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oddinary4bts · 19 hours

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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 | 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

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g0dlyunsub · 2 days

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can u do Spencer x fem reader where he's away on a case and she is super sick but doesn't tell him bc she doesn't want him to worry and he ends up coming home early and surprises her but she is still soo sick and he feels so bad that she felt like she couldn't tell him and takes care of her and is just so sweet with her!

yess! i loved writing this one so much 😳

doctor's orders.

you fall sick and decide not to disturb spencer during his working hours. when he returns home, he demands that he takes care of you, and you realize how adept he is at fondling the soreness out of you.

pairing :: spencer x fem!reader

contents :: slightly suggestive :3 lots of fluff, spencer calls reader a good girl once

word count :: 2.5k

author’s note :: spencer would literally be so gentle when taking care of you, it actually makes me sick to the core just thinking about how his nimble fingers would brush back your hair when it sticks to your sweaty forehead arghhh

accompanying song :: sugar by unusual demont

you struggle to keep your balance as you attempt to walk from the couch to the fridge. everything’s a warped blur, and you flail your arms helplessly to catch yourself from leaning too far to one side. but your head’s pounding relentlessly while a faint high-pitched ringing echoes through your ears; a burning sensation’s spreading through your back like a wildfire and your throat’s clenching with a throbbing pain every time you swallow. soon you’re on the ground, your hands fully taking in the coldness of the bare floor. you take labored breaths as you try to compose yourself, mentally counting backwards from ten as you try to lift yourself up but to no avail.

you haven’t felt this sick in a while, and you curse your own body for the painful reminder. you wince as you rest your head on your arm briefly, finally gathering some strength to push yourself off the floor. a bead of sweat trickles down your forehead, and you sigh weakly as you try to stabilize yourself.

the muscle pain, fatigue, congestion, sore throat, and fever – they’re a handful, and you know the symptoms would eventually subside with some home remedies and time, but it barely helps when you can only move by half-crawling and resting your hand on the wall every other step.

and you don’t want to bother spencer about it. he left you early in the morning, but not without fixing you a cup of tea and some scrambled eggs. you were still in bed, blissfully unaware of the symptoms marinating as you slept. and while he’s always told you to text or call him even if it was for a minor inconvenience, you feel bad for taking his time away from something that would easily overtake priority on anyone else’s list – murders, kidnappings, and hostage situations, just to name a few. yet you feel like you’re really testing the waters this time, clearly overestimating your ability to deal with your troubles when you’re clearing the contents of your stomach in the bathroom.

you drag yourself to the kitchen to pour a glass of cold water and gulp it down with tylenol from spencer’s medicine cabinet. it quickly quenches your thirst, and you carelessly drop the glass on the table with a loud thud. you groan as you place a hand on your forehead to feel your temperature. it’s scorching hot, and combined with the sweat, you feel as if your body will give out any moment.

you wipe your hands on your sides and whisper a soft oh. right. you had attempted to surprise your boyfriend with a pretty outfit, wearing a dress with thick lines of lace and mesh sleeves. but the silky layers were insulating all the heat in you, stinging your delicate skin and suffocating you slowly. you can barely lift your arms to take it off, so you give up and lie on the couch. bringing your knees to your chest, you curl up and try to think of anything but your pain.

spencer opens the door with a large grin plastered on his face, eager to greet you back with a tight embrace. he’s carrying a small basket with cookies and heart-shaped packing peanuts scattered all around them, a purchase he scoured for hours at the local plaza after asking garcia what she thinks you would enjoy.

“y/n? guess what!” he walks into the living room with an energetic step, only to stop when he spots you groggily waking up on the couch, your face deeply red and hot puffs of air leaving your mouth in the form of short pants.

spencer drops everything to the ground and runs over to you, the heart-shaped foams rolling everywhere on the ground and ricocheting off the front skirt of the furniture.

“y/n – what happened?” your boyfriend squeezes his arms into the thin space underneath your body, repositioning you so your neck can lie on the padded cushions of the armrest. you whine in pain as you turn to face him, your half-closed eyelids twitching as you try to keep them open.

“hurts,” you wince, and your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. you’re miserable that this is the state that you’re in, pain jolting through every inch of your body, leaving you a writhing mess in your man’s unwavering hands.

“shh, let me take care of you,” spencer murmurs with a gentle tone, one that’s higher-pitched and soothes you instantly like a massage. he stuffs a cushion under the nape of your neck and props each of your legs up on the other sidearm before wiping your forehead sweat with the back of his hand. his slightly musky and sudsy smell makes you lean into his touch, an intoxicating distraction from the torment of your numbing pain.

“did you dress up like this all for me?” he asks you, his fingers softly brushing back your hair as he examines your outfit. you let out an indecipherable string of words, discomfort flooding into the back of your throat as you attempt to speak.

spencer stands and heads to the medicine cabinet, where he pulls out a thermometer and makes quick strides back to the couch.

“open,” he demands lightly, and you slightly part your lips as he brings the thermometer to your tongue. you slowly close your mouth, feeling the cool tip turn warm under your muscle as you wait for the beep to ring.

when it does, spencer checks your temperature with a concentrated expression, which soon morphs into marked concern. you blink at him slowly, all the while his hands rake through your hair in a rhythmic motion.

he stands once again, disappearing into his room before coming back shortly with one of his t-shirts and a pair of your shorts hanging loosely from his arm.

“you need to change, y/n. as beautiful as you look with this dress, it’s interfering with your body’s ability to thermoregulate.”

you weakly sigh in response, slowly reaching for his shirt as you inhale his familiar scent. you hug his shirt for a little while longer, and spencer has to remind you to change with a soft tap of your hand.

with the help of your boyfriend’s arms, you sit up slowly and start to shrug the sleeves off of your shoulders, to which spencer instantly looks away. he clears his throat as you slip out of your dress and pull up your navy shorts, and he diverts his attention by deciding to pick up the fallen foams instead. after you hastily throw the shirt over your head, you sink back onto the couch and feel an instant sensation of relief as the heat radiating from your body meets the cool air.

spencer’s face is a deep red this time when he looks back to see that the edge of his shirt’s folded in on itself, thereby exposing your stomach in plain view. he hesitantly reaches for the hem and drags it down to cover you, and his hand hovers over your waist for a brief second.

“i’ll be back,” he briefly states before moving back into the kitchen, where he pours a cold glass of water for himself. he takes off his cardigan and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, before reaching his hands into the sink and splashing his face with water. he has no idea how you manage to capture his attention so effortlessly, leave him desperate for air as if he’s the one that’s sick. he bites the inside of his cheek as the image of your flushed face and exposed torso gnaws at his thoughts.

the things you do to him.

he returns to you with an electrolyte drink in his hand, which he uncaps and brings to the bottom of your lips. you take slow gulps as he lays his hand at the base of your neck and helps you to lean back for easier access. once you’re done, he wipes the wet corner of your lips before screwing the cap back on again.

“you didn’t take your acetaminophen, um, tylenol, with dayquil did you?” he asks as he sets the drink on an adjacent table and turns back to face you. you shake your head no and his shoulders relax as he comes down on his knees next to you.

“good girl,” he hums, and you worry your face is even redder than before -- if that’s even possible. your heart races when he utters those words, and you shift your gaze to the ceiling in unanticipated nervousness. you thank yourself for falling sick when you feel your cheeks turn a shade of pomegranate red, and it feels like your skin is singed from your own emotional response.

“are you hurting anywhere else?” he asks you, and you briefly close your eyes as you try to register a way to explain your pain to him. when your eyelids open, spencer’s tender gaze meets your tear-soaked orbs.

“everywhere,” you gasp. as soon as you speak, you feel an acidic taste bubble up your esophagus, causing you to gag.

“spence, i- i’m gonna vomit-” you barely manage to let out as you rush to the bathroom, bending over to throw up.

spencer’s right hand gathers your hair and lightly bundles them up in a makeshift ponytail, while his left picks up the stray strands of hair that manage to escape his large grip. you stretch your arm so your sweaty palm presses against the wall, and you grip tightly when illusory stars dizzy your vision.

when you finish, he helps you to slowly get up, one hand on your waist and the other holding your arm as he guides you back to the couch.

you soon feel the tears start to fall, leaving wet speckles on your boyfriend’s arm. he brushes them away as he cups your face, reassuring you with words of comfort.

“it’s okay, you can take all the time you need,” he whispers, worriedly pursing his lips as he surveys your rosy cheeks, tear-stained eyes, and irritated nose.

when you lay back, a layer of sweat presses against your back and his gauzy shirt sticks to your skin like hot glue. spencer's gentle hand rubs up and down your shoulder, before it drags halfway down the trail of your arm.

even more softly, your boyfriend suggests, “do you want to try some acupuncture? while we wait for your body to clear the infection, we can try to reduce your symptoms through natural techniques. there are various acupoints for exogenous fever, and it might help to apply some pressure there.”

you nod slowly. at this point, you’re willing to try anything to relieve even the smallest ounce of pain. spencer takes the opportunity to lift you in a sitting position once again, turning you to sit facing away from him.

he then lifts a thumb and approaches your back, finding the indentation just below the bump of your middle back. when he lightly applies pressure, a whimper leaves your lips and you lightly grip the sides of the couch. he wordlessly repeats this three more times before moving up to the nape of your neck, where he applies pressure in a circular motion. a defeated groan escapes your throat as you’re weighed down with his intolerable tenderness. you try to withhold yourself, to lump your sounds in your lungs like they’re a clot, but it’s a feeble attempt, one that encourages spencer to keep going. but he knows. despite how unfiltered and raw your cries are, they are not desire, not in that sense.

“acupuncture… it’s an excellent way to promote blood circulation as it stimulates flow through the body. targeting certain acupoints could help to reduce congestion, as well as relieve headaches and neck pains that are often associated with fever," he muses as he moves further down your spine again, lightly applying force in areas that soon subside from burning pain into relief.

spencer feels that there's a sense of logic to the way you move underneath his touch; the way your chest heaves euphorically in and out, the way you gulp for air between the rubs, and the way you shudder quietly. all of it fascinates him.

“but,” your boyfriend breaks his short-lived silence, “that’s not what i want to talk about right now." spencer lightly grunts as he shifts his weight by kneeling on one knee, placing his hand on your forehead to check your temperature again.

“i want you to explain why you didn’t text or call me.” his tone is a cautionary one, and it makes you slightly nervous.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. and… i wanted to surprise you,” you truthfully reply, avoiding his gaze.

he lightly chuckles before playfully poking your cheek.

“forget about the surprise. any time you’re sick like this, i need you to tell me. okay?” he taps each of his fingers across your arm and your hand lightly twitches with the gentle contact.

when you don’t respond, he raises a brow at you.

“that’s an order, y/n.”

you dispiritedly return a yes before he nods in approval.

“you look beautiful regardless of what you wear, y/n.” he makes sure not to come too close to you when he speaks, aware his warm breath could make it uncomfortable for you.

“you don’t have to lie, i look terrible right now.” you try to look away, but his gaze follows you as you move.

“what are you saying?" he frowns. "you’re so strikingly beautiful, it hurts when i have to see you in pain. i hate seeing you sick like this because you smile less. and i love seeing you smile,” he speaks dreamily, his lovestruck eyes glazing over yours like the two of you are interchanging blessings.

“okay, doctor reid,” you say half-sarcastically, but you smile when his thumb grazes your cheek. spencer grins in response and buries his face into your neck, his soft hair tickling against your cheek. you burst out laughing, but your sudden movements cause your face to contort into pain as you cough.

spencer pulls back almost instantly, laying a hand on your shoulder and telling you to breathe. when you both recollect your breaths, he gets up and stretches his arms.

“tell me when you’re feeling ready for a bath, i’ll set it up for you.”

he stands beside you, watching as your chest rises up and down with your timed breaths. you smile contently before lightly pinching the side of his trousers.

“but i want to keep this shirt,” you say coyly, admiring the softness of the fabric as you trace the edges of the embroidered fbi logo.

you look up to see spencer blush as he scratches the back of his neck.

“i’ll have a new change of my clothes for you.”

he then stoops to take away your now lukewarm cup of water, disappearing into the kitchen.

the things you do to him.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #mgg #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler

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cookie-crumblr · 1 day

Text

Chubby F! Housewife Reader X M!Yandere Streamer OC Jasper

Part 1?

(idk i might continue it?? should i? i know it’s more niche)

MINORS DNI

CW: Chubby F!reader, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, cheating themes, reader in a dress, pet names for reader(darling, ) not smutty yet! slow burn possibly

keep thinking about a chubby housewife reader to like a really shitty but rich man, and they move next door to Jasper………………. MMMMM

Anything in Red reader isn’t aware of

Your husband moved you both into a beautiful mansion in a gated community. It’s amazing, and everything you could ever need, he’s providing.

You fell in love with him a year and a half ago.

It’s not like he lied, but you wouldn’t have married him had you known what he was really like.

He drinks all day and complains all night, and when he fucks you, he finishes in a few seconds. And that’s when he does fuck you! He’s hardly ever even touching you let alone getting it in.

You are standing outside overseeing the movers as they take boxes and furniture into your brand new house. your skirt dances against your legs in the warm, gentle breeze.

Your husband swirls an amber liquid in a short crystal glass, watching you from the doorway. When you wave excitedly, he skulks back into the mansion.

Your heartstrings tug painfully.

He’s taken you far away from all of your loved ones, somewhere where you’re all alone and afraid… And he can’t even be there for you at least little bit? Before a stinging tear fully can form-

“Evenin’” You hear a lazy male voice from nearby, and spin toward your hedges. There’s a wrought gate between yours, and your neighbors’ yard directly… The old neighbors must’ve been their friend. A young looking guy stands on the other side of it, waving kindly to you. His posture is easy, one hand in his jean pocket, the other up in the air, his head tipped back exposing his pale neck. Long black hair frames his face, loaded with piercings. He looks out of place, but perfectly at home standing out.

You approach, figuring that your husband can lead the movers just fine on his own. You don’t notice your slight pout, but Jasper finds it adorable, he bites his lip, eyeing you up.

“Sorry I didn’t bake ya a pie, didn’t know the place would be sold so soon.” He laughs and lazily scratches the back of his head, his shirt pulls up revealing his hip bone.

“Why? ‘s it haunted? OooOo” You wave your fingers to mock something spooky.

He laughs at your cute demeanor, “Eh maybe, last owner did die,” he shrugs.

“Oh my, I’m sorry, I didn’t know….” You idly run your fingers over the cold, slightly bumpy textured gate.

“Nothing to be sorry for, didn’t know them” He shrugs.

“Oh phew! I thought— Anyway!” You shake your hands and head to reset the convo, “What’s up? why’d you call me over here?” You tilt your head and fold your hands in front of you.

“I was just greeting my pretty new neighbor, that’s all,” He grins.

“Oh stop! I’m married!” You shyly laugh and turn your head so that he can’t see you’re flustered.

“happily?” His grin grows as does his suspicion.

“Oh!” You think of an excuse to quickly leave, “I think the movers are calling me!” You rush off back to at least pretend to delegate again.

His brow raises curiously as he smiles after you, watching your curves sway as you walk away.

The stranger watches you for a few minutes longer, and you feel his eyes on you, but you don’t dare turn around and encourage him.

You are a good wife. Regardless of who you ended up marrying. You stomp, steadfast in your decision.

He chuckles before walking back to his home.

Inside you finish setting the table with the house workers, and arranging the flowers on all the marble pedestals around the dining room. Your husband is having some business partners over for dinner.

As the door rings you rush to answer the door, and an employee beats you to it, taking their coat and everything.

You aren’t really sure what you should be doing… And your chest tightens with nerves.

“What are you doing out here? You should be with me.” Edward grabs your elbow and drags you along. He’s being rather rough but you can’t help feel a little grateful to be lead. It doesn’t stop your eyes burning in embarrassment.

He sets you down in the seat next to his at the head, and your heart flutters with pride, emotional whiplash aside.

A few men enter the dining room one after the other, and then dinner is served. you’re dissociating for most of it, just nodding along to their dull conversation, until your husband’s hand clasps around your thigh. “Huh?”

“You’re excused now, darling,” he has a cold look in his eye that startles you.

“What?” What he said hurt your feelings, he doesn’t want you around now? did you do something wrong?

“Leave, let us grown ups talk now” He laughs with his business friends joining in.

You feel that far too familiar sting in your eyes, how could he!? that’s so embarrassing! You’re his wife.

Doing your best, you stand without making a scene and give them all your most polite and proper departing smile.

It’s cold on the patio. Your evening dress doesn’t cover very much and where it does, the fabric is cool. You’re quick to shiver, but you remain.

There’s a security camera above you and you feel watched, so you decide to go for a walk around the block instead of staying stationary. Maybe that will warm you up a little too.

You creep out the front gate, feeling like you’re a teen again, sneaking out when you aren’t supposed to… But this is your home! you aren’t disallowed from taking a walk!

“Hah!” You laugh to yourself, how silly of a feeling you just had.

As you round a corner adorned by an iron lamp post with glowing twin lanterns, you start dwelling more and more on your predicament. You already felt lonesome before, where Edward had made you feel special, and told you you’d never be alone again. Yet here you are, walking down the dim street, alone.

An engine coming towards you snaps you out of your thoughts, you turn to see a large van slowing down as it approaches you. Your heart thumps and your mind races before the driver side window rolls down revealing your neighbor’s laid back, and smirking face.

You let out a shaky sigh, “oh goodness you scared me for a second!” followed by a nervous laugh.

“You alright? Want a ride?” He asks.

“Oh no, don’t worry about me! I was just taking a stroll,” You let your words hang, wanting to accept but being a little too frightened or nervous to outright accept.

“C’mon, we can have some coffee or tea at my place, ‘sides, i’d feel terrible if i just left ya out here at this time, sure it’s gated but a tasty lookin’ treat like you’d get snatched up in a heartbeat.”

Your face feels hot but you nod and mangange to get out an “mhm!”

He watches you round the front of his van, and reaches his body over the center console to open the passenger door for you.

He offers his hand to help you up, when you take it, it’s cold! “What have you been up to? You feel like death! here!” You bring his hand up to your face and blow warm air over his knuckles.

Crimson fills his cheeks for the moment and is swift to clear back out before you can really admire it.

You pull back away a little embarrassed yourself, you aren’t sure why you did that to a stranger! “Oh! I don’t even know your name! I’m Y/N!” You stick your hand back out in offer to shake his.

He takes it, “Jasper,” a small smile tugs at his lips.

The drive isn’t long, but you realize how far from home you actually were, and wonder what he had been doing to find you.

You step out onto his driveway and anxiously look through the gate connecting your yards. It feels as though this is something you really shouldn’t be doing… But this Jasper guy could be a friend, and then you won’t be so lonely anymore!

Your home is still lit up inside, so you’re assuming they’re still talking in there.

Jasper’s space on the inside is dimly lit, but brightly coloured retro fantasy, all soft shapes with rounded sides. Mostly pinks and purples. Very vaporwave. The kitchen tiles, though the typical black and white checker board, warp and look like waves on the floor. Plants cover most all the surfaces.

He makes you your preferred tea, or coffee, he doesn’t make himself a cup of either. Instead he grabs a pale blue, and silver can from the fridge.

“Oh i see how it is,” You say with sarcasm.

“I figured you’d need to warm up,” A smile crosses his lips that has your body feeling hot.

You sip your drink nonchalantly.

“So what were you doing out there by yourself?”

“My husband— Nevermind, sorry. I shouldn’t talk bad about my husband behind his back…”

“Well I know something we could do if you don’t wanna go back yet…” his brow raises in a challenge.

#my oc #yandere #oc x reader #oc x you #yandere x reader #yandere x you #my fic #streamer oc x reader #x reader #x oc #x you #male yandere #chubby reader #fem reader #f!reader #streamer x you #streamer x reader #streamer yandere #streamer yandere x you

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chvoswxtch · 13 hours

Note

hi my love, my sweetness!! congrats again on 4K you deserve it so much and I love youuu!!

I know the cafe is technically closed but I thought maybe if I flirt a bit with the owner, who’s such an amazing lovely person who writes excellent fics, I thought I might be able to order a drink or two (only if there’s time and of course fine if not<3)

so could I order a macchiato over ice for Frank or Hotch. how would they be/react if they saw you in their clothes? I think both are so territorial and like daddies and if they saw you just in their sweatshirt or jacket or whatnot in a completely innocent situation they’d lose it. Let’s not even get started on at home or bedroom related

love you thank you for sharing your writing with us <333

SWEET BABY D!!!!

oh i've missed you so. thank you so much my sweet. you can order anything you want <3

sjdkshdsjkd do you know how absolutely feral hotch would go if he came home after a shitty week & saw you wearing one of his dress shirts bc i'm going feral just thinking about it so let me paint you a lil picture

as a reminder, over ice means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

aaron hotchner likes you in his clothes

let me set the scene for ya. it's been a long week for our bau daddy, dealing with narcissistic psycho killers & keeping all his kids in line (the rest of the bau), & the frustrations are high when he finally steps off the jet. he doesn't even stay back to handle the mountain of paperwork waiting for him, that's how fed up he is

when he finally makes it home, it's well after midnight, & he's so tired he doesn't even wanna take a nice hot shower like he usually does to unwind. he just wants to fall into bed & let the exhaustion take over

but when he passes by the kitchen, he instantly freezes, bc there you are standing by the counter, having a lil midnight snack (eating ice cream straight out of the tub), wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts. and when I say nothing, I mean hotch can tell you are wearing absolutely nothing underneath

his eyes quickly darken with pure lust & his cock is already half hard when he stalks over towards you with determined steps

the spoon is still in your mouth when you notice him, a smile stretching across your lips around it before you lick off the sweet remnants & slip it out of your mouth

"hey, how was the c-"

you don't even get a chance to finish that sentence bc hotch cuts you off by grabbing the back of your neck to capture your mouth in a heated kiss & he does not hold anything back as he pushes you up against the counter

his kiss is aggressive & needy, & the muffled moan that escapes you tastes delicious on his tongue. his fingers make quick work of unbuttoning the few buttons you'd had done, but he doesn't push it off your shoulders. oh no, he wants you to keep it on

his hands roam over your newly exposed skin, greedily grabbing at your breasts to squeeze them roughly, his thumb & index fingers toying with your sensitive nipples knowing it'll get you all riled up for him, & the sounds you make let him know it's working

he grabs your hand & guides it to his belt, & without hesitation you follow his silent command, your nimble fingers unbuckling it while he sheds his suit jacket & tie

in a flash he swiftly spins you around & bends you over the counter, bunching the bottom of his shirt up around your hips, & he spreads your legs further apart with his foot

he wastes no time pushing forward, burying his cock deep without warning, his hand quickly covering your mouth to contain your sharp moan. his other hand has a bruising grip on your hip as he leans forward & hisses in your ear

"be quiet."

the sensation of your warm, tight walls completely enveloping his cock makes his brain go blank. he can't focus on anything else other than how good you feel. he immediately begins snapping his hips, fucking you hard & fast while grunting in your ear

with every powerful thrust, the stress & tension built up in his body from this week starts to fade, & the pleasure rapidly builds. even though he's chasing a much needed release, he's not selfish, so he slips his hand between your thighs & begins to strum swift circles over your clit with two of his fingers

he lets out a quiet, wrecked groan in your ear when he feels your pussy start to contract around him, the muffled moans against his palm only heightening his arousal. as badly as he wants to hear you fall apart, he doesn't wanna wake up jack

when he feels your body seize up as you come, hotch squeezes his eyes shut & lets out a strangled groan, gripping your waist tightly with both hands as his hips start to stutter

"fuck fuck fuck."

he comes hard, spilling deep within your snug walls, emptying himself completely. the way your cunt continues to contract around his cock milks him of every drop he has to offer, & it makes him let out a shuddering breath

placing both of his palms down on the counter to steady himself, he buries his face into your hair, panting heavily. if he wasn't exhausted before, he sure as hell is now, but he's definitely more calm. a breathless laugh leaves your lips before you speak

"well, hello to you too."

letting out a breathless chuckle of his own, hotch smiles & wraps one of his arms around your waist, pressing a soft kiss to your neck

"sorry, hi."

reaching one of your hands back to caress his face with your hand, you hum softly with a grin

"missed me that much, huh?"

leaning into your gentle touch, hotch's smile turns into a full blown grin

"always. but I have to say, I love your choice in pajamas tonight."

glancing down at yourself, it clicks that seeing you in his shirt is what set hotch off, & a devilish smirk spreads across your lips

"i'll keep that in mind. sir."

in conclusion if you hear screaming from across the world it is me

#court's 4k followers celebration #court's 4k friends celebration #court's cafe #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #aaron hotchner headcannon #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner request #criminal minds #criminal minds headcannon #criminal minds smut #criminal minds request

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jalluzas-ferney · 15 hours

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Ngl we have a BIG lack of siblings in Ninjago. Like why is literally almost every character, especially the main characters since we can actually infere if they have siblings or not, unlike ofhwr side characters where we don’t know for sure.

But overall it’s like- literally almost no one has siblings and only child’s are NOT that common. Like literally I can only think of :

Wu and Garmadon

Nya and Kai

Acronix and Crux

Benthomar and Kaalmar

Akita and her brother

Beatrix and Zeatrix

AND THE LAST TWO ARE SO MINOR LIKE-

It’s such a nitpick what I’m saying but I wish we saw kore sibling relationships 😭 like how tf is almost every character here an only child like- it would be so cool if they gave Cole a sibling, or Jay a long lost half sibling or or skylor or I DUNNOOO

Ik it’s not that deep but I still wish they gave them more siblings 😭

#ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #lego ninjago #dragons rising #ninjago dr

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archangeldyke-all · 3 days

Note

may u do sevika helping black reader take care of her hair? 🥹 I’d think after reader teaches her what to do sev would become a pro at braiding and would wanna do it all the time

sure!

disclaimer! i'm white, so please let me know if i make any mistakes and i'll fix them asap!

men and minors dni

sevika's hair is very low-maintenance. while she probably should be keeping better care of it, she just doesn't care enough to bother with anything beyond shampoo and conditioner, running a comb through it every morning, and putting it in her signature half ponytail. she trims it when it gets shaggy. that's the extent of her hair-care.

so when she meets you: you who alternates hairstyles like they're outfits, and takes a whole day to wash your hair, she's fascinated.

she absolutely adores your natural hair. when you guys first met, you were wearing two puffballs on top of your head, with two little braids framing your face, and it's still her favorite hairstyle to see you in. she thinks you're adorable.

she also loves when you just comb it out and rock an afro. she'll help you pick it out, carry a little pick in her back pocket in case you forget yours, and she'll always stop you to gently pick whenever lint or a little leaf gets caught in it.

when you guys move in together, she starts watching you do your hair. she just sits on her stomach, her feet kicking in the air behind her as she watches you braid your hair through the mirror, an adoring look on her face.

she's curious, too. you don't understand why for the longest time.

"what's that for?" she asks as you pop the tub of your hair gel, a toothbrush in your free hand.

"my edges." you explain as you gel your baby hair down on your forehead.

"oh. those pretty curls. i thought that just happened." she says, smiling. you giggle.

"no, i gotta style 'em or else they'll be all frizzy."

"i like you frizzy." sevika pouts. you just giggle and kiss her.

it's only when you catch her watching hair tutorials that you finally start to understand why sevika's been keeping such a close eye on you each time she sees you doing your hair. she wants to help.

the thought makes you melt, and you have to keep yourself from squealing and pinching her cheeks at how cute she is.

so, you start asking her for help.

"sev, will you help me section my hair out for my braids?" you ask one night. the responding grin you get is worth the wonky sectioning on the left side of your head.

the longer you guys spend together, the better she gets at doing your hair. by the time you're married, she's better at doing it than you are.

it's theraputic for both of you, it's how you guys bond. between each step of whatever style she's doing, she's peppering kisses against your scalp and forehead. you end up falling asleep more times than not, so relaxed and in love that you can't help yourself. she's so gentle with you, so patient, she spends entire days diligently working if that's what it takes to do the style you've requested.

she absolutely adores putting beads or charms in your hair if you have it in braids or twists or locs. the more the better. sevika doesn't consider her decorating job done until she can hear the little 'click click click' of your beads bonking into one another as you shake your head.

(now i'm picturing her buying little 's' charms to push onto your braids, and her frowning, hands on her hips in the hair bead isle of the beauty store as she tries to 'pick out a color scheme for your fun summer hair, babe'-- her words.)

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #the last part is just a self insert because i LOVE when black girls wear beads in their hair #i'm so glad to see more adults doing it now too #it was my favorite thing in elementary school when my friends would come in with beads in their hair. click clack click clack click clack

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bigtreefest · 3 days

Text

Chapter 8: Golden Hour

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: The sun sets on Bucky’s last week of the deal to work on your farm

Word count: 2,138

Content/warnings: kissing, cuddling, shaky voices aka holding back crying and emotions, avoiding a sensitive topic, drinking, pet name usage

Author’s Note: Although this chapter is kinda sad, I think it’s sweet to see how much they care for each other. You can really tell neither is looking forward to the separation but they’re both too stubborn to say something about it.

This is a shorter chapter, too, but I hope you enjoy! I’d love to hear your feedback!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

Bucky stayed on the phone with Andy for the better part of an hour to make sure he had all of the information. According to Barber, since the cow was given to you ‘in good faith,’ legally, you could keep it without being considered as in debt to Cole. That was a relief, and throughout the weekend, Bucky was being…well, Bucky. His normal controlling self, or at least as much as he could be while still under your roof.

All you wanted to do was enjoy your midday snack on Sunday afternoon before heading back out to do some minor maintenance work when he gave you an update.

“I’ve already gotten Jensen to set up an appointment with a vet who can scan it for chips or any nefarious devices to make sure we’re not being tracked or listened to.”

You stoped midway through biting your granola bar, gesturing with it out to the side of your house where the cow had been staying in surprise.

“Jensen? My ex, Jensen? You’re really working together? I thought you hated him. Fixing the cave wasn’t a one-and-done?”

Bucky shrugged as he looked through your cabinets for something to satisfy his cravings, already half-tired from starting to repair a shed with you and finding schematics for a porch swing. “Well, I technically do hate him, and it’s more like he’s working for me than us working together, but I saw how he’d give up anything to help you, and someone with that quality is worth keeping around.”

He finally settled on a cheese stick and a couple crackers before turning to face you. “Plus, the fact that somehow you don’t hate him helps a little, but I’m still gonna keep him in check.”

You smiled and nodded, throwing away your wrapper and going for another sip out of your water bottle. “Hm, I see. I hope that new training you sent him through will prove useful for the future. Seal his loose lips right up.”

Bucky stopped mid-chew, afraid to look at the knowing smirk on your face. You really were too perceptive for his own good. “Um, yeah. Be a shame to waste it on someone we don’t plan on using. Now hurry up and finish that water bottle. Gotta make sure you’ve got enough energy to finish the repairs on that shed this afternoon so your little cow has a place to lay her head outside. Plus, Curtis is coming over later to help me with a surprise and I’ve gotta make sure I’m ready for him.”

“I wouldn’t be worried about my energy, cowboy. Hope you can keep up.” And with a wink, you polished off your water and walked toward the door to slip on your boots and get back to work.

After a mostly restful weekend, you woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Monday morning, the last of the month, the last of- no. You didn’t want to think about that. Instead, you took this early hour as a chance to be productive before you had to get Bucky up. A chance to fill your mind with anything but that thought. You figured you’d get a jump on gathering the eggs. You had time to make a breakfast casserole, that could be good. And then do the crossword from yesterday you hadn’t touched? And maybe read? Really, anything to keep occupied before you had to face the music.

Before you knew it, the oven beeped to signal the end of the casserole’s bake time. You pulled it out and slipped off your oven mitts, running on the cool wooden floors in your socked feet to the staircase and going up to Bucky’s room.

You lightly knocked on the door and cracked it open to see a lump tangled up in the old comforter. As you slowly crept forward over the creaky floor, you could just barely make out the rise and fall of his body. You hated to wake him as he looked so peaceful, but it was time for work, and sleeping in any longer would just postpone the inevitable and waste your valuable time together.

You took a seat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his shoulder gently. “Jamie, rise and shine. Time to get going.”

He groaned and rolled over, squinting at you through the one eye he could pry open.

“Hmmmm. Honey, didn’t I earn an extra five minutes? I’ve been so good and done all the shit you’ve asked of me lately.”

You let out a breathy laugh at his gruff morning voice as he reached out for you, throwing his arms around your hips and shuffling to place his head in your lap. You stroked his hair, basking in the early morning moment.

“Watch your tongue, but yes, you did, and I gave it to you fifteen minutes ago, so get up and ready for the day.”

Bucky grumbled lowly against your jean-clad thigh. “Fuck off, Steve.”

You remained silent until he turned his head up to look at yours at the lack of response. Bucky’s tired eyes were met by your firm warning glance, causing him to backtrack immediately.

“Um, sorry, I, uh… I meant of course, honey, excited to start my ….” His voice began to shake. You could’ve finished the sentence for him. You knew what he was going to say. His last week on the farm. But you didn’t. You didn’t finish his sentence because you didn’t want to hear it either. You simply patted his head and nodded, your eyes slightly more watery than before. You tried to play it off as a yawn before gently lifting him from your lap and standing again.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Your attempt at a snarky reply came out as a whisper, caught somewhere in your throat, where you attempted to clear it out before starting again. “Breakfast is already cooked, just cooling right now. I’ll go ahead and serve it up. I hope you’re dressed and ready, downstairs before it gets too cold.”

By the time Bucky had the chance to process your words and demeanor and nod, you had already turned around and headed back downstairs.

Besides the successful vet appointment, the rest of the days of the week were quite similar to the way Monday went, although Bucky kept getting up earlier, and pushing you to stay up later, not wanting to waste a single second with you.

The farm work went smoothly, much faster than you had recalled your first weeks with Bucky being, considering he couldn’t do a single thing without you by his side back then. The two of you still worked alongside each other, but now it made everything go twice as fast instead of creating roadblocks.

The fields were getting long enough to make hay bales, so you officially got to take Bucky up into the big green tractor and show him the way to properly weave and maneuver through the fields to cut it, turn it, and bale it. You didn’t miss the way he smirked when you told him the piece of equipment you’d be using for the job. That song, ‘Big Green Tractor,’ had played several times in the bar and it didn’t take too long for Bucky to catch on to the innuendo, but he didn’t do anything about it…yet.

For some of the other tasks, Peter came along, too, learning how everything worked. He caught on quickly, which was reassuring because you weren’t sure how things were going to be without Bucky by your side in the coming weeks. The increased speed on everything helped you to finish up earlier than usual, too, giving you most of the night for just relaxing with the two of them. Well, mainly Bucky, since Peter stayed out of the way when he could. You’d had enough time to hang out for a couple hours before dinner, then finish up the evening checks and milkings, and then go back to decompress before bed.

That gave plenty of time for you to go do something with Bucky, just the two of you outside of chores, outside of his scheduled phone calls, to just be. And then each night, after you changed into pajamas, Bucky crawled into your bed with you, his arms wrapped you in a tight embrace, holding lazy, yet deep conversation until the first one between the two of you fell asleep.

This new arrangement with no signs of Bucky returning to his old quarters allowed Peter move into the house. Sure, it may not have been that exact room in favor of one of the other guest rooms, but you insisted that now that the rest of the crew had finished up their work in the mines, there was no sense in him staying alone in the barndiminium. Especially if he was to be here for the foreseeable future.

Another night, another chance for you and Bucky to enjoy the sunset out in the rocking chairs, facing west. Except, Bucky wasn’t the biggest fan of any sort of seating with armrests that might block your closeness, so the two of you sat pressed up against each other on the front porch swing, the surprise for you that Curtis had come over to help Bucky build earlier in the week.

You weren’t all alone in these moments, though. Sure, all the people around you knew to stay away and give the two of you privacy in these times, but it was different for the farm animals. As you leaned back against Bucky’s chest, his arms around your waist and head tucked over your shoulder, satisfied yet worried thoughts filling your heads, the two of you would laugh as the sheep and cattle dogs would run up to you, accompanied by the mini highland cow that you’d decided to let Decks name the next time she visited.

The week had flown by already, full of nights like this, the two of you sitting in the glow of the golden hour that Bucky would surely miss in the city, sharing kisses and everything you could think of.

The air was just cool enough on Friday night when the sun went down to make a bonfire. Cherry had the night off for once, so Curtis had brought her over for a small picnic in one of the fields before joining the two of you by the fire.

You and Bucky had made an ice bucket of beer for the occasion, sipping lightly throughout the easy conversation, your back to his chest as his was against a log, the both of you sitting on an old quilt. Curtis and Cherry were doing the same as you got to know the girl who seemed to be stealing his heart.

“So Houston, huh? How do you feel about here?” Bucky gestured across the fire to her with his bottle.

“Yeah, kind of glad to be out of there, though. Have some time to take it slow away from the city, ya know? What about you? You’re not from around here either, right?”

You did your best to hide your wince at Cherry’s response. Sure, she was just being nice and holding genuine conversation. You couldn’t blame her for not knowing the way you and Bucky were trying to ignore any topics that even came close to his departure or what he was doing here in the first place.

Bucky was much better at hiding his true emotions, though, a product of his livelihood. “Yeah, city life has been good to me. Doesn’t mean I don’t love it out here just as much, though. I think I’ve gained a whole new perspective on this place and the people just from a month.” He gave a small smile with his response which Cherry returned with a nod before Bucky leaned forward to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“I feel that. I kind of already feel at home. But you’re not sticking around, right? Curtis told me this was one of your last nights in town.”

There it was. She said it out loud, creating a pang of pain in both your and Bucky’s chests. He cleared his throat, throwing a quick glance at his stoic pal across the fire, and Curtis seemed completely unbothered. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of how much you and Bucky cared for each other. And maybe he was right for that. As soon as Bucky left, he had to go back to his normal, busy schedule that poor Steve had been maintaining this whole time, and then some. Bucky wouldn’t have space in his schedule to come back here or worry about you for anything but business, right?

You let out a shaky breath as Bucky rubbed his hand along your side, responding just barely loud enough to overtake the crackling fire. “Yeah.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: when things heat up to be pulled apart…I’m sure there a scientific term for that (entropy?)

Series Taglist: @scuzmunkie @openup-yourmind @vicmc624 @hawkeyes-queen @blackhawkfanatic @morgthemagpie @buckybarnessimpp @calwitch @thesarcasmqueen-22 @mrsnikstan

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #you catch more bees with honey series #you catch more bees with honey #mob! Bucky x farmer! reader #outta nowhere AU #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #mob Bucky #mob! Bucky #mob Bucky x farmer reader #mob! bucky x reader #mafia Bucky #mafia! Bucky #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 3 days

Text

Mine

Chapter 14

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You and Thorin disagree over your recent choices, and it seems this argument can only be settled one way...

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, 18+, NSFW, minors do not interact, Pin V sex, fingering

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your patience. I know this took a lot longer to post than I thought. The smuttier chapters always take me longer to write because I know those are the ones we all read the most😂 I promise it will be worth the wait and there will be plenty more to follow!♥

Word count: 3913

You shout his name in protest, kicking and struggling in his grasp. But his seething rage seems to have only made him stronger. He doesn’t even flinch when you beat your fists against the broad muscles of his back. And every effort you make to kick him in the face is easily dodged as he carries you up the stairs.

Bertram is following right behind him.

“Put my dancer down this instant!” he demands, struggling to keep up with Thorin’s angry strides.

“This is why I told you not to let him find out!” you shout from over his shoulder.

"You put her up to this?!” a yelp escapes you as Thorin whirls around at the top of the stairs, still dangling you over his shoulder. You can feel the growl reverberating against where your thighs are pinned to his chest.

“It was her idea,” you hear Bertram scoff. “Did you really think accommodating so many of you at once would come cheap? I was prepared to throw you out on your asses until she offered an encore performance to sweeten the deal.”

“Encore?!” Thorin’s grip tightens around your legs and you’re suddenly very grateful that you can’t see his face right now.

“An encore that has yet to be completed thanks to you. So either she goes back out there and puts on one heck of a performance or you and the rest of your companions will need to find accommodations elsewhere tonight.”

“From what I saw, she’s already given you more than enough of a ‘performance’ for one night. You and I can come to another arrangement in the morning but she will not be stepping foot on that stage again as long as I live.”

“That might not be as long as you think if you don’t put me down this instant, Thorin!”

He ignores your protests as he continues down the hallway, kicking open the door and depositing you back on your feet in the middle of the room.

You immediately rip his cloak off of you, balling it up and tossing it back at him. But it just falls to the floor in a pile as he turns his back to you. Opening your pack he starts to pull out various articles of clothing, tossing them over his shoulder to you.

“Get dressed,” he grunts. Shirts, pants, chemises, and skirts sail through the air but you merely bat them all away in defiance. It’s almost like he expected you to refuse when he looks over his shoulder at you. When he runs out of your clothes to toss at you, he simply starts to toss some of his own instead.

“Lack of clothing isn’t the problem here,” you remind him.

“Then what is?” he snaps, kicking discarded piles of clothing out of the way as he stalks closer to you. “Temporary insanity? Lack of attention?”

“Yes, Thorin,” you scoff, taking a step closer to him until the two of you are practically chest to chest. “I was so desperate for your attention that I decided to take my clothes off in front of a crowd of strangers.”

“You’d dance half naked for strangers but Mahal forbid people find out we have any kind of intimate relationship.”

“Are you still upset about that?!” you roll your eyes. “Not everything I do is about you, Thorin. It’s like Bertram said: he wanted to charge us far more gold than even Smaug has right now. We have a history, so I offered to do him a favor in exchange for lodging.”

“A history?” he scoffs.

“Yes, a history,” you snap. “I told you I used to be a tavern dancer to pay my way across middle earth. This tavern happened to be a frequent stop for me. Now quit deflecting!”

“I’m not the one deflecting, lass.”

“Then what do you call it when someone is pretending to be upset about information they already knew, in order to avoid talking about the real reason they’re angry?”

“What, pray tell, is the real reason I’m upset with you?”

You take a step closer to him, tipping your head back until the two of you are practically nose to nose. “I fixed things and it kills you. You can’t stand the fact that I was able to solve a problem for you. Mahal forbid the great Thorin Oakenshield show any signs of weakness, let alone allow a woman to solve a problem for him.”

“Now who’s deflecting?” he smirks and you let out an angry huff, crossing your arms over your scantily clad chest.

Thorin’s gaze dips down to where your breasts are pressed together above the shelf of your arms. He takes in the sight of your provocative attire for the first time in this new setting. Very little is left to the imagination in your current state. You have to resist the urge to shudder at the chill his gaze sends down your spine as he studies every inch of your exposed skin. His jaw clenches and you know he’s remembering just how many people were recently looking at the exact same ensemble.

He brings a hand to your chin, tipping your head back so you have no choice but to look directly at his scowling face. “No one gets to see you like this ever again, understood?” he growls and the corners of your mouth quirk up.

“Let me guess, except for you? That’s quite selfish of you Thorin.”

“I don’t care,” his grip tightens on your jaw, pulling you closer to him until your lips are just a breath away from each other. “You’re mine.” He devours you hungrily, pulling your bodies closer together. Your hands slide up his chest, clawing at the fabric separating the two of you.

“Mine,” he repeats with a low growl, abruptly releasing his grip on your face and taking a step back. Before you can protest, he is tossing you over his shoulder yet again. You let out a gasp as he tightens his grip around your bare thighs.

Trudging through the piles of discarded clothes on the floor, Thorin crosses the room to toss you down on the bed. You go to push yourself up onto your forearms but he is already climbing up your body to tower over you. Your lungs are heavy with the intoxicating scent of him as he pulls your mouth back to his. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him even closer to you, wanting his entire body weight to crash down on you until there isn’t any air left inside of you.

You shudder in delight when he breaks from your lips to kiss a path along your neck to nip at the shell of your ear. “Mine,” he says again, rising above you to fully admire your form trapped beneath him.

“Mine to touch,” his hands brush along your collarbone, traveling farther down your chest to trace the swell of your breasts. He bunches up the strip of fabric covering your top, lifting it to expose you fully. You think he’s just going to untie it, but instead, he tears the thin strip of fabric in two.

“Mine to admire,” he continues, ignoring the way your jaw has dropped at the loss of your only performance attire. Thorin doesn’t seem like he’s planning on letting you go anywhere in an outfit of that kind ever again, so perhaps it was part of his plan all along.

You narrow your eyes up at him in defiance, but he only smirks down at you. Watching the anger leave your eyes the moment his warm hands cup your breasts. Your jaw drops open again, but this time to release a moan as he squeezes and massages the flesh between his fingers.

“Mine to enjoy,” he declares keeping his eyes locked on yours as he lowers his face down to one of your breasts. Continuing to massage the other he gently sucks and bites at your now sensitive buds.

They’ve begun to darken and perk up ever since they were given his attention and he wastes no time worshiping the two mounds of flesh before him.

Wrapping your legs around his midsection you pull him closer to you, arching your back off the bed as you start to grind your core up against the hardness you feel trying to escape from his trousers.

Thorin gently scrapes his teeth against the tender flesh in his mouth and you groan at the sensation. Impatiently, you begin to tug at the edge of his shirt, desperate to have access to just as much of his skin as he does of yours.

Relenting to your unspoken wishes, he sits back upright above you slipping the material overhead. Your fingers connect with the warm skin exposed to you, tracing the muscles and ridges with your fingertips. You start to chart a path farther down his abdomen towards where you’re aching for him. You stop when your fingers brush against the rough material of the bandage you wrapped around his midsection. You were so caught up in your desire you completely forgot that he’s still seriously injured. Your hands go still, hesitantly hovering over the wound.

Maybe this isn’t the time. Despite how badly you want Thorin to fuck you into the mattress right now, you can’t risk doing any further damage. Especially with the rest of the journey still ahead of you. You’re so lost in thought you don’t notice Thorin’s hooked a finger under your jaw until he’s tipping your head up to look at him. “I’m fine,” he assures you but you still scrunch your nose up in thought.

“We should wait until you’re feeling better, as your physician I-”

He lets out a laugh, bringing his face down closer to yours. “You’re not a physician, lass,”

“I didn’t say I was a physician, I said I was your physician. I tended to the wound, I think that makes me responsible for its-”

He cuts you off again, this time with a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “You’re a truly maddening woman,” he whispers into your mouth, “and I won’t feel better until I’ve sufficiently had my way with you.”

“I suppose that could be considered an alternative form of treatment,” you mumble, all concerns disappearing from your mind as he brings your mouth back to his.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, gripping the strands to pull him closer to you until all of your senses are overwhelmed with him. The way he smells, the way he tastes, the way the warmth radiating off of his skin makes all the blood rush to your cheeks.

The rough pads of his fingertips trace delicate lines down your stomach, disappearing underneath the remaining piece of clothing covering your aching core. His fingers circle your clit with a touch so featherlight it elicits a needy whine from your lips.

“Please,” you whisper hoarsely against his lips. You’ve both been denied this pleasure so many times today alone. If your poor dripping cunt doesn’t receive some attention soon, you fear you might melt into a puddle beneath him.

Your fingers give a firm yank to his locks again, and with a warning growl, he plunges two fingers deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed, pressing your bare breasts against his chest as your mouth opens with a silent scream. Your eyes see nothing but stars and yet you can sense that self righteous smirk on Thorin’s face as he starts pumping his fingers inside you with a steady pace, stroking your inner walls in that one thrilling spot that makes your toes curl as you writhe and whimper beneath him.

“I know you don’t like to listen, darling,” he whispers above you, “but here is one order I know you will follow,” blinking, your eyes start to focus again on Thorin’s face looking down at you with a wicked smile. His eyes are filled with a darkness that makes your core clench around his fingers as he quickens his pace, bringing his thumb to trace circles on your swollen bud.

“Come for me,” he commands. And you do, without a second thought. Yanking a hand free you clamp your palm over your mouth to cover the cry of pleasure that escapes you. He doesn’t let up on his ministrations, even when your other hand tightens at his scalp so fiercely it’s a miracle you haven’t yanked a fist full of hair out yet.

With a heavy sigh, your body finally goes limp beneath him.

Chuckling, Thorin gently removes his hand from your spent cunt, bringing his soaked fingers to his lips hungrily. Your jaw drops at the sight, never breaking eye contact as he cleans every drop of your juices from his skin.

It looks so appetizing when he does it, you can’t help but stick your tongue out, batting your eyelashes up at him in the hopes that he’ll share. With a knowing smile, he is slipping his soaked fingers into your mouth for you to suck on. His eyes go wide in excitement, not only from the seal your lips have created around his fingers but also because your own fingers have slipped into his trousers. You wrap them firmly around his hardened cock, stroking as much of it as you can reach.

With his fingers in your mouth and his cock in your hand you look up at him with a pleading look in your eyes.

“So needy,” he chides with a click of his tongue. “You want more already?” you nod enthusiastically from around his fingers.

He brings his lips to your temple with a gentle kiss. “How could I deny such a beautiful creature?” reluctantly pulling his soaked fingers from your mouth, he reaches for his ever tightening trousers to finally free his member for your use.

Bringing your fingers down to your soaked bottoms, you slip them down your legs as far as you can. Kicking his trousers free, Thorin pulls the soaked fabric the rest of the way down your ankles discarding them somewhere in the mess behind you.

“Spread your legs for me, lass,” he commands, towering over you as he strokes his throbbing member in his hand. Blinking in shock, you open your legs wide for him, less from the command more from the sight of the cock before you.

You were far from a virgin at this point in your life. You’d met many different people throughout your travels and as a result you’ve had multiple lovers over the years. But try as you might to rack your brain you can’t think of a single cock you’ve seen that’s nearly as magnificent as Thorin’s.

It’s long and girthy, just looking at the strong member makes your cunt clench in anticipation.

“Fuck me Thorin,” you look up at him pleading, suddenly desperate to have it inside you, “please.”

“Mahal,” Thorin scoffs, “I don’t recall ever hearing you ask for something so nicely.”

Bringing a hand to your exposed thigh he starts to brush the tip of his cock against your weeping entrance, gathering all the wetness he can as he lets out a chuckle at the desperate whines escaping you in anticipation.

Finally lining himself up with your entrance, he brings his free hand to the mattress beside your face, caging you beneath him. He looks down at your face one final time, searching for any sign that you aren’t as desperate for this as he is.

“Fuck me,” you ask again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And don’t be gentle.” You whisper into his ear.

That’s all the encouragement he needs, with a grunt he slams into you so quickly it knocks the breath out of your lungs. You nails scrape against his back as they scramble to find purchase while Thorin begins pounding his hips into you at a breakneck speed.

Honoring your request, he is not the least bit gentle with you. Your cries of pleasure are quickly drowned out by the sounds of slapping skin as he relentlessly thrusts into you so hard the bed begins to tremble beneath the two of you.

Let it break. You think to yourself. Nothing could pull either of you out of this cloud of lust that envelopes you. If it shatters beneath you, you’re certain Thorin will just continue pounding into you on top of the rubble.

“So tight,” he growls, “so warm. Feels just like heaven, I knew it would.”

You bite your bottom lip at the thought of Thorin fantasizing about this very moment. You can so clearly see him with his cock in his hand, imagining it was your cunt clenching around him just as it is now.

Untangling your arms from around his neck, Thorin reaches for your wrists, pinning them to the pillow above your head. “Don’t move them,” he commands with a sharp snap of his hips that makes you yelp.

Continuing a steady pace, he reaches for your legs behind him. Pressing one of your knees into your chest, he tosses the other over his shoulder. Gently kissing the exposed flesh of your calf he resumes his pace in this new position.

Throwing your head back you release a guttural moan, clenching your hands into fists above your head. With each thrust, Thorin hits deeper and deeper places inside yourself that seemed to have been previously left unexplored.

Every time the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix it makes you cry out louder in ecstasy. You’re itching to bring your hands back down to cover your mouth and suppress the noises the rest of the tavern will surely have heard by now.

“Keep them there,” Thorin reminds you, watching intently as you struggle to obey him. “I want them to hear.” He growls. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He removes your leg from his shoulder to press it down against your chest like the other, folding you in half and pinning you into the mattress by the backs of your thighs.

“Say it,” he commands, leaning over you as he somehow increases his speed even more.

You groan beneath him, you know exactly what he wants from you but you can barely string together a coherent thought right now, let alone a sentence.

“Say it,” he says again, bringing a hand to your jaw to force your eyes to look directly into his.

“I’m yours, Thorin” you whimper beneath him and he crashes his lips into yours.

“Louder, lass,” his pace becomes more frantic and you can tell that he’s getting close.

Looking directly into his dazzling blue eyes you cry out: “I’m all yours.”

In just the nick of time, he pulls out of you with a shaky moan, spilling his seed all over your stomach.

The room is filled with the sounds of you both panting breathlessly. The air is heavy with the scent of sex and sweat. Your limbs feel so weak you can do nothing but lay on the bed in a post-orgasmic puddle, your eyelids starting to droop closed. You feel the mattress shift as Thorin rises from between your legs. You peel an eye open just in time to see him cross the room, still completely naked, to grab a wet rag.

He catches you watching him as he turns back to you, a gentle smile on his face as he returns to your side.

You can’t recall the last time you saw him look so… relaxed. His familiar scowl is nowhere to be seen as he gently wipes the cloth across your stomach and between your legs, a look of utter bliss on his face as he watches you watch him with a soft smile.

Once he’s wiped you clean he starts to rummage through the mess of clothing still littering the floor. You can spot dozens of your blouses and chemises from where you lay on the bed, but Thorin still grabs one of his own shirts from the pile.

“Sit up for me, a moment,” he asks gently. You push your aching limbs upright as best you can, Thorin’s hand hovering at your back to help you upright.

He slips his clean shirt over your head, helping to navigate your arms through the sleeves.

“Good girl,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as you lay back down.

Once you’re settled back into a horizontal position he grabs for another set of clothing. You watch silently as he pulls on his shirt and pants from earlier. He reaches for his boots next and your brow furrows.

Is he leaving? Now that he’s gotten what he wanted from you and made a mess of the room. Is he just going to walk out that door and find another place to sleep for the night?

Thorin spots your look of confusion as he pulls his other boot on. “Don’t fret lass,” he assures you, “I’ll be right back.”

He gently slips out the door and you listen to the heavy sounds of his footsteps retreating down the hall. Your eyelids are still heavy, and you’re fighting sleep that threatens to overtake you. Only a few minutes pass until you hear him returning.

Shifting in the bed you push yourself up onto your forearms with a yawn as he reenters the room. You can smell the stew before he even opens the door and it instantly makes your mouth water.

“You missed dinner,” he reminds you, passing the warm dish into your waiting hands. “I had a previous engagement,” you reply with a mouth full of broth.

“Don’t remind me,” he growls as he kicks his boots back off, locking the door behind him.

“I’d say it worked out pretty well for the both of us,” you shrug. Thorin doesn’t say anything as he crosses the room to you, pulling the blankets out from underneath your bottom to tuck you into the bed fully.

By the time he’s wrapped you up underneath the covers and climbed in beside you, you’ve already inhaled the entire bowl. He laughs as you set it down on the bedside table with a hiccup. You sink deeper into the covers beside him and he reaches his hand up to your face, wiping a dribble from the corner of your mouth.

“Tomorrow we continue our journey,” he informs you and you nod in understanding. “In that case I certainly hope I’ll be able to walk in the morning.”

He laughs and pulls you into his chest. “I’d carry you,” he murmurs, burying his face in your hair. “I’ll carry you all the way home if I have to.”

You hum in contentment as you let yourself burrow deeper into his chest. Ignoring the stab of guilt in your chest when he says the word ‘home’.

It may have been your home in the past but it can’t be any longer. You wonder if you should tell him that you don’t plan to stay in Erebor long enough to call it home again. But then he begins to trace patterns with his fingertips over your lower back and you feel your eyes start to flutter closed.

Not now, you tell yourself. Not tonight.

Because you’re realizing that there is nowhere else in Middle Earth you’d rather be right now, than wrapped up in Thorin’s warm embrace. And you don’t dare do anything to spoil this perfect moment.

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @thetaekwondofeline @enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog

@exhausted-humxn-being @marsmallow433 @sverdgeir

@champagne-glamour@yve-barr @krampus236 @nerdthickly

@lyl1pad @bruhk @eri-s-big-sis

@quiall321 @genderless-ghosty-boi

#thorin x y/n #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader smut #thorin oakenshield smut #the hobbit #thorin oakenshieldx fem!reader #thorin oakenshield x afab!reader #thorin #thorin fic #thorin x reader #the hobbit fanfic #thorin x fem!reader #thorin oakenshield angst #thorin oakenshield x y/n #thorin smut #thorin angst #thorin oakenshield x reader angst #thorin x reader angst

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laylawatermelon · 1 day

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Y'all i just cracked the davinci code and idk if you're gonna like it.

As a Buddie fan devastated obviously, as a 9-1-1 fan devastated obviously and as a writer absolutely blown away by the finessing they just graced us with.

They literally found a way to make Eddie straight and by God they've done it successfully.

Lemme explain.

I was locked in when he was having the speech with Shannon and didn't get to deep in the emotions (heinous ik but I wanted to hear what he was feeling).

I did get some water wobbles in my chest but that's neither here nor there. I did scream horrifically at the cliffhanger of the show.

Guess the nun did scare the life out of her (and me!) after all! Heeh should've seen that coming honestly but I didn't think they'd go there.

So there's two things I think is gonna happen, one Eddie's gonna go on more straight woman dates (yay 😮‍💨) and Chris is leaving.

Now the second one I'll address first and don't bash me if it's not trueee.

I'll get the Chris one over with. First Gavin, Chris' actor, family moved. Since he's become a main he's had little to no screentime in the show.

What I think has happened in real life it's that Gavin will step away from the show. They have him main to show his importance in the cast and storyline (i can also guess pay raise but I'm not saying that's unreasonable really) before his send off.

Realistically he's a disabled person, a child/minor at that, who i assume has a lot of equipment and things he has to travel with. I can imagine it's not that easy to consistently travel across states with equipment, doctor's appointments, schoolwork etc.

So this is probably his last season for a while.

The birthday party (which can also double as a send off or until next time message) and the promotion/upgrade in role despite not being written as such or having storyline outside of the adults.

(off topic but I'd love a mini 118 hijinks b story with all the kids or a low stakes disaster where they all team up until the 118 get there)

He's been hypocritical to him about cheating and even tarnished his mom's legacy by bringing a fake version of her in his house.

The reason i can say the story can effectively write him off for the first half of next season is that Chris will go with his other family because he feels betrayed by his dad.

He doesn't feel safe anymore (😞😭 I'm making myself sad) so he opts to leave until his dad gets better.

The hospital scene is Eddie realizing what his kid needs isn't a new mom but to trust in his parents and that's now shattered (ooh this starting to feel personal be gone trauma!).

So he'll throw a tantrum (a rightfully deserved one that's my boy😤) and say in anger he doesn't want to be with his dad.

Buck will obviously be there cause yeah Eddie (delusional hubby) clearly needs help in his hour of need and so does Chris.

Eddie will do self isolation. Buck will be there for him (Tommy probably staying too but I'm neutral for this post) but with everything Eddie going through he's gonna be wrecked.

And because Eddie's a (good? Eh so so right now) dad he'll let Chris decide when he wants to return.

Hence the heartbreak.

Boom it solves the Gavin problem where he can probably stay during the summer so maybe mid season 8 or limited role like how they did this season and his family can focus on him/life.

Now the Straight Eddie!

By God he's done it!

You've pulled a real good one. Tim I salute you truly.

Idk how you made a straight man out of him but by his you've done it!

(so did you Ryan I'm watching you!)

Since buddie isn't on the table this season the platonic hasn't been more platonic-er since season 7 episode 1.

The way he did it was so easy and smooth I'm in awe.

This is how he kept and can probably enforce straight Eddie.

This is also how he can not enforce straight Eddie (haha got you).

The line you were the love of my life but I'm living it without you now stuck out to me.

That means he's going to find himself and what he really likes without a partner. Therapy, hobbies all that good ish. Maybe a few dates but def church.

Here's why.

Church has been something he drift away and let's be honest American tv and society is still founded in Christianity and all of its adjacent branches.

You must have God somewhere in there for the older audience to tune in/connect with of it's getting a lil secular (aka the bundle of lgbt characters. They're probably saying at least one of em knows God😮‍💨😮‍💨) /hj

The book of prayers symbolizes him going back to God to find answers about himself.

Anyways for the straight Eddie he can get closer to himself better in his faith and get a nice Christian girl who he matches with and (maybe) even has a kid/ similar background.

Since he's been to therapy and he's let go of the love of his life he's now free to find love in someone else. A new woman. (And truly this time)

(or a man, or they/them)

Yes my queer Eddie agenda rises!

Go FORTH!

BE ONE WITH THE SKITTLES SQUAD!

But seriously though the other way it can go is that he's discovering stuff about himself away from romance. He becomes more comfortable with religion but when confusing feelings (attraction to the same gender anyone for $10?) arise then he'll maybe start to fight his Catholic guilt about it since he's gotten closer to it.

Then he'll have to ask for for forgiveness but not permission for the live he wants to live.

(with buck in a house on the waves! Let me be delusional! I've kept it under wraps this long!)

But anyways they've truly dodged the lgbt fruity storyline.

They've also shown us that yes, Buddie was NOT platonic because I've never felt more friends energy in my life this season.

And what the AuDHD brain says is canon/not canon I vibe accordingly.

The vibes were low. Like a suspiciously low.

Dare I say subtextually low.

That's not happened in the history of buddie this is a code red!

CODE RED!

Okay I'm done btw hate me or whatever! /big J

#911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #buckley diaz family #911 fox #911thursdaytakeover #911 meta #911 speculation #buddie #oliver stark #ryan guzman #long post #911 spoilers #911 season 7 #911 season 8 speculation

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ihavemanyhusbands · 12 hours

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High Risk

PART TWO: SILVER TONGUED DEVIL

Also on AO3

Part One // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Nurse!Fem!Reader

WC: 3.1k words

Chapter Summary: In order to form a deeper connection with Hannibal, hoping to keep him complacent, Doctor Chilton allows you to have dinner with him…. Mostly unsupervised.

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, slight canon divergence (frederick is still head of baltimore state hospital), manipulation all around, some jealousy, corruption, smut, handjob, kinda audio voyeurism but not really?, also kinda exhibitionistic but not really??, some alcohol consumption, aaaand thats all i can think of rn but lmk if i missed anything!

————-

You waited outside of the double doors with a guard, patiently carrying Hannibal’s meal tray. He had a visitor, a mutual acquaintance of Doctor Chilton’s, and they were not to be disturbed.

You couldn’t understand why you had to be standing there, but you figured it was a power move on Doctor Chilton’s part. Reminding you of your place.

Your eyes flicked up to the security camera in the corner, suspecting he was watching more than one of them at a time. More than half an hour had passed, the silence stretching on infinitely. The guard had briefly tried to engage you in small talk, but he had quickly realized it was pointless. You already knew what sort of questions he would ask if he felt like he had any leeway, and you were not in the mood for it.

Already there were rumors speculating the sort of favors Hannibal was asking of you. You’d felt the gazes on you, caught the murmurs behind your back. You couldn’t deny that the more animal part of you, the one that had no such regard for personal safety, hadn’t thought about him that way.

A few times, he had slipped a folded piece of paper for you to find when you retrieved his meal trays. Always sketches of you, symbolic renditions meant to convey messages. His attention to detail was astounding. Almost… devoted, in a way.

Every time you posed for him, you found yourself enjoying his focus more and more. The thrill of it all was narcotic, but you only hated that it had brought other people’s attention to you.

The doors suddenly opened and a tall, well dressed woman stepped out. She was strikingly beautiful, with icy blue eyes and neatly styled dark hair. Her lips were painted ruby, which further accentuated her features in an elegant but almost severe way.

Doctor Alana Bloom was her name. You’d heard of her from both Doctor Chilton and Hannibal, but you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting her in person until then.

“My, you’re a looker,” she said, inspecting you as if you were an insect under a microscope. “No wonder.”

You only smiled politely, internally seething. She could see right through you, smiling in return.

“He’ll charm the pants off you if you’re not careful.”

With that, she walked away, heels clicking down the hallway. The guard next to you let out a huff and you shot a glare in his direction.

He pushed off the wall and followed her, while you turned the other way and slipped into Hannibal’s cell room.

“Sorry, it might be a little cold,” you said as a greeting, making your way over to the slot.

“You were waiting for me?” He asked.

“I was told to wait until you were done, yes.”

He noticed you were avoiding looking at him, though the displeasure itself wasn’t directed at him. He smiled a little to himself with satisfaction.

“Doctor Bloom is an old colleague of mine, but our history goes a little further than that,” he said. “A futile affair, that was.”

“No rekindling the flame then?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

Of course that wasn’t what the visit was about, you knew as much. But you were still bristling from her words, and the smugness in them.

“No,” Hannibal said. “I’m afraid we are mutually uninterested, though we have some business left over.”

You hummed in thought, composing yourself. “I apologize for asking, it’s none of my business.”

“You may ask me whatever you want. I won’t mind telling you.”

You tilted your head to the side, where another camera was perched up in the corner.

“We don’t have such liberties,” you said pointedly. “Though who knows? Maybe there’s an argument for our case.”

With that, a small, coquettish grin and a glance in his direction. Hannibal sat up straighter, licking his lips. He glanced up at the camera, also well aware that Frederick was listening.

If anything, the two of you had been enjoying toying with him in any small way you could. It drove him crazy, but he mostly seethed in silence, knowing he was equally matched in this game.

“Perhaps dinner might be a good place to start,” he said.

“Oh yes, I would like that very much,” you said, exaggerating a wistful sigh. “But we shall see.”

————————————

“You know, you’re getting a little bold with all these requests,” Doctor Chilton said, arms crossed over his chest.

“I know you have your methods of trying to get information out of him — or at least you think so,” you said, unbothered. “I mean, he has been much more forthcoming because of me, hasn’t he? I have my methods, too.”

He let out a sardonic chuckle. “Clearly. Others seem to think so, too, no?”

You didn’t give in to his goading, changing the subject instead. “Much luck with Doctor Bloom?”

“Some, actually,” he said, his sneer faltering. “But that shouldn’t really concern you. You’re still his favorite little doll to play with.”

And you mine, you thought to yourself, containing a grin.

“I’m aware,” you said instead, raising an eyebrow. “So it’s not too unreasonable to have dinner with him, especially with the glass still separating us.”

“Oh, but you’d be so much more useful if you were up close and personal. I could put you in one of the interrogation rooms and keep him handcuffed... But the problem is, he asked for total privacy. No cameras and no audio recordings,” he countered. “I cannot possibly do both. You know that’s not how it works.”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, but you already knew what the obvious answer was.

“No cameras, then,” you said. “I would say that’s fair, no? You might not care for the video footage, anyway, not without sound.”

He narrowed his eyes but nodded in assent, knowing it was the best he would get. The ghost of a self-satisfied smile was on your lips, pleasure at getting what you wanted dancing in your eyes.

As long as the rest of the team was getting the information they needed, by whatever means necessary, he supposed he couldn’t grouse too much. Regardless, that didn’t make him any less annoyed at being backed into a corner.

“You get an hour and a half tops,” he said with finality. “Work your magic. And wear something nice, why don’t you?”

————————————

The table had already been set for you when you arrived. A mediocre attempt at something romantic, with a few little tea lights and a half-dead flower in a plastic cup. You supposed the guards couldn’t be bothered with such nonsense, but it was also more mockery on Frederick’s part.

But at that very moment, you couldn’t care less. In fact, you found yourself… excited for the night's events.

It was nice not to wear your uniform for once, your nicest black dress in its place. It was nothing too special, but you only wore it on certain occasions, such as dates.

And while this may be the macabre version of a date, it was a date nonetheless.

You’d styled your hair differently, put on a little make up and even wore perfume, which you were rarely able to do. It was liberating in a way, as if granting you permission to step out of bounds a little more. You wouldn’t waste such an opportunity.

Your heels clicked softly on the linoleum floor as you slowly paced the room, anxiously waiting. You glanced down at your watch, and right as it hit eight o’clock, the door opened. Hannibal was led in by a guard, his hands cuffed in front of him. He smiled at the sight of you, his eyes roaming up and down to better appreciate you.

Your heart immediately started racing, both from nerves and giddiness. You focused solely on him as he was led to the table, the situation becoming less surreal by the second. Despite the fact that he was in his usual jumpsuit, you could tell he had meticulously groomed himself as best as he could.

Another guard came in to place two trays on the table, but the food wasn’t from the cafeteria. Apparently, Hannibal had been allowed to cook a two-course meal, dessert included. There was even some wine, but you had to settle for plastic cups instead of glasses. Not that either of you seemed to mind, too busy sizing each other up.

It felt strange, not seeing him through a thick panel of glass, but it was even stranger to sit right across from him. You only had to reach out your arm and you’d be able to touch him… if it wasn’t forbidden, of course.

“I’m surprised Doctor Chilton did not join us for dinner,” he said as the guard cuffed him to the table.

“He’ll be here in spirit,” you said, briefly nodding at the two guards before they stepped out of the room. “But I think it’s better this way, don’t you agree?”

“Much better,” he agreed, pausing a moment until the door finally shut. “You look beautiful, by the way… And you smell good enough to eat. Just as I thought you would.”

You grinned at his dark sense of humor, suppressing a shudder as you crossed your legs and leaned back. “Well, flattery will get you anywhere.”

“And wine?”

He grabbed the already uncorked bottle of wine and raised his eyebrows. You nodded and he poured for both of you.

“We shall see,” you said, taking the cup from him and holding his gaze.

“Well, a toast to our very gracious host,” he said, raising his cup. “For making all this happen.”

You tapped your cup against his with a soft cheers before taking a sip. He proceeded to give you a detailed explanation of what you would be eating, nearly putting you in a trance. His voice had a hypnotic quality to it, managing to soothe your nerves. Without really noticing, the two of you were leaning forward, the conversation taking on an almost intimate quality – even if the subject matter was anything but.

Before he touched his food, he encouraged you to try first. He watched you eat, his amber eyes lingering on your lips as you licked them. You had never tasted anything so complex or refined, but knowing it was put together by him made it even more of a delicacy. You let out a pleasured hum, barely holding back from getting another bite.

“My compliments to the chef,” you said, taking another sip of wine instead. “It’s almost enough to convince me to eat anything you cook.”

He chuckled. “Oh, if we were not within these four walls, I would have made a whole feast just for you. I’m sure Frederick has told you of my dinner parties.”

“But then it’s likely we wouldn’t have met outside these walls,” you said, not wanting to talk about Doctor Chilton. “Unless, of course, you frequent this sort of place.”

“I am not unfamiliar, I will give you that,” he said. “But our meeting has been the only good thing about this whole situation, and for that, I am grateful.”

You put a hand on your chest, teasingly pretending to be touched. “How sweet, are you going to quote more Byron for me next?”

He laughed, finally digging into his food. Conversation flowed with surprising ease as you continued to eat. Perhaps it was partly due to the wine, but it also helped that you were eager to listen to his thoughts on things. You were well aware of his intelligence, and it was stimulating to finally talk to someone that had so many layers to uncover.

By the time you got to dessert, he was bold enough to spoon feed you the first bite, awaiting your reaction. The taste was just as amazing, but you were more interested in the gesture. The way he was gazing at you with ardor, kindling your insides – A hunger of a different kind.

“Tell me something,” he said, clearing his throat. “If it weren’t for Frederick, would you have accepted an invitation to dine with me?”

“Depends, if you’d played your cards right, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it would’ve been possible.” You tilted your head to one side slightly. “But you’re much too valuable, are you not? They have to keep you happy.”

“You certainly have.”

You let out a huff of amusement, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on your hand. Briefly, you thought again of all the rumors circulating about the two of you. This time, though, it didn’t really seem to matter all that much anymore. They’ll keep talking anyway, so why not just do whatever the hell I want?

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you always manage to get what you want?”

He shrugged as if he couldn’t help it, making you chuckle. “What’s your secret, hmm? How do you do it?”

“You aren’t able to come any closer, are you?”

“Of course not, Hannibal.” You pretended to scoff. “We’ve got to keep our hands to ourselves, too.”

There was a devilish grin on your face as you slowly got up from your seat. You slipped your shoes off and brought a finger to your lips to indicate silence. It was titillating, truth be told, to be straddling the fine line between reckless abandon and caution. Especially when you were clearly leaning more towards one side.

“Pity,” he said, watching your every move, smile mirroring your own. “I would have liked to whisper it in your ear.”

You slid onto the chair next to him and he turned his body to face you. You looked down at his jumpsuit, locating the zipper, before looking back into his eyes. He slightly dipped his chin in assent, and you reached a hand up to his chest.

“Tell me something else, then,” you said, dragging it down slowly so as not to make much noise.

“Like what?” he asked, holding his breath as more and more of his body was revealed.

His blood was quickly flowing south, the consequences of this becoming apparent as the zipper reached the end of the line. Your mouth fell open in both surprise and eagerness, exhaling a shuddery breath. He kept his hands off as you carefully eased his erection out of his underwear, fingertips brushing the velvety underside.

“Anything at all,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “You’re a romantic, aren’t you? I want to hear your ideas on love.”

You stood up and slid your panties down your legs without lifting your dress too much. You watched him swallow hard as you sat back down, letting the fabric fall on his lap.

“For the mess,” you whispered in his ear, your body pressed close to his. “And a little souvenir for you to keep after.”

He nodded, spine straightening as you planted a kiss just beneath his earlobe. You held his gaze as you spat in the palm of your hand and reached down to curl your fingers around his shaft. His hips immediately bucked into your grip, and you heard him suck in a breath.

“Love, hmm?” He cleared his throat. “You want to know what makes me tick?”

“Absolutely,” you purred, hand moving up and down slowly, wrist flicking slightly when you reached the tip. “Though I may already have a few ideas...”

As much as you wanted to tease him, elongating his pleasure, you didn’t have much time to spare. Your faces were close together, but you fought off the urge to kiss him. His breathing became more labored as your hand continued its rhythmic movements, the heady scent of you – and of your arousal – enveloping him.

He’d had his fantasies about you on many late nights, but your actual touch was another thing entirely, better than what he could have imagined. And knowing he was affecting you in the same way… the chain of his handcuff rattled against the table a little as he strained, trying his hardest not to touch you back. He would want you to be loud, anyway, and that was not an option there.

“W-well, I certainly like to be surprised,” he said haltingly. “And I admire boldness. But to love in itself is a bold a-action, wouldn’t you agree?

“I wouldn’t know much about that,” you said, slicking his pre-cum around the head of his cock with your thumb. “But I do know how to be a lover.”

The light graze of your teeth on his earlobe made his body jerk, his cock pulsing in your hand. You picked up the pace, his chest heaving as his hips almost involuntarily rocked to meet each stroke. Your lips moved to his jaw and down to his neck, and you listened to him babble about something else, trying to fill in the silence.

Your attention was on his body’s reactions and you could tell he was dangerously close to the edge. You silently warned him not to stop talking as his cock began to twitch, and you had only seconds before you quickly had to cover your hand with your discarded panties. He bit his bottom lip as he spilled all over the fabric, little noises of pleasure stuck in his throat, one hand gripping your arm.

You smiled against his skin, lavishing his neck with some more attention as he faintly sighed your name. And when he was done riding out his high, you turned his face towards you and planted a small kiss on his lips as if to reward him.

He was panting, still lost in the dizzying aftershocks of his orgasm, but you helped clean him up some and zipped his jumpsuit back up, your panties still hidden within. You glanced down at your watch, seeing you only had twenty minutes left.

You slipped back to your side of the table as if nothing was amiss, but the devious glint in your eyes was undeniable. He was lost and he knew it, already wanting – no, needing – more. So much more. Luckily, it was as you had said; He’d always been good at getting what he wanted.

“I’ve had a really good time tonight, Hannibal,” you sighed contentedly, already aware you would be carrying this with you for the rest of the night. “You sure are good company.”

“As are you,” he said, his voice calmer, though something was lurking underneath. “Perhaps… we might arrange for it to happen soon.”

A thrill danced over your skin at the prospect of it. “Perhaps. Only if you’re on your best behavior.”

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