was really immersive and i was super impressed!

makeup and costumes were fabulous. i know people clowned arlong’s design from the trailers, but i always really liked it bc of its practical effects and watching his full performance in the show was icing on the cake. the fishmen all looked incredible! absolutely spot on from the costume and makeup departments

drunk usopp???? need it like i need air

suave but unpervy sanji???? please, oda, bring him back i BEG

luffy’s curly hair 😭

zoro and nami’s interactions?? chef’s kiss. loved how they made each other work for their trust and friendship

all the little cameos to diff characters in wanted posters

the cgi they did use looked so fucking flawless. like the sea king and buggy’s devil fruit? it was truly a spectacle

the bad and the ugly:

the writing. i have to say, while i thought some parts were fine, i thought other aspects of the writing (namely the parts NOT written by oda) were lacking and stereotypical. it seemed like there was a real need in the writers room to spell everything out for the audience about the one piece world, when i really don’t think that is necessary. part of the charm is how whimsical the world is and how unhurried the east blue beginning arc felt. and they inserted a lot of weird bullshit i felt didn’t fit the original story

on that same note: the straw hat bonding was weak imo. i am a nami-stan to the day i die, but i really felt like they used her character to override the developments between luffy and the other straw hats. i think having nami present in axe-hand morgan’s base with luffy/zoro immediately discredited the initial bond that the two boys were supposed to have. i get why they did it, and i never thought i’d see the day where i wouldn’t want to see more nami, but i feel like her presence during that moment, her convo with kaya, and her staying for baratie really stole important bonding moments from luffy and each of the boys.

similar to that: luffy’s characterization. (note: i adore iñaki! this has nothing to do with him, just how the writers wrote luffy.) i don’t think the writers knew how to approach writing luffy or even zoro for that matter—which, to be fair, they are difficult characters to write. but i think they got very focused on trying to explain or make sense of luffy for the viewers when i truly think the appeal to pre-time skip op is how both the audience and the straw hat crew are constantly learning more and more about who luffy is through his actions. and in tandem, they didn’t know how to flesh out luffy and zoro’s relationship. where animanga luffy and zoro are bonded because they innately seem to just get one another, i think the LA writers didn’t trust that either their script or the actors portraying them could get that across as well without having them literally spell it out for us. and in turn, i think it really watered down their connection when that bond should be one of the absolute strongest.

okay i’m beginning to realize that all my critiques have to do with writing

like, they didn’t show us how much each village comes to love the straw hats???? which is a HUGE part of why we and everyone in the world adores them??????????

little (and big) things about the characters that got lost in the LA: zoro’s sense of humor, usopp’s love of bugs (seriously, he wouldn’t be spooked by a damn spiderweb, cmon), nami being a weather prodigy, usopp being a sniping prodigy, bellemere and nojiko having hope bc infant nami was laughing, luffy only doing stuff bc he wants to, luffy and zoro not caring about the details of nami’s history, sanji bonding w luffy bc he was strong and kind and joining because luffy asked him to, helmeppo’s falling out w his father (like if you’re gonna put so much of him in there at least set up his backstory correctly???), arlong seeing zoro’s wound from mihawk, arlong park walk???!, and so many other things honestly…..

in general, the whimsy of the world was lacking. so much of what sets one piece (especially at the beginning) apart from other shows is how much fun it is. i get that netflix wanted to netflixify this world, but that’s not why we fell in love w the show. we want to see them goofing off, we want to see all the silly, ridiculous jokes. we want the hilarity of it all and how each character (no matter how cool) is still subject to being a fool at times. usopp’s character really brought a lot of life to the show after he was introduced, which i am infinitely grateful for, but i think the writers forgot the core of the show: the fun of it all.

OH. and here is my biggest gripe of them all……. THE FUCKING MARINES. like holy shit, i didn’t realize i was watching a fucking military propo??? i understand they wanted to make koby more relevant for the story but fuck, did we really need fifteen minutes every episode dedicated to the marines???? i loved koby and garp’s actors, but all the focus on them (WHEN THEY ARENT EVEN IN THE EAST BLUE MUCH AT ALL) really soured me on their characters tbh. they robbed us of so much time that could have been spent on any of the above issues listed just for the sake of adding fish-eye-lens close-ups of them shootin’ the shit with each other. it’s like they didn’t want new viewers becoming unsympathetic to the fucking military even tho oda specifically wrote marines as antagonists lmao. truly, i think all the issues i had w the show could have been fixed if they simply didn’t make so much of it about garp and koby.

along w that thought: someone—anyone—please tell me why they needed a garp and luffy confrontation in this first fucking season. please, help me understand. because imo, that was the most atrocious thing they could have done. they literally cut out KEY PARTS to the arlong park arc just to make room for it. the arlong park bit was so badly fumbled imo. making nojiko and the villagers actually hate nami instead of pretending to??? TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO. saying nami asked to join arlong instead of him forcing her to?? FUCKING AWFUL. having luffy chase nojiko down for the story instead of his “i don’t need to know it, i just need her to rely on us”???!!!! fine, go ahead and erase a crucial part of his character. and don’t even get me started on how garp’s moment completely replaced nami’s iconic “goodbye” to coco village and genzo telling luffy not to make her cry. seriously, i could go on for hours about those episodes alone.

additionally, they made the whole “luffy didn’t tell us about his grandpa being a marine” thing like an issue in the crew when that is not at all how it should have gone. the entire point of garps original intro as luffy’s grandpa in animanga is that we AND the straw hats have spent enough time with luffy to understand that he doesn’t say more than what needs to be said. while we were all surprised, no one (not even his crew) are upset about him withholding that. so to introduce garp so early in the plot and then make it a whole moment of dissent for the crew is fucked up and pointless.

i really think they only added so much of the marines because they were worried there weren’t enough “stakes” to push luffy and the crew forward in the narrative, but that is utter bullshit because the ENTIRE point of the east blue arc is that it’s BEFORE luffy ever has a bounty—before he ever is being truly chased—so EVERYTHING he does is simply for the pure sake that he WANTS TO. and that is precisely why each crew member loves him. that’s why WE love him.

last but not least: where tf was hatchan??? ☹️

overall, my problem with the LA so far is that i feel as if the writer’s don’t have a full grasp on the straw hats, and while they were writing the story, things that should’ve been central to their personas got left behind. it felt like since they didn’t feel like they understood luffy as a character, they tried to overcompensate by making him into something he isn’t.

the outline for everything was there and i think it was still a very fun watch, but im left longing for the magic and catharsis of the original story. in the end, it was entertaining but really just made me want to rewatch the anime to get the full effect of oda’s wonderful storytelling

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r04ch · 2 years ago

Text

Okaayyy posting my writing heres one I did today to help dialogue.. i usually dont write in this script format but i wanted to try something diff ! Also the descriptions around it dont sound very smooth cuz like IDK but just dont think im a sharty writer cuz of this lol

COD, Otter x Alex, 820 Words

Summary: Its hot af and pool time bonding yahoo also like 2 second trauma dump (gasp!)

It's a hot, humid day on the 141 base. The quarters are empty, the inhabitants instead resorting to the swimming pool outside.

Farah and Kate are chatting in the shallow end, sharing cocktails. Soap, Gaz and Ghost are cannon balling and wrestling in the deeper end, while Price naps in a chair. Alex has just arrived, towel slung over his shoulder and sunglasses protecting his eyes. He spots Otter, who is writing in a journal on a lounge chair, and approaches the man.

Otter is wearing a loose tank top and comfortable board shorts, a pair of sunglasses adorning his face. His hair is put up in a short ponytail, his braid hangs loosely. His knees are slightly pulled up to stay under the safety of the umbrella providing him shade. He sips at a virgin pina colada that Kate made him.

Alex: Thought you were a swimmer?

His tone is playful and light, standing above Otter to block the sun from the latter. Otter looks up at him from under his sunglasses.

Otter: Oh, I am. Im busy right now though.

Alex: Busy? Its 90 degrees out, what could be making you so busy?

Alex has a appalled expression which pulls a chuckle from Otter.

Otter: You know, stuff and.. things.

He waves his hand vaguely.

Alex: I don't think I do know, care to explain?

Otter pushes his sunglasses to sit atop his head, squinting softly at him. Then, he shrugs and pats the end of the chair, pulling his legs up into a criss-crossed sit to make room. Alex complies, taking a seat and leaning over to gaze at Otters journal.

Its a portrait sketch of Farah. Its gorgeous.

Alex: I didn't know you could draw.

Otter: I have a feeling you don’t know a lot about me, Keller.

Alex scowls which earns him a hearty laugh.

Alex: Okay, well why don't you tell me some things?

Otter: Like what?

Alex: How’d you learn to draw like that?

Alex’s index finger lightly taps the page, tilting his head like a curious puppy dog.

Otter: I picked it up when I was younger, it helps me focus. My mother was an artist.

Alex: What did she draw?

Otter: Portraits, too. She had the eye for it, her paintings were phenomenal. I wish I took some.

Alex looked away from the drawing, choosing to instead drink up Otter's features. His round nose, pudgy cheeks, the sharp split in his left eyebrow. The golden brown hue that haloed his iris had him drowning in it. Otter was oblivious to Alex’s current predicament, continuing to shade Farah’s cheek bones.

Alex: Why don't you?

Otter stopped his pencil and bit the inside of his cheek, finally glancing over at Alex.

Otter: Well, that’d be difficult. They’re all piles of ash now, probably sunken into the earth.

Alex faltered and gawked for a moment, Otter smiled softly.

Otter: That house burned down a long time ago. I should’ve clarified, sorry.

His cheeks radiate a pink glow of blush.

Alex: I didn't know that.

Otter: I know.

A blanket of tense silence fell between the two, before Otter reached for his drink and took a long sip. Alex memorized the way his lips moved.

Otter: Want to try?

He mistook Alex’s fascination with him for perhaps being thirsty. Alex was grateful for it though.

Alex: Sure

He took the straw and downed the last bit of drink, earning a gasp from Otter as he playfully pushed Alex away from him.

Otter: I know you did NOT just drink it all!

Alex: What? I was thirsty!

Alex laughed while Otter feigned an offended and dramatic expression of shock.

Otter: That is so rude! I cannot believe you!

Alex: Just get another one!

Otter huffed and rose from the seat, placing his sunglasses back into place over his eyes and giving Alex a half hearted glare while waltzing over to the bar. The former smiled softly. Averting his eyes back down to the page and, nosily, poking through the rest of the journal.

It was full of mostly birds or insects that had messy scribblings besides them like “saw this little guy in Urzikstan” and so forth. He also passed a few rough sketches of Kate, and the resident dog Riley.

Then he landed on two pages of just him. While most were very rough, hardly even outlined, others were complete with shading. He especially liked the small doodle of him with a mustache 2x the size of his head and a small LOL written beside it. Alex couldn’t help the pride and joy swelling in his chest. Now curious as to when Otter was able to get such accurate references.

As Otter walked back over, now with two drinks in his hands, Alex quickly flipped the journal back to Farah. Pretending as though he never saw the other pages and instead graciously accepting the mocktail.

#my writing🐛#otter🦦#cod s/i #cod #alex <3 #selfship writing #selfship post #selfship #fictional other #kate laswell #farah karim #task force 141 #okay to rb!

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lincincoclearobot · 9 months ago

Text

What is an Ionic Hair Dryer?

Have you ever wondered why your hair still feels frizzy and dry despite using a top-of-the-line hair dryer?

Are you frustrated with how long it takes to dry your hair every morning? Imagine a device that not only

dries your hair faster but also leaves it looking smoother and shinier. Sounds too good to be true? Well,

let me introduce you to the ionic hair dryer.

Imagine, a busy professional who spends a considerable amount of time every day trying to get her hair just right.

She uses a standard hair dryer but often ends up with frizzy and damaged hair. One day, she hears about ionic hair

dryers and decides to give it a try. To her surprise, she notices an immediate difference—her hair is smoother, shinier,

and dries much faster. What exactly is the science behind this magical transformation?

What is an Ionic Hair Dryer?

An ionic hair dryer is a type of hair dryer that uses negative ions to dry hair more efficiently and reduce frizz.

Traditional hair dryers use simple heated air to evaporate water from the hair, which can cause the hair cuticle

to open, leading to frizz and potential damage. In contrast, ionic hair dryers emit negatively charged ions.

These ions break down water molecules, allowing the hair to dry faster and more evenly without the excessive

heat that can damage the hair.

The key advantage of ionic technology is its ability to reduce drying time. By breaking down water molecules into

smaller particles, ionic hair dryers enable moisture to evaporate more quickly, thus speeding up the drying process.

This not only saves time but also minimizes heat exposure, reducing the risk of damage.

Moreover, ionic hair dryers help to seal the hair cuticle, which can result in smoother and shinier hair. The negative

ions neutralize the positive ions present in dry or damaged hair, thereby reducing static electricity and frizz.

This makes an ionic hair dryer particularly beneficial for those with frizzy or curly hair, as it helps to create a sleeker,

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The science behind ionic technology might sound complex, but the benefits are straightforward: faster drying,

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Why should you consider switching to an ionic hair dryer? The advantages extend beyond just quicker drying times.

Here are some key benefits that make this technology a must-have in your hair care routine:

Faster Drying Times: As mentioned earlier, the ionic technology breaks down water molecules, allowing themto evaporate faster. This means you can dry your hair in a fraction of the time it would take with a traditional hair dryer.

Reduced Frizz: By neutralizing positive ions and sealing the hair cuticle, ionic hair dryers significantly reduce frizz.This is particularly beneficial for those with curly or wavy hair types that are more prone to frizz.

Shinier Hair: The process of sealing the hair cuticle not only reduces frizz but also enhances the natural shineof your hair. Ionic hair dryers can make your hair look smoother and glossier with regular use.

Less Heat Damage: Traditional hair dryers rely on high heat to dry hair, which can lead to damage over time.Ionic hair dryers require less heat, thus minimizing the risk of drying out or damaging your hair.

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The benefits of an ionic hair dryer are clear, but it’s also important to consider the drawbacks. These devices

can be more expensive than traditional hair dryers, and not all ionic hair dryers are created equal. Some may

not produce enough negative ions to make a noticeable difference. Therefore, it's crucial to choose a high-quality

ionic hair dryer from a reputable brand.

How to Choose the Right Ionic Hair Dryer

Selecting the right ionic hair dryer involves considering several factors to ensure you get the best results for your

hair type and styling needs. Here are some tips to help you make an informed decision:

Wattage: Look for a hair dryer with a wattage between 1500 to 2000 watts. Higher wattage dryers provide morepower and can dry hair faster, which is essential for those with thick or long hair.

Heat and Speed Settings: A good ionic hair dryer should offer multiple heat and speed settings. This allows youto customize the drying process according to your hair type and desired style.

Weight and Ergonomics: Consider the weight and design of the hair dryer. A lightweight and ergonomicallydesigned dryer is easier to handle and reduces arm fatigue during use.

Attachments: Many ionic hair dryers come with attachments such as diffusers and concentrators. These canenhance the drying experience and provide more styling options. For example, a diffuser is great for curly hair,while a concentrator can help with straightening.

Price and Brand: While price is an important consideration, it shouldn’t be the only factor. Investing in ahigh-quality ionic hair dryer from a reputable brand can make a significant difference in performance and durability.

Reviews and Recommendations: Read reviews and seek recommendations from trusted sources or friends.This can give you insight into the performance and reliability of different models.

When you find the right ionic hair dryer, you'll notice a significant improvement in the health and appearance

of your hair. It's an investment that can save you time and give you salon-quality results at home.

Do Ionic Hair Dryers Work for All Hair Types?

Yes, ionic hair dryers are suitable for all hair types. However, the benefits can vary depending on your hair texture

and condition. For example, individuals with frizzy, curly, or coarse hair may notice more significant improvements

in frizz reduction and smoothness. People with fine or straight hair may also benefit from faster drying times and enhanced shine.

Are There Any Downsides to Using an Ionic Hair Dryer?

While ionic hair dryers offer numerous benefits, there are some potential downsides. The higher cost can be a deterrent

for some users. Additionally, excessive use of any hair dryer, even an ionic one, can still lead to heat damage if not used

properly. It’s important to use the dryer on the appropriate settings and avoid concentrating heat on one area for too long.

Can I Use an Ionic Hair Dryer with Other Hair Styling Tools?

Absolutely! An ionic hair dryer can be a great complement to other styling tools such as flat irons, curling wands,

and hot rollers. Using an ionic dryer to reduce frizz and dry your hair quickly can create a smooth base that makes

further styling easier and more effective.

Conclusion

In conclusion, an ionic hair dryer is a valuable tool that can transform your hair care routine. By using negative

ions to break down water molecules, these dryers not only speed up drying time but also reduce frizz, enhance shine,

and minimize heat damage. For anyone struggling with unruly or damaged hair, switching to an ionic hair dryer can be

a game-changing decision.

While the initial investment might be higher than traditional hair dryers, the benefits in terms of time saved and

hair health make it worthwhile. When choosing an ionic hair dryer, consider factors such as wattage, heat and

speed settings, weight, and attachments to find the best fit for your needs. With the right ionic hair dryer, you can

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For more information on ionic hair dryers and to explore some of the best models available, check out this

comprehensive guide on ionic hair dryers.

By understanding the science behind ionic technology and making an informed choice, you can elevate your

hair care routine and enjoy the benefits of healthier, more beautiful hair.

#Hair Dryer

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sojustmetalking · 9 months ago

Text

Show time!

Alright vert pretty logo, special for bridgerton i think or else i am going nuts

oh my dead animals on the back of a cart, was not expecting

nice to see the old field where season 2 had so many moments

the ton is returning i see

whistledown is back! whoo

Penelope looking good in green, starting her transformation i see

question: was the last letter Pen was writing at the end of season 2 the last she made of her season just to forewarn the ton she was there? or did she write over the break cause this implies she didnt

dont know why but i really like seeing lady featherington rn

Penelopes perspective of seeing ppls reactions of her paper is very refreshing

omg this is the regency twitter

less people at the door this time

is it cause francesca is less of a flight risk?

or that theyve done this twice already lol

omg noticing the bee accessory on benedicts waistcoat

kanthony!

never noticed that medalion before

sneaky fran

mood would also emerse myself in my hobby

spent the last 2 seasons perfecting it

i love a rebellious middle child

she would be the lowkey emo/goth in the fam in modern time wouldn't she

*ding* when i was...a young boY-

is that portrait of violet and edmund new???

taking her glove off in public *le gasp* with her mouth *bigger gasp*

no subtlelyy my lordy

there is their beef

its the pretty intro!

i saw someone make predictions of the symbols

i see a crest, a crown, paper-ception on the tree and a bootiful butterfly

dear lord is that a hot air balloon

it looks like its going haywire

predictions!

what colin is trying to say is his frontal lobe has finally developed completely

poor gregory

love the sign language inclusion!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

but shouldnt these debutants not restrain their reactions so that their not in front of the court???

so thats how they exit

i assume the order of presentation has to do with their rank

look at that eye sexting over there,, and in public wow

prudence got married over the summer wow

and after the cousin jack scandal

lady featherington works quick

guy seems nice

intense but nice

that shade my lady

foreshadowwww from mrs varley

penelope is in pain

notice her and grovel

seems that eloise is in her way trying to protect penelope

i wonder when this happened

who approached who

fran i feel your pain

ooh so that time between the pallmal match and now is quite short

shade from mama bridgerton

~even my mama doesnt likke you and she likes everyone

she also blames herself in part for last year

colin is flirting up the town this boy

wait

waitwaitwait

has colin been looking for penelope all this time 👀

its his subconscious i tell you

i think colins hair looked diff between scenes but that could be the wind but he looks nice either way

i shall not deprive myself anymore, I shall continue to enjoy the ep

Watched a bunch of Queen Charlotte and Bridgerton edits so i guess i must too venture into regency england

You got me algorithm, im jumping onto the pale blue and yellow feather trains.

This is my documented impression (Warning! Spoilers?)

such pretty intro

pidgeons!

corsetery

vicountess ✨brrrrrrrridgerton ✨

Note: I come in with knowledge but this narration is still scathing

eloise portrait face mood

the world stills

they across the street from one another how cute, like corpse bride

now that i think about it, didn't they move on to special bra-like undergarments during the regency period? wasn't really the shape they were going for? meh

such pretty dresses

oh my, a butt

and in public too

panicked jostling

everyone is so pretty

from foreknowledge I believe this doesn't go well for daphne but we'll see

the queens a mood

how did they make those portraits? were they traditionally pained or rendered digitally?

pleasedonttrippleasedonttrippleasedonttrippleasedonttrip

the intro looks like the intro to who do you think you are but its also cool 3d modelling

is this pamplet ye old twitter?

now i read somewhere that daphne is supposed to be 20? in season 1? and that eloise is like 16? does that mean daphne debut like really late?

nothing quite as shady as a judgy mama

i don't think this angled torso is very good for horseback riding but i shall allow it

tiktok intimacy coordinator share with me your wisdom

that will be all for today

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nohtora · 3 years ago

Text

book yennefer 💜

#yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #book yennefer #the witcher #wiedzmin #the witcher books #artists on tumblr #nohtora art #trying a diff approach with hair this time #anyways icb i've never actually drawn her yet fjdsklfs #also i keep seeing her drawn with straight hair and it bothers me so cURLS ALL ROUND BABYYYYY

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scarlettjohanssons-mistress · 2 years ago

Note

Anything Scarlett x reader 🥰

One night, or maybe more

Warnings: First meet, fluff, night adventure

Word count: 1.1 K

Pairing: Scarlett Johansson x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Scarlett meets a girl who makes her feel like one more person, so, she invites her to spend a fun night with her all over town.

Requests: OPEN

[Main masterlist] [Actors and actresses masterlist]

*Story based, partially, on real events*

"Ok, anyway, can you explain why I'm helping you choose clothes for a celebrity-filled event?"

My roommate and friend, Clara asked as she helped me get every last piece of clothing out of my closet.

"I already told you, my classmate from Italian literature class, Veronica, was invited to the party thanks to her Youtube channel, and since her best friend canceled, she thought of inviting me" I said as I began to connect the iron for the hair

"Wow, who do you think you know?"

"I don't know, I might know Henry Cavill himself" I joked, knowing that he would not be present at the party.

“Girl, never say never” She slapped my arm playfully “What do you think of these pants and this shirt with the back uncovered? It looks party-worthy, it's sexy and elegant. It's an 'I'm a bitch, but I'm an expensive bitch '”

We both laughed, but, she was somewhat right, it was worthy of a party the magnitude of tonight's.

"Clara, you are magnificent"

———————————————————————————

To say that it was a party full of celebrities was an understatement for the amount of famous people that were in that place. Figures like Jennifer Aniston, Chris Evans and even Madonna were present at the party, enjoying a cocktail.

"Wow, when you said famous, I didn't think it would be so many famous" I joked with Veronica

“I know, I didn't expect this quality either” she returned the joke, suddenly someone approached her and began to speak in her ear until she walked away “hey, I have to go interview the person who invited us; I hope I won't be long"

"Do not worry it's alright"

"Don't get lost" she said goodbye with a wink and a squeeze to my right arm

"No" I returned the smile seeing how he began to walk away "I'll stay here"

My gaze began to travel all around me, feeling a little self-conscious about the people, the noise and the great amount of talent that surrounded me, making me feel small, like a little ant.

Trying to get that feeling out of my body, I decided to walk to the small bar and ask the bartender for a drink.

———————————————————————————

After sitting for a long time, taking drink after drink, I felt like a body collided with my back.

"Forgiveness"

I turned my head just to see that famous blonde hair, green eyes and that big smile.

Holy crap, Scarlett Johansson had bumped into me!

She ordered a drink, but surely she felt my gaze on her body, so she returned the gaze, causing me to look away and bow my head.

"I've never met you before, are you new to the guild?"

I turned my head, just to confirm that her question was directed at me.

"No, they invited me" I saw how her look changed, so I hastened to answer again "but don't worry, I'm not here in fan mode. Just… you know, I coming to party”

"Well, thank goodness" she laughed, placing a hand on my bare shoulder. "Well…"

"Y/N, my name is Y/N."

"Well, Y/N, what's a girl like you doing here?"

“I just came to accompany a classmate from the university…”

"University? What are you studying?"

"Literature"

“That sounds interesting… where do you study?”

"Sorry, I don't mean to sound rude, but why would an Oscar-nominated actress like you take an interest in the life of a college girl?"

She took the glass that had been brought to her and toasted my drink, forgotten on the bar.

"I'm just… interested in the life of a pretty girl"

The conversation was only going up, it didn't even seem like she was talking to one of the biggest stars on the planet. We were just two women having a light flirt as we got to know each other more and more. Until, little by little, the room became more and more crowded, making the conversation more difficult to carry.

"Damn, people are starting to tire me out" Scarlett began to complain, as she took the last sip of her drink "Do you want to get out of here?" she ask

"Where?"

"I know a place where we can have fun" she took my right hand, forcing me to get up from my seat and guiding me to the exit of the place.

Taking me on a late night adventure.

———————————————————————————

Scarlett took me on an express tour of New York City, she knew I hadn't had the chance to meet her in the few days of my stay, so she showed me everything there was to see. I took some photos in Times Square, we went through the art museum, we bothered a guard at the Empire State and I even took some of the statue of liberty. When I least wanted to realize it, Scarlett had brought me to the door of what looked like a school.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, watching as she brushed aside the vines to reveal a hole through which we could pass.

"Come, trust me"

And even so, without knowing her at all, beyond a public figure, still, I trusted her.

I got into the school and let her guide me to the pool and watching how she began to undress.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I started laughing at the strange situation I was getting myself into.

"Do you want to swim?" When she was in her underwear, she quickly got into the pool, laughing and swimming until she was close to me again. "Did you know that I studied here?"

“Really?” I asked as I began to remove my pants "Turn around, I don't have a bra"

"If you want you can wear my shirt"

I took off my own blouse to put on Scarlett's and get into the pool. We both started playing and swimming.

When I least wanted to realize it, Scarlett's lips were on mine, in a heated kissing session, but with her hands holding my cheeks, trying not to bother me. She was just trying to be gentle with me, with soft but constant kisses; until the noise of my phone interrupted us. I quickly got out of the pool and answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" asked Veronica

"Damn, I left the place, but I'm coming back now"

"I'll wait for you. You have 20 minutes to arrive”

"It's fine"

and hung up

"I have to go" I said as I began to dry myself and put on my own clothes.

Without realizing it, Scarlett got out of the pool and hugged my hips from behind.

"When I could see you?"

"You have my phone" I laughed "Just dial me and you could send a private plane for me" I joked with her, causing her tender laughter

"Maybe I will." she kissed my cheek.

"See you then" I kissed her lips.

"See you"

Note:

I don't know if I can post these days, but if I don't post before December 24, I'll do it until December 28, so… MERRY CHRISTMAS!, LOVE YOU VERY MUCH. Thank you very much for making this year a wonderful year. I love you (I know I already said it, bear a little more of my love) ❤

I hope you enjoy it

I appreciate the reblogs, the likes and the comments

taglist: @littlebitchsposts

message me or send an ask to be added to my taglist!

#scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson imagine #scarlett johansson x y/n #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett x y/n #scarlett x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x fem!reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha marvel

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senpiecakes · 3 years ago

Text

A Love Not Meant to Be: Zhongli Part 1

Notes: I keep thinking about that one Tik Tok audio that’s like “you’re gonna love ‘em till the day you die” and my soul depletes every time. Also, slicing it into three diff parts cause it’s like 6k words.

Summary: Right person wrong time basically + reincarnation.

Warning/s: Angst no comfort, a lot of lore spoilers

Theme/s: Angst, no comfort, angst tropes.

Trope: Right Person, Wrong Time/Immortal x Mortal

(PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE listen to Glimpse of Us by Joji while reading)

Parts: Part 2, Part 3 (end)

This story began when Zhongli was still a young adeptus- only about a couple thousand years old and learning the ropes of his place in the world. Of course, he’s lived for a long while now and has already learned a few lessons here and there, so why not try and live among the mortals? To him, they were interesting beings with the short lifespans they tried to live to the fullest. He wanted to know what all the fuss was about. He had a lot of time in his hands after all.

Then there was you: the soon to be mortal that would pique his interest. You were ordinary: a mortal human living a peaceful life in a small village hidden deep within the mountains. When you encountered Zhongli, it was at the edge of a mountain. You never knew why a place like that would bring you comfort of all things. You spent most of your free time there, usually watching the sunset after a day's end of your simple little life. That was when Zhongli came in.

It was odd to see a human at that altitude at this time of day, alone of all things, during the setting sun where monsters would run rampant by night. Needless to say, Zhongli was baffled to see you sitting by yourself on a cliffside of a mountain, peacefully watching the sun go down after a day of work and mundaneness. He stared for a while, listening to you hum to yourself, the golden glow of the sun making you look all the more majestic. In his eyes, he’s never seen a human in this light. So simple, but so wonderful. You only noticed Zhongli’s presence when he stepped forward to approach you and you heard the faintest rustle of the grass against his garments. You had your fair share of sour encounters in this mountain, so you learned to be hypervigilant.

“Who’s there?” You question, turning quickly to see the man hiding shyly behind a tree. “Oh, hello, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You breathe a sigh of relief when you see him, but as soon as the man moved forward, you notice something odd. His eyes- a piercing golden gaze that shone like glimmers of gold against a thousand suns. He made you stop in your tracks. You knew instantly what he was, who he was. You’ve heard of this ‘person’ from your village elders; an adeptus, a dragon, called Rex Lapis. An adeptus? You think. Here? He approaches you and you almost stumble to your knees in a bow but the fear, the shock, and the amazement at the encounter only made you slack-jawed and frozen.

“... it appears you’ve dropped a sunsettia.” The man mumbles, holding out the fruit in his hand. You look down at his hand and back up at him. Zhongli smiles awkwardly and pushes the sunsettia forward.

“Rex… Rex Lapis.” You say, bowing cordially. Zhongli sighs and slumps himself up against the tree, taking a bite out of the fruit.

“How very kind, and very brave, of you to address me in such a way,” he says with a chuckle. Zhongli moves and sits by your spot, staring out into the vastness of Liyue. No wonder you loved it here. “Come, have a seat with me.” You hesitate for a moment and think about fleeing but Zhongli only looks back at you and you jump to sit awkwardly by him. Both of you sit in silence for a while, you occasionally glancing at the man beside you. You had to admit, he was quite handsome; long dark hair fading into a warm yellow, flowing down his broad shoulders, framing his charming face so delicately. His eyes were an unusual shade of gold, comparable to the glorious sunset before you- were stone cold in stare but nevertheless very beautiful. You had never seen anyone like him, so needless to say you were mesmerized.

“Are we enjoying the view?” The man pipes up suddenly, glancing over at you with a teasing smile. “The sunset is quite lovely too.”

“My apologies.” You say flustered as you look away. Zhongli stretches and lays back onto the grass.

“Needn’t be so nervous, I’m parading around as a human for a while and you may treat me as such,” He says. “With that, you may address me as Morax.”

“Morax,” You mumble back. “I’m Y/N.” Zhongli grins, not knowing that your name would be the one to torment him through the ages.

You soon found that your usual day to day routine was interrupted by the man that called himself Morax. The adeptus cloaking himself as a mortal soon stuck by your side for some odd reason. You’d see him early in the morning down the street being admired by the younger and older ladies of your village. He’d follow you around town with that aura of prestige that made you stand out, and you hated it. Worst of all, you found yourself being accompanied by this individual during your free time on that mountain. Zhongli never disclosed why, but he was fascinated by you, and you alone. Sure, he eventually found himself amongst the crowd of your little village with many personalities, but he wanted to spend his time with you more than anyone. You already made a good first impression with that feat you had with climbing up that mountain summit on your own, but it wasn’t your extraordinary abilities that captured Zhongli’s intrigue. Simply put, it was your ordinary-ness that made Zhongli want to know more. Sure, he had met a handful of humans with unnatural talents and exceptional abilities, but those were only for show to him- an attempt to gain the favor of a powerful adeptus. You, on the other hand, was so human, that Zhongli found himself drawn to how ‘life-like’ you were. How underwhelming life could have been, he never knew until he met you. He wanted to know about mortals, how they lived so freely but so constrained. Fate just happened to lead him to you.

The village found you charming. You cherished everything around you, or at least tried to, because you as a person grappled with the thought of death with more maturity than others. Death was terrifying, you knew that well, but at the same time you accepted it wholly long ago. That was until Zhongli barged into your life. The young adeptus didn’t have much understanding of the concept of death and decay. All of his companions lived long, prosperous lives, so why did he have to worry about death? And so, he sought for answers through you because you were a mortal after all. You had a tame life, and you’ll experience death, what’s more to it than that?

“It’s not that simple, Morax.” You sigh as he trails behind you during your usual traverse to the mountain.

“How is it not? I look knowledgeable don’t I? I’m sure I’ll understand.” He says as you quicken your pace. “Besides, you humans live short lives, what else is there other than living and dying?” Exasperated, you turn and breathe in calmly.

“It’s just not that okay? It’s easy for you to say because you Adepti live for thousands, even millions of years! For us, each day is a risk, you’re not guaranteed living for longer and you never expect to land on death's door. That’s why we try to live as much as we can, to experience as much as we can and learn so many things before we eventually pass away.” You say. “Besides, we’re not as sturdy as you are.”

“And you say that while climbing up a very dangerous mountain?” Zhongli retorts. You fluster and avert from his teasing gaze.

“That’s not the point, okay? I’m just trying to live my life.”

“You are very charming, Y/N.” Zhongli says. You can’t help but flush at his words. “Still, you need to humor me more with this concept.”

“Well, why are you doing this anyway?” You ask, settling yourself by the cliff side as Zhongli sits beside you. “Don’t you have more important duties to do for Liyue?”

“This one is a duty,” he answers. “The understanding of mortality, the importance of it and the purpose of humans in our world.” He looks at you and Zhongli couldn’t help but stare. “And what better way for me to learn than to live amongst the humans?” He continues his gaze, studying your features intently. He’s never seen you in this light before; the sunset on your face, highlighting the irritation on your expression, your hair windswept by the breeze and the softness in your eyes when you turn to look at him. You’re so relaxed with him now- treating him as if he was anyone else- a person. Zhongli feels something surge through his chest- an odd sensation that he almost felt afraid, but enough to make him stand and back away from you.

“Morax? What’s wrong?” You ask. Zhongli breathes in deeply and calms himself, slowly turning to leave.

“I think my stay for now is overdue.” He says. You watch him go with a confused look. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

It took a while for Zhongli to reappear. You found your days unusually quiet without him trailing behind you all day long with his ‘words of wisdom’ as he calls it. Other than that, you found the villagers asking more and more about the ‘mysterious handsome gentleman’s’ whereabouts. You never knew where he went, but you never worried about it too much. He was an adeptus after all- he can handle himself. However, you couldn’t help but worry a little. During those years when Zhongli was still young, he was powerful, but also reckless and stubborn. Only Celestia knows what he’s up to, and you thought that maybe he was just out and about with his other adepti friends fighting random monsters around Liyue. And only Celestia knew just how wrong you were.

Each sunset, for weeks on end, Zhongli would watch you come and go from your spot. He’d watch you sit, listen to you calming hum, he’d see you go and beat any monster that tried to get near you. He knew why he did this; Zhongli wanted to replicate that feeling on that day. That odd sensation in his chest, the heat rushing to his skin, why he felt so nervous and why you looked so… breathtaking. Even now, as he watches you do the same old routine, does the feeling only grow stronger, and by the gods it hurt more when he wasn’t by your side to ask you about it. He ruminated about his situation for a while, cursing at himself to feeling weak whenever he tried to return to you. The other adepti refused to give him answers, instead laughing behind their palms and prompting him to ask you himself. Zhongli thought he was being challenged- and he wasn’t the type to back down, but when the day actually came, when did he suddenly become so cowardly?

“Y/N!” Zhongli announces, suddenly appearing by your front door the moment you open it- first thing in the morning.

“Morax?!” You yell, nearly falling back at the surprise. “What are you doing?! And where have you been all this time?!” Zhongli doesn’t answer any of your questions. Instead, he steadies himself and looks at you intently

“I have a question for you, Y/N,” He says. “I think you’ll know the answer to this one.”

Oh? The ever-so-knowledgeable Zhongli not having an answer to a question? You were interested and nodded at him to continue. As soon as Zhongli explained his situation, your curiosity turned to dread. You listened to him basically confessing his love to you, how much it pained him when you weren’t by his side, the butterflies in his heart when he saw you, how he thinks you are one of the most remarkable people on Teyvat despite your ordinariness. His muscular form caved in a little, like a small child being caught with their hands in a cookie jar. His face was flushed and his eyes wandered, refusing to look at you. You stayed silent as Zhongli drew on his explanation, feeling every word sink into your skin like hot needles.

“I don’t understand what this is, Y/N,” Zhongli finishes, looking down at his hands as a wave of red bursts from his cheeks. “What is this that I’m feeling?” As soon as he looked up at you, a hopeful gleam in his beautiful amber eyes, your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach.

Oh… Oh no…

You swallow dryly and try your best to be supportive. You really didn’t expect this to happen so early in the morning. An awkward smile reaches your lips as Zhongli looks at you quizzically.

“It’s called… love.” You say, feeling your breath being knocked out of your chest. “You know what that is, right?” You prayed that this wouldn��t happen. You never thought it would. Zhongli was an adeptus, the grand warrior god of them all, how could he fall for a lowly human being? However, it wasn’t uncommon for Adepti to fall for humans- you just hoped it wouldn’t be you.

“Love,” Zhongli mumbles, a giddy smile on his face making you all the more worried and guilty. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.” As soon as his words reached your ears, dread washed over you like a wave. You didn’t want this to happen.

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years ago

Text

Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

***3 months later***

A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.

#erasermic #yandere erasermic #erasermic x reader #yandere erasermic x reader #erasermic smut #erasermic mha #erasermic bnha #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa smut #hizashi yamada #hizashi yamada x reader #hizashi yamada smut #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #hizashi yamada mha #hizashi yamada bnha

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

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

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

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

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All men do is lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He loves you so much it aches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

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

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

You nod. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

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