#and whole peaches are better then canned peaches | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queers-gambit · 1 year

Text

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel au #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky x you #mafia au #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes hurt/comfort

9K notes · View notes

headspace-hotel · 1 month

Text

data about where carbon emissions are coming from is so frustrating cause there's all kinds of huge, sprawling, just fucking vast breakdowns of What Causes The Most Carbon Emissions Out Of All Everything In The Entire World, but those are aggregations of numerous smaller but still vast aggregations of data, which are processed and polished from various aggregations of crunched numbers, which are patched and pieced together from various studies, estimates and calculations, which are sieved out of numbers crunched from various measurements, estimates and records, which have been collected, estimated or otherwise conceived through an unspeakably huge variety of methodologies with unspeakably huge variety in limitations, reliability and margins of error.

Even if some of the data was very fine-grained at the beginning, it was filtered through some very coarse number-crunching techniques for the sake of the coarse data, so the results are only as good as the wrongest thing you did in any part of this process, but the plans of action are getting thought up from the top down, which makes the whole thing a hot fucking mess.

For example. And I just made this example up. Say you want to know whether apples or potatoes have a worse impact on climate change. So you look at one of these huge ass infographic things. And it says that potatoes are bad, whereas apples are REALLY good, the BEST crop actually. So it's better to eat apples than potatoes, you think to yourself. Actually we should find a way to replace potatoes with apples! We should fund genetic engineering of apples so they have more starch and can replace potatoes. Great idea. Time to get some investors to put $5 billion towards it.

But actually. Where'd they get that conclusion about apples? Well there's this review right here of the carbon footprint of all different fruits, seems legit. Where'd that data come from? Well it's citing this study right here saying that tree-grown crops are better because they sequester carbon, and this study right here about the distance that different fruits get transported, and this study right here where different fertilization systems are compared in terms of their carbon footprint, and this study over here that sampled 300 apple, peach, and orange farmers comparing their irrigation practices and rates of tree mortality, and this study...wow, okay, seems really reliable...

...what's the first study citing? oh, okay, here's a study about mycorrhizal networks in orchards in Oregon, saying that there's a super high density of fungal mycelium in the 16 orchards that they sampled. And here's a study about leaf litter decay rates in Switzerland under different pesticide regimes, and...okay...relationship of tree spacing to below ground vs. aboveground biomass...a review of above and below-ground biomass in semi-intensively managed orchard plots...

...That one cites "Relationship between biomass and CO2 requirements...carbon immobilization in soil of various tree species...mycorrhizal fungi impact on carbon storage...

...wait a second, none of these are talking about apples, they're about boreal forests...and orange trees...and peanut farms! They're just speculating on roughly applying the non-apple data to apples. You have to go backwards...

Yes! "A review of belowground carbon storage in orchard cropping systems!" Seems like overall the studies find potentially high carbon storage in orchard environments! Walnuts...pears...oranges... intercropping walnuts and wheat... intercropping apples and wheat... wait a second, what about orchards with only apples?

Time for you to go back again...

"New method of mulching in apple orchards can lower irrigation and pesticide needs..." okay but if it's new, most farmers aren't doing it. "Orchards with high density interplanted with annual crops show way more mycorrhizal fungus activity..." "Mycorrhizal associations with trees in the genus Malus..."

...And pretty soon you've spent Five Fucking Hours investigating apples and you've got yourself in this tangled web of citations that demonstrate that some orchard crops (not necessarily apples) store a lot of long-lasting biomass in their trunks and roots really well—and some apple orchards (not necessarily typical ones) have high amounts of mycorrhizal fungi—and some techniques of mulching in orchards (not necessarily the ones apple farmers use) experience less erosion—and some apple trees (not necessarily productive agricultural apples) have really deep root systems—

—and some environments with trees, compared with some conventional agricultural fields, store more carbon and experience less erosion, but not apple orchards because that data wasn't collected in apple orchards.

And you figure out eventually that there is no direct evidence anywhere in the inputs that singles out apples as The Best Crop For Fighting Climate Change, or suggests that conventional apple farming has a much smaller carbon footprint than anything else.

The data just spit out "apples" after an unholy writhing mass of Processes that involved 1) observing some tree-grown crops and deciding it applies closely enough to all tree grown crops 2) observing some apple orchards and deciding its applicable enough to all apple orchards 3) observing some tree-including environments and deciding its close enough to all tree-including environments 4) observing some farming methods and deciding it applies closely enough to all farming methods

And any one of these steps individually would be fine and totally unavoidable, but when strung together repeatedly they distort the original data into A Puddle of Goo.

And it wouldn't be that bad even to string them together, if trees didn't vary that much, and farming didn't vary that much, and soil didn't vary that much, and mycorrhizal networks didn't vary that much, and regions that grow apples didn't vary that much, and pre-conversion-to-apple-orchard states of apple orchards didn't vary that much, and economic incentives controlling apple farming didn't vary that much, but all of these things DO vary, a Fuck Ton, and if the full range of variation were taken into account—nay, intentionally optimized—the distinction between apples and potatoes might turn out to be be MEANINGLESS GOO.

anyway big size piles of data about Farming, In General, make me so bitchy

#bitching #agriculture #the ways of the plants #plants #science

1K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 6 months

Text

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / masterlist

It’s the sundress.

The way it flows off your hips, your body moving beneath it, skin glowing just under the hem. You're lucent in it, radiant in a way he's never seen, brilliance so stunning it catches his breath. You’re a perfect peach, juicy and ripe, plump and sumptuous, skin so soft he’d only need a nip to tear into it, the barest bruise of pressure allowing him to drink his fill of precious honeyed nectar.

There are dozens of people in the café, but he only sees you, can’t tear his gaze away, sick with the heavy tug in his heart, drawing him closer and closer, fingers tense around the flimsy paper cup. He stares, openly, even after Simon clears his throat, scuffs his foot against the sidewalk, says his name.

Johnny has no patience for a kill, or a meal. He likes to rip into fresh things, soak his maw and stretch his jaw around them, swallow them whole if he can.

Swallow you whole, if he can.

A bead of sweat collects at the back of your neck, and he traces its path between your shoulder blades and below, mouth watering at the singular thought of a taste.

His tongue licking down your spine to the cleft of your arse, soft, sweet skin parted for him, face crammed between your legs, panting, pushing, desperate for more, and more, and-

“Johnny.”

“Pretty thing.” He barely looks at his partner, the heat simmering in his stomach curling into a snare. “Little pocket a’ sunshine.”

“Johnny.”

“Ye see ‘er?” Simon’s eyes dig into him, and then you, following the seam of your dress from thigh to shoulder. There’s insatiable insanity in his face, and Johnny knows-

He sees it too.

“I do.”

“Ye dinnae want a taste?”

“Not enough time.” He nods next door, where the darkness looms, waits for them expectantly. A meeting, a negotiation, a riotous push and pull. The things he’s good at, the part of his job that doesn’t include intimidating or killing or orchestrating a disturbance.

His hands sow choreographed chaos, but in this moment, he’d rather they do something else instead.

Pin you down. Pry your thighs wide. Bury his face in your cunt. Would you struggle? Would you cry? Would you take it like a good girl, breathy and sweet, lips shocked into a perfect O for his thumb, pad of it pressed down on your tongue, taste-

“Better think fast.” Simon warns, jolting him from the fantasy that has his cock swelling, and when he sees you heading for the door, dreamy smile on your face, iced latte precarious in your grip, a plan roars to life.

It’s easy, to pretend it’s an accident. Easy to act shocked and embarrassed. Easy, to feel terrible about ruining your dress.

Your gasp is music to his ears.

“Oh my god-“ it’s almost too much, watching the crushing realization sink in across your features, the dismay at the sight of your newly acquired caffeine fix rushing down the front of your sunflower dotted dress.

They’ll buy you a new one. They’ll buy you hundreds.

“’m so sorry.” He croons, reaching to steady you, carefully gripping your elbow under the guise of balance. “Ah, bonnie. ‘m so sorry, I didnae see ye and I was rushin’.”

“It’s… it’s okay.” You’re blinking too fast, trying to hold back tears, trying to keep yourself together. The patchwork, the glue and tape, parts and pieces easily crumble, even as you try to take a deep breath. “I’m… it’s fine.”

“Yer dress is ruined.” Obviously. “Let me pay to get it cleaned, at least.”

“No, no… that’s… it’s okay. I’ll… I’ll just run home, no big deal.” He beats back the burn, the wildfire scorching away the last of his sanity.

“Please.” Simon chimes in over his shoulder. “It’s the least we can do.” You look between them, confused, eyes wide like a little doe, lost all alone in the deep, dark forest.

Flanked by wolves.

“Or let us give ye a ride to yer place, so ye can change.” He jerks his head to the sleek black sedan, idling at the corner, driver still behind the wheel. The meeting can wait, they've got more pressing issues to attend, now.

“Oh… uh-“ He can smell the rot of your hesitance. That’s the thing about a doe, they’re naturally skittish, trembling legs uneasy from the day they were born, nervous about their own shadow. “It’s fine, I can walk. It’s not far.”

“I feel terrible, let me pay for it.” He pours it thick, and as expected, the guilt about making him feel worse locks into place. “I dinnae what I’ll do if we cannae help. If ye give me yer number, we can arrange to cover the cleaners?” Simon looms closer, fingers folding over Johnny's shoulder in an affectionate gesture.

You almost look relieved at the sight.

Poor little doe.

In the end, you agree. When you give them your name, he traces over each syllable tenderly, memorizing the way it sounds on your lips, as Simon taps a phone number into your contacts.

"Ye go straight home an' change." Johnny murmurs, holding onto your hand a shade too long after you pass him back his phone. "Dinnae want ye walkin' around in a dirty dress all afternoon." You fidget, waxing crescent on your lips, and nod.

"I'll uh... I'll let you know how much it is." There's a hint of a tremble in the back of your throat, off key and off kilter, and he smiles to reassure you, before the two of them turn to take their leave.

"We'll talk to ye soon."

#peaches writes #ghoap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #I wrote this on my phone so #mind the mistakes

2K notes · View notes

winterzsurprise · 1 year

Text

Peaches and Cream || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader

Summary: There's a stark difference with how your husband and Miguel treats you, starting with how rough the latter can be.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, unprotected sex, rough sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spanking, pussy slapping (once), fluff (?), jealous!Miguel, Miguel has a big dick.

Words: 2.2k

I got distracted from writing domestic Miguel after he replaced the dad!Miguel after he got shot. This is shit, my apologies I'll do better and add more flavor next time, promiseee. Title is from the song I was listening to the whole time by Noah Davis.

I don't know how to navigate tumblr as a second blog but thank you to all your comments, reblogs and likes, it really does motivate me to write more and better stuff. Also thank you to two blogs for putting me in their recommendations! I made it guys :''DD!!

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || hermosa - beautiful || pobrecita - poor thing (correct me on this one please) || calladita - quietly (thank you sm @eminenceplant for this)

There's a stark difference between your husband and the man hovering above you like a predator about to pounce.

Your husband's hands were soft and loving as it caressed and wandered your body as he peppered kisses down from your neck and to your inner thigh. All of his gestures are a sweet concoction of loving and adoration.

Whilst Miguel's touch was desperate, territorial as he clawed down your flesh, human nails digging into your thighs and breasts as he left a trail of purple bruises around your neck, collarbones before stopping to nip at your hip bone. Everything he does is animalistic, deprived and hungry as if he hasn't eaten for centuries.

His red eyes were clouded with dark lust, glinted with something carnal, even feral, in the dark that got your spine tingling with anticipation.

To see and feel his perpetual desperation for your skin, your scent and desire for your touch had your pride piercing the heavens. To be wanted as he does like you're the air he breathes is dizzying and you can't help but want more.

It's exhilarating, addicting even.

It hasn't been long since you found yourself in love with another version of your husband, yet you grew to crave more of him as seconds ticked by.

Miguel's muscled arms curled around your thighs, forcing them open before pulling you flush to his face with a surprising strength. A pleased sigh escaped your lips as his hot breath fans over your pubic bone, hand falling to knot onto his hair and tugging him closer.

You soon realised why he paused on top of your mound as he inhaled you in, immediately your cheeks flamed.

"You smell heavenly, baby. So wet for me as well, makes me want to taste you."

You bite your bottom lip, nodding urgently as you tug him closer and he clicks his tongue.

"Hermosa, I need your words."

"Please darling? I'll be nice I swear, eat me out please."

Miguel doesn't need to be told twice, dipping his tongue onto your dripping folds. Your back arched at the sensation, after months of no intimacy following the change in your husband, your arousal lit your nerve endings ablaze.

His left hand that was digging into your flesh then reached to splay itself onto your abdomen, pinning you to the mattress as his tongue flicked your clit with a firm pace.

With every flicker of his appendage, hot pleasure rockets into your stomach, body growing feverish as pressure builds up inside your abdomen.

As if sensing your orgasm from the hitch of your breath alone, his right arm unwinds from your thigh to trail down to your fluttering entrance, caressing the rim so sweetly it hurts.

"Miguel please."

He ignored you, focusing on suckling on your clit with a reawakened fervor. You tugged onto his hair, hard enough for it to hurt, for him to listen to your pleas yet he only grunted, sending ample vibrations to quake your bones.

"Beg for it nicely, cariño. I want to hear you beg for me."

"I want your fingers in me, please! Miguel, baby, I want to feel you in me, please."

He groaned, it rumbled in his chest before sending shockwaves down your spine. Then he shoved two of his thick fingers inside you and you jerked. The burn of being breached got your blood buzzing as it mixed with the pleasure his tongue gave you.

If your husband was gentle with his fingers, inserting them one by one with utmost care, Miguel is everything he stands against.

His fingers immediately found a punishing pace, plunging in and out of you whilst curling up to touch the spongy spot in your walls. Encouraged by his digits, his tongue grew frantic as it sucked and flicked your clit rapidly, driving you closer and closer to your precipice. You opened your mouth to scream but it was caught short by his other hand clamping over your lips.

"Calladita, you're going to wake Gabriella up."

Miguel's gaze burns your face as he brings you pleasure atop pleasure with every thrust and lick .

To see your eyes roll back and your chest rise as you arch, the greedy monster claws at his neck, wanting for more reactions.

Bet her husband had also made her this way...

An ugly head reared out of the back of his brain, whispering taunts into his ears and reaching around with its rotten hands to blind his eyes.

With the bitter realization, his fingers pistoned in and out of you with a punishing pace, the heel of his palm slamming into your engorged clit as a pathetic wet squelch echoed in the room. The sudden change in pace got you writhing, your mewls muffled by his hand.

"So fucking wet for me, hermosa. Tell me, do you get this turned on for your husband?"

You didn't respond and that seemed to anger him, pulling his fingers out and cutting off the intoxicating thrum of heat in your veins and you whined, displeased. Hearing this, he brought his hand down for a firm slap onto your clit.

"Fuck…"

"You don't get to react, mi amor."

He sat up, pushing down his sweatpants along with his boxers and his erection stands, slapping against his stomach. Your eyes immediately caught the dribbles of pre-cum pulsing out of his tip and your tongue grew heavy, hand reaching out to grab onto his dick.

Miguel, in more ways than one, is bigger than your husband. Your hand barely closed up around his length and dread loomed over you. He's about to ruin you, mind and body, with this dick.

Fuck, will this fit in me?

"You're so big."

He chuckled darkly, fingers pinching your chin. "No, your husband's just lacking, hermosa."

You should've been angered by his comment but you couldn't find it in yourself to reprimand him for it. Instead, you find yourself flustered at his confidence.

"On your knees."

As if hypnotized, you followed despite the disappointment rumbling inside you for not being able to pleasure him.

You pushed yourself off of the mattress to turn but he was quicker, ever the impatient man that he is, his large hand splayed between your shoulder blades and pinned you to the cushion, forcing you to present your ass up at him.

"Darling? I really don't think it'll fit."

A resonating slap echoed in the room as he swatted your ass and you whimpered, body lurching away before strong arms dragged you back under him.

"You can and you will. I will make sure of it."

His cockhead poked your entrance and a thrill slithered down your spine. You looked down to your pussy, watching with rapt attention as he dragged himself up and down your folds.

The sight of his disheveled self with his head thrown back and mouth agape to let out groans made you shiver. How could someone look so attractive?

Miguel soon pushed in, the head of his dick immediately lodging into your small hole, stretching you wide as he slowly inserted more of his inches. The sting it brought got you gasping and grabbing tight onto the sheets, already feeling full to the brim with barely half of him in.

"Fuck, you're so tight for me. Pobrecita… your husband must've never fucked you wide open before."

Just when you thought it was done, he continued to push more of him. Your head grows light, pleasure shocking all your nerve endings awake from your legs and to the tip of your toes.

He didn't even let you rest, already pulling back and you almost shot up to grab him, scared he'd leave you hanging but Miguel left his cockhead in before thrusting all of his inches back in with one fluid motion and your mouth fell agape.

"Fuck…! Miguel please!"

"What a greedy girl. Don't worry baby, I'll treat you well tonight."

If his slow thrust already had your mind fuzzy from the pain of the stretch and pleasure, his callous and frenzied pace got you praying as he released shockwaves after shockwaves of bliss to shatter your bones and down to your trembling legs.

You barely had the mind to bite onto the sheet to muffle your cry as he drove manically behind you.

Seeing this, Miguel grew displeased. Despite knowing the reason for your actions, he wanted to hear how well he fucks you. It was childish trying to outdo someone he'd never encounter again but his pride is bruised.

That fucker got the chance to devour and have you pliant and panting under him for decades while he withered back in his lab trying to get rid of his unwanted addiction.

The bastard has ingrained himself into your body for years and he can't have that.

There should only be one man you should think about at night and be reminded of when you sit to feel the soreness rendering your lower body boneless.

"I'm gonna install noise suppressors in our room tomorrow then you'd be free to scream my name whenever you like, mi vida. You know how I love it when you cry for me."

You didn't say anything but instead nodded frantically. Fire licked every inch of your skin as the familiar tightness in your abdomen appeared, lightning shooting up your spine with every savage thrusts.

There was nothing else you could think of, focused on reaching your deserved nirvana and desperately shaking your hips to meet his thrust. Seeing how fucked and blissed out you were, Miguel groaned before swatting the globes of your ass, pulling a mewl from you.

"Look at you, so cock drunk for me. So beautiful… It makes me wanna tease you a little."

Feeling your orgasm being torn away as he slows, you whine and reach back to grab his hips, forcing him to piston in and out of you with a mewl. Miguel watched you with heavy lidded eyes, he has never seen such a sinful yet delicious sight until now.

If there was a scene he could ingrain into the back of his eyelids, this would be it.

You, so desperate for a release and trying to chase it when he refused to. Eyes glazed with tears of frustration as you gave up trying to control his hips and bucked your hips like a madwoman into his dick.

There's no such thing as guilt when he got to witness you in such a vulnerable state, only gratefulness.

"Mi cielo, please! Move, I want to come so bad please…!"

He had a different plan for the evening but if you begged so sweetly like that, there's nothing he wouldn't give you.

A house, a new ring with the biggest gemstone you love, the world, the universe or something as simple as a climax becomes acquirable if you want them so badly, he'd give it all to you.

"Anything for you, cariño."

Despite the callousness of his touch driven with wanderlust and desperation to the point of passionate worshiping, Miguel differs from your husband by being love-starved and his brimming confidence in pleasing you a hundred ways before tomorrow without breaking a sweat.

A welcomed and fresh change nonetheless, the difference only led you to fall deeper in love with him.

He drove his dick back into you with a fresh yet ravenous pace, pulling back till his cockhead remains before plunging all of himself in. Miguel's nails dug deep into your flesh enough to make you fear for a permanent dent in them.

Your skin flared as the coil in your stomach reawakened, tightening further and further with every thrust. The warmth is maddening yet deliciously addictive as it lashes out, wrapping around your swelling heart.

"Let me come please? I want it please…! Ah!"

He leant down while his hand reached down to roll your clit in tight eights, decreasing his pace yet hitting deeper as he swept the hair behind your ear before tugging it hard.

"Give it to me, mi vida. I want it all, come around me."

With his proximity and whispered command, there was nothing else you could do but burst.

Ecstasy easily drowns you as it floods your senses, white hot pleasure exploding behind your eyelids as you screamed into the sheets. Your orgasm rippled through you, shimmying under your skin and turning your limbs useless as they grew light.

There's nothing else you could call what you were feeling except 'heavenly'.

With the constant pulse of your velvet walls clamping down on him, Miguel soon followed with a deep resonating groan to his annoyance, painting your insides white with his liquid arousal.

It was a wonder he lasted this long after having only his hands to entertain him for years in the laboratory and spider hub. Nonetheless, he has his life to spend with you, years where he could discover and evoke your deepest desires.

Placing gentle kisses on your shoulders, he grinned. "Te amo cariño."

"I love you more…" You mumbled back, exhaustion weighing your eyelids. You barely picked up his clicking tongue before he spoke up, sounding determined as if it was set in stone.

"No sleeping, mi vida. We're not done yet, I have months to make up, no?"

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #marvel fics #marvel smut #spiderman smut #spiderman fics #astv miguel #astv fanfic

6K notes · View notes

theprettynosferatu · 1 year

Text

Bimbofy!

Aren't bimbos fun? Aren't they always so happy, so carefree, so slutty and unashamed? Well, you can be a bimbo too!

I know, I know. Maybe you don't want to be a blonde barbie airhead. But that's the beauty of the bimbo! Whoever you are, whatever your style, you can bimbofy it! Being a bimbo is being happy and fulfilled. No stress. No anxiety. Just the purity of unabashed, slutty joy. And you deserve that!

Hard work at the office? Bimbofy your job!

You can be that girl that winks when she notices a coworker staring at her tits! You can be that girl that always brights up the room and gives people something nice to look at!

After all, keeping morale up is important, isn't it?

Are you the outdoors type? Bimbofy it!

You can be a sweet, slutty, country peach! Wouldn't you be the belle of the ball every time you go into town? And anyone could be the lucky person you take under the trees!

Love gaming? Bimbofy it! Gamer girls are all the rage now!

Besides, what better than to ask a man to help you in the game and make him feel so important and valued?

Not to mention you probably have a camera already! You can show off and get all the attention!

Into darker stuff? Bimbofy it!

After all, who doesn't want a sexy goth being a complete slut for them? So what if you like metal more than pop? You can get used with the heaviest riffs in the background!

And metal concerts do have such nice bathrooms to kneel in...

Maybe you want something more traditional? Bimbofy your house life!

What better than being a good little slut for your husband and give him a blow job while the food gets ready? Why not send him pics as you clean wearing your high heels?

Happy wife, happy life... and bimbos are super happy!

Wild party girl? Bimbofy your night life!

Why not be the reason a whole lot of men feel like they won the lottery? Why think of anything but dancing and teasing and getting railed in the dark corners of the club? You can be so fun, drinking and being groped and passed around under a table!

So remember: bimbo is a state of mind! No matter who you are, being a bimbo is only a choice away! And doesn't it feel like the fun choice?

Did you enjoy this text? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

3K notes · View notes

golden-cherry · 2 months

Text

deal - cl16 (36/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Lets get drunk part two - with new opportunities.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: hah. you thought you'd seen the last of me. feedback is appreciated!

"Okay," says Charles and sits back down next to you on the sun bed. He sets the basket down between you, with the necks of various bottles sticking out of it. "Are you more of a vodka girl or a tequila girl?" He pulls out two bottles and holds them out to you.

You examine the bottles before raising your hands. "Neither, to be honest." You carefully pull the basket towards you and take a look inside. Your hands turn the containers slowly so you can read the labels better, and when a bottle catches your eye, you grin at your roommate. "Here."

Charles takes the bottle you hold out to him. "Peach?" He looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "Quite summery."

You shrug your shoulders. "You promised to take me with you next summer so I could go swimming in the sea. I just want to prepare myself properly."

A smile spreads across his face. "Touché. All right." He reaches into the basket and fishes out two small shot glasses. He places them at the head of the sun bed to fill them with the peach liqueur. "You'll love it here during the summer. The sun is blazing, the sea is cold and the days are long." He carefully slides a glass over to you so that the contents don't spill over the rim. "It's like paradise."

You nod gratefully at him. "So now you definitely don't have a choice."

He looks at you, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," you sit up straight and pick up the shot glass. "You talked me up about the boat and summer at sea so much that you definitely have to bring me here next year." You grin at him. "So you have no choice but to take me with you."

"Oh no." He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance and reaches for his glass as well. "So I guess I can't get rid of you at all, huh?"

You shake your head excessively. "No fucking way. You definitely won't get me off this boat in the summer. And the deal about us sharing the apartment is on anyway." You tilt your head. "Even if you really tried, you wouldn't get rid of me that easily." You hold out your arm so he can clink glasses with you.

He looks you in the eye. There's a sparkle in his green ones as he knocks his glass against yours. "Thank God."

The peach liqueur tastes indescribably good and the longer you lie on the sun bed looking at the glowing Monaco in front of you, the more you drink of it. The stars above you twinkle and although it's getting colder, you're nice and warm. Whether it's the alcohol or Charles' laughter, you don't know.

"You've met Arthur yourself," he says as you have to press your face into the pillow to stop your laughter echoing across the ocean. "I swear, his April Fool's jokes are the worst! And you never see them coming!"

You giggle into your pillow. "Tell me you didn't fall for it." Hesitantly, you peek over the hem of the pillow to see Charles' blushing face. You quickly push it back into your face and laugh. "Oh, Charles!"

Your roommate grabs his own pillow and hits yours with it. "Don't laugh at me! You'll be affected soon enough! And then I'm not going to be the one to rescue you."

As you slowly calm down and wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes, you put the pillow back behind your head and look at him. "Trust me - by then Arthur will like me enough that we'll form an alliance. Then he certainly won't play any tricks on me."

Charles looks at you, dumbfounded. "Excuse me? I thought you and I were friends! You're supposed to stand on my side!" With a shake of his head, he reaches for the peach liqueur and refills your glasses.

You grin at him. "I don't form alliances with people who fall for stupid pranks like that."

He pushes your glass over to you. "All traitors." He shakes his head again. "I thought at least I had you on my side."

You raise your glass to your lips. "I'm always on your side, Charles. You're my best friend," you assure him, although the sentence leaves a nasty taste in your mouth. You wash it down with the liqueur. "But I'm not going to let Arthur take the piss just to make you feel better."

"You're a great best friend," he says and pours the liqueur into his mouth. "Just you wait and see. I won't save you if my brother does decide to play an April Fool's joke on you."

"You wouldn't dare," you reply with a grin. "Your mom would give you hell if she knew you were abandoning me." You grab the liqueur and fill your glasses again. "After all, she likes me better than you."

Charles watches you fill his glass to the brim. He presses his tongue into your cheek before licking his teeth. "I wish you were wrong." He holds out his arm for you to clink glasses with him. "Here's to my family liking you better than me."

You try to suppress your grin. "Don't worry, Charlie. I like you all the more for it," the alcohol speaks out of you and when you hear what you're saying, the blood rushes to your face. You quickly clink your glass against his and drink the liqueur so you don't have to look at the Monegasque in front of you.

As he puts his empty glass down, he grins at you. "'Charlie'? You're really going to give me a nickname?"

You roll your eyes and run your fingers through your hair so he doesn't notice your nervousness. "Don't worry," you try to play it down. Thank goodness he can't hear your rapid heartbeat. "I only use it when it's just us."

When you look at Charles again, he smiles at you softly. "I like the name," he assures you. "And if it stays your little secret and mine, I like it even more. It belongs only to you. Only you can call me that."

You smile at him before leaning back into your pillow and looking up at the stars. The night is clear, there isn't a single cloud in the night sky and the sea breeze on your face cools your alcohol-warmed skin pleasantly. You feel Charles lie down as well.

"Do you want to spend the night at my mother's tomorrow?" he asks quietly. When you turn your head in his direction, he's already looking at you. "I usually spend the night there. Maman always gets delicious wine and when we all get together, the evening gets pretty long." When you raise an eyebrow with a smile, he continues. "And there are plenty of rooms in the house. You're welcome to choose one of them. I'd hate to go back home for Christmas," he adds. "Especially because my mom would be alone and -"

"Charlie," you interrupt him. "We can spend the night at your mom's. There's nothing wrong with that." You wink at him. "Besides, I want to have a drink with Arthur and then I definitely can't go home."

He exhales with relief. "Very good." He turns his head forward and looks up at the stars too. "It's going to be a nice evening. My maman cooks delicious food and then we always play something. It's usually Uno or charades. You've heard how Monopoly turns out for us."

You have to giggle. "I would really like to play Monopoly with you," you admit quietly. "And I would never steal money from the bank either."

Charles exhales. "I'll take your word for that. But Arthur is more cunning than you think. He would steal money from the bank and make it look like it was you. You definitely don't want to play Monopoly with him."

You shrug your shoulders. "Then again, maybe I'm smarter than you give me credit for." You look up at the night sky again. "Maybe I can outsmart Arthur and win."

Your roommate laughs out loud. "Then you'd have to get past me first. And I'm certainly not going to let you win just like that. Not after you said you'd team up with my brother and not stand by me when he pulls his April Fool's pranks."

Offended, you reach behind your head for your pillow to smash it into his face, but Charles is quicker and snatches the pillow out of your hand before you can hit him with it. "You suck, Charlie."

"You love me. Just admit it," he grins and hesitantly gives you your pillow back, risking being exposed to your attack again.

But you merely wrap your arms around the pillow and hug it to your chest. Even through the feathers inside, you can feel how fast your heart is beating.

"Of course," you try to play down the swirling feelings inside you and hope that he doesn't notice the trembling in your voice. Or the truth in your words. "I'll still try to beat you at Monopoly. Or Uno. Or charades." Offended, you lie back on your pillow and cross your arms in front of your chest.

Charles sits up again and refills your shot glasses. He pushes it towards you like a peace offering. "Maybe I'll let you win," he smiles as you look at him. "After all, Christmas is the festival of love and I -" he continues, but is interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.

You look at him in confusion. You'd love to know how he would have finished the sentence. "You have reception out here?" you ask him as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket.

The Monegasque shakes his head and shows you his phone screen. "I had set an alarm clock."

You raise an eyebrow. "For what?"

He points to the time with his finger. It's midnight and therefore officially Christmas. He looks at you with a grin. "I have a Christmas present for you."

As he gets up from the sun bed and staggers onto the wood of the deck, you look at him indignantly. "No way," you reply, annoyed. "If I can't give you a present, then you can't give me one either."

"Calm down, mon ami," he says, swaying slightly from left to right as he circles you. The alcohol seems to have hit him hard too. "I'll be right back." Without another word, he disappears into the interior of the yacht, leaving you on the sun bed.

Annoyed, you sit up.

The fact that you're not allowed to give him a present has almost ruined your friendship. Just the memory of his words that he wants nothing from you but your friendship sends a cold shiver down your spine. You would love to tell him that you want more from him than friendship, that you desire him, that you want him for yourself - that you love him - but no amount of money in the world would make you reveal your feelings to him. If he actually knew how you felt about him, you would certainly lose the only good thing in your life. And you wouldn't risk that under any circumstances.

You run your fingers nervously through your hair. What could he possibly give you? You've never mentioned anything to him that he could possibly buy. And there's no way he'd change his mind in a day and confess his love for you. You'd have to be incredibly naive to believe that.

It's not his fault that he doesn't feel the same way about you as you do about him. It's not his fault that his words have torn your heart apart. And it's not his fault that he can't take your feelings into consideration if you don't tell him about them.

You take a deep breath and smile at him as he rejoins you. In his hand, he holds a brown envelope, which he hands to you as he drops back onto the sun bed next to you. When you look at him uncertainly, he nods at you. "Merry Christmas, mon ami."

Hesitantly, you open the envelope and pull out several pages of paper, held together at the top left corner by a paper clip. You immediately recognize your name on the first page, with Charles written underneath. The rest is written in French, which is why you look at your roommate even more confused than before. "What's this?"

Irritated, he takes the pages from your hand and lets his eyes wander over the letters for a moment before he hits his forehead a little too hard with the palm of his hand. "Shit. I thought they'd printed it out in English," he says, handing the papers back to you. I'm really sorry."

You raise an eyebrow. "And what's this?" Your eyes wander over the paper, trying to identify any of the words, until you unsuccessfully put the papers down in front of you.

"This, mon ami, is an employment contract," he explains with a smile and leans back a little.

"An employment contract?"

" Mh-hmm." He licks his lips once. "Remember when Joris mentioned that he had a new job?"

You nod. Of course you remember.

After you'd been to the place where Charles had been with his father in the past, you both went to Joris' and had lunch there. Joris had told you that he was starting a new job and when you had been there to burn Annika's things, he had talked about it too.

"Well," Charles says hesitantly. "Joris was my personal photographer. And now that he can no longer work for me and accompany me around the world because of his new job, I thought - well - maybe you'd like to be my new photographer. You - um - you don't have a job at the moment and - well - I thought it would be cool if you and I worked together," he babbles in one breath, blood rushing to his cheeks. "You'd travel with me to the Formula 1 races and take photos there, but of course you'd also spend a lot of time with me in private. Which would be a good fit, as you and I live together anyway and the fans loved the photo you took of me at the lookout point. And the one you just took of me turned out great too."

Your breath is stuck in your lungs.

Charles wants you to work for him? That you photograph him so he can post the pictures on Instagram? That you fly around the world with him?

You'd love to throw your arms around his neck with joy, but you just grin at him. "Are you serious?" When he nods, you squeal with excitement. "You're really serious, Charlie? You really want me to work for you?"

"Of course," he admits openly and smiles at you. "You and I are best friends. Why would I want to work with someone else when I have the perfect and best photographer literally sitting right in front of me? I'd be pretty stupid to ask anyone else."

Carefully and with shaky hands, you put the documents back in the envelope. "I - thank you. I don't even know what to say."

"Just say yes." He leans a little to the side so that he can push your full shot glass over to you. "You'll travel around the world with me, get paid incredibly well and spend a lot of time with me. I'll cover the travel expenses, of course. All you have to do is take good photos of me."

You look at him in amazement. "I'm getting paid and you're still covering the travel costs?"

Your flatmate laughs out loud. "Of course! What do you think? Whether I give you more salary so you can pay for your flights and everything yourself, or whether I pay you everything, it's the same in the end."

Heat shoots into your face. "Then at least let me give you money for the rent. Now that I have a job again."

He shakes his head vehemently. "Absolutely not. The money is yours, you can do anything you want with it."

"Except pay the rent," you reply and get his pillow thrown in your face.

"Exactly. Everything except pay the rent," he assures you. "So, what do you say, mon ami? Do you fancy exploring the world with me?"

You nod with a grin. "Definitely." You raise your shot glass. "Thank you, Charlie. That's the best Christmas present I've ever been given."

A blush creeps into his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Really?"

You nod with a smile. "Definitely. I can't thank you enough for that."

The thought of being permanently close to Charles scares you as much as it makes you happy. As his best friend, you're looking forward to spending every minute with him, traveling the world and discovering the most beautiful places. And getting paid for it too.

As the woman who loves him, you're a little worried about what will happen if he meets someone he falls in love with while you're traveling. You don't want to imagine the pain if he gets into a committed relationship with someone and all you can do is stand on the sidelines and watch him be happy. There's no question that he deserves to be happy - but the thought that the person he's falling in love with isn't you makes you feel sick.

You try to suppress the thought and smile bravely at him. "It's absolutely the best present. Thank you so much, Charlie. No one's ever done anything like this for me before."

There is a loving sparkle in his eyes. "I'd do anything for you." Before he picks up his glass as well, he pulls out his cell phone again and taps on it. "Can I post it like this?" he asks you and holds his phone out to you. His screen shows the picture you just took, with a simple caption.

You shrug your shoulders. "I think so. But do you think it's a good idea to post something when you've had so much alcohol?" you ask him with a grin.

"Oh nonsense," he grins at you and taps his phone one last time before activating the keypad lock and putting it back in his pocket. "I only have good ideas when I'm drunk." He reaches for his shot glass and holds it out to you so you can clink glasses. "I'm glad you said yes. I can hardly wait."

"Me neither," you reply with a smile.

He takes a deep breath before his eyes search yours. He would love to put the glasses aside, pull you onto his lap and kiss you until you can't breathe, until the sun rises, until the world ends. But that's just the alcohol whispering to him, he thinks.

He knocks his glass against yours. "Here's to us."

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and others tagged: yourusername charles_leclerc: ma mère approuve

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc cute #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic

562 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 4 months

Text

Chasing Cars | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: a power outage, Jungkook being a menace as per always, getting stood up for Valentine's Day, falling on a patch of ice, alcohol, curses, peach, OC gets a little jealous, explicit content: teasing?, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, sex toy (vibrator), male and female masturbation, praising, cum play (don't be stupid), fingering

☆word count: 13.2k

☆a/n: this is like one of my fav chapters in this whole series, and also the one inspired by jungkook's iconic live with the candle and the white dress shirt and oof :') hope you enjoy it!! Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, February 14th

Sometimes, the universe aligns to create such a shitty day that you think your life is a joke. A cruel joke, and you’re just the sitcom character that people use to make themselves feel better.

Today has been one of those days. You woke up late, somehow not hearing your alarm, and got to your midterm so late you didn’t have time to finish. At least you were confident in the answers that you did write down, so you think there’s a chance you’ll still pass.

Then, you forgot your student ID, and the lady at the cafeteria refused to let you eat even though she’s seen you almost every day of the semester so far. Nabi offered you some of her salad, but you felt bad and barely ate.

Then the rain started – freezing rain at that – and you had to run to the other building for your genetics class, ending with your hair half frozen and the knowledge that you’re going to get sick by tomorrow.

Genetics class in and of itself is fine. Your stomach gurgling all through the class isn’t, and you’ve noticed people looking at you where you’re sitting, every time your stomach thinks it’s a whale and it needs to sing to its fellow mates.

During break, someone offers you a protein bar, and you take it with cheeks burning, thanking them profusely. Though you hate the taste of protein bars, and you struggle to finish it without puking on the desk. You power through, and then the class resumes, and you try to focus. It’s hard, and when you receive a text from Hoseok, you stop pretending that you’re listening.

[2:47 pm] Hobi: have u seen the weather outside? [2:47 pm] You: yeah it’s trash. I think I’m still half frozen [2:49 pm] Hobi: don’t have power at my place anymore [2:50 pm] Hobi: and it looks dangerous to drive

You know exactly what’s coming. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise – you don’t know why you agreed to meet up on Valentine’s Day. Yet, you’ve been looking forward to it all day, perhaps because it’s been so shit even hanging out with Hoseok on this day of celebration of love seemed better.

[2:50 pm] Hobi: any chance I can get a raincheck?

You want to bash your head on the desk, and of course, the professor chooses this exact moment to call you out for being on your phone. You flush a deep red, mumbling an apology as you put your phone face down on the desk. Everyone’s looking at you, and from where you’re sitting at the back of the class you can see that half the people aren’t even taking notes. You think they’re full of shit for glaring at you, but you can’t help the way you turn crimson, and Nabi stifles a laugh next to you.

“Shut up,” you whisper through gritted teeth, elbowing her in the ribs.

She shrugs innocently, and then her eyes slide back to the professor as he resumes the class. Not wanting to risk it, you focus too, and it seems the shame is what you need to finally concentrate because you find yourself typing away on the computer, describing the pictures in the PowerPoint slides so you can understand them later.

The lights go out five minutes before the end of the class. The projector shuts down in time, a clear indication that the college has run out of power too – something that rarely ever happens unless it’s the end of the world outside.

There’s a series of gasps, and the professor looks so jaded at the front of the class that you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made of the actual precious stone. He looks towards the door, where you can see that the light has also gone out in the hallway.

Without even a glance at the class, he slams his laptop shut, heaving out a sigh.

“Class dismissed for today, we don’t have enough time left to wait for the power to come back on.”

It doesn’t even take half a second before everyone is starting to put their stuff away, the class suddenly overcome with a cacophony of sounds, and Nabi turns to you.

“Who were you texting during class?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up.” You put your laptop in your bag, chugging the rest of your water bottle before you stuff it next to the laptop. “Hobi cancelled on me.”

Of course the whole friend group now knows about you two. You have Hoseok to blame for that, and his incredibly good idea to have sex at a party last week, where Yoongi walked in on the two of you. You’ve never seen Yoongi look more uncomfortable before in your life and, to your surprise, he’s been teased about the situation a lot more than you or Hoseok. It’s still a relief because you were afraid the friend group would go to shit if people knew, but now it seems it’s only solidified it even more.

“Bruh,” Nabi lets out. “Why?”

You motion to the dead neon lights over your heads. “The weather. He doesn’t have power anymore.”

“Shit.” You finish packing your stuff and you’re walking out of the class when she continues, “That’s wild though, didn’t think the freezing rain would hit that bad.”

A girl in front of you turns as if summoned. “They’re saying it’s going to be the worst storm of the century.” She points her phone towards you and Nabi, screen first. “Look, tons of trees have already fallen.”

Your eyes widen, because indeed she’s showing a picture from a group chat, of a tree having fallen on someone’s poor car. You wince in time with Nabi.

“RIP to whoever’s car that is,” you answer.

The girl nods, a wistful expression taking over her features. “That would be my boyfriend’s.”

You don’t talk more after that, and she jogs to join her friends closer to the stairs. You take that as an opportunity to finally reply to Hoseok, grabbing your phone out of the pocket of your coat.

[3:59 pm] You: power even went out in college so yeah, np!

Hoseok is quicker to reply than you’ve expected, saying that he’d like to meet up some time this weekend if you can. You don’t promise him anything, though you don’t really have plans as of right now.

You’ve just got a feeling that, if the storm is going to be the storm of the century, you won’t be hanging out for at least a few days. And the moment you step outside, you realize that it might even take more than a few days.

Trees have fallen everywhere. The sidewalk is entirely iced, and just by the time you’ve made it to the bus stop in front of the building, you’ve seen a car accident, both cars unable to stop at a stop sign. You figure taking the bus would be dangerous right now, and you settle on aiming for the pedestrian trail that leads to a park near your apartment, while Nabi parts to head towards the dorm, where apparently the power is still on. She tells you to let her know if you have power at home, and then you turn to head towards home, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

At least it’s not raining heavily as you walk. It’s the only positive thing in your day, and you hold onto your phone, sending a text to Taehyung to inform him of the situation.

You’re two minutes from home when you slip on a slab of ice, and you fall in a puddle of mud that stains your pale pants. You don’t even know how there can be mud when everything else is frozen, but of course, you had to fall in it. You assess yourself for a second, making sure nothing hurts too bad and then you mutter, “Of fucking course.”

You don’t even feel like getting up. If it wasn’t for the fact that the mud in which you’re sitting is freezing, you think you’d sit there until you died. You feel drained, and the weight of the day finally hits you head-on, bringing tears to your eyes.

Or maybe it’s just the embarrassment of walking home with your favourite pair of pants ruined. You don’t even know anymore; too much has happened in just a few hours for your brain to accept to be working anymore. You angrily blink the tears away, knowing you’ll break down the second you step inside your own home.

You can only hope that Jungkook is not going to be there. You hold onto that hope as you get to the building, and when you see the lights are out, the tears win against you. You carefully walk up the stairs – even they are covered in a thick sheet of ice – and surprisingly, you make it to the top unscathed.

You try to unlock the door with shaky fingers, struggling to find the hole through the blurriness of your tears, and you almost consider breaking the door down when it suddenly swings open in front of you.

“Peach?”

You’re aware that you’ve got fat tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re aware that you probably look a mess – you are a mess – but all you can do is stare at Jungkook.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, voice laced with concern as he steps aside to let you in.

You put your bag down, shrugging as he shuts the door behind him carefully, eyeing you as if you’re a specimen of a rare animal that’s going to run if he startles it. You refuse to meet his gaze, refuse to speak lest you embarrass yourself with crying even more. All you do is angrily wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” he says, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

You motion around. “What’s wrong?” You scoff, and out of spite, you force down the wave of tears that is threatening to meet the ones you’ve just dried on your cheeks. “Everything is fucking wrong.”

You glance at Jungkook, and he’s just watching, eyes widened. He seems startled by your outburst, and you think you see him gulp.

“Do you…” he trails off, glancing at the door. You only then realize that he’s clad in his winter coat, and he was probably on his way out when you arrived. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head no, hating yourself for the way your bottom lip trembles.

His hand is still on your shoulder, and it slowly slides to your arm. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asks.

He’s only then realized that you’re half-covered in mud.

“I fell on a patch of ice,” you answer.

He makes you turn, assessing the damage. “If you soak your pants in water, I can get the stain out.”

“There’s no power.”

He turns you back around, offering you a small smile as he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Astute.”

You want to punch him so bad, but what you do is laugh, which makes you think you’ve gone crazy.

“Water still runs, though,” he points out. “I’ll take care of it when the power comes back on. Doesn’t even need to be warm. You can save what’s left of the hot water for a shower if you want?”

He says it like a question, and you shrug your shoulders. A new tear rolls on your cheek, and to your surprise, Jungkook dries it with his thumb. He then points to your shoes.

“Take these off. You’re going to take a shower before the neighbours steal the water.”

“I don’t…” you trail off, as he’s just staring at you as if what you were going to say was going to be the stupidest shit he’s ever heard. As much as you want to hate him right now, the way his hand feels on your arm is making the anxiety lessen, until you realize that it’s going to be okay.

You can head to Ria and Nabi’s dorm right after a quick shower.

“M’kay,” you finally accept. “But you can go, you don’t have to stay.”

He shrugs, and when he lets go of your arm, you almost want to grab his hand and put it back there. “I was just going to charge my phone in my car. It can wait.”

You hold his gaze, feeling swallowed by his big doe eyes. It finishes drying the tears on your waterline, and you take a deep steadying breath. “M’kay,” you repeat.

At that he smirks, nodding his head once. He kicks off his shoes as you carefully take yours off, and then he makes grabby hands at you.

“What?” you ask.

“Your coat,” he answers. “I’ll put it in the closet for you.”

You slightly frown. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to be nice?” When you remain silent, he chuckles. “You think I’m just going to let my best friend’s sister cry when she gets home?”

The words hurt, even though they’re just a statement of what you are to him. “You’re so random.”

He looks somehow offended. “Just give me your coat, peach.” He’s stern, and you have half a thought to mimic him, but you resist. When you hand him the coat, he offers you a grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Once again you surprise yourself by laughing, and the grin on his lips softens in a way that makes you warm inside.

“You’re annoying,” you whine.

He shrugs as he opens the closet. “Just go take a quick shower. Make sure to soak the pants too.”

“Yes, mom.”

He chokes on a snort. “Oof, no, don’t call me mom.”

You stifle a laugh, but a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. He faces you again, and you startle as he pinches your cheek. You push him off, as all he does is offer you a wide grin that makes dimples appear on his cheeks.

You’ve never really seen those dimples before, not while he’s smiling. You have to force yourself to look away, and as entrancing as they are, you manage to have your gaze drop to a random spot on the floor. “Alright then, I’ll grab my stuff. You can charge your phone while I’m in the shower.”

“All good, I’m at 65%,” he says. “I just checked online, and the power outage will likely last through the night so… figured I didn’t have anything better to do.”

You purse your lips. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence before he motions to the bathroom. “Aren’t you going?”

Your cheeks burn, and you nod once before heading towards your room as he snorts behind you, evidently laughing at you. You ignore him, quickly grabbing a change of clothes and bringing them to the bathroom. Jungkook’s moved to the couch, and to your surprise you see him with a book in hand.

“You read?”

The question is out before you realize, and Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction.

“It’s for a class.”

You nod once. “Right.” You then scrape your throat, glance at the bathroom and then settle your eyes on him again. “I’ll be right back.”

He smiles at you, and it’s the last thing you see before you walk into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind you. Luckily enough, it’s still light enough outside for you to be able to shower without being in the dark, and as Jungkook advertised, there’s still hot water.

You take the fastest shower of your life, not wanting to risk running out of hot water, and then you put your dirty pants in the sink, soaking them in cold water. You put your clean clothes on – nothing impressive, just a pair of black sweatpants with a white t-shirt. You take one look at yourself in the mirror – you look like you’ve gone through hell, but at least you’re refreshed.

With a steadying breath, you walk out of the bathroom, and your eyes immediately find Jungkook where he’s still sitting on the couch, looking like he hasn’t moved an inch. He glances at you before resuming his attention on his book. You feel awkward, yet you still walk in his direction because, frankly, what else is there for you to do when there’s no power?

“What’s the book about?” you enquire.

He raises it for you to see as you sit next to him. He moves too fast, and all you can see is something about trickle-down economy before the book is back in his lap.

“Looks boring.”

He laughs. “It is. Plus, trickle-down economics is bullshit.”

You nod wisely, even though your knowledge in the economy and business field is little to zero. All you know is that trickle-down economics is what rich people use to defend their actions, which immediately makes it so you don’t trust it one bit.

Eat the rich and all that.

“Right,” you let out.

Jungkook throws you a glance. “Feeling better?”

You don’t know how to answer. Because, yes, you feel somehow better now that you are clean and warmed from the shower, but you’re still very aware that the power is out, you’ve likely failed a midterm, and your date was cancelled.

“Sort of,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders. “Today was just a shitshow.”

He says nothing, but his big eyes on you entice you to open up to him, making you feel more at ease than you’ve ever been around him.

Maybe because you just need someone to vent to after all.

“Like… I woke up late this morning,” you tell him. “Arrived so late to my midterm that I couldn’t finish. Then realized that I forgot my wallet here and couldn’t eat lunch. Got stood up for a date tonight, and now no power here? This day has been the worst.”

You sit back on the couch after you’ve finished your tirade, and Jungkook just looks at you curiously. You don’t register you’ve called hanging out with Hoseok a date until Jungkook says, “You had a Valentine’s Day date?”

You shut your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale loudly. “Sort of. Not really a date.”

“How can it not really be a date?”

You entirely miss the teasing in his voice, mostly because you’re appalled at yourself for the slipping. “It’s just… my friend with benefits, so not a date.”

“Damn, peach,” he says, and he bursts out laughing. You crack an eye open, your heart feeling like it’s been stabbed as Jungkook grins at you. “Didn’t think you were one to have a friend with benefits.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and his gaze slides away from you as his brows furrow slightly. “You’re Tae’s sister, and the way he talks about you I just… I don’t know.”

Annoyance creeps into you as you cock an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t listen to what Taehyung says about me. He still thinks I’m twelve.”

Jungkook snorts, and to your surprise, it makes you smile, right as he glances at you.

“Are you not?”

“Yah!” You punch him in the shoulder, and he laughs as he massages the spot. “I’ll have you know I’m an adult.”

His features turn somber, and he plays with his piercing for a time before he answers. “I’m starting to realize it, trust me.”

In the somberness of his eyes, a spark ignites, and you feel as if electricity is running on every inch of your body. You wish it would run into the building instead, bringing the power back on but unfortunately, you’re the only victim, and all you can do is hold his gaze.

The moment stretches until you grow uncomfortable, and your eyes slide to the Switch under the TV, as if it’ll find solace there.

“Anyway,” you say, scraping your throat. “Apparently there’s still power at the dorms so I think I’ll head over there.”

“You’ll abandon me?” he says, faking offence. “Right when I offered to take care of your pants? The nerves on you.”

You roll your eyes as the awkwardness fades to be replaced by the annoyance Jungkook usually brings out of you. “You’re a big boy, you don’t need me.”

“You sure you want to walk all the way there though? What if you fall again?”

You push him as he smiles wickedly, satisfied that he’s annoyed you. “I hate you.”

“You know what you hate even more than me?”

Your brow creases in confusion. “What?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smirk growing on his lips. “You’ll have to stay for me to answer.”

You sigh deeply, folding your arms on your chest. You gauge him, watch as his smirk only widens while you ponder staying here. And you don’t even know why you’re considering it in the first place. There’s just something about being able to talk to Jungkook like this, about being comfortable next to him that makes you want to stay.

“Name a single reason why I should stay,” you finally say.

His smirk turns victorious. “I’ll cook something for you.”

“The power is out,” you feel the need to remind him.

He throws you a no-bullshit look. “Really, peach, you need to find a bit of creativity in your life.”

“What?”

“The stove doesn’t run on electricity, it runs on gas.”

You look up at the ceiling. “How was I supposed to know that, I barely ever cook.”

“I cook!” he bursts, waving the book around. You didn’t realize he was still holding it, and you laugh as the pages flutter around. “And you usually steal my food, so just let me make something for you tonight.”

You purse your lips, meeting his gaze as he looks at you, faking annoyance. “What do you want to cook?”

“I have chicken that I need to cook tonight if I don’t want it to go bad,” he says. “I can make noodles with it.”

It takes you all but two seconds before you realize that there’s no way you’re going to leave when Jungkook is suggesting to cook for you. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” You nod, and Jungkook beams. “You won’t regret it.”

You laugh, slightly shaking your head as he puts the book away and gets up. He offers you his hand, the one with the tattoos on the back of it, and you furrow your brows. “What?”

“Go get changed,” he says, hand still extended between you. “I’ll give you a Valentine’s Day date, but you’re going to have to play the part too.”

Something stops in your chest – your heart, most likely – and you’re hit with the thought that this is a bad idea. That whatever Jungkook means by that is going to be the mistake of the century, yet you still find yourself accepting his extended hand.

He pulls you to your feet, and he doesn’t let go of your hand for a moment, big doe eyes widening slightly as he looks at you.

“You…” you trail off, scraping your throat as you look away from his eyes.

It’s all you can do not to get lost in his gaze.

“I?” he presses, voice low.

“You should dress up too,” you mumble, cheeks burning. “So I’m not alone.”

He lets go of your hand, and your fingers twitch as it falls to your side. When his index finds your chin, you think your blood stops in your veins. He makes you tilt your head back, enough so that you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“I will.” His voice is grave, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to your lips once as they part. “I’m going to make this worth it. You deserve it after such a shit day, don’t you?”

You gulp. “Yeah?”

He pats your cheek. “Yeah, you do.”

And then he’s walking away. You’re left standing there, heart racing in your chest, feeling so warm you think you’re about to catch fire. You watch him disappear into his room, and it’s only when he’s out of sight that you manage to move, making your way to your own room.

You shut the door behind you, resting against it as you take deep breaths to calm down. You’re not sure if it’s doing you any good, because this is Jungkook. Jungkook, with his tattoo sleeve and piercings, your older brother’s best friend. Your roommate, the man that’s been playing with you for weeks, for months, like you’re just some playdough. You think he’s doing it on purpose. He has to – he’s trying to make your life miserable because you’re Taehyung’s sister. You don’t see what else it could be. Because why the fuck would Jungkook act like this with you?

You’re not stupid enough to believe it isn’t your fault. Because you were there the night of The Incident, and you reckon things have changed with Jungkook since that night.

You take a deep, steadying breath before pushing up from the door. No matter what it is that is making Jungkook act like this, you’re still curious to see what he’s preparing for you. Spending time with him like this, with no power and nothing else to do than talk…

Maybe it’s going to help you understand what’s happening in that thick skull of his. So you search for something to wear, something warm since the heating is also down. You settle on brown dress pants that you know make your ass look amazing, and you pair them with a pale beige wool turtleneck. You tuck the shirt in your pants, putting a belt on to make sure it stays in place, and then you take a good look at yourself in your standing mirror. Satisfied with your outfit, you make to move out of your room, but you stop with your hand halfway to the knob.

You can hear Jungkook humming in his room, a soft melody that’s making you think he’s taking a long time in there. Is he actually dressing up? It makes something terribly warm and soft settle in your chest, and you turn back around, grab your makeup pouch and head to your desk.

If this is a date, or whatever it is that Jungkook considers dates to be, you want to look good for it. So you put a little bit of makeup on, trusting your instinct to make it look great even though the light of your small mirror doesn’t turn on since there’s still no power. You hear Jungkook get out of his room before you’re done, and you hope he doesn’t decide to come here.

You doubt he would, but you somehow feel awkward as you’re getting ready. Because he’s your older brother’s best friend, because he’s a college fuckboy, because he’s been making you feel too many things lately – most of them you repress as if your life depends on it. And you think, your life does depend on it. Because nothing can happen between you and Jungkook; you wouldn’t do that to Taehyung. And mostly, you wouldn’t do that to Jungkook, because you know Taehyung would hate him if something did happen.

You sigh. It comes out shakily, a clear indication that you’re growing anxious, and you almost want to laugh at yourself. You want to tell yourself to get a grip, to just play along for things are bound to go back to normality when the power comes back.

You only stop feeling anxious when Taehyung texts you, your phone lighting up where you’ve put it down on your desk.

[5:02 pm] bröther👽: jk texted me the same thing! Glad u won’t be alone tonight [5:02 pm] You: he’s gonna cook dinner [5:03 pm] bröther👽: lmao, jk doesn’t cook for girls, feel lucky

With that you realize that, indeed, you should feel lucky. Because Jungkook can be a friend, if not anything else. It’s reassuring, and you finish getting ready feeling lighter than you’ve felt all day, as if the hell that today was is all forgotten.

You spray some perfume on the inside of your wrists, dabbing it on your neck before you finally declare yourself ready to head out of your room. You hope Jungkook won’t make fun of you – he’d be the kind of guy to make fun of you for this, you just know it – and you make your way to the kitchen, where you can hear him busying himself.

He’s brought his portable speaker out of his room. The one that also has a projector in it, and it shines northern lights on the walls and on the ceiling of the kitchen, giving it a cozy atmosphere. No music is playing as of right now, yet Jungkook is still humming, voice low yet melodious.

You rarely hear him sing, but anytime you do, you feel like your ears are blessed by an angel.

He reappears from where he was hidden in the fridge, and his mouth falls open as he catches sight of you.

He’s wearing a white dress shirt. You think it’s made of linen – it doesn’t look particularly fancy. Yet the way he’s rolled it on his forearms is weirdly attractive, even though he’s only wearing grey sweatpants with it. It’s a look, a look you think only he can pull off. He’s taken the time to style his hair back, and he’s put on earrings you’ve only seen him wear a couple of times during parties.

He eyes you up and down, his doe eyes crinkling in appreciation. “You look good, peach.”

The compliment makes you blush, and you offer him a small smile. He echoes it right away, and he holds up a bottle of rosé that you bought two months ago and forgot all about since then.

“Wine?” you let out as you stop in front of him. You feel awkward because, obviously, it’s wine, but you still hold his gaze as he nods.

“It’s yours but…” He shrugs, glancing at the label. “I figured it’d work well with the chicken.”

You nod once. “Sure, we can drink it.”

It makes him happy. You can see it in the way he beams, and then he puts it down on the counter with the rest of the ingredients. When he moves, you catch a whiff of his cologne, and you feel your cheeks burn again. You glance outside – the rain has stopped, but grey clouds are still looming in the sky as the world slowly darkens. You wonder if they’ll go away some time tonight – without the light pollution, you reckon you’d be able to stargaze.

You end up helping Jungkook with the cooking, chopping some vegetables as he takes care of the meat. You’re not particularly hungry, so you take your time, talking about everything and nothing. Jungkook is good at this, you realize. He’s good at changing your mind, at making sure it doesn’t wander back to your midterm and to the rest of your shitty day. He makes you laugh, cracking stupid jokes whenever you do something, smirking at you when you roll your eyes.

Being with him like this also makes you understand why he’s Taehyung’s friend. He feels more natural this way, less fuckboy-ish, and it’s a side of him you’ve never really seen before.

You sit at the kitchen table, sharing a glass of the rosé wine while the food simmers on the stove. Jungkook’s put on an indie music playlist before you started cooking – something you teased him about. Who knew Jeon Jungkook likes indie music?

“How was Tae before college?” Jungkook asks all of a sudden when there’s a lull in the conversation. “He barely talks about high school.”

You know the exact reason why, and her name is Youna. Taehyung’s ex, his high school sweetheart. The one that moved to the other side of the country without ever once looking back.

“He was an idiot,” you answer, and Jungkook laughs. “No, seriously. He dated the same girl all through high school. Was convinced he was going to marry her.”

“That sounds on brand with Tae,” Jungkook says, nodding his head wisely. “He said that about every girl he’s dated in college, but most of them don’t last more than a few weeks.”

You wince. “Remember Hailey from last semester?”

She lasted about three weeks, but she spent most of those at the apartment. It was the only three weeks where Jungkook and you had talked more than just small talk – or his usual teasing. Mostly because you kept complaining about her, and Jungkook kept saying you were cute when you were mad.

Come to think of it, it still was teasing.

“Fuck, her voice,” Jungkook lets out, shaking his head. “I’m sure she was faking having such a high voice. I don’t know how Taehyung could deal with that.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and Jungkook smiles as he watches you. “I swear to God, I was about to kick Tae out of the apartment,” you say. “I’m glad she didn’t last.”

“Agreed.”

There’s another silence as the song switches on Jungkook’s speaker. You take a sip of wine, appreciating the taste, and Jungkook gets up to check the food on the stove. He comes back a moment later, sitting back next to you.

You think he’s closer. He feels closer, and the smell of his cologne fills your nose again.

“You put on some cologne,” you state, and it startles you somehow. You weren’t expecting to say that and, clearly, Jungkook wasn’t expecting it either.

“Yeah.” He looks down at himself as if the cologne is visible on him. “Do you like it?”

You gulp. “Yeah, you smell good.”

He smirks, nodding his head. “You too, peach. I love the vanilla scent.”

You don’t know what to do with the compliment. You mutter a thank you before taking a large sip of wine, and Jungkook chuckles before following your lead.

“Do you think Tae and that girl in France will last?” you ask. “He still hasn’t told me who she is.”

Indeed, he’s remained evasive whenever you’ve asked. You stalked the people that are with him on the semester abroad, and you think two of the girls could be your brother’s type, but it’s hard to tell.

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out. He grabs his phone, resting his forearms on the table as he opens it. He goes on Instagram, and as it loads, he glances at you. “He’s told me. Let me show you.”

“What!” you exclaim. “How come he told you and not me?”

Jungkook chuckles. “No idea. But here.”

He shows you the girl’s profile, and you take his phone as you scroll through the pictures. To your surprise, she’s not one of the two girls you stalked. She looks shy, barely showing her face in her pictures, most of them being of nature anyway. Come to think of it, you do get a romantic vibe from her feed, and you reckon that would work well with Taehyung.

You’re about to give Jungkook his phone back when it vibrates in your hand, a notification appearing at the top.

[6:05 pm] Shelly 💦🍒: are u gonna be here soon?

It’s not your fault that you read it, and your gaze widens as you look up from the device. Jungkook hasn’t noticed, and he smiles at you, seemingly expectant.

“So?” he asks.

“You had a date tonight?”

His mouth falls open. He looks guilty, eyes widening and taking a sheepish expression. He remains silent, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he thinks of what to answer.

You don’t know how to feel. You feel bad for the girl – Shelly – who’s clearly waiting for Jungkook somewhere. You feel bad that he chose to stay with you because you were upset, but mostly you feel strange that he’s doing all of this for you when there’s someone waiting for him.

The emojis next to her name are enough of an explanation of what she is to Jungkook. Still, you feel increasingly uncomfortable, even more so as he says nothing.

“What the fuck, JK?”

“She’s no one,” he says when you get up. “Trust me, I’ve only hung out with her a couple of times.”

You laugh, and it’s somehow void of joy. “Why would I care?”

He looks at the glasses of wine, and then at the food on the stove. “I don’t know… because we’re…” He motions between you, and then at said glasses of wine and food. “I just forgot to tell her I wasn’t going to come over.”

It’s enough of a reminder that Jungkook, for all his current kindness, is a renowned college fuckboy. It reminds you of all the times you’ve heard him fuck – was Shelly one of the girls? You feel disgusted, and you walk out of the kitchen, not wanting to look at Jungkook right now.

“Peach,” he says as he follows you out in the darkness of the living room.

The living room is also strangely cold, and you shiver as you turn towards him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But why are you even reacting like this?”

You scoff. “I don’t know, Jungkook, you tell me.”

You can’t see his expression. But when he takes a step closer to you, you feel the heat of his body radiating in the space between you.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, and you hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” you say, and you scoff again. “I’m weirded out.”

“Because I was going to fuck someone tonight?” It’s his turn to scoff when you remain silent. “Weren’t you going to fuck that dude? Hoseok?”

You don’t know how he remembers Hoseok’s name, but he’s got a point. You wet your lips, tongue poking your cheek next. “Right.”

“Come on, peach, just come back in the kitchen,” he says. He grabs your hand, and your breath gets caught in your throat as he escorts you back to the chair where you were sitting. You begrudgingly follow, and when you’re seated he towers over you.

You tilt your head back. “What?”

He flicks your nose, and you dodge a second too late. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “I wasn’t jealous I was just weirded out.”

He smiles at you wickedly. “Of course, peach. Of course.”

He sounds so cocky you want to hate him, but all you can do is glare at the table. He pushes your wine glass towards you as he sits back next to you and you wordlessly take it to chug it.

“Now that that’s done,” he says once you’ve put it back on the table, “what do you think of Tae’s girl?”

You had all but forgotten why you were holding Jungkook’s phone in the first place. You recall her Instagram to the forefront of your mind, pursing your lips.

“She looks chill,” you answer.

Jungkook pouts. “Just that?”

You shrug. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Well,” Jungkook starts. “For one I can’t believe she’s Tae’s type. She looks nothing like the girls he dated here. Like just think about Hailey?”

You just nod, because in truth you fully agree with him.

“Her Instagram is a vibe though,” Jungkook continues. “Tae is big on vibes so… maybe it works?”

You nod once more, tilting your head to the side as you really think about it. Because frankly you’d like for Taehyung to find someone that lasts. As much as you know he’s been having fun in college, you know his happiness usually lies in a healthy relationship like the one he had with his ex.

“Hopefully it does,” you finally say. “Tae deserves it.”

Jungkook looks at you, somber expression on his features as he plays with his piercing. It makes your heart cease in your chest, and you busy yourself with refilling the wine glasses as he remains silent.

“He does,” Jungkook eventually replies. “He actually really does.”

He sounds so serious you throw him a questioning glance. “Yeah?”

He blinks once, as if stepping out of a daze before flashing his infuriating smirk at you again. “Definitely.”

There’s an awkward silence, and you watch as he takes a sip of wine before getting up to check on the food. He deems it ready, and makes two bowls, one for you and one for him. He sets yours in front of you, a proud smile on his lips.

“Smells good,” you compliment him as he sits.

He winks at you. “Wait till you taste.”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, and you take a tentative bite, holding his gaze as he expectantly waits.

“Shit,” you let out, and you fan your mouth with your hand. “Why is it so spicy?”

“Don’t tell me you’re like your brother and can’t stand spicy food,” he complains as you take a long sip of wine.

You put your wine glass back down, wincing as it clinks against the bowl. It fortunately doesn’t break, and you push it away from the dish as you chuckle. “What’s wrong with not liking spicy food?”

He pouts. “You guys are so weak.”

You fake-glare at him. “This shit is so spicy it would wake the dead.”

He snorts, stifling his laugh until you meet his gaze and you burst out laughing at the same time. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him guffaw like this. His laugh is contagious, pretty, and you’re convinced it can have healing effects.

You’re convinced it has healing effects. Indeed, in that instant, you finally really forget about the day, the heaviness it left behind dwindling into nothingness. It’s replaced with happiness, and chatter with Jungkook becomes easier, more natural.

You realize he smiles a lot. You make him laugh a lot too, and whenever he does you feel your heart flutter in your chest. You don’t like the feeling, know it’s a mistake, but with the wine, all you can do is try to make him laugh some more, and smile whenever he does.

You’re on your first beer after finishing the wine – and the overly spicy food, which Jungkook congratulated you profusely for finishing. You’ve talked about every subject that’s come to your mind so far, none feeling taboo with Jungkook. He eventually tells you about Shelly – she is indeed one of the girls you’ve heard him sleep with – and you laugh as he admits he’s really happy he didn’t have to see her tonight.

You can’t help but snort. “Jeon Jungkook, saying no to sex? I’ve heard everything.”

“Bruh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Is your opinion of me so low you think sex is the most important thing to me?”

His eyes are gleaming with mischief in the light of his speaker, which will apparently run out of battery soon. You both don’t care, and you’ve lit a candle in case it does die. Its sweet fragrance has been chasing the smell of the food away, and it’s been giving the kitchen a homey vibe, even as it’s growing chilly.

“Is it not?” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head at you. “Not at all.”

You throw him a no-bullshit look that makes him frown cutely.

“How long can you go without having sex?” you ask him, holding in a laugh.

He narrows his doe eyes at you. “At least a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? That’s nothing!”

“Yah,” he bursts, and he laughs as you snort. “Peach, just because I have casual sex doesn’t mean I can’t stop if I want to.”

“Then stop,” you challenge him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Give me one reason why I should.”

“To prove a point?”

His eyes narrow further, but if you’ve understood one thing about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he doesn’t step down from a challenge. No, as competitive as he is, you’re pretty sure he’ll do it.

“Peach,” he purrs, and it has something warm form in the pit of your stomach. “Is it really about me proving a point, or is it about you being jealous?”

You choke on the sip of beer you were taking, which only makes him laugh. You think it’s a little condescending, but you know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. You still punch him in the shoulder for it, unable to resist.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask. “Hobi fucks me good.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes and his nose scrunches. He shakes his head once before looking at you again. “I didn’t want to know that.”

You smile as if you’ve never done anything wrong in your whole life. “Your loss.”

He laughs at that, gaze dropping to the table. Silence grows between you, but it’s comfortable, not like what silence with Hoseok feels like. With Hoseok you feel the need to speak whenever there’s a lull in the conversation but, right now, you’re content with just sitting back in your chair, sipping on your beer.

To your surprise, Jungkook starts singing over the song, gaze lost in his own glass of beer. His voice settles deep inside of you, resonating in your soul, and you just look at him, awe clouding your mind.

You’re not sure he’s realized he’s singing. Because when he meets your gaze, he lets out a small laugh. “Why are you looking at me like this?”

“You have a beautiful voice,” you whisper.

It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but you’re pretty sure his cheeks have turned pink. “Nah.”

“No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I often hear you hum and… you sing really well.”

His nose scrunches up again. “Stop it.”

“Just take the compliment,” you say, laughing as he plays with his piercing.

You reckon it might be the first time in your life you’ve ever seen Jeon Jungkook shy. Because he clearly is, and he looks away from you, running his hand through his hair. It undoes the hairstyle, and a strand falls on his forehead.

You’ve never felt such a visceral need to brush your hand through someone’s hair before. You manage to resist, busying yourself with holding your beer instead.

“M’kay,” he lets out. “Thanks, peach.”

His voice is soft. Softer than the fur of a puppy, and it makes the warm thing in you grow. You gulp, wetting your lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance at your mouth, and he looks conflicted for half a second before he smirks again.

“We should have hung out like this before,” he declares.

“Yeah?” is all you can answer.

You feel yourself leaning in. You haven’t even realized how close you’re sitting to him until you’re leaning in. He does too. He leans forward, tilting his head to the side slightly. He looks surprised, even more so when one of your hands finds the back of his neck, pulling him closer until you’ve erased the distance between you.

You both didn’t close your eyes. And you both look startled from your lips touching, so much so that you let go of him, straightening away from him. He, on the other hand, hasn’t moved, and his gaze goes fully serious before he grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer to him again.

This time, when your mouths meet, you shut your eyes, sighing softly as he kisses you. His piercings press into your lower lip, and as his mouth moves against you, you feel the warm thing inside of you grow so big it bursts. It bursts the same way fireworks do – in an explosion of colours that leaves you waiting for more.

He doesn’t disappoint. He tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. His hand on your arm moves up until it rests on your shoulder before he decides better and moves it to the side of your neck. His thumb swipes at your jaw, gently, and it’s his turn to sigh in the kiss.

When his tongue darts out of his mouth, you meet it with your own. For a reason unknown, you expect it to make you both grow horny, but the kiss remains soft, slow like you have all of eternity stretched out in front of you.

Even though it’s languid, even though it’s soft, you grow dizzy, head spinning as you taste the beer in Jungkook’s mouth. As his hand moves to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. You rest one hand on his chest, right above his heart, and you feel the organ racing under your fingers. It makes you grab a handful of fabric as if that will anchor you in the present.

As if that will make you forget that you’re kissing your brother’s best friend.

It does, though you reckon it might be the way Jungkook shifts in his chair, moving so that you can straddle him. And he pulls you in, softly, tugging on your arm until you let go of the shirt and drape it over his shoulder. You sit on him, legs on each side of him, your toes barely even touching the floor. Still, your mouths move in unison, his lips petal soft against yours.

Your other arm circles his neck too, until you’re holding him against you. His large hands land on your waist, gently, and his thumbs stroke you, barely even grazing you over the thick fabric of your wool turtleneck.

You don’t know how long you kiss. It just seems like you both don’t want to stop, like you both know the moment you stop will be a wake-up call, one you’d rather avoid while you get stuck in this bubble of eternity with him. The fireworks keep on shining bright, warm summer sun blooming in your heart as if this, this was always meant to be.

Oxygen is futile when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. Not needed, as if he breathes air into your lungs. You think he does, and you sigh once more as your hands get lost in the hair on the back of his head.

The next swipe of his tongue is sharper, carries more intent, and you both startle, finally parting from each other. Though you remain a hairsbreadth away, longing for his lips the moment your mouths aren’t connected anymore.

Immobile, you breathe in shakily, and you hear him do it too. He’s still stroking you, gently, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in. You rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in the clean laundry smell of his shirt, along with the scent of his cologne as you turn your face towards his neck.

The moment stretches some more, as you listen to the music. His grip around you loosens as you press a soft kiss on the mole you’ve discovered on his neck. He pushes you back, gently, until your back is against the table. Your gazes meet then, and you wonder if his eyes always shine like this. Do they always hold the light of the universe in them, or did you set fire to his gaze?

He gulps and his mouth falls open. His pupils fill with something you can’t quite put your finger on, yet it has clouds taking over the summer sun in your heart until the beating organ goes cold.

“Now you’ve had a fake Valentine’s Day kiss,” he murmurs, and the fireworks burst into a void that tastes like ash as you interpret his gaze.

He’s regretting this. It takes over all of his features, turning his big doe eyes into hearths of remorse. It finishes dousing the sun in your heart until the star goes to sleep, and all that’s left is the echoes of what once was.

“Fake?” is all you manage to let out.

He shuts his eyes, eyelids fluttering close softly. He looks like an angel repenting as he rests his forehead against yours, forcing your own eyes shut from the proximity.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he reminds you, reality sinking into his words.

You nod against him before pulling away. You try to get up, but his hands on your waist hold you in place.

“Let me go,” you whisper.

He does so, albeit reluctantly, arms falling to his sides in a defeated manner. You try to not let yourself think about it too much, try to forget what just happened as you stand up, moving away from him.

Without his body heat you shiver, and you hate yourself for the next words you say.

“We should share a room tonight. It’s going to be cold.”

His eyes shoot open as he turns his head towards you, surprise replacing the reality. As if he thought he ruined everything, and you think maybe he did. Maybe he did ruin everything, but you don’t even want to be thinking about it right now. You just want to go to sleep, to let the night pass.

Maybe the insanity will go with it.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.”

Jungkook slowly gets up, facing you. You gulp as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, hand going to your chin again. He leans in, forcing you to tilt your head back until his lips find yours again.

It lasts a fraction of a second, yet it leaves you scrambling for breath as he takes a step back. He nods as you meet his gaze, an eyebrow cocked in question.

“We can sleep in your room,” he says. “It’s smaller, it’s going to be easier to keep it warm.”

Right as he finishes his sentence the battery of his speaker dies, and silence surrounds you as the northern lights go to sleep. The light flickers in time with the flame of the candle, and you glance at it.

“Sounds good,” you agree, and you wet your lips as you look at him again. His big doe eyes still shine even with just the candlelight, and you wish the world was different. Wish that he wasn’t Tae’s friend, that you could just grab him and have him kiss you stupid again. But he’s right. You shouldn’t be doing this.

Sharing a bed is only practical. Only because it’s cold, and you have to survive the night. A voice at the very back of your mind tells you that you could head over to the dorms, but you don’t want to.

You want to remain here, in this instant outside of the linear timeline of your life.

“Maybe you should get your bed covers?” you suggest. “So we don’t get cold.”

He smiles, so far from his usual smirk and grin that you feel a pang in your chest. “Yeah. Yes, that’s a good idea.”

All of five minutes later, he meets you in your room. You’ve changed into your previous outfit, and he’s swiped his dress shirt for an oversized white Nike t-shirt. He’s holding his bed cover to his chest, just a white bundle that he offers you as if he’s trying to make peace with you. You motion to your bed, and he nods before walking over to it.

You shut the door behind him, turning to look at him as he debates for a few seconds where to sleep in your bed. He starts by putting his bed cover over yours and then chooses to sit at the foot of the bed, on the side that’s against the wall.

He then turns to meet your gaze, his profile cast in the flickering light of the candle from the kitchen and the few others you’ve lit while waiting for him.

“I think this is the first time I’ve been in this room since Jimin moved out,” he tells you, and his lips stretch into that same soft smile.

You glance around, pursing your lips. “Hope it doesn’t disappoint.”

“It doesn’t,” he reassures you as he imitates your action, observing your room. “It feels like you.”

Not knowing what’s that supposed to mean, you cock an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t explain further, and you shrug it off as you move closer to your bed to sit on the edge. The moment you’re in his vicinity your heart picks up in your chest. It’s hard to believe that Jeon Jungkook is in your bed right now, and you have to remind yourself that it’s purely because it currently is freezing in your apartment.

“Should we…” you trail off, motioning at the bed.

He chuckles, a sweet sound that forces you to gaze at him, eyes widening as your heartbeat picks up even more. “You want me in your bed so bad, do you?”

You short-circuit, flushing fully red as you struggle to find something witty to reply with. Falling short on words, you end up shrugging your shoulders as you move under the covers, hoping he won’t tease you further.

You highly doubt you’d survive him teasing you more.

To your relief, Jungkook ends up chuckling again, but he remains silent as he slides in next to you, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. You lie on your back, while he turns to face you, and you feel the weight of his gaze on your profile.

It makes you turn to look at him, and he offers you the same kind smile.

“Shouldn’t we blow the candles out?” he asks, and his gaze darts to where you’ve left the candles on your desk and night table. “Just to make sure we don’t burn the building down.”

“You want to go to sleep right away?”

You hate yourself for saying that. Indeed, a smirk grows on his lips and he jumps on the occasion to say, “You want to do something else?”

Something grows hot inside of you, and it’s not that same summer sun he ignited in you earlier. You wet your lips, burning from the inside out as you remind him, “We shouldn’t.”

He chuckles again. “Didn’t you say he doesn’t need to know?”

You meet his gaze, find the mischief behind his big doe eyes and roll yours. “You’re annoying.”

Right on cue you shiver. It takes you by surprise, because you feel your insides burning, yet the temperature in your room is low, winning against the warmth.

“Are you cold?” he asks, no traces of mischief left in his eyes. Only concern can be found in his pupils, and you want to hate him for it.

“A little,” you admit. “The covers are just cold.”

They actually are, as your bodies have yet to warm them. To your surprise, Jungkook sidles closer to you.

“I can hold you, if you want. I’m always too hot.”

You burn a thousand shades of red as you wet your lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Come on, peach, I won’t let you freeze while I’m right here.”

Yet he doesn’t do anything, waits until you’ve nodded your head to slide even closer, and he loosely wraps his arm around your waist. His warm breath fans the side of your face, and you do your best to ignore it.

“Better?” he asks, voice low as he whispers in your ear.

You shut your eyes as electricity courses through your whole body. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Your brain zeroes in on the weight of his arm on you, and when his fingers start tracing random figures on your waist, you let out a small yelp.

“That tickles,” you tell him.

He does it again, and you try to push him away. Only, Jungkook is far stronger than you, and all you manage to do is end up with your back against him as he holds you firmly to him.

“Stop,” you beg, a little breathlessly.

“It’s warming you up, is it not?”

You roll your eyes, though you reckon it is. You don’t feel nearly as cold anymore, and you can feel the heat growing in you again. As an attempt to get away from him, you shuffle, and it earns you a breathless chuckle from him.

Just to make sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing, you move your hips again. Something twitches in his sweatpants and your mouth falls open.

“You’re…”

“Consequences of the position,” he’s quick to say. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t know how you possibly can not worry about it. It’s all your brain can focus on as you shift again, and this time he hisses.

“Maybe you should not do that.” His voice is low, husky, and it sends shivers all over your body.

You bite your lips. “Why?”

He pulls you back in, flush against his chest. His lips ghost on the side of your neck, and you think you’ve been struck with lightning. “Because we can’t do anything about it.”

“Right.”

He rests his head on the pillow behind you again, sighing deeply. His hand holds you against him, forcing you to feel every inch of his hard body pressing into you.

Of his hard dick too, where it pushes into your ass.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” you say, eyes fluttering shut.

He nods. “We should.”

“I need to blow out the candles.”

His arm loosens around you before he fully lets you go. You prop yourself on an elbow, leaning towards the night table. You blow out the candle you’ve left there, and before you can move you feel Jungkook’s palm resting on your hip.

“Shit, peach,” he whispers.

You look behind yourself. Your position is explicit, as if you’re angling yourself to fuck yourself on him better. It makes you move your hips, and you see the moment something snaps inside of him.

“Why don’t you lie down next to me before we blow the rest of the candles out?”

There’s something stern, authoritative in his voice, and you immediately obey him.

“On your back,” he adds.

You exhale shakily as you turn, not daring to disobey. His hand lands flat on your stomach, and he starts drawing circles around your navel. You inhale sharply as he nudges your cheek with his nose.

“You look stressed.”

“What are you doing?”

You hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Helping you fall asleep?”

“Jungkook…”

“Peach.”

You fall silent as he keeps tracing circles. He sighs next to you, almost longingly and he rests his forehead against your temple. His lips are so close you think you feel their softness on your cheek.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispers. His fingers still on you, under your navel. Some inch or so over the band of your sweatpants and he pushes your shirt up before resuming his actions directly on your skin.

“We really shouldn’t…” you trail off.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” he asks.

It’s rhetorical – he knows just as well as you that you won’t. “No.”

“It could help you sleep.”

You don’t want to know what the ‘it’ refers to. “Yeah?”

He wets his lips, or maybe he plays with his piercing. But from the proximity, you feel his tongue and you think you’re going to die right then and there.

“Doesn’t it help you sleep when you touch yourself?”

You’re soaking your panties. You’re burning up, caught on fire by every strike of lightning that Jungkook’s words ignite in you.

“Does it help you?” you counter-back, remembering when you heard him watching porn two weeks ago.

“It does. Always sleep soundly after.”

You slowly nod, gulping as his lips close on your jaw, and he sucks gently.

He’s danger in human form. And he knows what he’s doing, he knows how to weave words to cause your undoing. You think he’s already started weeks ago, the night of the Incident.

Taehyung is miles away from your thoughts when you say, “You want to touch me?”

He smirks against you, licks at the spot he just sucked on. “Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?”

He moves his hand away from your stomach, and you moan softly when he parts your thighs open, resting his palm on the one closest to him as he presses it against his hard dick.

“Shit, Jungkook.”

“I know.”

You hate him. You hate him so much you slide your hand between your legs, pressing a circle on your clit.

“Good girl.”

You moan again, yet you stop your ministrations on yourself. “I want to watch you touch yourself too.”

He grunts, grinds his dick in the side of your thigh once more. “You want to see me come?”

“Want you to finger me with your cum.”

You’ve gone insane. You think there’s an asylum out there for you, yet Jungkook only chuckles manly against your jaw. “Peach, I won’t touch you tonight.” You whine, and he sucks on your jaw again. “You can do it yourself.”

He’s mad. So are you, and you untie the knot of your sweatpants so you can slide your hand in. You moan softly as you find your clit, and you dip two fingers inside of yourself before moving back to the bundle of nerves.

“Jerk yourself off,” you tell him. You try to sound commanding, dominant, but your voice is whiny. It earns you a smirk from him as he turns on his back. He takes off his pants and underwear, clearly not as shy as you. You can’t see his dick when you look down as he’s still under the covers, and you gulp as you imagine it.

Feeling bold, you push the covers off, needing to see him. And the sight doesn’t disappoint. His dick is large. Not excessively long, but the girth makes you understand why he’s got girls screaming whenever he fucks them. His tip is glistening with precum, and he runs his thumb on the slit before spreading the precum on his shaft. Large veins run along the length, from base to top, and you’re struck thinking he’s got the prettiest cock you’ve seen in your life.

“Like what you see?” he teases as he strokes his dick once, slowly but with a firm grip.

“Do you want to see me too?”

You really are bold. Far bolder than you’ve ever been with anyone before. Maybe because all of tonight Jungkook has put you at ease, and you think there’s nothing embarrassing about finally living out your fantasy. Especially not when he’s so pliable to it, willing to follow you into the land of insanity.

Scratch that – he’s the one leading to madness.

“It’s only fair if I see you too, no?” he teases with a smirk on his lips as he looks at you with his dark, intense gaze.

“Yeah.”

It’s all you say before you shimmy out of your pants. You don’t miss the way his eyes go to your hip, where you have a large dragon tattoo. He curses under his breath. “Didn’t know you were tatted.”

“Got it last semester,” you answer with a shaky voice.

He smirks up at you. “Hot.”

You gulp, unable to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds. Shier than him, you keep the panties on. To your surprise, he sits up, runs his hand on the inside of your thigh before he lies down on the other side so he has a view of between your legs. His feet are next to your head, and you angle yourself away from them so that they aren’t in your face anymore.

“Touch yourself, peach.”

You nod, and you draw circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear. It’s a plain black thong, yet you feel immensely sexy when Jungkook’s doe eyes narrow dangerously as he watches you touching yourself, stroking his dick lazily.

You watch how he touches himself, heart beating out of your chest. You’re on fire, a wildfire raging through you, and you moan softly as you press harder into you.

“Why don’t you touch yourself under your panties, mmh?” he asks, gaze sliding up to meet yours before he goes back between your legs. “Won’t it feel better?”

You can’t resist him. You push your panties to the side, holding them with one hand as you go back to your clit. Your thighs instinctively want to close together, but he holds them open.

“Put your fingers in.”

You do. You push two digits in, arching them as you rub at the sweet spot inside of you. He watches, licking his lips as he increases the pace on his dick. You moan right as he grunts, the sound making shivers course up and down your spine.

“Why don’t you use your vibrator instead?”

You entirely stop moving, digits deep inside of you. “Huh?”

“I’ve heard you use a vibrator,” he explains. “I want to see you bury it in your tight little pussy.”

Your walls clench around your fingers at his crude words, and it doesn’t take any more for you to roll towards your night table so you can grab said vibrator. When you’re settled back in your previous position, you click it on, and the soft buzzing fills your room.

“Wait,” Jungkook says, stopping you before you’ve pushed your panties aside again. “Take this off.”

He pinches the fabric on your hip, over the tattoo, and all you can do is nod once before you do. He licks his lips, looking at you appreciatively through half-lidded eyes. He looks between your legs, where you just know he can see your juices glistening. Before he says anything else, you put the vibrator on your clit, legs twitching as harsh pleasure courses through you.

To your surprise, he moans, a low sound that has your pussy clench hard. Of course he sees, and he’s quick to say, “Put it in, peach.”

You obey, and you let out a breathy sound as you immediately rub your clit with your other hand. The next few minutes are a world of bliss, of pleasure and of Jungkook’s praises and grunts, entwined with your moans. You think your room is burning hot, or maybe it’s just his eyes on you. His balls are tight as he jerks off harder, faster, eyes never once moving away from the spot between your legs, where your vibrator makes squelching sounds as you push it in and out of you.

“You’re doing so well,” Jungkook tells you after you’ve moaned loudly.

You’re nearing your high, but for some reason, you haven’t been able to hit it yet. His words bring you closer, yet it remains just barely out of touch.

“So fucking well,” he adds, breathlessly, and you notice he’s gripping his dick harder, moving so fast you barely can see his hand, except when it slows on his head with a flick of his wrist. He moans, grunts loudly. “You’re so hot, I’m going to come.”

“Fuck,” you curse as you watch him push his shirt up, and you catch sight of his defined muscles. They contract as he jerks himself off, and you think you’re drooling.

Maybe because you’re so close to hitting an orgasm that you can’t do anything other than drool.

He glances at your face once. You meet his gaze, blood boiling as you see his eyebrows almost touching over his eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes loudly. His eyelids flutter close as his eyebrows bunch up over his eyes even more, and then he moans out something that sounds like your name.

Not ‘peach’. Your full name. It makes your eyes water as you observe him, as you watch how he looks in pain. And then he curses, and your eyes fall to his dick to see white spurts of cum coming out, covering the tattoos on the back of his hand as he keeps moving, never once faltering.

Your walls clench tightly around your vibrator. You think you’re about to come, but the orgasm doesn’t want to hit, evading you frustratingly. Your motions grow inconsistent, the push and the pull of the vibrator clearly not enough for you.

As Jungkook comes down from his high, he surveys you once more, features blissed out from coming. He watches you struggle as his hand stops at the base of his dick.

“Look at the mess I made because of you,” he says, and you moan. He tilts his head to the side, pulls at his piercing, and then stops you. Puts his hand over yours between your legs as the vibrator rests deep inside of you. “Do you need help?”

You feel some of his cum as it spills from his hand to yours. You keep rubbing on your clit, meeting his gaze as he awaits your answer. “Yes.”

He smirks, and you let him grab your vibrator. He pulls it out of you, watches your juice on it with a hungry look on his features before he hands it to you again. “Put this on your clit.”

You obey, and you sigh in pleasure as he covers two of his fingers with his cum, even picking some up where it fell on his abdomen, decorating his defined abs. You know exactly what he’s going to do before he does, and it makes you curse.

He meets your gaze. “Are you on the pill?”

“IUD.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes his cum-covered fingers inside of you, arching them to expertly play with your g-spot. You cry out, throwing your head back in pleasure. He fucks you with his digits for a while, and you press your vibrator hard on your clit, as if it’s going to make you come faster.

All it does is make you close your thighs on his wrist. He pulls his fingers out, forces you to spread your legs wide open again, and then circles your entrance with one finger.

“It’s so hot, to watch my cum dripping out of you.”

His digits are in again before you can reply, and he fucks you so well, you crash right into your orgasm, walls spasming around his fingers. You moan, loudly so, and tears prick at your eyes as the waves of your orgasm drown everything in you, making you shake with pleasure.

You ride the high for a long time. Longer than you’ve ever had before, and Jungkook whispers filthy praises to you all through it, until you cringe with oversensitivity and turn off the vibrator. You put it down next to you, and Jungkook pushes in and out twice more before he pulls his fingers out of you.

You remain silent for a while, both of you regaining your breath. Once you stop feeling like you’re seconds away from passing out, you prop yourself on your elbows, watching him. He’s still looking between your legs, and you instinctively close them.

His eyes shoot to your face, and he smirks. “You have no idea how hot you are with my cum dripping out of you, peach.”

You bite your lip, so hard you think you taste blood. “Shit.”

“I know.”

“What did we do?”

He shrugs, sucking on his piercing. “We made sure we’ll sleep well, that’s all.”

You sigh, nodding once before you lie back down on the bed. “Shit,” you repeat.

This time he laughs. It’s a soft sound, something that makes your heart squeeze in your chest. For some reason, it reminds you of the kiss in the kitchen, and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Even more so as he says, “Let me go get something to clean you up with.”

He pulls his boxers up and then gets up. You miss the way he winces as his feet hit the cold floor, and he’s back with a washcloth before you’ve had time to realize he was gone.

“I’m sorry, there was no hot water left.”

“Oh,” you let out.

He chuckles as he sits next to you. “Do you want to do it or…?”

You nod, and you grab the washcloth out of his hands before cleaning yourself up. It really is cold, and you wince, one eye shutting as you make sure you’re clean before handing it back to him.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I don’t know?”

He laughs, still grabbing it before throwing it in your hamper. “Did you want to pee before going to bed?”

You nod again. “I should.”

“Are you okay to get there?”

You roll your eyes, finally finding some of your usual defiance. “You didn’t fuck me, Jungkook, I can still use my legs.”

“Right,” he lets out before chuckling. “I’ll wait for you here then.”

The trip to the bathroom is the worst you’ve ever experienced, with how cold it is in the rest of the apartment. You’re pleased that your room is warm when you come back, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you see Jungkook lying on his side, looking at you as you enter and shut the door behind you.

He smiles warmly at you. “Better?”

“Why is it so cold?” you complain, which makes him laugh that cute, giggly laugh of his. You immediately look away from him, not wanting him to see the blush on your cheeks.

You blow the rest of the candles out, and in the dark, you make your way to your bed. You slide under the covers, sighing at how warm they are now.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Jungkook says as you settle next to him.

You gulp. “What?”

“You said you were going to go to the dorms,” he reminds you, even though that was an eternity ago. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Oh,” you let out. You’re happy it’s dark because your cheeks burn so much you imagine you’ve turned purple. “I’m glad I stayed too.”

He sighs, and you feel the mattress move as he shifts. “Do you want to cuddle?” he asks. “For warmth.”

You snort, and even though you’re in the dark, you nod.

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, you’re the small spoon again, and he holds you close to him. He sighs once more, and it ends with a yawn that has you laugh softly.

“Tired?” you tease him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, nuzzling his face in your hair. “I’m going to sleep like a rock.”

So are you. Even if you shouldn’t, even if you and Jungkook probably committed a big mistake tonight, you still know you’re going to sleep soundly.

Especially as his breathing evens out behind you, interrupted by soft snores here and there. It forms a melody that lulls you to the land of dreams, to a land where you can forget that he’s Taehyung’s best friend, and where you can imagine that he’s yours after all. It’s idyllic, unreal, yet your sleeping form clings to it like it’s a lifeline in a storm.

You just know that reality is bound to hit again soon.

Prev | Chapter 3.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Oooooof yep. They really did that hehehe. What did you guys think? Did you like it? Let me know!!

#chasing cars ch 3 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

909 notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 10 months

Note

shy y/n accidentally calls harry daddy bc shes cockdrunk while theyre fucking and harry is so taken back that he cums on the spot 🫣

Omg omg omg omg

Patreon

----

Harry was convinced that Y/N was his soul mate well before it happened.

Perhaps for some, it could be considered intense, but he knew what he wanted in life. He knew he loved her by their 4th date, he knew he wanted to marry her by the 7th, and now they'd been committed to one another for about 6 months. It was incredible to have someone you just.... know is yours.

They were a bit opposite, Y/N and him. Harry was a lot more outgoing, a lot more experienced in the ropes of life, but especially sexually. Y/N hadn't done much of anything prior to Harry, and he had the honors of introducing her to a whole plethora of things. Lots of kinks they'd dipped their toes into and Y/N gave her feedback on.

She was shy beyond what he was used to, but he found it endearing. He didn't mind working her through her shyness and building her up so she felt comfortable enough to speak to him and tell him what she liked, what she wanted to try. So far, she had gone off of what Harry had admitting to liking- at least the tamer stuff- and he was more than happy with her progress. All he cared about was her comfort and pleasure.

She liked spanking with his hand, wasn't too fond of a a paddle, thoroughly mewled when he had slipped his thumb over her tightest hole, enjoyed that he was in charge and she was his sweet little baby. They'd gone slower but Harry had been more than honest with her about his likes and his preferences. Y/N appreciated honesty more than anything, even when it hurt because lies were her number one hate. The sweet girl didn't dislike much, but dishonesty was one of them.

When she had sniffed out that he had been hiding something, he was quick to fess up that he'd been a bit anxious that it would be too much or too odd for her given this conversation had happened only after the 3rd time they'd had sex, so he had admitted that he preferred a certain honorific- Daddy- and that he wouldn't ever make her feel bad for not wanting to call him that if she so chose. Y/N hadn't said much about it since.

Not until tonight.

Deep inside, Harry watched her puffy, pretty cunt spread open as she took his cock. it was sticky with her arousal and his spit, her ass recoiling when his thighs hit it. It was a glorious scene, one of the sexiest things Harry ever had the privilege of seeing with his own eyes. She was making a mess on his length, a mess of glistening slick and creamy smears that were settling on the base making the sight almost too much for Harry to handle.

Then there were the moans, the sweet, delightful little 'uh's' that left her Scarlet painted lips. He'd taken her out on a date to a lovely little restaurant and when they arrived home she had kissed him deep, leading to this moment right here. Her dress discarded across his bedroom floor and her face resting on his pillow as he fucked into her needy cunt. Sweet calls of his name, for more, for him not to stop, she was getting more and more vocal as the pleasure began to raise and he was doing everything he could to make it even better for her.

"There we go, my love." He purred. "Can feel it, you're about to cum f'me again." The encouragement always did it for her, his hand squeezing her plump ass as he pounded away into her. "Perfect little pussy for my perfect girl. M'so obsessed with you." He wanted to give her another, knowing she was going places she hadn't been before by her babbling and clenching at his pillow but she hadn't called for him to stop- if anything, she asked for more. Harry couldn't get enough, so he was holding off his orgasm just to see her do it for him.

"M'gonna, m'gonna cum, m'gonna- please, can I?" Watery eyes looked up at him, the perfect version of his destroyed sweet peach as mascara smeared slightly under her eye. "Can I cum, can I please? M'good, m'so good, m'a good girl, I need to." Her rambles only made him love her more, despite her knowledge.

"Go on, my sweet girl. Let go f'me." He cooed, continuing the pace as he watched her unfold in front of him. He could feel it, feel her rippling around his cock and the gush of her arousal as she let out a squeal. Relishing in the feeling of her trembling under him, when she said something that caught him off guard. One, whimpery, pathetic sentence that had him almost keeling over.

"D-Daddy, want your cum, let me have it, please...."

As soon as it hit him what she said, he couldn't stop himself. Balls pulling up and cock throbbing as he emptied hot cum into her, a low groan leaving his mouth as it stayed open. Feeling her orgasm start to wane but pussy stilll clenching, milking him of his cum, he was careful as he fell over and held himself on top of her, hips stuttering as he tried to gather his bearings.

His Y/N, his sweet, delicate Y/N had just called him Daddy while begging for his cum. There was no way his orgasm could have withstood it. She probably would be slightly embarrassed when she realized what she said, but he was in heaven. He hoped it showed an inner want to call him that, that it was in her mind when they were intimate because she could see him like that. At the end of the day, all he wanted to do was take care of his precious girl, make sure she was cared for and comfortable.

"There she is. My perfect angel." he panted. "Daddy's here, m'giving it all to you now." Lips pressed to her sticky cheek, nudging his nose lovingly against it. "M'all yours, forever."

1K notes · View notes

javiscigarette · 1 year

Text

Peaches n' Cream

Joel Miller x f!reader (pre/no outbreak)

Summary: You like peaches and Joel like watching you eat them.

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut, established relationship, (semi) public / outdoor sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), ass play, spitting, choking sliiightt daddy kink, one mention of Joel being pick up reader (but tbh he's strong af he can pick anyone up), absolutely no plot here Joel is just depraved and in love <3

w/c: 6k of pwp : )

a/n: I'm back!! And LISTEN! I knowwww I said Javi was next but the grip this man has on me is unreal and the peaches at the farmers market got me thinking about things!! Pls let me know if you liked this and my asks are always open to chat!!

my masterlist

The little stand was set up on the side of the road, just one old farmer and his tall piles of crates filled to the brim with peaches.

Images of you in the grocery store a couple weeks ago flash in Joel’s head, standing in front of the display brimming with peaches with your arms crossed over your chest and your bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout.

“They’re not the good ones”

“They look fresh” Joel states as he takes turns squeezing each peach to test the firmness. “What’s wrong with ‘em?”

“It’s still May” you replied

Joel just looked at you, eyebrows pinched together and completely lost on the point you were trying to make.

“They won't be as sweet. They're the best at the end of June” you answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Sorry, not caught up on my peach facts I guess”

You just roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Joel amused at how intensely you felt about the little fruits.

But now it’s the last week of June. And as soon as he sees the stand there’s a rush of excitement thinking about the big smile you’d have for him when he walked through the door with a bag of fresh peaches.

He pulls onto the shoulder of the road and parks his truck behind the line of the four other cars stopping for the same reason. The Texas sun is beating down on him, sweat prickling on the back of his neck in mere seconds as he waits patiently for the people in front of him to have their pick.

And when it’s his turn, he takes his time because of course it has to be perfect for you. He wasn’t looking for another peach lecture.

“How d’ya pick out the ripest ones?” he asks the farmer.

He listens carefully as the other man tells him how to spot the best ones, taking mental notes on everything from the ideal firmness to the hue of the skin, even down to the smell. And he took the advice on getting a few that were ready to eat today and a few less ripe ones that you could eat a few days from now. After a few more minutes, he’s walking back to the truck carrying a paper bag filled to the top with peaches.

When he gets home, he grabs a beer from the fridge then rinses the biggest peach from the bag under the kitchen tap. He has a direct line of sight through the window above the sink to where you’re laying out on the pool chair, the sight of you in your little skimpy bikini sent a little tingle down his spine.

“Hey, baby” Joel calls out, shielding his eyes from the hot Texas sun. You turn and face him with a grin as he walks over to you.

“Got something for you” Joel announces with a smile, holding out the peach to you.

Your face lights up exactly how he imagined it would. But it’s a thousand times better in person. The way you smile so big that the corners of your eyes crinkle and the way your eyes twinkle with amazement makes his heart swell in his chest.

You scramble to sit up and take the fruit out of his hand. He strokes your hair then leans down to press a kiss to your forehead before sitting on the lounge chair next to yours.

“Where’d you get these?” you ask, lifting up your sunglasses to get a proper look. “They look perfect”

Joel laughs, trying not to puff out his chest in confidence.

“That peach stand up the road is finally open” he answers. “Got a whole bag for you inside”

Joel chuckles again at your small squeal of excitement as you shoot up from your seat and bounce over towards him. You stand between his spread knees and lean down to kiss him.

His heart feels warm and gooey in his chest as he kisses you, his hands immediately finding the back of your thighs, your skin so warm from sitting out in the sun all day.

He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, his head spinning a bit when he tastes your strawberry chapstick mixed with a hint of chlorine from the pool. His grip on your thighs tightens slightly and he sighs with delight when you part your lips and let him in, his heart melting when he feels you smile against his lips.

He stays in the moment for a few more seconds before tapping your thigh and pulling back.

“Try it. Wanna see if you like ‘em” he says before reaching for his beer sitting on the small side table.

Joel’s heart skips a beat when you bite your lip and smile as you sit back down on your chair, facing him and crossing your legs underneath you.

You sink your teeth into the reddish skin of the perfectly ripe peach. The sweet nectar immediately floods your mouth, so juicy that it quickly starts running past your lips to drip down your chin and over your fingers. You moan softly in delight, your eyelids fluttering shut at the taste.

“It’s perfect” you say around a mouthful of peach.

You take your time, savoring each bite. But to Joel it feels like you're on a mission to kill him on the spot.

He has a death grip on his beer bottle as he watches you, groaning quietly when a few drops fall onto your bare legs. You, none the wiser, giggle innocently at the mess you’re making before taking another bite. More juice spills over your knuckles and trickles down your fingers to your wrist and forearm, the small rivulets twinkling on your skin in the sunlight.

Joel is about to pass out.

He takes a few gulps of his beer, downing almost half the bottle in one go before setting it down on the small table between the two chairs.

“C’mere, peaches” Joel says, patting his thigh.

You happily oblige and get up to sit in his lap, your thighs on either side of his.

“You wanna bite?” you ask with a sweet smile.

“Don’t need a bite, baby” Joel responds, reaching to grab your forearm. “Got my own right here.”

He brings his lips to your wrist, pressing gentle kisses to your sticky skin and licking up the sweet juice. You giggle when the hairs of his mustache and scruffy beard tickle your skin, the sensation sending a a hot wave of arousal washing over you, head to toe.

Your heart flutters in your chest as he kisses up your wrist to the back of your hand, placing a wet kiss to each of your knuckles before pulling back and opening his eyes to look at you again.

A lopsided, dopey grin spreads across his face at the sight in front of him. You’re looking back at him through hooded eyes, the apples of your cheeks dusted pink as a dazed smile tugs at the corner of your red, wet lips.

“Finish” Joel commands simply with a crooked smile.

And you do. You go back to finishing the fruit while Joel’s gaze falls to your legs. He runs a thumb over the sticky drops of juice on your thigh, using his thumb to rub it into your warm skin with slow circles until the liquid dries up. He then switches to sliding his calloused palms up and down your thighs, his fingertips brushing the edges of your swim bottoms with every pass.

Sitting in the sun all day already made your brain hazy and Joel’s dilated eyes boring into you aren’t exactly helping. Neither is his bulge twitching against your clothed core with every slurping and sucking sound you make as you let the juice run freely over your knuckles and down your chin, no longer caring about the mess.

When you finish, Joel promptly plucks the pit out of your hand and sets it on the side table. He then turns back towards you and brings his thumb up to wipe up the drop of juice at the corner of your mouth.

“Was it good, sweetheart?” he asks, sliding his thumb between your lips.

Your eyelashes flutter as you immediately roll your tongue over his thumb, sucking the juice off before nodding slowly. You let him press down your tongue, his eyes wide and glued to your lips before you pull off his finger with a wet pop.

“Delicious” you say with a sated smile. You lean forward, until your lips are inches away from his. “You wanna taste, daddy?”

You giggle when he groans quietly underneath you.

“S’that even a question? ‘Course I do, peaches.”

The next second, his hand is curling around the back of your neck as he pulls you down for a deep kiss. He doesn’t just get a taste. He devours you like a five-course meal, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth to chase the intoxicating taste of the fresh peach, chlorine, sun, sweat and you. This time, he bites at your lower lip and gently tugs, pulling a small whine from you. You tangle your fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck and he groans softly when you move your hips against his, dragging your aching core over the bulge in his jeans.

“Gotta have you, baby” Joel mumbles against your lips, too desperate to pull away for even one second. “Need you right fuckin’ now.”

“Out here?” you ask breathlessly, not bothering to pull away either.

Joel doesn’t say anything. Instead, with his lips still on yours, he reaches between your bodies and tugs down on a cup of your bikini top until your breast falls out, letting you know that yes, he needs you right now, out here.

“Daddy…” you say tentatively, finally pulling away from the kiss. He doesn't even bother looking up, completely ignoring you as he tugs down the other cup.

“Joel!” you gasp, the sound quickly followed by a giggle as you try to squirm out of his grasp, but the strong he has wrapped around your waist keeps you firmly in place.

He wasn’t exaggerating. Not in the slightest.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby” Joel mumbles, his lips vibrating lightly against your skin. You move in his lap again, but this time you’re not trying to get away. He’s rock hard now, and you grind down harshly, already growing desperate from his primal need for you.

He moves to swirl his tongue over your nipple then brings up his hand to pinch the other one, groaning softly as you grind down on him with your fingers tightening in your grasp in the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck and holding his head against you.

“Joel” you start, your voice already trembling. You’re just putty in this man’s hands. “W-what about the neighbors?”

Joel was not a stupid man. Sure, he doesn’t - used to not - know much about the damn peaches, but he had at least been blessed with enough forethought to build a fence tall enough to make sure that the nosy neighbors wouldn’t be able to see you out here.

He doesn’t look up, just mumbles against your skin “no one can see in, angel. Promise.”

“I know but what about the sound?” you ask, still grinding your hips softly against his.

Joel chuckles, warm air fanning over your chest before looking up at you. His fingers leave your breast and trail down the side of your rib cage, his feather light touch making you shiver before he unceremoniously slips his hand beneath the elastic of your swimsuit, cupping your pussy in his hand. The heel of his palm presses against your clit as his fingers press against your already dripping seam.

“Doesn’t seem to be botherin’ you too much” he says softly, his lips curving in a grin.

You whine and tug on his hair, almost forgetting why you even stopped him in the first place. His eyes fall back down to where he’s cupping you, mesmerized by the way your hips move as you grind against his hand, your juices already leaking onto his palm.

“Needy little thing, aint ya”

You stop moving and glare at him.

“Says the man that nearly creamed his pants watching me eat a piece of fruit”

Joel just shrugs shamelessly with a carefree smile.

“Do you wanna stop?” Joel asks, circling your aching hole with the pads of his two fingers before sliding them in slowly. He’s quick enough to swallow his own pathetic whimper when he feels you clench wildly around his fingers. “‘Cause I’ll stop right now and we ca-”

“No.” you reply firmly, reflexively tugging on his hair.

“That’s my girl” Joel smirks and curls his fingers to press right up against the spot that has you instantly moaning, the one that he never struggles to find. “So good for me, huh?”

You nod weakly, biting your lip to try and stop some of the noise you’re making.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you the best he can with the limited range of motion, obsessed with the soft sound tumbling past your lips. He dives back down to latch onto your nipple again, sucking and rolling his tongue over the hardened peak.

You grind down hard against his hand and your skin grows hotter under the summer sun, every inch of hot and buzzing. You move your hands from his hair, one curling around the back of his neck, the other grabbing onto his shoulder. His neck is damp with sweat under your palm and his black t-shirt feels like it’s about to catch on fire.

“Off” you whine pathetically and pull at his shirt, now desperate to feel every inch of his skin.

He ignores you at first, too busy switching to your other nipple and teasing it between his teeth, too absorbed in the feeling of your slick running down his fingers and into his palm like warm honey. But yanking on his hair brings his attention back to you.

“So impatient” Joel mumbles, sliding his fingers out of you and his hand out of your swimsuit before snapping the elastic against your hip. You watch with wide eyes as he sticks two wet fingers in his mouth letting out a soft groan while his eyelids futter slightly at the taste.

He then pulls the fingers out of his and looks up at you. But you're looking somewhere else. You’re eyes are still glued to his fingers, now shiny with a mixture of your slick and his saliva. He follows your gaze and wiggles his fingers slightly.

“Does my baby want a taste?” Joel asks with a smirk.

You nod your fervently nod your head and whine a pathetic “please”

“Can’t so no when you ask so nicely, sweetheart”

He brings his wet fingers up your lips and you don’t miss a beat, immediately wrapping your lips around his two digits and sucking hard. The two of you sigh in unison, Joel pushing down on your tongue as you roll your tongue around, cleaning up the mess as best you can.

His jaw is slack and hanging open as he watches you in amazement. He slides his fingers back a little further, grunting when you start gagging slightly.

“Such a pretty sound” Joel whispers. He shoves his fingers further back, eyebrows pinched together in concentration. You gag again, harder this time, drool now leaking past your lips and his fingers. His cock pulses in his jeans so hard that it nearly hurts.

“Baby” he starts, pressing down particularly hard on your tongue, moaning quietly as your mouth floods with more saliva. He then hooks his fingers over your bottom teeth and tugs down, forcing your mouth open. He stares at your wet lips with eyes hooded before talking again. “Daddy needs you, sweetheart”

You moan softly and slide off his fingers.

“How d’ya want me?” you ask innocently

“Take these off,” Joel says, thumbing at the waistband of your swimsuit. “Then lie down for me babydoll”

You whimper softly, and move off his lap to stand up, fully untying your bikini top and shimmying out of your bottoms. Your eyes are glued to Joel the whole time though, watching hungirly as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the vast expanse of his back. He unbuckles his belts and unzips his jeans, pulling them down his thighs just enough to get his cock out.

You do as you’re told, propping yourself up against the back of the chair with your legs stretched out in front of you. Joel wastes no time getting settled on his stomach between your legs, spreading your thighs apart to reveal your glistening cunt to the summer sun.

“God, baby” Joel sighs at the sight, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He brings a hand up and uses two fingers to spread your lips to see your hole clenching around thin air. “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

You whimper softly and gently roll your hips up, chasing after his touch. Joel looks up at you and smirks as he prods at your entrance with his finger tips. JJoel shushes you and presses a kiss to the space just below your navel, then kisses a trail over to your hip and down the top of your thigh. He kisses the tacky spot on your thigh, kitten-licking at the sugary spot of dried juice. Then he slides a hand under your thigh, lifting your leg up and over your shoulder before wrapping his arm over the top, effectively locking your thigh in place.

Your hands find their natural resting spot in his hair, fingers tangling in the brown curls that are burning hot from the sun. He’s making progress towards where you need him most, placing hot, wet kisses on your inner thigh, pausing frequently to nibble and suck at the delicate skin. You can already see the smug look on his face he’ll have when he finds the little marks and bruises in the morning.

With no warning, his mouth is on you, his tongue delving into your slick folds, hungrily lapping at your aching cunt. Joel absolutely devours you, his face buried between your legs, so eager to taste you, to drink you down and make you scream.

You reflexively try to buck your hips, but the arm he has wrapped around your thigh keeps you down, his fingertips digging into your skin as he holds you right where he wants you. His cock twitches where it’s pressed against the chair when he feels your thighs tremble against his face and then again when you pull on his hair, sending tingles from his scalp down to his toes.

His tongue teases your leaking hole, your walls clenching desperately as he dips his tongue in and out before moving to your clit. He sucks the swollen nub between his lips, swirling his tongue around it, waiting until you let out a whine or moan before moving back to your hole to repeat the process. It’s like he’s starving and you’re the first thing he’s tasted in days.

Lewd, wet noises of Joel slurping you down like you’re his last drink ever create a mirror image of the sounds you made while eating the peach only five minutes ago. The sounds mix with your moans and high-pitched whines, Any and all reservations you had about the neighbors hearing you completely gone.

Just from the way he’s eating you out, greedily taking everything you give him, tells you how much he needed you. It’s so passionate and raw that it makes your head spin. You can hear your blood roaring in your ears as your skin feels raw and electrified like an exposed wire as a heat start pool in your lower abdomen. And you’re guessing by how your slick is dripping down your thighs already that he can tell how much you need him.

It doesn’t take long until you’re teetering on the edge of release, your chest heaving with every gulp of air. Joel notices how your moans are getting louder and more frequent, so he slides the hand that’s not wrapped around your thigh down to your entrance and slowly pushes two fingers inside of you.

He smiles against you when you reward him with a long loud moan with your walls clenching tightly around his fingers. He keeps a steady rhythm, slowly pushing his fingers in and out of you, a direct contrast to the ravenous pace of his tongue. The sounds he’s pulling out of you go straight to his cock, but he barely registers the building pressure, too focused on taking care of you to think about himself for even one second.

You cry out when he hooks his fingers inside of you, curling them so they perfectly nudge against your g-spot every single time he pushes in. Your back arches away from the chair and you start rolling your hips against his face, holding his head in place as you do so.

“Give it to me, angel” Joel murmurs into you, the vibrations and his warm breath adding to the pleasure that’s quickly building up. “Wanna feel you cum ‘round my fingers. Wanna taste it, baby”

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re so hot, almost every square inch of your skin damp with sweat and you can’t tell if it’s more from the heat or what this man is doing to you, probably just an intoxicating mixture of both. You look down at him to find that he’s already staring up at you, watching you intently with hooded eyes as you start to fall apart.

Your gaze drifts to his back, and you can’t help but gawk at the muscles flexing smoothly under his tan skin that’s gleaming with sweat. The sight alone causes the pressure to build even more and Joel groans when your legs start trembling on either side of his head. He doubles down on his effort, his tongue flicking wildly at your clit as he presses his fingertips harshly against your spot that has you seeing stars. He lays the palm of his free hand on the space just below your navel and presses down, adding sudden, intense external pressure that makes you cry out loud.

“Oh fuck daddy I - shit I’m gon-”

You can’t even finish the sentence before you’re flying off the edge, hips lifting off the chair as you shove his face even further against your core. Sounds of pleasure flow freely from your lips as you grind against his face, the stubble of his beard rubbing your sweaty inner thighs raw. Joel watches you the whole time as your slick gushes out of your hole and onto his chin and around his fingers.

He works you through it, grunting and moaning while keeping his mouth glued to you, following you as you writhe underneath him. He doesn’t let up until you’re whimpering and squirming away from the overstimulation.

“Goddam, baby” Joel rasps, his voice thick with his smooth southern drawl. He presses a gentle kiss to your hypersensitive clit and whispers “sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Could give that farmer and his peaches a run for their money”

You giggle breathlessly. Your limbs are relaxed and heavy as you melt against the chair while Joel moves so that he’s kneeling between your legs. He takes advantage of how soft and pliant you are, easily manhandling you to flip over and put your ass up in the air with the side of your face pressed against the chair cushion.

He palms at your ass and grips handfuls of both cheeks before spreading you open so you’re on full display for him. He groans quietly seeing your hole clench around thin air, a thin string of your slick dripping from your lips.

“So beautiful, baby” Joel mumbles, dragging a single finger through the mess between your legs. You whine at the praise and wiggle your hips, your way of asking him to get on with it already.

“S’okay, baby” Joel soothes, rubbing a palm over the curve of your ass. “Gonna give you what you want”

Joel gathers the spit in his mouth before leaning over a bit and letting it drip down to where he has you spread open. He groans softly, watching the warm liquid land on your asshole and slide down to pool at your leaking entrance. You obviously don’t need any extra lubrication but Joel’s obsession with claiming you as his and getting you all messy like this is no secret.

You both moan when he nestles his cock between your cheeks, sighing heavily as he rocks his hips and gently glides his cock through the wetness.

“This what you want, sweetheart?” Joel teases, notching his tip at your entrance. “Or should I fuck this tight little hole? Haven’t played back here in awhile”

Your high-pitched whines turn into desperate moans when he spits again and spreads it over the tight ring of muscle with the pad of his thumb. You make another pathetic noise and push your hips back again.

“You’d take anything I gave you wouldn’t you, angel?” Joel coos, pressing his thumb past the tight ring of muscle. “Could take your sweet pussy or tight little ass whenever I want and you’d just be so grateful, huh baby?”

“Yes daddy just– please I just need you inside me”

Joel hums approvingly.

“Yeah I know you would, baby” Joel sighs, watching your tight hole swallow the tip of his thumb with stars in his eyes. “Always so desperate for me to fill you up and stuff you full of my cock, isn’t that right?”

You whine in frustration as Joel slides his cock through your folds again, rubbing the warm, swollen head of his cock against your clit.

“Please, daddy. Please please I want it so bad fuck me pl-”

You cut yourself off with a wanton moan when Joel fully sheathes himself inside your aching cunt in one swift, sudden movement.

“Sound so pretty when you beg like that” Joel chokes out, his fingertips digging into the meat of your hips as he wills himself to stay still while you adjust to his size.

It’s hard though, especially with your dripping walls spasming around his cock and your asshole squeezing his thumb.

“Jesus honey” Joel groans as he pulls your hips back onto him just to get a little bit deeper. His cock pulses inside of you when you whine his name and clench wildly around him. “Feel so fuckin’ good squeezin’ me like that”

“Move” you groan. “God daddy please move”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

Immediately he pulls out just until his tip catches on your entrance before slamming back inside. You cry out at the sudden, intense force, your hands scrambling and searching for purchase on the fabric of the chair. You try to crawl up on your forearms, but his strong hand between your shoulder blades forces you back down, your cheek smushed against the chair.

Joel growls from behind you as he quickly works up to a devastating pace. His eyes flit back and forth from your face, screwed up in pleasure, to where he’s pounding into you, both of your holes raw and stretched out around his cock and his thumb.

“Fuck you take it so well, baby” Joel grunts, his hand landing harshly on your ass. “Such a good girl, takin’ everything I give you”

He leans over, his palm sliding from between your shoulders to the back of your neck. The position pushes him even further inside of you, his tip pressing against your cervix with every stroke.

“Nghh fuck daddy, you’re so deep!” you cry, gasping wetly while his fingers splay over the front of your throat.

“Fuck yeah I am” Joel growls, his thumb now pressing firmly against the side of your neck, his fingertips squeezing the other side. “This cock was made to fuck you, sweet girl”

He gradually increases the pressure on your throat, his cock pulsating when you clench down on him as he slowly constricts the blood flow to your brain. There’s not a single worry in your head. The hand around your throat is a reminder of his dominance over you but also serves as a symbol of the trust between the two of you. It’s almost a silent way of saying “let go, I’ve got you”

And you do let go.

You moan uncontrollably as he continues to pound into you, your head quickly growing light and fuzzy. His fucking you with no reservations, making every inch of you skin tingle with pleasure. But you can’t resist the temptation to push your hips back, meeting his thrusts halfway. And judging from the sound of Joel’s moan, you know that was the right choice.

“Oh god, that’s it, sweetheart. Lemme see you fuck yourself on my cock”

You follow his orders, the muscles in your thighs and hips already burning from the sheer amount of effort you're exerting. Your mouth hangs open, drool leaking out onto the white fabric of the cushion as you whimper and whine while for him. He watches, completely focused on the way your body moves for him, panting heavily with his thumb still stuck in your ass.

“Better be quiet, angel,” Joel warns through clenched teeth. “Unless you want them to hear.”

He hisses when you clamp down around him and thrust your hips back, forcing his length deep inside of you. Joel chuckles breathlessly and leans down until his face is inches away from yours, his grip lightening up on your throat. “Oh you like that idea, don’t you?”

You try to open your mouth and say something, but he starts squeezing your throat again, laughing darkly when your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Dirty fucking girl” Joel whispers roughly, snapping his hips harder against yours if even possible at this point. He wiggles his thumb in your ass for good measure. “Wants the whole neighborhood to hear how well her daddy fucks her, huh baby?”

The sound of it all is obscene, your moans, the rhythmic slap of his pelvis against your ass, and the squelching of your dripping cunt as he fucks you senseless. For a brief second, your mind wanders to all the women in the neighborhood, so indiscreet with the way that they ogle at Joel at all the neighborhood cook-outs and bonfires and you think to yourself: yeah, they can fucking listen.

Joel places a wet kiss to the nape of your neck before straightening up again. His hand abruptly leaves your throat, leaving you gasping and whining at the loss.

“God you’re such a fuckin’ slut for it” Joel rasps, his hand gripping your hip again.

Your head feels thick and stuffy, thoughts floating around like syrup in your brain. The only thing you can think about is Joel’s cock driving in and out of you, dragging so deliciously against your g-spot while he keeps his thumb firmly in your tight asshole.

He uses two fingers from his free hand to prod at where he’s splitting you open, gathering some of your slick and dragging it up to your clit. He groans at the heavenly sounds that start falling from your lips as he rubs quick circles over the sensitive nub.

You’re an absolute mess at this point, completely at his mercy as he pounds into you. Your hips jerk involuntarily against him as he continues to rub your clit ferociously, making you writhe underneath him. His touch only adds to your pleasure, pure bliss engulfing all of your senses.

“Please daddy” you whine, your words slurring together. “Please I wanna cum”

“I know, baby. Can feel you clenchin’ around me'' Joel coos. “S’okay sweetheart, I want it. Soak my fuckin’ cock with it”

Your whole body tenses as you reach your release, your walls grip him so impossibly tight as he fucks you through it, his fingers on your clit not slowing for even a second

“That’s it, baby.” Joel praises as you shake underneath him, the sounds you're making, has his cock throbbing inside of you, his eyes rolling back at how tightly you squeeze his cock and his thumb. “Always so fuckin’ tight when you cum on me. So fuckin’ tight”

He’s not far behind you, the way your body reacts to him driving him absolutely wild. His fingers move from your clit to grip your hip and he slams into you with a newfound strength, chasing after his own release.

“Fuck, honey you’re gonna make me cum” he grunts, his eyes glued to your holes fluttering around him.

“Yes, daddy please cum” you manage to whine desperately, eager to have him fuck you full of his cum until it’s dripping out of you.

Your begging sends him over the edge and his pace falters then stops completely. The sounds of his loud moans as he spills inside of you sends a pleasant wave of warmth down your spine. It feels so divine, the way he throbs inside of you as he shoots rope after rope cum deep inside of you.

He stays there for a few moments, buried deep inside you while he catches his breath. Once his breathing evens out, he gingerly removes his thumb from your ass, his cock twitching pathetically at the way your tight hole grips onto him as he pulls it out. He then slides his cock out and collapses on top of you, careful not to completely crush you.

He’s burning hot, his sweaty skin sticking to your eyes as the sunshine beats down relentlessly on the two of you. But you don’t give single fuck. He rests his cheek between your shoulder blades, his scruff tickling the sensitive skin.

“You’re so good, sweetheart.” Joel whispers, his breath fanning over the back of shoulder.

You hum happily in response, too blissed out to say much else. You lay there for a few more minutes until the sun makes things unbearably hot. Joel then moves to stand up and shimmies out of the jeans that he never fully took off.

You turn your head to look at him, using your hand to shield your eye from the sun.

“You’re puttin’ a lot of faith in that fence” you chuckle, eyes shamelessly raking up and down his naked body.

Joel laughs out loud and tosses his jeans on the chair.

“Baby” he starts, reaching down to roll you over onto your back. “You know the only reason I agreed to building that fence and this goddamn pool in the first place is because I want to see you naked inside of it”

You have no time to react before he’s scooping you up in his arms.

“Joel Miller! Put me down!” you shout between giggles as he carries you over to the edge of the pool.

“It’d be my honor” he says before dropping you into the water.

The cool water is a shock to your fucked out system, but it’s such a relief from the heat. And if anyone else did that, you’d be fucking livid. Anyone else. But it’s Joel. And the way that he jumps in after you and then wraps his arms around you as he giggles in your ear makes you absolutely melt, just like it always does.

Thank god for peach season.

Thank you for reading I love you guys sm :')))

#Joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #pedro pascal characters #Joel miller

2K notes · View notes