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theetherealbloom · 4 months ago

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IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.4

Chapter Four: Everybody Wonders What It Would Be Like To Love You

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, Bullying, Physicological Bullying, Mean Girls,

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Heads up, there’s a bully in this chapter but dw, you got Pedro on your side hehe. Again, this is all fictional. To any Cecilia’s out there irl, no hate to you girl, I don’t even know you LOL.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: gold rush by Taylor Swift

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PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The hum of set life surrounded you like a familiar melody—the rhythmic chatter of crew members, the distant clatter of equipment being adjusted, the occasional burst of laughter from someone off-camera. You moved through it all with ease, exchanging quick words with a fellow PA as you double-checked the last-minute details before call time.

You didn’t notice him watching you.

Pedro sat in the makeup chair, already in costume, his eyes drifting away from the mirror as Coco worked her hands through his hair. His body was still, but his mind was somewhere else. Or rather—on someone else.

It was the way you tilted your head as someone from production rattled off instructions, your brows furrowing slightly in concentration. The way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, nodding once before offering a soft, assured smile. You weren’t just hearing what they were saying—you were listening, absorbing every detail like you belonged here. Like you had always belonged.

He felt something tighten in his chest.

God, you made him feel strange.

It was the words that stuck in his throat when you were near, the way his pulse stuttered for no damn reason. The way his thoughts—usually so steady, so controlled—felt unruly around you. It was dizzying. Unsettling.

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this. Since he’d been caught so completely off guard by someone.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from looking for you.

In the crowd. In the moments between takes. In the quiet spaces where he thought maybe—just maybe—you were looking for him, too.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

Lunch break rolled around, bringing a much-needed lull in the day’s chaos. The crew scattered—some retreating to their trailers, others grabbing quick bites from catering, the energy shifting into something looser, more relaxed.

Your phone buzzed just as you were sitting down at one of the outdoor tables, the screen lighting up with a message.

Pedro: Wanna grab a bite later?

You smiled to yourself, thumbs already moving across the screen.

You: I do, but I kinda wanna hang with my friends for a bit too.

His response came almost immediately.

Pedro: Oh yeah, of course. Mind if I tag along?

You hesitated for half a second. Not because you didn’t want him there—but because you weren’t sure if he really wanted to be there.

You: Are you sure?

Pedro: Obviously.

So that’s how Pedro Pascal ended up at lunch with you and your friends, settling into the group like he had always belonged there.

He was easy to talk to, of course. He charmed his way through introductions, seamlessly jumping into conversations, laughing in all the right places, making everyone feel like they were the most interesting person in the room. But his attention always had a way of drifting back to you.

The way you scrunched your nose as you tried to pick apart a joke someone had made. The way your eyes lit up as you talked about some old inside story with your friends. The way you were currently demolishing a cookie like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

Pedro noticed.

He didn’t say anything, but he noticed.

His lips twitched as you took another enthusiastic bite, completely unaware of his amusement.

There were other things, too—subtle things. The brush of his knee against yours under the table, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The way his fingers would graze your wrist when he leaned in to say something, as if testing the waters. The way his eyes would flick to your lips when you spoke before quickly darting away, as if he hadn’t meant to.

And then, of course, there was the teasing.

"Did you even taste that cookie, or did you just inhale it?" Pedro mused, finally breaking his silence, amusement lacing his voice.

You swallowed the last bite, leveling him with a mock glare. "It’s really good."

He smirked. "Clearly."

"Don’t judge me."

"Never." The word came softer than expected, a little too sincere for just teasing. His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

Your heart stuttered.

He looked away first, but not before you caught the slightest hint of pink creeping up the tips of his ears. It was such a small thing—barely there, really—but you noticed. And it made something warm unfurl in your chest.

The conversation around the table carried on, your friends swapping stories and teasing each other between bites of food. Pedro chimed in here and there, laughing along, but every now and then, you felt his gaze flick back to you.

You were hyper-aware of him now. The way his arm rested casually on the back of your chair, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel his warmth. The way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the table, his other hand occasionally brushing against yours as he reached for his drink.

Then, he sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket, frowning slightly at the screen.

"Ugh, my phone’s about to die."

Without hesitation, you reached into your bag, pulling out your power bank and a charging cord. "Oh, no worries, here—use this."

Pedro blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

You handed it over without a second thought, already turning back to your food. But he didn’t move to plug his phone in right away. Instead, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression.

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the charger, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.

“You just carry this around with you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, something softer beneath the teasing edge.

You shrugged, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “Yeah, of course. Never know when you might need it.”

His lips quirked, but he didn’t say anything right away.

Instead, he plugged in his phone, then glanced back at you, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t quite believe you.

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Pedro exhaled a small laugh, tucking the power bank into his lap like it was something precious. "Nothing. You’re just—" He paused, searching for the right word, before finally settling on, "—thoughtful."

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "It’s just a charger, Pedro."

"Yeah," he murmured, still watching you. "I know."

But his expression said something else entirely.

You weren’t sure what to do with that look—the quiet weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to be memorizing you like you were something worth studying. So, instead of dwelling on it, you reached into your bag and pulled out your notepad and pen.

Doodling had always been second nature to you. Something to keep your hands busy while your mind wandered. While your friends continued chatting, their voices washing over you in waves, you let your pen glide over the paper in absentminded strokes.

Pedro, however, wasn’t nearly as distracted.

From the corner of his eye, he watched, his attention flicking between you and the small spirals and shapes forming beneath your fingers. It was mesmerizing in a way he didn’t expect. The way your brow furrowed ever so slightly when you concentrated. The way your pen tapped softly against the pad before committing to a new line.

He shifted in his seat, subtly angling himself so he could get a better look.

It wasn’t just mindless scribbles.

You were sketching. Really sketching.

A rough outline of the restaurant table, the glasses, the crumpled napkins. And just beside that, the faint beginnings of a face—strong jaw, slightly furrowed brows, lips curved at the edges as if they were on the verge of a smirk.

His lips.

Pedro’s throat tightened.

"That me?" he asked, voice pitched just low enough for only you to hear.

Your pen paused mid-stroke, and you glanced up at him, caught. He wasn’t teasing, not really. If anything, there was something almost—fond—about the way he was looking at you.

You shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. "Maybe."

Pedro huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I didn’t know you could draw."

"It’s just something I do when I’m listening," you admitted, flipping the page like it was nothing.

But he didn’t think it was nothing.

He wanted to say something else, something lighthearted to keep you from looking so shy about it, but before he could, one of your friends called your name, pulling your attention away.

Pedro exhaled, leaning back in his seat, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

Thoughtful. Talented.

Yeah. He was absolutely in trouble.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

The shift in the air was subtle at first, almost imperceptible.

But you felt it.

It was the way certain conversations would quiet just as you approached. The way people who had once been warm and welcoming now exchanged knowing glances when they thought you weren’t looking. The way whispers followed in your wake, hushed giggles that felt anything but good-natured.

And at the center of it all was Cecilia.

She was the kind of woman people noticed when she walked into a room—stunning, sharp-witted, and utterly ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted.

And for whatever reason, she had decided that you were a problem.

At first, it was small things. A pointed look. A lingering smirk. A brush of her shoulder against yours as she passed by.

But then, it escalated.

"Did you hear?" one of her friends whispered just loud enough as you walked by. "She totally forced her way onto this project. Some kind of nepotism thing, I bet."

"Ugh, so cringe," another voice giggled. "She acts all sweet, but like, we know the truth."

You gritted your teeth, kept your head down, and moved along.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was. Psychological warfare disguised as petty gossip. You’d seen it before, and you'd see it again.

The worst part?

You refused to let it get to you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Pedro noticed.

It started with the way you brushed things off too quickly, like you were trying not to care. The way your usual smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your laugh—one of his new favorite sounds—had dulled just a fraction, too forced, too polite.

And Pedro wasn’t an idiot.

He saw the way Cecilia and her group slinked around set like vipers, the way their eyes always seemed to flick toward you before whispering behind manicured hands.

It pissed him off.

But when he asked about it, you just waved it away.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You shrugged, reaching for a prop clipboard. “Just tired. Long day.”

Pedro arched a brow. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

He studied you for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “You’re a terrible liar.”

That made you scoff. “I am fine.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “So, you’re totally cool with the whole… weird vibe around here lately?”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

It was enough.

“Pedro,” you sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t care what they think, okay? It’s just… you know how some people are. They get bored.”

“They get mean,” he corrected.

You frowned, looking away.

He softened, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t suck.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the clipboard.

“It doesn’t suck,” you insisted. “Because I don’t care.”

Pedro’s stare was unwavering, but you held your ground.

Because if you admitted it did hurt—if you let yourself feel it—you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

And you weren’t going to let them win.

Pedro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. You don’t care," he murmured. "But if you ever do care… you’ll tell me, right?"

Something in your chest tightened at that.

You forced a small, teasing smile. “Wow, Pedro. That almost sounded like a serious conversation.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

And just like that, the tension cracked, relief flickering behind his gaze.

For now, he’d let you pretend you were fine.

But he’d also be watching.

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEEKEND…

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The next two days were a slow, grating kind of miserable.

It started with small things—so small that if you weren’t paying attention, you might have convinced yourself they were nothing. The way conversations would quiet just as you walked past, the barely-concealed laughter from across the room, the occasional, suspiciously misplaced item that had definitely been right where you left it.

It was the kind of thing that chipped away at you in small, insidious ways.

Like the way Cecilia and her friends would conveniently stand right where you needed to go, their backs turned but their voices just loud enough.

“I swear, some people just don’t belong here.”

You’d walk past without reacting, even as the words burrowed under your skin.

Or the way your neatly organized stack of call sheets had been mysteriously scattered all over the breakroom counter when you came back from a coffee run. No one claimed responsibility, but Cecilia had walked by, tossing you a slow, syrupy-sweet, “Oops, was that important?” before sauntering off.

You clenched your jaw. Breathed through it.

Not worth it.

But then there were the more deliberate moments.

Like the wardrobe rack incident.

You had been helping move costumes between trailers when Cecilia and one of her friends conveniently brushed past, sending a precariously hung dress tumbling to the ground.

“Oh no,” Cecilia pouted, pressing a hand to her chest with mock concern. “You should really be more careful.”

You bent to pick it up, biting back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. The last thing you needed was to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you smoothed out the fabric and rehung it.

Then, there was lunch.

You had been balancing a plate of food in one hand, your phone in the other, when one of Cecilia’s friends accidentally knocked your elbow in passing.

It was a tiny movement. Just enough to send your fork clattering to the floor, just enough to make you hesitate—because was it intentional? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Careful,” the girl sing-songed over her shoulder, giggling as she caught up with Cecilia.

You let out a slow breath. Swallowed back the lump in your throat.

Not worth it.

So you kept your head up, kept moving, kept going. You told yourself that if you didn’t acknowledge it, if you pretended it didn’t exist, then it couldn’t touch you.

Right?

But it did.

Because by the time you got back to your trailer that night, you had to sit on the edge of your bed and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, breathing slow, measured breaths to keep yourself from crying.

Because it was working.

Because no matter how much you told yourself you were fine, no matter how much you smiled and laughed and acted unbothered, the cracks were starting to show.

You barely had a moment to yourself.

Between running last-minute errands for production, keeping up with the crew’s rapid-fire instructions, and dodging the subtle but constant hostility radiating from Cecilia and her group, you were stretched thin.

The exhaustion was creeping in—settling in the space between your ribs, behind your eyes, in the way your shoulders sat just a little tighter than usual.

But you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

So you pushed through, past the carefully calculated inconveniences. The way they always seemed to cut in front of you when you were in a hurry, the stolen side-eyes and smirks exchanged whenever you spoke in a group, the way your things somehow always ended up in different places than you’d left them.

You pretended not to notice when Cecilia’s voice turned just a little too loud whenever she spoke to someone near you.

"Oh my god, you know what I hate? When people think just anyone can belong in this industry. Like… babe, you’re only here because they needed extra hands. It’s cute, though."

You told yourself not to react.

Even when Daisy—who had been standing beside you, her grip tightening on her clipboard—made a noise that sounded a lot like she was about to launch herself across the room.

“It’s whatever,” you had muttered, tugging her back before she could make a scene.

Daisy had narrowed her eyes. “It’s not whatever. She’s being a bitch.”

You had only sighed. “I know.”

Omar wasn’t as easily convinced.

The next morning, when you found him loitering near Cecilia’s usual coffee spot, arms crossed and expression unreadable, you had to physically drag him away before he did something stupid.

“Do not get yourself in trouble over this.”

“She’s messing with you,” he seethed. “I hate people like her.”

“She’s not worth it,” you said, but even to your own ears, your voice sounded too thin, too tight.

Omar wasn’t buying it. “Okay, but are you okay?”

You hesitated. The truth was, you weren’t sure anymore.

The worst part wasn’t the pettiness or the whispered insults—it was the fact that it was working. That somehow, in all the noise and nonsense, they had managed to make you feel small.

But admitting that felt too much like defeat.

So you forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

Omar gave you a long, knowing look before muttering something under his breath and stalking off.

That afternoon, as you sat on a bench outside the studio, your notebook balanced on your lap, you felt a shadow fall over you.

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice was soft.

You glanced up, startled. “Oh. Hey.”

His brows knit together. “You okay?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been… different.” His voice was measured, careful. “Quieter.”

You tried to play it off, shaking your head with a small laugh. “I’m just tired. Long shoot days, you know how it is.”

Pedro didn’t look convinced.

For a moment, he just stood there, watching you with that steady, unreadable gaze of his. Like he was sifting through the words you weren’t saying, trying to make sense of them.

Then, without another word, he sat down beside you.

Close enough that his arm brushed against yours.

You tensed, just slightly, before exhaling.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then—

“Can I see?” he asked, nodding toward your notebook.

You hesitated.

It was just mindless doodles—tiny flowers curling around the corners of the pages, half-finished sketches of set pieces, a rough outline of something that might have been Pedro’s profile if you hadn’t abandoned it halfway through.

You felt a little embarrassed, but you handed it to him anyway.

Pedro flipped through the pages, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “These are really good.”

You rolled your eyes. “They’re just sketches.”

“Still,” he murmured, fingers skimming over the paper. “They’re yours.”

There was something about the way he said it—soft, sincere—that made your stomach tighten.

For the first time in two days, something in you eased.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

And when Pedro leaned in, just slightly, warmth radiating from his shoulder where it rested against yours, you didn’t move away.

Pedro was still flipping through your sketches when a sharp, saccharine voice cut through the air.

“Oh wow, there you are, Pedro. I was wondering when you’d finally come up for air.”

Cecilia.

You felt your whole body go rigid.

Pedro barely glanced up, his fingers still tracing one of your sketches absentmindedly. “Hey.” His voice was flat, distracted.

She took a step closer, her presence invasive in a way that made your skin prickle. “I was just telling the others how dedicated you are to your work. You know, always finding ways to get into character.” Her gaze flicked toward you, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Even off set.”

You swallowed hard.

Your chest felt tight, exhaustion pressing against your ribs, making it harder to keep your expression neutral. You were already hanging by a thread, stretched too thin over the last two days, and Cecilia knew it.

Pedro, still looking down at your notebook, gave a vague hum of acknowledgment, barely engaging. It wasn’t the reaction Cecilia had been hoping for, and you could see it. The way her expression twitched for half a second before smoothing over again.

She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curling. “It’s sweet, though. That you take the time to entertain people. I mean, it’s not like everyone gets that kind of attention from you.” She let out a light, airy laugh that made your stomach turn. “Guess it pays to be in the right place at the right time, huh?”

The implication was clear.

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to react.

But then—

“Cecilia,” Pedro’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. His fingers tapped against the notebook, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing?”

Cecilia blinked, all faux innocence. “What do you mean?”

Pedro finally lifted his head, and when he met her gaze, something in his expression shifted—something sharp, something distinctly unimpressed.

“I mean, what are you doing?” His voice was just as smooth as before, but there was weight behind it now. “Because if you’re here to talk about the shoot, you should probably be talking to the crew.”

Cecilia’s smile faltered.

It was subtle, but you caught it.

She opened her mouth, probably to smooth things over, but Pedro was already looking back at you, tilting the notebook toward you slightly, as if she weren’t even standing there.

“You should finish this one,” he murmured, tapping his finger against the half-finished sketch of his profile. “It’s really good.”

You could feel Cecilia’s eyes burning into you, but Pedro wasn’t giving her anything to work with.

Her lips parted, like she might try again, but then she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she let out a small, sharp exhale through her nose, rolling her eyes as she turned on her heel and stalked off.

The moment she was gone, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your hands gripping your notebook a little tighter.

Pedro glanced over, brow furrowed. “You okay?”

You nodded, even though your throat was tight. “I just…” A deep inhale. “I think I need a break.”

Pedro studied you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached out, resting his hand over yours where it lay against the bench.

Warm. Steady.

Grounding.

“Let’s take one, then,” he murmured.

And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into it.

The evening air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of rain on the pavement as the last of the crew wrapped up for the day. You were exhausted, your body aching from hours on set, but when Pedro leaned in—voice low and warm—you felt something in you unwind.

“Wanna grab dinner before heading back?”

You blinked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Like… out-out?”

His lips quirked into a small smile, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. Out-out.”

You hesitated, glancing around as crew members bustled past, some already heading toward the shuttle van waiting to take everyone back to the hotel. “But, like… what if people see me with you?”

Pedro gave you a look. “So?”

“So… you’re you,” you gestured vaguely at him, “and I’m just—”

He cut you off with a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “Nope. We’re not doing that again. You’re you. And I wanna have dinner with you. End of discussion.”

The finality in his tone made your stomach flip.

You bit your lip, then nodded. “…Okay.”

Pedro’s face softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he bumped your shoulder lightly. “Good.”

By the time you both made it to the shuttle van, most of the cast and crew were already piling in.

Vanessa was the first to notice. She raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Ohhh, where are you two off to?”

Before you could answer, Joseph leaned forward from his seat. “Are we witnessing a secret rendezvous?”

Ebon chuckled, shaking his head. “A little late-night dinner date?”

Coco, already buckled in, smirked knowingly. “Have funnnn,” she teased, dragging out the last syllable.

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. Pedro, for his part, was completely unfazed, flashing them an easy smile as he opened the door for you. “Don’t wait up,” he called, earning a chorus of laughter and whistles from the others as he shut it behind you.

The restaurant wasn’t far—a quiet little spot tucked away from the main streets. The walk there was peaceful, the city buzzing around you but never pressing in too close.

Pedro, dressed down in a hoodie, jeans, a baseball cap, and his glasses, was trying his best to blend in. But even like this, effortlessly casual, he still had a presence. He still walked like he took up space, like the world had to move around him.

The height difference was almost comical. You felt it every time he turned his head down to look at you, every time his arm brushed against yours.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You glanced up at him, caught off guard. “What?”

Pedro gave you a look, one that made it clear he wasn’t buying whatever act you thought you were pulling. “Cecilia.”

Your stomach twisted.

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal.”

Pedro stopped walking.

You took two more steps before realizing, turning back to find him standing there, arms crossed, brows drawn together in frustration.

He looked at you, really looked at you. “Of course, it’s a big deal,” he said, voice quieter now but firm. “If it’s hurting you, it’s a big deal.”

You swallowed.

The weight of his concern settled over you, warm and heavy. No one had ever really said that before. That what you were feeling mattered. That you weren’t just overreacting.

Something in your chest cracked open, just a little.

“…I just don’t want to make a thing out of it,” you admitted, voice small.

Pedro’s features softened. He stepped closer, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you, either.”

A lump formed in your throat.

And then, just as easily as he had turned serious, he pulled back, tilting his head toward the restaurant. “C’mon. Food first, then we plot Cecilia’s demise.”

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.

Pedro grinned, pleased with himself, before nudging your shoulder with his own.

And as you walked the rest of the way, some of the weight on your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

The restaurant was dimly lit, warm and intimate in a way that made the rest of the world feel far away. Soft jazz hummed through the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of conversation and the occasional clinking of glasses. The hostess greeted you both with a polite smile, barely sparing a glance at Pedro—either because she didn’t recognize him or, more likely, was being professional about it.

Pedro let you choose the table, and you picked one near the window, a cozy little booth that felt tucked away from the rest of the diners. As you slid into your seat, Pedro pulled off his cap, running a hand through his messy curls before setting it down on the table.

He looked… comfortable. Relaxed. And yet, there was still something unreadable in his expression as he watched you settle in.

“You know,” he started, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’m kind of mad at you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

“Because,” he huffed, “I’ve been trying to get you alone for days, and the first time it actually happens, it’s because some Mean Girls knockoff has been making your life miserable.”

You snorted. “So dramatic.”

“I am dramatic,” he agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But seriously. I don’t like that it took this for me to get to steal you away.”

There was something in the way he said it—lighthearted, sure, but laced with something else. Something quieter. More honest.

Your stomach flipped.

Before you could figure out how to respond, the waiter appeared, handing over menus. Pedro thanked him with a charming smile before glancing back at you. “What are you in the mood for?”

You shrugged, scanning the options. “Something warm.”

Pedro hummed. “Soup?”

“Maybe.”

“Or,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we get a huge plate of pasta and reenact Lady and the Tramp.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Absolutely not.”

Pedro placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. That was a little too fast. Like you’ve thought about rejecting me before.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile threatening to break free. He made it so easy to forget the exhaustion pressing down on you, the weight of the last few days.

The waiter came back, and you both placed your orders—him getting some kind of hearty stew, you settling on a creamy pasta dish. The conversation flowed as effortlessly as ever, touching on everything and nothing all at once.

At some point, Pedro leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out beneath the table. His knee brushed against yours, but he didn’t move away. Neither did you.

“So.” His voice was softer now, less teasing. “Cecilia.”

You sighed, slumping slightly. “Can we not?”

“We can,” Pedro allowed. “But I still hate it.”

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, tracing the fabric between your fingers. “It’s not like she’s saying anything outright cruel. Just little things. Looks. Comments. Stuff that doesn’t sound like much but still…”

Pedro’s jaw ticked. His fingers drummed absently against the table. “That’s how people like her work. They know how to make you feel like you’re imagining it.”

You swallowed, looking down. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then—

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

Your head snapped up. “What? No.”

Pedro tilted his head, eyeing you. “Why not?”

“Because,” you exhaled sharply, “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

His gaze softened, a flicker of something fond in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But I also know that you’re tired. And I hate seeing you like this.”

Something in you wavered.

Pedro sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I just—God, I don’t get it. How could anyone not adore you?”

Your breath hitched.

The words were so sincere, so effortless, like he wasn’t even trying to be charming—just saying what was in his heart.

Heat crept up your neck. You looked away, focusing on the flickering candle in the middle of the table. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Pedro grinned. “And yet, here you are. Having dinner with me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He clutched his chest in mock agony. “You wound me.”

The waiter arrived with your food, and Pedro’s dramatic antics were temporarily forgotten as the delicious aroma filled the air. As you picked up your fork, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand—just for a second, just long enough to send a small shiver up your spine.

“Hey,” he murmured.

You glanced up, and for the first time all day, you felt seen.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Pedro said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re worth so much more than whatever bullshit she’s trying to pull.”

Something tightened in your chest.

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”

Pedro studied you for a moment, then smiled. “Good.”

The weight on your shoulders didn’t disappear entirely, but it softened, melted into something manageable under the glow of candlelight and Pedro’s unwavering attention. You let yourself relax, let yourself exist in this small, intimate moment where it was just the two of you, where the laughter was easy and the warmth between you was something real, something steady.

Pedro caught your gaze mid-conversation, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in just slightly. “There she is.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “What?”

“That smile,” he said simply. “Haven’t seen it in a while.”

Heat bloomed in your chest, warm and unfamiliar, something delicate but deep. You rolled your eyes, but it lacked any real bite. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” Pedro teased, mirroring your words from earlier, “here you are.”

You shook your head, lips twitching. “Unfortunate, really.”

Pedro pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “Wow. First, I get turned down for Lady and the Tramp, and now this? My ego is in shambles.”

You laughed, a real, unguarded sound, and he grinned like that was exactly what he was hoping for.

The conversation stretched long into the night, ebbing and flowing between playful teasing and quiet sincerity. The kind of talk that felt effortless, that felt safe.

Somewhere between the last bites of food and the soft hum of the restaurant around you, Pedro reached across the table, his fingers skimming yours. The touch was featherlight, a quiet question rather than a demand. You could have pulled away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you let your fingers curl around his, grounding, steady.

Pedro didn’t say anything—he just squeezed your hand, a silent promise, and you squeezed back.

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the city with it. The restaurant door shut softly behind you, leaving you and Pedro standing beneath the glow of streetlights, his cap pulled low, his glasses perched on his nose.

It should have felt different—stepping back into reality after the small bubble of warmth inside the restaurant. But somehow, it didn’t.

Pedro rocked back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets. “Still okay?”

You exhaled, watching as your breath curled into the night air. “Yeah,” you admitted, surprising yourself. “I think I am.”

Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied.

It turns out Vanessa, Coco, Joseph and Ebon got dinner somewhere else in town away from the two of you and they were waiting already in the shuttle and as soon as you both stepped inside, the teasing started. “Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Vanessa sang, kicking her feet up on the seat in front of her, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Joseph smirked from his spot by the window, arms crossed over his chest. “How romantic was it, really? Scale of one to ten?”

Coco grinned. “I’m betting solid eight.” Ebon scoffed. “Nah, Pedro’s smooth—at least a nine.” Pedro sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You guys seriously have nothing better to do?” Vanessa waved a hand. “Nope. Now spill.” You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt as the van pulled away from the curb. “We ate dinner. Like normal people. And then we walked outside. Like normal people.” Coco squinted. “That’s exactly what someone who did kiss would say.” Pedro groaned, leaning his head back against the seat, while you fought the smile tugging at your lips. Joseph held out his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s be serious for a second. Was it cute at least?” You blinked at him. “Was what cute?” “The date—” “It wasn’t a date,” you and Pedro said at the same time. A pause.

Then Vanessa gasped, clutching her chest. “You’re already finishing each other’s sentences?” “Oh my God,” Pedro mumbled under his breath. The laughter rolled through the van, easy and infectious, and despite the relentless teasing, despite the way your face burned under their knowing looks, you couldn’t help but feel… good.

The knot in your chest—the one that had been coiled so tight these past few days—had loosened. Maybe not completely, but enough that breathing didn’t feel so hard. Pedro shifted beside you, turning his head so only you could hear him. “They’re never gonna let this go.” You sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” His shoulder brushed yours, a quiet reassurance, and when he spoke again, there was something soft in his voice. “You sure you’re okay?” You hesitated. Because truthfully, the weight of the past few days still sat heavy on your shoulders. Cecilia had made sure of that. The quiet digs, the passive-aggressive comments, the knowing smirks—it was a kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones. But right now, in the warmth of this moment, with Pedro looking at you like he actually cared about the answer, you found yourself saying— “I think I will be.” Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied. It was a small thing—just a simple gesture, barely more than a shift of his head. But somehow, it carried more weight than it should have, like he was silently saying I see you. I hear you. You swallowed. It was nice to have a friend. But then—was that all this was? You glanced at him again, at the way he was sat with you so easily, like he’d always been meant to be there. At the way he felt beside you, like a quiet anchor in the storm of the last few days.

End Notes:

I told you there would be drama O_O

Again, no hate to any girlie named Cecilia, everyone calm.

Don’t worry girlies… it will turn out fine, mostly… I think… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YA'LL SEEN THE TEASER TRAILER!?!?!? IM UNWELL AND DYING AND SO EXCITED AND I WANT TO MELT AND DIE VANESSA KIRBY YOU LUCKY WOMAN I WANNA KISS HIM TOO T^T

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader masterlist #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x plus size reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x fem!reader #pedro pascal series masterlist

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gldrushh · 6 days ago

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GUILTY AS SIN? | DRABBLE

→ PAIRING: brother in law!jungkook x widowed fem!reader

→ WARNINGS: oc being a damsel in distress, emphasis on distress, mentions of insomnia, handyman!jk because he got us all feelings things, oc driving him insane (quite literally), whipped jk, flirty jk, unholy thoughts (can you blame her?), suggestive, kissing, fluff, domestic moments

→ W.C: 5.5k (whoops)

→ A/N: request from a cutieful ask that I accidentally deleted 😭😭🤦‍♀️ I'm so sorry anon I really hope you see this!! This was the ask for more context or if anyone's curious (I really hope I did it justice): "since you said you accept requests for drabbles etc.-or did you or am i making this up lol- i’d like to request a little thing. since i want y/n to understand how jungkook fits her life so easily, i imagined a little scenario in my head where something in her house gets broken and she can’t fix it by herself and gets it even messier and everything, and jungkook comes in and being a perfect handyman. Like literal husband material. Would fit in her house so well omg don’t judge me please you know what i mean right? Maybe she’ll get struck by a lightning and finally understand how jungkook is perfect for her and stops treating him with only little’s “i don’t hate you”😭😭😭 like helloo that is the most husband thing ever don’t live apart live together!!! plus handyman jk got me feeling things in my head ngl lol don’t judge me I’M SORRY HAVE A NICE DAY!💌"

Fridays didn’t feel like Fridays anymore.

There was a time when they smelled like oven-warm pizza and the kind of laughter that made your cheeks hurt.

They arrive tranquilly now, slipping in like a breeze through the kitchen window, brushing past your ankles before vanishing again.They were tired, you presume. Dragging their feet behind a week’s worth of lectures and papers, staff meetings and half-hearted nods in break rooms with bad coffee.

Tonight is no different. You return home just shy of the rise of moon, the university car park already thinning out as you sling your bag over your shoulder, exhaustion gnawing at the edges of your limbs. Your bag slumped onto the floor, missing its usual hook, but you didn’t bother correcting it. You barely managed to toe off your shoes when you enter inside, your mind already curled up beneath the comfort of your duvet, not asleep, but still.

The warmth here is a familiar fondle. The scent of coffee beans lingering from the blurry kind of rushed morning, a sweater thrown carelessly over the arm of the couch, your favorite mug turned upside down on the drying rack. You nudge your shoss beneath the bench for some dignity, and hang your lanyard on the little ceramic hook shaped like a leaf--a flea market find you told yourself you didn’t need, but bought anyway.

You tell yourself you’ll spend the night in. Maybe watch reruns of that one reality show where couples decorate homes under a tight budget, even though the drama feels scripted and the contestants are always suspiciously good-looking. You’re too tired for anything else. And sleep isn't exactly your best friend. Hasn't been for years and the slender orange bottles in the bathroom shelf only help so much.

But you'll try to make peace with it. You'll pour yourself some tea. You'll pretend to rest.

You shrugged off your coat and padded into the kitchen, your socks catching on the cool tiles. Your mother had sent a whole box of chamomile tea and though you had deemed the purchase dramatic and unnecessary, it had become a part of your routine, even had helped. Maybe not with the sleep exactly, but with the ritual. The motion of it. Perhaps there was something about the way the steam curled from the mug, about the soft floral taste blooming on your tongue.

You flicked the kettle on with one hand, digging through the tea box with the other, thumb brushing over foil packets and paper tags. You were just reaching for the mug—the one with a tiny chip on the handle, the one you never threw out because it had once been Minho’s favorite—when it happened. A sputtering hiss, like the dying breath of an appliance on its last leg. You freeze.

You pad toward the sound with the kind of dread that only adult independence teaches you. The overhead light flickers as you walk in—rude. You flick it again, squinting into the sudden brightness, only to be met with the absolute betrayal of your faucet spurting water like it’s trying to reenact a geyser, sounding alarmingly like a cough—if sinks could cough.

You turned, slowly. The faucet gave one last shake like it was shivering, then spat out a violent stream of water that shot sideways—directly across the counter and onto the floor.

“Oh, come on—!”

It happened fast. One second you were watching, horrified, and the next, you were slipping on the tile, a yelp caught in your throat as you stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding a face-first dive into the cabinet doors. Water sprayed in chaotic, unholy arcs, and all you could do was scramble for the towel drawer and grab anything vaguely absorbent to try and... do what? Patch it? Mop the mess?

The kettle beeped softly behind you, as if offended that you weren’t paying attention.

You drop to your knees, arms full of misguided hope and whatever towel you had on hand. You tug open the cabinet beneath the sink, only to be greeted with a far more dramatic leak than you were prepared for. It's not just dripping—it’s running, and you don’t need to be a plumber to know that water should not be forming a shallow puddle across your kitchen tiles.

Still, you try.

From what you learned from that one experience ages ago. Atleast it felt like it. The last time this had happened, Minho had still been here. Not that he was a great help. He had crouched down next to you, equally clueless, wearing an old college hoodie with the sleeves pushed up and a flashlight clamped between his teeth. The entire operation had failed in spectacular fashion—he had twisted the wrong knob, somehow made it worse. You remember him saying, “This is why plumbers make so much, sweetheart,” shaking his dripping bangs out of his eyes like a soaked retriever and you both ended laughing so hard you forgot to be mad.

You wedge the towel beneath the pipe, curse softly when it does absolutely nothing, and press your palm against the cabinet in frustration. It doesn’t help. “No, no, no,” In fact, the towel slips, sending a fresh arc of water across your shirt, soaking you down to the skin.

“Cool. Great."

The kitchen light above you flickers again. The universe, it seems, has a flair for theatrics.

And somewhere deep down, as water laps against the hem of your slacks and frustration coils behind your teeth, you think that maybe you should call your father but even if he dropped everything, it would take him hours. And any plumber worth their salt wasn’t showing up past eleven on a Friday night.They’d quote you something ridiculous and half of them wouldn’t even show.

You sat back on your heels and stared at the faucet as if it had personally offended you.

“I just wanted tea,” you said to it, as if it cared.

The towel slipped again. A fresh wave of water hit your calf.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

When you opened them, you stood, sedate and careful, the weight of water squelching in your socks. The kettle had long since finished boiling, and the kitchen now smelled faintly of wet cloth and chamomile. It hit you then. Sharp, stupid, and far too late.

You were going to have to deal with this yourself.

You looked around the mess—water creeping toward the rug, the under-sink cabinet now a tiny swamp—and, you felt like stomping on the floor.

But you didn’t. Descions. Descions.

Instead, you walked toward the living room, your wet socks squelching softly on the floor like some small betrayal with every step. To your phone.The living room lamp glowed with its usual mellow burke, casting a familiar amber tepidity against the old armchair and the book you never finished last week.

You considered, briefly, knocking on a neighbor’s door. There was that older couple two houses down, always kind, always offering extra tangerines from their tree. But it was too late. Every window was dark. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where people stayed up. It was made of quiet porches, retired teachers, and families who went to bed after the ten o’clock news. You didn’t know many of them by name.

Besides, no one young lived here who had a wrench or a better idea or just... two working hands and a sense of plumbing.. Not anymore.

Your thumb hovered over your contact list. You scrolled aimlessly at first, names passing in a blur—colleagues, an ex-classmate from grad school, your old roommate who now lived somewhere with palm trees and said things like “detox weekends."

You paused when the screen stilled on him.

Jungkook.

The last message between you was just hours ago. You tapped it open, heartbeat hitching like it always did when you saw his name.

Jungkook [10:03 PM]:

"I can come pick you up."

You had replied right before you clocked out. The university halls had been emptying, and his voice had played in your head, low and patient in a way he rarely was with anyone else. But you had remembered his mother’s voice too—her mentioning something about an urgent meeting, his father stressed, something about a time-sensitive deal.

So you had told him no.

You [10:04 PM]:

"I heard mom talking about some big deal tonight. Focus on that. I’ll be fine, I promise."

Jungkook [10:05 PM]:

"I want to focus on you, angel."

You’d stared at that one a little longer. Your reply had come thorough.

You [10:06 PM]:

"I’ll be okay. Just heading out now. I’ll text you when I reach."

Jungkook [10:06 PM]:

"Send me your location anyway, yeah?"

And you had. You remember the map loading. The little pin that showed you halfway between the library steps and the bus stop, your tired feet dragging. You had gotten home. You meant to message him.

You just… hadn’t.

And now you thumbed over his contact again, chewing the inside of your cheek.

Would it be selfish? What if he hadn’t wrapped up work yet? What if that deal was still unfolding across tense boardrooms and cigar-stale air, with his father pacing like a panther? You didn’t want to pull him away from it just because you couldn’t tame a faucet. You should figure this out alone. You could figure this out alone.

Your phone buzzed before you made a decision.

A message. From him.

Jungkook [11:40 PM]:

"Tell me you've reached home, angel."

Your stomach twisted. Guilt blooming like mold in the back of your throat. You opened the message and typed quickly.

You [11:41PM]:

"Yes! Sorry. I got in and just crashed a little. Long day. I forgot to text."

The typing bubble appeared immediately.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Jungkook [11:43 PM]:

"Live location. Again."

Your fingers hesitated. You frowned. That was odd. He sounded off. Sharper than usual. Not even the quietly protective version of him that surfaced on late walks or busy subway platforms. This was tight. Worried. Paranoid? You don’t wanna argue with that.

You tapped the map again, sent your updated location.

Your phone lit up again the second after, not even giving you the chance to type out and ask if he's good with his hands? (He is.)

Jungkook [11:43 PM]:

"I'm coming over."

You stared at the message. Read it twice. It was… certain. No question mark. No soft preface like he usually gave. Not like, “Should we stop by that bookstore again?” or “Feel like something sweet tonight?” No, nothing of that sort. He sounded definite.

You [11:45 PM]:

"Wait, now? Why? Is everything okay?"

Jungkook [11:46 PM]:

"It will be after I see you."

You sat back against the armrest, stunned silent for a second. And then, unexpectedly, your chest loosened. Not all the way. Not enough to erase the mess in your kitchen or dry your clothes or make you feel less like a walking soggy dishrag. But enough to let the weight shift, to let something else settle in.

You didn’t have to ask.

He was just coming.

You didn’t even get the chance to ask.

There was something wild and lovely in that. And you had no reason to say no.

If anything, your knees were starting to ache and the towels weren’t doing much and if one more cabinet decided to leak, you might genuinely lose it.

You padded back into the kitchen with an exasperated sigh, hair tied up in a lopsided bun, wet socks thrown in the laundry basket and sleeves shoved past your elbows. The faucet was still dripping—not a full-on spray anymore, but enough that you had to keep a rag pressed under it while kneeling on a folded towel, praying the water wouldn't reach the hallway. The bucket you’d shoved under the sink was nearly full now.

“Come on,” you muttered, gripping the wrench tighter. “Just cooperate for once, you stupid little—” The knock came—two sharp raps, low and firm. The kind that didn’t ask for permission, just announced itself.

You startled, bumping your shoulder into the edge of the cabinet with a muffled curse. You stood up too fast, nearly slipping on the wet tile again as you shuffled your way toward the door, leaving a trail of soggy towel behind you like the saddest version of Hansel and Gretel.

When you opened the door, the hallway light spilled over the man in front of you—and for a moment, all you could do was stare.

Jungkook looked… wrong. Not bad. Just undone.

His hair was mussed, not in that calculated, magazine-cover way but like he'd dragged a hand through it too many times. His under shirt that complimented his navy blue suit jacket real nice was half-buttoned, slightly crooked, and the faint glint of moisture on his collarbone made you think he might’ve walked part of the way in the rain without noticing. Or maybe he’d driven with the windows down. You didn’t know.

But it was his face that startled you most.

There were creases that hadn’t been there earlier. Between his brows, along the line of his jaw—like worry had clawed through the muscle. His lips were pressed into a firm line, but his eyes—God, his eyes—landed on you like an earthquake landing on calm soil.

You opened your mouth to speak, maybe to ask what was wrong, but he beat you to it.

“Jesus, y/n.” He crossed the space in two strides and hauled you into him.His arms came around you, sudden and firm and full.

He pulled you to his chest like he needed to feel you breathe. You didn’t move. Couldn’t, really. Your cheek bumped against his chest and a sound of confusion spilled out of you, the worn material of his shirt warm under your skin, and his breath stuttered above you. You wondered if he hadn’t been breathing right. You wondered why.

Your forehead barely brushed his collarbone. He smelled like wind and smoke and his usual cologne, but the sharp edge of it was dulled by warmth. You didn’t even know what to say at first. Your hands fumbled before curling into the fabric of his coat. Your heart beat a little faster. “Jungkook…are you okay?” you managed, a little breathless, a little confused.

He didn’t answer immediately.

You felt it more than heard it—His chest rose again. Slowly this time. Not panicked. Just… relief. You felt the faint tremor of it, the way he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for too long. His hand at your back tightened, his other curled lightly around your shoulder, fingers flexing once, like he was still checking you were really there.

"You gave me a fucking scare." He rasped against your temple, low and rough like tension left him one muscle group at a time.

Your brows pulled together, breath catching. "What?"

"Your location glitched." His hand curved around the back of your head, his voice dropping to your ear. “Said you were halfway to some fucking bridge, then blinked out. You didn’t text, you didn’t call—” He closed his eyes for a second.

You blinked, contrition and some sort of realization crashing into your chest like a tidal wave.

His grip tightened as if remembering it. "I think I broke half the traffic laws in this city trying to get to you." he muttered, jaw clenching as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Red lights. Lanes. Might’ve clipped a side mirror. I don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Oh my god,” Your voice went small. “I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I thought I sent it properly. I didn’t mean—”

He looked down at you then, brows still furrowed, frustration still etched into his face, but it was laced with something softer. Quiet worry. A tension he couldn’t seem to shake off even now, not when you were in his arms and clearly fine.

“I thought something happened to you,” he said, quieter now.

You couldn’t hold his gaze for too long. The penance burned too hot. You ducked your head, pressing your face into his shoulder, cheeks going warm. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

“You should be.” he muttered, but one of his hands came up to cradle the back of your head. It took you a second too long to realize your fingers were still curled in his coat in an embarrassing grip.

Inevitably, you did pull back—just enough to catch your breath, to speak properly.

But his eyes didn’t leave you. They tracked you, unwavering.

And then they dropped.

His brows furrowed again, more subtly this time, like he was recalibrating. His eyes skimmed your form with a confusion you couldn’t quite place, until he paused halfway down, raising a lone brow.

You followed his line of sight and—

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Your dress shirt had soaked through somewhere along the way. You’d been too distracted, too frantic, to notice that the thin cotton now bore a dozen little damp spots where stray faucet spray had kissed your chest and abdomen. The fabric clung in places it shouldn't, half translucent under the low light, revealing the outline of the camisole underneath, and your cheeks went hot in record time.

Your eyes widened. You stepped back fast. “Shit—oh, god, the kitchen—” you breathed, half to yourself.You turned abruptly, feet splashing against the wet tile again, panic reigniting as the sound of dripping water resumed its dominance in your ears.

Jungkook followed. Of course he did. His long strides eating up the hallway carpet before he stopped at the kitchen threshold.

You, for lack of a better word, flung yourself inside and the sight that greeted you was even worse than before. The bucket was near overflowing. Towels had started slipping from their makeshift barricade. Water gleamed beneath the fridge now, threatening to reach the living room carpet. You cursed again, louder this time, and bent to wrestle the mop back into place even though it had already given up.

There was a beat of silence behind you.

Then Jungkook’s voice, dry and unimpressed: “What the hell happened in here?”

You turned your head, heat rushing to your face, your soggy sleeves dragging like guilty flags. "I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. The faucet handle cracked while I was making tea, and then it wouldn’t stop leaking. I tried to turn it off underneath, but I think the valve’s jammed or something, and then I slipped, and the towels weren’t enough, and—”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face now. Exasperation flashing over his features—but not directed at you, not exactly. More at the mess itself, at the helplessness it had clearly stirred in you.. "Baby."

"I know I didn't do great." You wipe your hands on your thighs uselessly.

He didn’t answer right away. Then—with that bone-deep steadiness you had come to expect from him—Jungkook moved. Sliding off his suit jacket with one smooth pull, the fabric whispering against itself as he tossed it over the back of a dining chair, careless in a way he never was in public.. His undershirt clung to his shoulders in a way that made your stomach tilt.

Then he undid his watch with practiced fingers, slipping the leather strap open before placing it gently on your counter, far from the puddles.Quiet. Like he had done this a thousand times. Like fixing your mess was just the next item on his list. The silver caught the light, but your eyes didn’t linger there long. They trailed upward. To his arms.

The moment he reached for the knot of his tie, you forgot how to breathe properly. He reached up, his fingers working the knot loose with one practiced twist, tugging the fabric from his collar slowly. His throat flexed as he did, and you felt something shift in your stomach. The black silk slipped from his collar like a sigh, and your eyes followed it. His sleeves rolled up.

That’s when the stuck breath made a movement. Stuttered in your throat.

Ink emerged from beneath the fabric-those familiar lines, curves, the dark threads of his tattoos curling up his forearms like they had grown there, like they belonged. They caught the light and your memory all at once. Your mouth went a little dry.

His voice low, almost careless, as he crouched beside the sink. “Where’s the valve?”

You blinked. “Um. Under—under the cabinet.”

The same hands that had once made a mess of you in entirely different ways, in stolen moments, now curled around a rusty wrench.

"You need to do nothing." He gave you a brief look over his shoulder. “I’ve got it.” I've got you.

You stared. Blankly. Still half-dripping, still overwhelmed. "Do you… actually know how to fix that?”

A small, sardonic huff left him, like he found your surprise kind of insulting. He looked at the wrench—smaller than his palm, honestly—and turned it in his hand before answering.

“One of our safehouses in Daegu had pipes older than me,” he said, voice low, casual. “No plumber, no hot water. I figured it out. Got pretty good at it too. Don’t act so surprised.”

"I'm not. I know you've been good with your hands." You're not being cheeky when you say this, and are definitely not filing away the movement of his hand as he runs a practiced palm along the copper pipe.

Jungkook glanced up then. His eyes looking at you again—his gaze heavier this time, traveling down your soaked sleeves to the water-darkened hem of your shirt that clinged stubbornly to the side of you, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You sound like you’re remembering something, angel."

You turned quickly, heat crawling up your neck, your voice tumbling out too fast. “I’ll go change.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you. Low, deep, satisfied. Your silhouette vanishing behind a bedroom door with the softest click. He didn’t realize he was still listening for your footsteps until the silence settled in, heavy and warm and whole.

It was the first time in a long while that he’d been in your home like this. Not standing stiffly by the entryway waiting so he could steal you away.Not brushing fingertips against yours in a room half-full of people who didn’t know better. But here.

He let his eyes wander.

The place smelled like you. Something sweet, something quiet. A little bit like cinnamon and tea leaves and the faintest trace of your shampoo, clinging to the walls like memory.

His gaze drifted as he adjusted the position of the pipe, letting it drain into the bucket beneath. He didn’t rush. He didn’t want to. The metal pipe groaned as he tested the pressure, the familiar resistance grounding him. It was easy, this—manual labor. Straightforward. You tighten what’s loose. Replace what’s worn out. Drain what’s overflowing.

If only the rest of life were that obedient.

The photo frames caught his eye next.

They were perched on the shelf beside the kitchen door, slightly crooked from where you’d bumped them a hundred times, probably too tired to fix them. His knees ached slightly as he shifted for a better look.

The first was a wedding photo. Your wedding photo with his brother kissing your cheek. You were by his side, the most beautiful, your eyes squeezed shut, mid-laugh, a smear of cake icing on your chin.

Somehow, instead of jealousy, instead of resentment or guilt or the thousand other things he’d prepared himself to feel, what rose in him now was something fonder.

Before he could read more of the notes sticked to the fridge, you walked in, in softer clothes—an old cotton shirt that had seen too many laundry days and a pair of worn drawstring sweats that swallowed your ankles. Your hair was still damp at the ends from where the faucet had christened you earlier, but your skin was warm, your breath easier.

Your hands rubbed at your arms as if still chasing the chill away, but your eyes found him instantly. Crouched in front of the sink, sleeves rolled up, inked arms flexed in motion as he twisted the wrench one last time.

You watched the slow ripple of muscles beneath his skin, the way his jaw ticked in concentration, how his thumb brushed the valve like it mattered—like the faucet had personally wronged you and he was going to make it pay for its sins. There was something magnetic about the way he worked—focused, assured, steady like he belonged exactly here, doing exactly this.

“Is it… better?” you asked, voice soft, tentative, almost afraid to interrupt.

He didn’t turn, but you saw his shoulders relax at the sound of you. “Better than it was,” he murmured, tightening the last screw with a grunt. “Still leaking a little. I’m gonna seal the joint. Won’t be pretty, but it’ll hold.”

You nodded. And then you stepped forward without thinking.

“I can hold the light,” you offered. “Or the bucket?”

He blinked once. “You know I've got—”

Your shirt pooled at your wrists when you pushed up the sleeves. "I know."

He glanced up then, eyes catching on your legs first—his eyes always had a way of pausing before they moved—and then up to your face. A slow blink. A flicker of something unreadable behind his gaze. But it softened when you sank to your knees beside him, close enough for your thighs to brush.

He passed you the flashlight without a word, and you angled it as best you could while he unscrewed the makeshift clamp he’d used. Your shoulders brushed. His hand bumped your knee. You didn’t move.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his gaze shift again—upward, this time. Toward the shelf by the kitchen door.

He was looking at the oldest photo. The one most guests skimmed over. Minho in the middle with his mouth wide open in laughter, arms slung around Jungkook and her both, pulling them close like they were parts of himself. Jungkook’s hair had been longer then, messier.

That photo had never made sense to others. Why he was in it. Why the three of you looked so stitched together. But you’d always known. Jungkook had been there. Not just in the periphery of your memories, but rooted in them. Always just close enough to feel like something vital.

He turned his head then, catching your gaze, that made the tips of his ears turn pink and averted his eyes back to the situation in his hands so quick, you assumed it was to hide the color before it got any more prominent. You suppressed a giggle. Cute.

You looked back at the photo, softer now. “That was the summer he dared us to eat all the ice cream in one sitting.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched. “You threw up. On my shoes.”

You grinned, head tipping back just a little. “That does sound like me.”

“Got it,” he said suddenly, wrench twisting one final time, the valve clicking into place. The pipe stilled. No more dripping.

Relieved and stupidly proud, you said. "You actually did it."

“I said I would." He confirmed.

"Just had to find the right valve. It’s mostly just pressure build-up now.”

You didn’t really understand what that meant, but you nodded anyway, watching his hands as they moved, shoulders finally sagging with something like satisfaction as he leaned back against the cabinet door and sank onto the kitchen floor fully, legs stretching out across the wet tile without care. His hands—damp, calloused, smudged faintly with sealant—fell to his thighs, fingers flexing once, then going still.

He looked… tired. In that content, bone-deep sort of way that follows after fixing something with your own hands. There was a smear of dust on his cheek, his shirt clinging to his frame in places from residual dampness. But his jaw was loose now, his brow no longer furrowed, and the sharp concern in his eyes had faded into something tamer.

You watched him for a beat longer than necessary. "I could make you coffee." You offered, gently.

His head turned slowly to look at you, blinking like he hadn’t heard right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, already rising to your feet and brushing off the knees of your pants. Pretending it's not a excuse to have him longer.

for a second, he just processed, like the idea hadn’t occurred to him. And then his lips curved into a lopsided smile. “Okay. Yeah, I’d like that.” Pretending he's agreeing not because that he'd get to stay around you more.

You moved through the space like you’d done a thousand times before—reaching for the coffee tin from the cabinet, setting the kettle to boil again (this time with crossed fingers), and pulling two mismatched mugs from the drying rack.

You poured the dark roast into one mug and the steeped chamomile into your own, then carried both back toward the floor where he still sat, one knee bent, arm slung casually over it, eyes trailing the edge of your bookshelf like he was trying to memorize every title. He looked so at home, it hurt a little.

You sank down beside him, passing him the coffee, fingers brushing, fleeting but lingering just long enough. He murmured a quiet "thanks, baby" and took a sip, eyes falling shut for half a second.

Your though dipped to his wrist.

The thread. Still there.Faded, frayed, stretched just a little thinner than it once was; all crooked knots and uneven loops, a charm shaped like a crooked star dangling lopsided from the string.That same dumb knot you tied when you were kids, tangled so tight neither of you could undo it without scissors.

Your nose scrunched. “It’s going to fall off if you keep pretending it’s not ugly.”

Jungkook glanced down like he didn’t even know it was there. Like it had become part of him. He flexed his wrist, the fabric barely clinging to the bend. Then he said, almost immediately. "It's not ugly."

You gave him a look. Is it?

Jungkook took a slow sip of his coffee. “A little angel once told me to never take it off.”

You rolled your eyes. “That angel was, like, ten.”

He leaned back against the cabinet again, looking at you sidelong. “She knew what she was talking about.”

You didn’t say anything to that. Just looked—really looked—and saw every year layered across his face. The boy, the teenager, the man. The moments between. And how maybe you weren’t so different from him.

His eyes slid toward you again, a subtle flick of attention like the tug of a thread. “What’re you drinking?” he asked, nose twitching, playful.

You blinked. “Hmm?”

He nodded at your mug, brows pinched slightly in thought. “That’s not coffee. I smelled it when you handed it over. Doesn't seem like mint, either."

You raised a brow. “What, are you some kind of tea sommelier now?”

"Just curious, angel. Smells like flowers."

You opened your mouth to respond. You really did. The words were halfway to your tongue—about how it was a new chamomile blend, how your mother sent it to you from some little organic store that also sold hand-knitted socks and lavender bath salts—but before you could speak, Jungkook leaned in.

And kissed you.

It wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t even planned, you were sure. His hand didn’t even touch you. He didn’t brace your face or cradle your jaw like he had in other moments-those aching, desperate ones.

Your breath caught-stolen in the way it always had been with him. His mouth brushed yours-warm, careful, lips parted just enough. You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your hand hovered somewhere between your mug and your lap, suspended like your pulse.

His mouth was doing all the grab and push.

He coaxed yours open, suckled at your bottom lip like he was trying to draw the flavor from it. Tenderly sucking at your bottom lip before he bit it, just barely, like he couldn’t help himself.

A sound escaped you, half-breath, half-surprise.

He pulled back just a fraction. And when your eyes fluttered open, he was already looking at you with that maddening calmness of his, like he hadn’t just unmade you with his mouth.

“Chamomile,” he said, deadpan.

"W-What?"

He didn’t look even the slightest bit ashamed while licking the taste from his lips. "With a little honey. Suits you."

You scramed for coherence. “You're ridiculous.”

“And you’re flushed.” He smiled into his mug. "So pretty when you're flushed, angel."

You scoffed into your own mug, taking a long sip of tea you no longer needed to explain.

Fridays are forever changed. Perhaps, they are now for laconically returns and falling over people who never stop feeling like native land.

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guliexe · 2 months ago

Text

[TEASE] 18+ mdni

2Hollis x Reader

A/N: this is based on a request someone left me that i accidentally deleted i’m so sorry anon i hope you see this!

warnings/tags: tease!hollis, shy!reader, friends to lovers, kinda cringe and corny like always lol, kitchen counter sex, lots of teasing, praising, soft dom!hollis, dry humping, fingering, orgasm denial, p in v, position switch, after care, fluff

♡ hollis is always teasing you, you secretly love it, so when you stayed to help him clean up, you finally gave in.

w/c: 3,468 (no proofread sry)

The living room of Hollis’s place was buzzing with energy—music playing low, friends scattered around on couches and the floor, laughing and sharing stories. You were tucked into the corner of the couch, sipping on a drink and trying not to get caught staring at Hollis from across the room.

He was leaned back in an armchair, effortlessly charming as he traded jokes with the boys. Every now and then, his eyes would flick to you, and your heart would do that stupid little flutter it always did when he looked your way. You had a huge crush on him. He always teased you, but you weren’t sure he did it because he liked you or because he just wanted to mess with you.

The room was hot, and you weren’t surprised when Hollis suddenly pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it carelessly onto the back of the chair. You tried—really tried—not to react, keeping your eyes trained on your drink, but Hollis noticed anyway. He always did.

“You okay pretty girl?” he smirked at you.

You swallowed hard. “I—I’m fine.”

Hollis grinned, sitting up, dropping onto the couch next to you, his arm stretching along the back, just barely brushing your shoulder.

“You sure? ‘cause you’re lookin’ a little flustered.” You stiffened. “It’s just...warm.” He laughed—soft, teasing.

“Yeah? That all it is?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Hollis hummed like he didn’t believe you for a second. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he reached out, his fingers brushing your arm. “You’re burnin’ up, sweetheart.” You jerked back instinctively, only for him to chuckle and lean in closer, dropping his voice to a murmur.

“You always get this shy when I touch you?”

Your breath caught. He was too close, too casual about it, like this was normal—like he always got this close to you.

“Hollis—”

“What?” His thumb skimmed along your neck, barely there but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“You want me to stop?”

You knew he was playing with you, knew he lived to tease you—but the way his gaze lingered on your lips told you there was something else there, something heavier.

When you didn’t answer, his smirk deepened. “That’s what I thought.”

And just like that, he pulled back, leaving you a mess of nerves and heat, your heart hammering so hard you were sure he could hear it.

Hollis leaned back against the couch, one arm still draped along the back, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulder, while he chatted with the others, like he was daring you to move away. Like he knew you wouldn’t. You tried to focus on your drink, on the conversation around you, but it was useless. The warmth of him, the scent of his cologne, something dark and expensive that made your head swim, was all you could think about. And worst of all, he knew it.

After a moment of silence, he turned his head to you, let out a low chuckle while shaking his head. “You’re cute when you get all shy like this.”

Your grip tightened around your cup. “I’m not shy.” He tilted his head, his grin lazy and smug.

“Yeah? Then why can’t you even look at me?”

You forced yourself to glance at him, but the second your eyes met his—dark, hooded, way too amused—you looked away again.

Hollis laughed, low and satisfied. You scowled, more at yourself than at him.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah?” His voice dipped, smooth and teasing.

“That’s why you’re blushing?”

Your friends had finally cleared out, leaving the house quiet except for the faint music still playing from the speaker. You sighed, looking at the mess, empty cups, food containers, bottles scattered across every surface.

“You don’t have to stay and clean” Hollis said, lazily leaning against the counter, watching you gather bottles from the coffee table and bringing them on the counters. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes fixed on the mess in front of you.

“I don’t mind. I don’t like leaving a mess.”

Hollis made a quiet noise, something like a chuckle.

“That’s cute.”

Your hands fumbled over a bottle, nearly knocking it to the floor.

“What is?”

Hollis pushed off the counter, moving toward you, until he was right behind you, reaching past you to grab a few bottles. The briefest brush of his arm against yours sent a shiver up your spine.

“You” he murmured, voice smooth and teasing.

“Trynna act normal around me when we both know you got a little crush.” Your entire body locked up. Your face felt like it was on fire.

“I—I don’t—”

“Mmhm” he hummed, so smug, so confident, like he could feel the way you were shaking.

“You sure? ‘Cause you’re makin’ it real obvious.”

Your grip on the counter tightened as you shook your head quickly, eyes still fixed on the mess in front of you, as if looking at him would actually kill you.

“I-I’m just—”

“You’re just shy”

Hollis interrupted, stepping even closer so that his breath was warm against your ear.

“Ain’t that right?”

You jumped, your whole body tensing.

“No, i—”

Hollis let out a quiet chuckle, a smirk forming on his mouth.

“You’re so easy to mess with, sweetheart” he murmured.

You bit down on your lip, willing your face to stop burning, but it was useless. He must’ve felt you stiffen because suddenly, his hands were resting lightly on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. Every nerve in your body was on fire, your breath shallow as Hollis leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“You’re real bad at pretendin’, you know that?”

His voice was low, smooth—like he was enjoying this, he loved how flustered you got around him.

“Actin’ all shy when you know you want me just as bad.”

Your fingers curled into the counter, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping you upright, until you finally turn to face him, your voice rising.

“I don’t!”

Hollis laughed, smirking.

“Yeah, you do” he said, leaning close, as he brought one hand up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, trailing along your jaw, tilting your chin just enough to make you look at him. Your pulse jumped. His gaze was heavy, so much closer than you expected. His lips right there, barely a breath away.

“Say you don’t want me to kiss you.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, the touch soft, almost teasing.

“Go on, pretty girl.”

You couldn’t. Because it would be a lie. You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly, but no words came out. He waited, giving you the chance to say something—to push him away, to tell him to stop. But you didn’t. The second he saw you hesitate, the second you looked up at his eyes, he closed the space between you and kissed you.

The kiss was soft but confident. He’d been waiting for this just as much as you had. His hand slid up, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling you in like he already knew you wouldn’t stop him.

A quiet gasp slipped from your lips, and he swallowed it, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, hungrier. His body was so close, his warmth pressing into you, and your hands shaking, they found their way to his chest, gripping his bare skin like you needed something to hold onto.

“Thought you didn’t have a crush on me” he teased, trailing kisses down your jaw, his lips hot against your skin and his hands caressing your waist.

“Shut up” you whispered, your face heat up.

Hollis let out a low chuckle against your skin, his lips brushing over your jaw. Before you could react, his hands gripped the back of your thighs firmly, and suddenly, your feet left the ground. A startled gasp slipped from your lips as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on the cool marble of the kitchen counter. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding on as his mouth moved hungrily along your jaw and down your neck, each kiss leaving your skin burning. A soft whimper escaped your lips, your body arching instinctively into his.

His hands gripped your waist tightly, dragging you closer until you could his hardened member against you. You exhaled shakily against his ear, need spiraling through you. Desperate for more, you shifted forward, pressing yourself against the thick outline of his cock, aching to feel him right where you needed him most.

Hollis let out a low, throaty laugh the moment you ground against him, his fingers digging tighter into your waist.

“Not so shy now, are you?” he murmured against your throat, voice thick with heat and amusement.

His lips ghosted up to your ear, breath warm as he spoke, “Didn’t take much, hm? Just needed a little pressure right there…” He rolled his hips into you, slow and deliberate, dragging a gasp from your lips. You shuddered, clinging to him, the friction sending sparks down your spine, your panties only getting wetter. He smirked, one hand sliding down your back, the other curling around your thigh to pull you impossibly closer, kissing your mouth hungrily, swallowing your soft moans.

Your breath caught as he ground against you again, slow and firm, his cock hard and heavy through his sweats. You whimpered, your hands fisting into his shoulders, trying to hold on.

“Tell me how bad you want this” he whispered, his lips brushing over yours, breathing heavily.

Your pride faltered under the weight of him—his touch, his voice, the way he looked at you like he could see right through all your denial. And god, you wanted him. So bad.

“So bad…” you breathed, your voice shaking. “Please…”

“That’s my girl” he smirked, voice soft, but possessive, in a way that made your stomach flip. His grip on you tightened, he pulled you forward and pressed himself against you again, harder this time. The pressure hit you just right, dragging a soft cry from your lips, your body jerking forward against his. He leaned in, mouth brushing your neck as he whispered,

“Been dreamin’ about you sayin’ that… beggin’ for me, tellin’ me how bad you need me”

His hand moved from you back to your stomach, slowly bringing it under your shorts and over your panties, feeling the soaked fabric with his fingers. Your head fell back, lips parted, a small moan escaping as he pressed over your clit.

“Fuck” he breathed, voice thick, rough. “You’re so wet for me, baby”

Your breath hitched, hips jerking at the feeling of his touch, desperate for more. He chuckled, low and dark, his lips grazing your throat as he pushed his fingers more firmly against you, rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clothed heat.

“This all for me?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement, with possession, like he already knew the answer. You whimpered, biting down on your lip to keep from falling apart too soon, and nodded. But he wasn’t having that.

“Nuh-uh,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss on your neck. “Lemme hear you, sweetheart.”

He brought his hand under your underwear, wetting his fingers on your soaked folds. He pressed down harder, circling just right, making your head tilt back with a gasp. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your thighs instinctively parting for him.

“Y-yes—all for you….fuck” you managed to say, your breath heavy.

Without warning, he slipped two fingers inside you, the stretch sudden and perfect, making you moan as your body clenched around him. He moved his other hand to your neck, slightly squeezing it as he kissed you passionately, his tongue fighting for dominance.

“So warm and tight…fuck”

His words made you pussy flutter and you left a long whine as he quickened his pace. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your head falling forward onto his chest as you tried to breathe through the wave of pleasure washing over you. He slid his hand under your shirt softly squeezing your tits, feeling your soft skin under his palm. He smirked, thrusting his fingers deeper, faster now, his thumb brushing over your clit just enough to make your hips buck.

“Bet you’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”

You moaned, your answer caught somewhere between a gasp and a cry, and that only made him grin harder.

“Thought about me touchin’ you like this…” he kissed your jaw, his voice husky and low, “fucking you with my fingers while you beg for more.” Your body shook beneath him, and you nodded, your eyes shut. Your legs were trembling, thighs tightening around his hand as he fucked you on his fingers—deep and fast, his thumb circling your clit lazily. You could feel it building, the pleasure coiling tight, your body straining toward the edge.

Hollis was watching you with that intense, hooded gaze, lips parted, breath brushing hot against your cheek as he squeezed your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. Every stroke, every touch pushed you closer. You could barely breathe.

“Hollis—” you gasped, your voice breaking. “I’m—I’m gonna—”

But before the release could crash through you, he stopped. His fingers slipped out of you, soaked and shining. The sudden emptiness made your hips jerk.

“Nah,” he breathed, voice low and wicked against your lips. “Not yet.”

You whined, broken and needy, your body aching, pulsing around nothing. Your thighs clenched, desperate for friction, but he held you firm. He slipped his wet fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean, tasting you on his tongue with a satisfied hum.

“mmh…y’ taste so good, baby”

You whimpered, your nails scraping lightly down his arms, but he was already pushing your shirt up, yanking it over your head and tossing it aside. His eyes roamed over you, dark with hunger.

“I wanna feel all of you,” he murmured, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and dragging them down, along with your panties.

“Need to be inside you when you cum”

He stepped between your legs, dragging your hips forward to the edge of the counter. The heat of him pressed against you, his cock hard and thick. You could feel it, the weight of it grinding between your thighs, and it made your head spin. He let out a heavy sigh as he rocked his hips forward, letting you feel just how hard he was, rubbing right where you needed him most. You gasped, hips lifting instinctively to chase the friction, but he held you still, one large hand wrapped tight around your waist.

He reached down, shoving his sweats and boxers low enough to free himself, his cock flushed and heavy, leaking at the tip. Your eyes dropped, and the sight of him made your breath catch—he was big, and you swore your pussy clenched just looking at him.

“Eyes up, baby” he murmured, catching your chin between his fingers and tilting your gaze back to his.

“Wanna see that face when I stretch you open.”

He lined himself up, dragging the tip of his cock through your slick folds, letting it stop on your entrance. The teasing was torturous—your body still thrumming with the orgasm he’d denied you, desperate for the fullness of him. And then, with one slow, steady thrust, he pushed inside. A gasp tore from your throat as he filled you—inch by inch—his cock thick, stretching you open in a way that made your eyes roll back. He groaned low and deep, both hands gripping your hips as he bottomed out.

“Shit—so tight, baby. So fuckin’ perfect.”

Your nails dug into his back, thighs trembling around his waist as he gave you a second to adjust. You were panting, clinging to him, completely overwhelmed by the fullness, the heat, the way he felt buried so deep inside you. He pulled back, almost all the way out, then slammed into you again, hard enough to drag a loud moan from your lips.

“That’s it” he whispered softly, setting a rhythm that was slow at first, deliberate—deep strokes that made your whole body jolt with every thrust. You could barely think, already unraveling around him, head tipped back as he drove into you again and again, each stroke hitting deeper, harder. One hand found your breast again, squeezing, while the other slid around your waist, keeping you pinned to him as he fucked into you with increasing force.

“Shit…” he groaned in your ear, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck, sucking the soft skin and marking it up. “You were made for me”

He kept slamming into you, getting closer and closer to edge. Without warning, his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you just enough to set you back on your feet. You swayed, legs shaky, but he caught you with ease, spinning you gently until your chest was pressed against the cool surface of the counter.

“Bend over for me” he commanded, his voice low and wrecked, and you obeyed without thinking, bracing your hands against the marble as you arched your back. He stepped in behind you, one hand gripping your waist, the other sliding down to your ass, squeezing it tightly, before bringing it your throat. The weight of his body pressed into yours, his cock sliding against your folds again, coated in your slick.

“Fuckk…” he breathed, eyes dragging over the curve of your body. “Look at you.”

He slid back inside in one deep thrust, making you cry out, the new angle even deeper, every movement hitting where you needed it most. You choked out a moan, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter as he set a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the kitchen. His hand on your throat tightened, enough to make a tear roll down your cheek, as his other hand slid down between your thighs.

You gasped, hips jolting when his fingers found your clit—slick and swollen, throbbing for attention. He rubbed slow circles, perfectly in time with his thrusts, his breath hot on your neck.

“You’re dripping f’me, baby.”

You whimpered, your body trembling under him, the dual sensation of his cock driving into you and his fingers playing with your cunt like he knew it better than you did had you spiraling fast, and you were close again.

“You gonna cum f’me this time?” he asked, voice rough, almost teasing. “Wanna feel you fall apart around me.”

You couldn’t even respond—your mouth opened, but all that came out was a broken moan as his fingers circled your clit faster, matching the rhythm of his hips slamming into you. The pleasure hit hard, a white-hot rush that started low in your belly and tore through you like a wave. Your whole body tensed, then shook as the orgasm took over, your cries filling the room as you clenched around him, pulsing and fluttering, breathless and undone.

“Fuuuck, that’s it,” Hollis groaned, his rhythm faltering as your body tightened around him. “Just like that, baby. Just like that…my pretty girl”

He kept fucking you through it, chasing his own high now, until his breath hitched, his thrusts growing erratic. He pulled out quickly, his hand wrapping around his cock just in time to finish—hot spurts landing across your lower back and the curve of your ass as he let out a low, guttural moan.

He stood there for a second, panting, his hand still on your hip as he stared down at the mess he’d made of you. Then he moved, gentle and quiet, grabbing a nearby dish towel.

You stayed bent over the counter, still catching your breath, eyes fluttering closed as the aftershocks rippled through you. A moment later, his touch was back, warm, careful, wiping you down with the soft cloth, his fingers brushing your skin like he couldn’t stop touching you. When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and pressed a kiss to your spine, slow and sweet.

“You good?” he asked, voice soft now, soothing.

You nodded, and he helped you turn around, lifting you off the counter and into his arms. You instinctively curled into him, your legs still a little shaky, and he just held you for a moment, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. Then he looked down at you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“Stay tonight” he said, brushing your hair away from your face. “Don’t wanna let you go yet”

Your heart skipped. You looked up at him, cheeks warm, lips still parted from the kiss and nodded. “Okay” you whispered, grinning at him. His mouth twitched into the faintest smile before he leaned in, kissing you again—slow, deep, filled with love.

my other works ➵ masterlist

A/N: i dont really like this but i really wanted to post something for you guys so sorry if its rushed!!

#2hollis #2hollis fic #2hollis smut #2hollis x reader #2hollis fluff #222 #2hollis fanfic #2cross22 #hamzah smut #nate sib #hamzah #hamzah angst #hamzah fic #hamzah fluff #hamzah imagines #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #slushynoobz #slushy noobz

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

Note

Jiaoqiu with fem reader who loves to rub and scratch his ears and she always baby talks him and mocks him whenever he gets the slightest flustered?

Flustered jiaoqiu >>>>>>

Velvet Ears and Fragile Hearts

Summary: Jiaoqiu is constantly flustered by your relentless teasing and affectionate baby talk. Despite his best efforts to maintain his calm demeanor, you know all his weaknesses, especially his sensitivity to ear scratches. As you break through his stoic mask, you remind him that he deserves to be cared for too, even if it means enduring your playful antics.

Tags: Jiaoqiu x Female!Reader, Fluff, Teasing, Flustered, Ear Scratches, Playful Banter, Lighthearted, Established Relationship (can be assumed lol).

A/N: Flustered fictional men>>>>

The bustling camp had quieted as the evening settled over the Xianzhou Yaoqing’s temporary encampment. Lanterns cast warm, flickering light across the healer's tent, where Jiaoqiu meticulously ground herbs into a fine powder. His hair fell like a curtain over his shoulder, his eyes shut as always, yet his hands moved with precision. It was a familiar rhythm, one that steadied him in a world of chaos.

You had no such discipline.

"Jiaoqiuuuu," you cooed as you pushed aside the tent's flap, your voice light and teasing.

The healer paused, the pestle in his hand faltering for a fraction of a second. "Ah, you've returned. Was the day kind to you, or do you come with new injuries for me to mend?" His voice was smooth and calm, a balm in itself.

"I’m perfectly fine, thank you." You stepped closer, leaning over the low table where he worked. His sharp nose twitched at your proximity, and you caught the faintest flicker of his ear.

You smiled wickedly. "Are you avoiding me, Jiaoqiu?"

The foxian sighed, though it was a soft, indulgent sound. "Why would I avoid you? You are a loyal companion, and—"

"And you get all flustered when I’m around," you interrupted, reaching out with both hands. He twitched again, and you could feel his composure slipping. "Come here, let me see those ears."

"I’m quite busy—"

"Jiaoqiu," you said firmly, but your tone was laced with affection. Before he could retreat, you reached out and gently cupped one of his velvety ears between your fingers.

"Stop that," he muttered, his voice softer than intended.

"Why? You’re so cute," you crooned, running your fingers along the base of his ear. "My little fluffy fox, working so hard all the time."

"Do not—"

"My wittle baby foxie-poo," you continued, scratching lightly at the spot you knew made his tail swish.

Jiaoqiu’s eyes flickered open briefly, revealing their slit-like pupils as a sharp blush crept up his cheeks. "Enough!" he said, though the way his voice cracked at the end ruined the effect.

You gasped in mock horror, pulling back for just a moment. "You’re blushing!"

"I am not," he said quickly, though his hand darted up to shield his face.

"Oh, Jiaoqiu," you sighed dramatically, leaning closer. "Why must you be so shy? It’s just me. Your dearest companion, your most loyal friend…" You grinned. "The one who knows all your weaknesses."

"You are insufferable," he said, though his tone held no venom.

"Ah, but you love me for it," you teased, reaching for his ear again.

He made no move to stop you this time, though his ears flicked slightly under your touch. His tail swished behind him, betraying his embarrassment.

"I tolerate you," he muttered, though his shoulders had visibly relaxed under your ministrations.

You leaned closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. "You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?"

Jiaoqiu groaned, resting his forehead in his hand. "Why do you torment me so?"

"Because," you said simply, ruffling his hair, "someone has to remind you that you’re more than just a healer and strategist. You’re still a person, Jiaoqiu. And you deserve to be pampered sometimes, even if it’s just me scratching your ears."

He fell silent for a moment, the tension in his frame melting under your gentle touch. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer. "You are…unreasonably kind."

"And you," you replied, smiling warmly, "are unreasonably cute when you blush."

This earned you another groan, but you didn’t miss the way his tail flicked just a little faster, a subtle sign that your teasing words had landed exactly as you’d hoped.

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daisynik7 · 2 years ago

Text

Teach Me, Senpai!

Pairing: Ino x f!reader x Nanami

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.6k

cw: smut - threesome, spit-roast, PIV sex (doggy style), blow job, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, Nanami is sorta a perv oops, Ino calls Nanami senpai, a hint of a breeding kink, use of pet names, everyone is an adult here in case that doesn’t come across clearly

Summary: Takuma Ino is your silly, golden retriever boyfriend who brings you along to meet his mentor, Nanami Kento. You’ve heard a lot about him, mostly because your boyfriend constantly praises him for being so amazing. You underestimate how close their relationship is until Ino starts asking his "senpai" for pointers on how to spice things up in the bedroom. What better way to learn than to demonstrate, right?

Author’s Note: I'm currently in heat, can you blame me? I tried my best to edit and proofread, sorry if there are any glaring grammar mistakes or typos, please ignore! Tagging @todorosie @crazychaoticizzy @gojoloves @brightnessemma @batafuraikisu (I know you didn't ask, but I'm tagging you anyways bc ily and I think you'd like this lol). I'm sorry if I missed any tags, Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciate, thank you for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.

“You’re going to love him, I swear!” Ino insists, dragging you down the hallway of the office building, past empty cubicles. It’s past five and all the employees are out for the remainder of the day.

“I just don’t see why I have to meet him,” you argue, following him reluctantly.

“Because he’s important to me! He’s my mentor, my senpai! I have the highest respect for him, and I think it’s cool for you to finally put a face to a name. Aren’t you curious about the guy I’m always talking about?”

“Not really,” you answer, rolling your eyes. Honestly, you’ve grown sick of hearing your boyfriend gush so much about this Nanami fellow. You’re starting to feel jealous about how highly he thinks of this other man. “Why are we even here? This seems like a very random meeting spot.”

“We debrief here sometimes after our missions. He used to be a salary man, so I guess they still let him use the office.” They arrive at a closed door at the end of the hall. Ino knocks twice, a bright smile on his face, a little too excited for this.

A well-built blonde man answers, donning a blue dress shirt and spotted tie. You immediately notice how large his hands are, clenched to the door frame, staring at you from behind steampunk glasses. “Hello.”

“Nanami! Hey! This is my girlfriend, the one I’ve been telling you about.” You introduce yourself to him with a handshake, confirming that they are indeed very big compared to yours. You feel guilty noticing something that can be misconstrued as inappropriate, even lewd in most cases, so you quickly let the thought fade, stepping inside the room.

It’s a normal looking office, quite barren, except for the few papers stacked on the desk and a map posted on one of the walls. There’s a single chair facing the table, so you take that as Ino stands beside you, arm around your shoulders. “Thanks for letting us stop by. I really wanted to introduce you two to each other.”

Nanami nods curtly, leaning on the edge of the desk in front of you. Your eyes almost drift toward his crotch, curious about his size, but you resist the temptation, ashamed of yourself for even imagining something so completely wrong, especially with your boyfriend right next to you. “You said you wanted to speak to me about something,” he says, focusing on Ino. He removes his glasses, tucking them in his breast pocket.

“Ah, right! Well, I’m a little shy to ask, especially since I haven’t mentioned it to her yet…” Ino scratches his nape nervously, tugging his beanie to cover his reddening ears.

You look at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

He bites his lip, choosing his words carefully before speaking. “Well, you know how you and I have been…you know, having some trouble in the bedroom?”

At that, you immediately freeze, gaping at him, shocked. A strangled noise comes out of Nanami’s throat, equally jarred.

Ino continues. “I want to get some advice from someone I really trust, like Nanami.” He glances between you, waiting for a response, an uneasy grin on his face.

You’re stunned, heat surrounding your entire body now, mortified that your boyfriend would casually bring this up without any warning whatsoever. It’s no secret to either of you that your sex life has gotten a bit lackluster recently. Besides missionary and the occasional blowjob, there isn’t much else that you’ve tried in the bedroom. Neither of you are that experienced to begin with, and you both lack the confidence to initiate something different, something new. It’s a matter that you’ve been meaning to resolve privately. Or so you thought.

No one speaks for what feels like an eternity. You’re tempted to grab your boyfriend and haul ass out of there, hoping this entire conversation can be forgotten or played up to be some kind of cruel, sick joke. However, you remain seated, curiously anticipating Nanami’s response. After all, you haven’t flat-out refused yet, and neither has he.

Nanami clears his throat. “What kind of advice do you need?” You’re surprised that he’s even entertaining the idea.

“I just want a few tips on how to spice things up,” Ino answers. “Make it more enjoyable for her.” He puts his arm around you again, squeezing your shoulder. You don’t know whether to punch him or kiss him; the arousal growing between your legs says the latter. The thought of another man who’s practically a stranger instructing your eager boyfriend on how to pleasure you is titillating and definitely something different, something new. You won’t deny it: you’re intrigued.

Nanami crosses his arms over his chest, avoiding either of your gazes, focused on the floor instead. “I will help, if you both consent to it.”

Ino turns to you with puppy dog eyes. “Babe, you cool with this?”

Too invested now to refuse, you reply, “Sure.”

Your boyfriend lets out a sigh of relief, the tension relaxing in the air surrounding you. “Sweet. Me too.” He looks at Nanami, a bright smile on his face now, clearly thrilled about this. “What’s first, senpai?”

Nanami clears his throat again, standing up straight, taking a step towards you. “Well, foreplay is always a good place to start.”

Ino sticks his finger up. “Right! Foreplay. Uh, do you have a pen and paper so I can take notes…?”

“You don’t seriously need to take notes on foreplay, do you?” he snaps. “It’s as simple as kissing and touching on all the right spots.”

“What spots are those?”

“It’s probably better if you ask her.” Nanami points to you, making direct eye contact. “Where do you like to be touched?”

You swallow hard, timid from being put on the spot like this. “Just the normal places.”

“The two of you have to communicate better if this is ever going to work out,” he says, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Show him.”

Committing to this fully now, you stand up, grab Ino’s hand and brush it against your lips. “I like it when you kiss me. And when you touch my lips.”

He smiles at you. “That’s good.”

“You can also put your fingers in my mouth every once in a while. If you want,” you suggest, licking the tip of his middle finger.

He smirks. “Yeah. I definitely want that, too.”

“Sometimes, it’s better to learn by doing it,” Nanami interjects, watching the two of you carefully.

You gaze at Ino’s lips, then into his eyes, nodding. He leans in, kissing you slowly. He’s always been a good kisser, a great one, actually. The problem is that he’s too gentle with you.

“Kiss her neck,” Nanami orders, arms at his sides now, hands clenched into tight fists.

Ino follows, trailing down your chin until he’s at your neck, sucking on your skin.

“Put your fingers in her mouth. She said she likes that, right?”

Ino hums, tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb before pushing it in. You surround him, using your grip to pump him in and out of you. His other hand drifts to your waist, teasing the elastic of your pants.

“Are you getting wet, sweetheart?” Nanami’s voice is low and sultry; the use of the pet name has you unraveling much quicker than you expect. Without thinking, you breathe out, “Yes,” pushing his fingers deeper down your throat.

“Fuck, baby,” Ino moans, hot on your ear. “Where else do you want to be touched?”

You pull him out, swallowing your thick saliva, placing his hand between your legs. “Touch me here.”

Ino, eyes glossy with lust, slowly shimmies your pants down your legs, revealing your soaked panties. “Oh shit, you really are wet, fuck.”

“Eat her out,” Nanami demands. There’s a desperate gruffness in his voice that’s undeniable now, and one glance is all it takes for you to realize that he’s hard, an impressive bulge strained in his slacks. He shoves all his belongings off the desk, making room for you. “Here. Do it here.”

Ino curses under his breath, cock stiff in his sweats, leading you to the table, where you sit at the edge, spreading your thighs open for him. He slips your panties off, licking his lips before diving into your arousal, tongue pressed firmly on your clit. “Fuck,” you moan, squirming from the sensation.

Nanami walks to the other side, near your head, staring at Ino’s face buried in your pussy. Instinctually, you reach for him, pulling him by the belt, tongue hanging out. His eyes flit to yours, surprised when you say, “Touch me, senpai.”

Ino moans into you, clearly turned on by it. Obliging, Nanami hoists your shirt off, leaving you in just your bra, which he hastily unhooks to bare your chest. Bending towards you, he wraps his lips around one breast, suckling at your teat, his hand working the other nipple, pinched between his fingers. You’re close to your climax; you just need a little bit more. As if he can read your mind, Nanami releases you with a pop, saying, “Suck on her clit until she comes. Fuck her with your fingers at the same time.” His sudden vulgarity spurs you on, grinding your hips against your boyfriend’s face, pulling Nanami back to your tits.

Ino muffles, puckering his lips around you, sliding his middle finger inside you. You throw your head back on the desk, ecstasy rippling through your entire being, knees shaking with sensitivity.

“Yeah, she likes that,” Nanami purrs, flicking his tongue on your peaked nipples. “Put another in. One at a time, until she’s full.”

Ino manages to fit three of his digits inside you before you orgasm with him latched to your swelling bud, coating him in your slick. He doesn’t stop licking until you’ve come down from your high, pushing his head away, overstimulated. Nanami removes himself from you, unbuckling his belt, watching intently as your boyfriend slips his wet fingers inside your mouth. “Taste yourself babe. You’re so fucking good.” You slurp your own juices off him, pussy throbbing, aching to be fucked.

“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Nanami murmurs, shimmying out of his pants, erection protruding from his briefs. He palms it, rubbing his thumb over the wet spot oozing from the tip. “Ino, tease her a little bit.”

“Yes sir,” he salutes, pulling down his bottoms, cock sprung against the hem of his sweater. He taps the tip of his dick on your puffy bud, smiling wide as you writhe for him. “Damn, baby. I’ve never seen you this wet before.”

“It’s a good thing you came to me then, isn’t it?” Nanami mentions, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “Now turn around for us, princess. It’s going to feel so much better for you like this.”

You obey, readjusting your body to bend over the desk, ass pushed towards Ino, desperate to be used by them both. Your boyfriend positions his cock at your entrance, huffing, “You ready, baby?”

“Yeah. Fuck me, Ino,” you moan. “Fuck me hard.”

He glides in slowly, stretching you out little by little, easing into you. Once he’s all the way in, groin pressed to your ass, he starts thrusting at a steady pace. It increases gradually until he’s pounding away at you, hitting that sweet spot over and over until your eyes glaze over, in a total state of bliss.

Nanami studies you, enjoying the show until he notices you staring at the bulge in his briefs, tongue lolling, practically begging for him. He smirks at you. “You want all your holes stuffed, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, eyes weepy, peering up at him. How could he resist such a cock hungry slut like you? Especially when you look at him like this?

“I’m going to give you my cock then. Think you can take it?” he asks, shoving his underwear off, cock flopping against his abdomen.

“Oh yeah, she can fucking take it,” Ino grunts, hands gripped to your hips, still fucking you with fervor. “Right babe?” He delivers a fresh slap to your ass, which echoes off the walls of the office.

“Yeah, I can take it,” you mumble, gulping down the spit collecting on your tongue.

Nanami hums, satisfied with your answer, inching his dick closer to your mouth. “Open up for me, sweetheart.”

You do, swallowing him until he bottoms out to the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex. He stays still, staring at you, relishing this lewd sight. “Ino, your girlfriend looks so pretty with my cock in her mouth. Don’t you agree?”

“Fuck, yeah. So fucking hot how she just takes it. She’s a good girl, always has been,” he says from behind you, spreading your cheeks open to watch himself disappear into your pussy with each thrust.

“You’re a lucky man,” Nanami mutters, tipping your chin up, gazing into your eyes. “And you’re a lucky girl, aren’t you? Getting fucked by your boyfriend and his senpai.” Nanami begins to move, pumping himself in and out of your hungry mouth, your tongue running along the underside of his dick.

Ino shrugs his beanie off, running his fingers through his hair, damp with perspiration. “Oh fuck, baby, you’re taking us so fucking good.”

“Like a proper slut,” Nanami adds, tracing the outline of your lips, glossy with spit, stretched around his shaft. “Do you suck his cock as good as you suck mine?”

You nod, swallowing your gag reflex as the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat with each solid thrust of his hips. Your second orgasm approaches quickly, your pussy clenching Ino’s cock, though you can’t say anything while gobbling up Nanami’s cock, so you let it be, continuing to be spit-roasted over the desk, thirsty for their cum.

“Fuck, I’m going to come soon,” Ino says, slowing his pace. “I’ve never…I’ve never come inside her before.”

Nanami, still relishing his blow job, asks, “Why not?”

“Too scared to get her pregnant,” he admits. It’s true; Ino always pulls out, even when you beg him to finish inside you. You appreciate that about him, but in this moment, you want nothing more than his cream pie filling you up.

“Is she on birth control?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Once again, as if psychic, Nanami responds, “Then I’m sure she wouldn’t mind getting your load just this once. Right, sweetheart?”

Your words are muffled. Nanami pulls out, cock wet with your spit, stroking it in his fist. “What was that, princess?”

“I said yes! Give it to me, Ino!” you whine, shaking around him.

“Fuck, are you sure, baby? You sure you want it?”

“Give it to me. Want you to breed me,” you blurt out.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Nanami coos, slapping the head of his cock on your tongue. “How about here? You want it here too?”

You glance at Ino, who’s watching. He nods, licking his lips. “Yes. Want your cum inside me, senpai,” you reply.

He smirks, pushing himself back inside you, his length sliding on every inch of your tongue. “Good girl.”

It doesn’t take long for both men to come, Ino shooting his seed deep into your womb, stuffing you full, Nanami spurting ribbons into your mouth, guzzling down each drop. They pull out slowly, cocks sensitive now from the stimulation. You roll over onto your back, catching your breath, looking up at them with a satisfied smile on your face.

Nanami cups your cheek in his hand, thumb brushing delicately against your skin. “Such a messy girl. I think she needs a few more lessons. What do you think, Ino?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes are blown wide, staring at the lewd sight before him, your pussy leaking with his cum, your mouth drooling with Nanami’s. “Yeah. Definitely needs more, senpai.”

#nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #ino x reader x nanami #ino takuma x reader #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino smut #ino takuma smut #ino x reader x nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #nanami x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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yolli-es · 7 months ago

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I love jinx she’s my everything and my comfort character so I’m really insecure not even in normal insecurity like I’m on an deep level and I have a really bad eating disorder was wondering how would yandere! Jinx handle that I’m insecure about everything about me and i hide all my body I can’t eat or look in mirrors if I did I’ll break them (you don’t have to do this request I think it’s absolutely ridiculous also I’m okay I’m in therapy now)

Is it my fault? 🧊

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, mention of blood, theme of uncertainty.

Well, I was gone for quite a while, lol, but I was able to fight off the teachers and come back 💪🏻 I hope you are glad to see me again, and I also have to say that I wrote about this from my point of view, and I am sorry if I did not understand your state of mind. This topic is not so close to me, and I really tried 🙏🏻

Jinx knew from the start that something was wrong. You were always too shy, closed off, and scared. You never exposed your body. The world saw nothing but your palms and head. Is this your style? No, you always look embarrassed when your clothes suddenly ride up and just a little bit more is visible. She thought that society, all those people around you, were to blame for everything. They must have just rammed their shit into you and are enjoying themselves. Jinx won't let them trample you that easily! But nothing changes even when you become a couple and Jinx becomes your rock and protection from any unwanted contact. No, she cut you off from the world. Seeing your insecurities seemed right to her. Jinx just makes your life easier, doesn't she? You didn't change.

It seemed to only get worse.

Mirrors. It took Jinx a moment to realize you were doing this. Everything in Zaun was broken, even the people. And yet there was something strange about the mirrors in your house. She resisted for a long time and attributed everything to her new quirks. Then she counted the number of cracks on all the mirrors you could reach. And she knew. Her stomach twisted, her pupils dilated, and she wanted to pass out. No, she was going to do it right now. You were breaking mirrors. Everywhere you could reach. How could she not notice? There's blood in the cracks that can't be washed away. Damn, did you do that with your bare hand? No, no, no.

"It's my fault."

It took all her strength not to lose the last fragments of her sanity. She honestly didn't understand why. You weren't threatened, you didn't talk to anyone, and you were always under Jinx's supervision. Unless....no. She would never have affected you like that. Jinx held back then and didn't tell you anything. No matter how much Mylo screamed, Claggor was right. This would scare you; she had to act rationally now. She needs to give you time and herself time too. Jinx needs to know the real reason for your behavior. Now she will be even more attentive.

Jinx had no idea then that the broken mirrors were just the tip of a deeper problem.

You rarely dine together, usually having to eat on the run or while working. But today is a special day—your anniversary. You've been together for a year.

Jinx bites her lip, Her nails make an audible sound as they scratch the tray with the rich cake on it. She baked it herself. But right now she's not thinking about the cake or even the anniversary. Jinx can't sleep, can't work, and even explosions don't bring pleasure. What else are you hiding? She's been watching you for weeks now after she found out about your horrible habit, but Jinx still hasn't found out anything new. But there's something else going on with you, something she doesn't know about. She feels it. Mylo chuckled. Jinx hissed. She smiled tensely before starting the conversation.

"We've been together for a long time, haven't we?" She forced herself to smile, but it came out ragged and menacing. "I mean, we're like family now. Do you consider me your family?"

Jinx, trying not to make it too obvious, leaned forward. It looked menacing. You certainly noticed it. She's just trying to keep herself together, not to give away the pressure that's built up inside her.

"Hmm, yes, Jinx, I've told you that many times! You mean a lot to me." You smiled, sincerely as always.

But Jinx doesn't believe you now. No, she just can't. Anxiety, fear, and misunderstanding are eating her up from the inside.

"Good," Jinx sat down on the chair, creaking it closer to the table. "Then let's eat."

But Jinx doesn't even try to start eating, just looking at you. A new thought flashed through her mind. Strangely, despite her obsession with your existence, she's never watched you eat.

"Are you okay? You're looking at me like that," you swallowed nervously. The atmosphere was definitely not friendly.

"Oh, sorry," she didn't even try to put on a happy face this time, "start without me."

You hesitated, looking down at the plate. Jinx carefully cut a small piece of cake and placed it right in front of you. It was fluffy, with lots of cream, and covered in food coloring. It looked beautiful and delicious. You picked up a fork and began to break it into pieces.

"So.. how's your work?" You looked up, suddenly more confident and clearly in high spirits. This confused Jinx. She responded without really thinking. Her gaze was glued to you and your hands. You didn't like it and began to distract her in various ways. This had been going on for ten minutes now, and you still hadn't put a bite in your mouth.

Jinx's eyes, which had been looking at you emotionlessly until now, suddenly narrowed in concern. And you realized. Your seat suddenly became uncomfortable, and the room was hot.

"You don't like it?" Jinx asked quietly, cautiously, almost scared. Shyness, hiding your body behind baggy clothes, breaking mirrors, and not wanting to eat your once favorite cake. Was it ever your favorite? It seemed like the puzzle was coming together in her head.

"What? Oh, no! I'm just not hungry." You were caught off guard. Is this the end? Has she figured it out, and is she going to leave you? Will she be angry or cry? You couldn't stop thinking, going over all the possible reactions Jinx might have. Unfortunately, your girlfriend wasn't stupid. She noticed it was evident on her face. The trick that worked on everyone else had no effect on her.

You can't eat. Every time you eat something like this, your conscience gnaws at you. You want to spit out everything you ate.

"I'm so sorry," was the first thing Jinx said. "I'm sorry; I should have noticed. Are you... is this because of me?" Jinx spoke softly, but there was no hint of tears on her face. There was no emotion at all. You were hurt by what was happening. Any reaction she might give would hurt you.

Jinx is about to explode with emotion. She's trying so hard to be "normal" right now so you can rely on her to open up. It's heartbreaking, but it's having the desired effect, and you're plucking up your courage.

You took a breath. This is going to be hard.

Of course Jinx thought she was just taking shitty care of you, cruelly ignoring your problems and leaving you to suffer alone.

But that's not true. You never shifted responsibility to others, realizing that you were simply insecure in yourself. You certainly met shitty people—more than you wanted. But who in Zaun pays attention to them? You just suffered from constant comparisons to others and couldn't do anything about it. You honestly fought with yourself, your shyness, and other shit that was dragging you down. Jinx only helped you along the way, without realizing it. Every time she proudly held your hand walking along the busy streets, every time she unashamedly said, "Yes, this is my future wife," and every time she ignored the advances of a conventionally beautiful girl.

Your silence and her speculations brought you here.

And yet you came to understand Jinx. How could it be otherwise? She will never let you go.

But you will never want to leave.

"Oh, I'm always here," Jinx hugged you, and you did the same in return. It was a pleasant ending after several hours of relentless altercations. You were silent, whispering, screaming, crying, and didn't understand each other. But now everything became clear.

Jinx, on her yandere side, is not ready to leave everything just like that. Now in your house there is only one whole mirror, specially stolen from Piltover. You often eat together, and Jinx tries to make each meal as relaxed for you as possible so that you simply forget about the food itself. She will definitely not let you go, love you less, judge you, or make the situation better by force. Not with this problem. She will do everything you ask to make you feel better.

Jinx loves you.

In her strange way.

That's all! I hope you haven't forgotten about me 😅 This work is quite short, but I hope I was able to convey the main points and mood.

#arcane x reader #jinx x reader #arcane jinx #arcane jinx x reader #jinx arcane #jinx x fem!reader #arcane #arcane headcanon #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #yandere jinx

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sooniebby · 2 years ago

Text

Based on my random thought (I’ll be sprinkling what he’ll say in the actual fic, this is just a little sneak peak!)

“Usually my other clients can handle more than one pose—but it looks like you’re thinking about my cock instead, huh? Such a slutty boy… well, go on. Don’t get shy now. It’s your own time you’re wasting.”

Imagine having a yoga instructor who seems a bit rude and stand offish during his classes. He doesn’t talk except when giving instructions. It’s mainly for work, that’s all.

Even in his more… sexual side of work, he doesn’t feel much else. Except when he fucks you <3

Something about your whiny moans. The way you practically scream when he slams his cock inside of you. How you try to answer his questions even when the only sounds coming out of your mouth are moans.

He loves manhandling you. At first it was just to make you do different yoga poses—now he just loves seeing how easy he can control you. He’s grip is always harsh, wanting to make sure he leaves some time of mark on your body as your tight heat takes in his cock so easily.

“You can suck better than that, baby… don’t piss me off, alright?”

He loves it whenever you whimper, whining about how harsh he was treating you. But you knew the safe word—you just never said it. His smacks against your butt, tight grip on your waist… most instructors don’t kiss their clients, their own little golden rule. He follows it but makes up for it by biting you all over.

Leg, arm, stomach, neck, shoulder. Nothings safe. You always took them well. It’s like you were made for him. His perfect boy~

“Don’t muffle yourself. Everyone else is fucking and you can hear their moans. Let them hear your whiny voice, baby. Everyone should know how good I’m fucking you.”

He almost feels sad when the session is over. And the next day when he’s fucking his other client, all he can think of is you. Your moans. Your screams. His name on your tongue. You, you, you…

Damn, he was screwed. This wasn’t just work anymore.

wowowow! This was fun to write, and actually helped me develop my OC for this prompt more! This for male/trans masc reader if you couldn’t tell!

The character’s name is Tatsumi Yuta, if anyone cared lol. I’ll be writing the actual fic soon!! Im excited to do so. Feedback appreciated, and ask if you wanna be tagged once I publish chapter 1! (Yes it’s gonna be a series)

#bottom male reader #smut prompts #smut ideas #x male smut #mlm nsft #oc x reader

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wholoveseggs · 1 year ago

Note

Hi babygirl!! I’m back yet again 🤭 I’ve got a spicier one for you this time.

Okay so y/n (aka me bc why not) and Rebekah are bffs, talking like usual in her room when y/n one day asks her if she had always been with men only, maybe if she dated women she’d had found love or whatever. Bex says she’s not into women but she has experimented with them before. Elijah and Klaus are in the family room, minding their business when they hear noises. Both brothers have always have a huge ass crush on y/n, Bex knew about it, but they never told her because they didn’t know how to. Rebekah decides to take full advantage of this and fucks y/n, knowing damn well her brothers can hear how loud they are. So from the family room, they follow the noise to Bex’s room & find the two girls scissoring. They watch quietly and jack off but when Klaus moans, both girls hear and quickly turn to the door, catching both brothers redhanded. This obviously leads to a 4some. {kinks: double penetration, voyeurism, breeding, boob play (lots btwn the girls), praise, degradation, choking, and ofc scissoring for the girls}

Ménage à Quatre

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Just a quick little ménage à quatre with Rebekah & the boys...

♡♡ Thanks for the request sweet Aurora! This was so much fun to write & also a bit of a challenge (lots of moving parts haha) ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: pure smut, foursome, NO INCEST, girl on girl, fingering, handjobs, oral sex, scissoring, double penetration, voyeurism, choking, lots of praise and a sprinkling of degradation, my Elijah favoritism shining through, Klaus and Elijah being a little rough, Rebekah likes to watch...

PS: This is unofficially extra-extra-extra-extraordinary ~lol

Rebekah's room was always your favorite place in the Mikaelson compound. It was feminine and elegant, and had beautiful pieces of furniture. Whenever you would go to your best friend's bedroom, you couldn't help but admire the view; and the woman.

She was beautiful with her long blonde hair and stunning features, not to mention that gorgeous accent of hers. You had always harbored a bit of a crush, but kept it to yourself, afraid to ruin the friendship.

As always, you were both sitting on her bed, legs crossed and telling each other the latest gossip. And today, you found yourself telling Rebekah about a recent fling and hook-up.

Rebekah was listening intently as she rummaged through her closet, tossing you some clothes she wanted you to try. You always felt a little shy getting undressed in front of her but you got more comfortable over time.

You pulled on a vintage pleated mini skirt from the early 2000s, it didn't even cover your buttcheeks.

You gave Rebekah a spin while giggling, "How do I look?"

She laughs, her eyes gazing over your body appreciatively. "Sexy, as always."

You blush under her gaze and pull off your top, rummaging through the pile of clothes to find a new shirt.

"Try this on," Rebekah suggests, holding up a lacy red push up bra.

"Sure," you reply with a shrug, taking off your own plain white one and throwing it across the room.

As you put on the new bra, Rebekah took the opportunity to admire your half naked figure. You bite your lip, feeling the tension building in the room.

You sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, her eyes followed you closely. Your skin felt hot under her gaze and your heart beat faster in your chest.

"I have a question for you, love," she says softly, looking down at her fingernails casually, acting as if nothing happened.

"What is it?"

"Elijah and Klaus are both quite taken with you. I've heard them talk about you before," Rebekah replies. Her voice is low and her eyes dark, she looks up at you from beneath her eyelashes. "Did you know that?"

"Really? I don't know…" You can't stop your eyes from widening in surprise. "But they've never said anything to me…”

"Is it so hard to believe they are attracted to you? You're beautiful. Sexy. Any man would be lucky to have you."

Your entire body feels hot under her gaze and you're unable to form a sentence. But to your luck, you don't have to answer her as she speaks again.

"Or maybe," she drawls, slowly starting to crawl towards you on the bed. "You're into women."

You gulp, paralyzed by her hypnotizing gaze. Before you can think of anything witty to say, you're pinned against her pillows, soft fabric squished under your back.

She pushes her knee between your legs, straddling you in the process. You gasp at her boldness, lust taking over your mind. She leans closer, so close that her lips are almost brushing against yours.

"So which one would you choose?" she asks softly, her breath ghosting over your face.

"Choose?" You repeat breathily.

"My brothers. Which one?" she clarifies, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I-I" You stop to clear your throat, trying to swallow down the sudden nerves. "Probably Elijah, he seems more gentle than Klaus," you mumble.

Rebekah chuckles, enjoying the effect she is having on you. "He would be thrilled to hear you say that. But," she stops, bringing her lips next to your ear. "I was hoping you'd choose me," she whispers.

It takes everything in your body not to moan when her soft lips move over the sensitive skin on your neck.

Her hands slide up your body before cupping your breasts through the lacy bra. She kneads your flesh firmly before pulling the cups down. Your breasts spill out, nipples pebbling under her ravenous stare.

"I didn't realize it was an option," you breathe.

Rebekah grins at you, eyes flashing dangerously before dipping her head.

"It's always been an option," she husks.

Her attention shifts to your exposed tits, nipples pink and puffy from her touch. She gives them a little smack, knocking the breath out of you.

Her actions instantly cause a throbbing between your thighs as you subconsciously try to close them.

Without warning, she leans down and swipes her tongue along one nipple. Her saliva leaves a cool coating over your skin as she works her way across your chest to give the same treatment to your other tit.

She hums softly against your skin before she bites down lightly, causing your body to arch up towards her, a breathy sigh leaving your lips.

You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch. You want to touch her too, feel her soft skin beneath your fingertips, hear her delicate moans in your ear.

Your hands slowly slide up her thighs, teasing the exposed skin. She doesn't stop you as your hands travel higher and higher, crawling up the slope of her stomach.

She takes your wrists and guides your arms over your head, pinning them against the headboard with one hand, biting her lip in concentration. Her stare is intense, dark and arousing, lust and hunger burning brightly in her eyes.

"Not so fast," she murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth, then quickly withdrawing. "This is all about you,”

Her free hand dips underneath your skirt, reaching the damp fabric of your panties, and pushes it aside. She grins as her finger runs up and down your slit, teasing and prodding your entrance, you let out a soft moan, arching into her touch.

Her lips attach to the skin on your neck, suckling at the tender flesh. She grazes her teeth across the fluttering pulse point, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body.

You tried to stifle your moans, suddenly becoming aware of your surroundings. There was a possibility others in the house could also hear you. Klaus and Elijah were only just downstairs, and with their vampire hearing they could definitely pick up on your moans, even through the closed door. And that thought, of them listening in on you and Rebekah having sex, turned you on even more.

Rebekah grinned, as if she was reading your mind. She removed her hand from between your legs and moved back a little on the bed, grabbing your skirt and pulling it off before pulling off her down clothes. You feel the cold air hit your now bare pussy as she tosses her garments onto the floor.

"Come here," she said softly, grabbing your hips and pulling you under her.

She pressed her chest to yours, the soft skin of her breasts brushing against your own. Your nipples brushed against hers and you both moaned softly. The two of you gazed into each other's eyes for a moment before capturing her lips.

Her tongue pushed in roughly, exploring every inch of your mouth. You reciprocated eagerly, humming against her lips and gripping her waist to pull her closer.

Rebekah slides her hand down your body and between your legs, and begins to slowly stroke your clit. You arch your back, moaning loudly. She chuckles and slowly pushes a finger inside of you, then another.

She thrusts her fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, curling them in just the right way to make you squirm.

"You're so wet, darling," she coos, licking her lips. "Tell me what you want."

"More…"

Elijah was sitting in the courtyard, book in his lap, enjoying one of the rare moments he had to himself. Klaus was sketching something, and the silence was comfortable.

But their moment of peace was interrupted by the sounds of giggling coming from upstairs.

"Sounds like someone is having a good time," the hybrid muttered.

"Yes, I suppose so," Elijah agreed, trying not to listen to the noises.

They are both a little jealous of Rebekah's bond with you, she seemed to have a connection with you that they couldn't achieve. And while they were both aware that the two of you were just friends, sometimes it was hard not to feel left out.

"Maybe we should go see what's going on," Klaus suggested, glancing at his brother.

"No, leave them be, they are probably just trying on clothes again," Elijah replied, trying to focus on his book. He wasn't actually sure what the girls were up to, but he didn't want to disturb them.

Suddenly there's a loud moan, followed by a giggle, and the brothers are unable to ignore it anymore.

They both looked at eachother then got up, heading for the stairs. They could hear the girls whispering and laughing, the sounds getting louder as they reached the door.

Klaus stopped Elijah before he walked in, pressing his index finger to his lips and listening.

You were flushed and trembling, Rebekah between your legs, teasing your pussy with her tongue.

"Fuck," you gasp, grabbing her hair and pulling her closer.

Rebekah loved this, having you at her mercy. You were so hot and responsive, and she couldn't get enough. She could hear her brothers downstairs, questioning what the two of you were doing and she decided to put on a show.

Torture them a little.

Your breathing grew faster as you bucked your hips, riding her face as she kept sucking your clit, your pleasure climbing higher and higher, the tension building in your core.

"Bekah, I'm gonna-"

She pulled back and looked up at you, her smirk the most mischievous you've ever seen.

"Don't come yet, beautiful," she coaxed you, grinning wickedly. "I have one more thing to show you,"

She grins and leans forward, her breasts pressed against yours, she gently positions one of your legs over hers, pulling your bodies flush against each other. She kisses you softly, her hands tangling in your hair, pulling a little before breaking the kiss.

She takes her hands and intertwines them with yours as she starts moving her hips slowly, gently sliding her wet pussy against yours. You gasp at the feeling and move your hips, trying to match her rhythm.

Your eyes close and your head falls back. Rebekah looks down at you, smiling proudly at the effect she has on you.

"Just like that," she whispers. "Feel me move against you..."

You looked down at the sight of your pussies grinding together, and groaned, biting your lip. It was so erotic, and you can't get enough. The way her clit brushes against yours, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

The bed creaked beneath you as you moved faster, trying to chase the high that's just out of reach. It was too much, the pleasure building deep within your belly, your muscles clenching tight. Just when you are about to reach your peak you hear a noise coming from the hallway and you freeze.

Both of you look towards the door, waiting for it to open, and sure enough, the knob turns, revealing the intruders. Klaus and Elijah, of course.

"Looks like we have company, love," Rebekah teased, continuing to grind on you.

They both looked a little caught, as if they didn't expect the door to be unlocked. They stepped in sheepishly, the both of them looking over the two of you, their eyes darkening.

"Hello brothers, it seems we have a new toy to play with," Rebekah stated, eyeing them intensely, her smile full of mischief. "Would you like that darling? To be shared between the three of us?"

You let out a soft moan as Rebekah moves her body in a particular way that has your eyes rolling back into your head. When you speak, you almost sound like you are begging, desperate for their touch.

"Yes," you breathe.

You watched Elijah and Klaus eagerly undress, their eyes still lingering on the two of you, hunger evident in their gaze.

"Look at how you're blushing," Klaus teases, chuckling and moving closer to the bed.

"Such a pretty little thing," Elijah agreed, his lips turning up in a knowing smile.

Rebekah continued to move her hips against yours. "I know," she moaned, running a hand through your hair. "You really are beautiful."

You moan louder as Klaus begins running his hands over your exposed body. Elijah soon joins him, moving to your other side, fingers tracing the outline of your lips. He pushes the tips of his fingers into your mouth and you immediately suck them, eyes fluttering shut. You moan around his fingers, pulling them deeper inside.

Rebekah groans, watching you swirl your tongue around his skin, the wetness gathering between your thighs growing, and you whine, rutting against her to create some friction.

"How desperate," Rebekah smirked, slowing down her movements so that the friction isn't enough to satisfy you.

Elijah removes his fingers and moves to kiss you, his tongue exploring your mouth, hungrily tasting you. Klaus touches your breasts, squeezing and playing with your sensitive nipples. You moan into the kiss, arching your back to rub your skin against his calloused fingers.

You are trapped between the three of them, completely at the mercy of their hands and mouths and you’d never been more turned on.

"I want to see her cum," Klaus murmurs, nipping your earlobe, making you shudder.

Rebekah increases the pace, grinding her clit into yours over and over. You mewl in pleasure, bucking your hips, begging for more. You look up and notice that Elijah has already started stroking his cock, his eyes fixed on you.

"I bet her pussy feels incredible, don't you think?" Klaus asks Elijah huskily, pinching your nipple between two fingers and pulling on it.

You yelp from the overload of sensations, your whole body convulsing. You can't hear what Elijah says because Rebekah reaches between your legs and circles her index finger around your swollen clit, pushing you over the edge.

Your pussy contracts, clamping down around nothing, convulsing against Rebekah's thumb. She sucks in a ragged breath, her hips spasming and rocking back and forth, your hips moving together. Your clit brushes against hers and you let out an embarrassing noise of surprise, coming at the same time as her.

Rebekah collapsed, sweaty and shaking. She buried her face in your neck, mumbling your name over and over, her body still pulsating with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

She pulls back, her blonde hair cascading around her shoulders. She smiles down at you and leans in for another kiss, this time it's slow and gentle, filled with affection.

"You look so beautiful when you come," she whispers against your lips, pressing another soft peck on the side of your mouth. "I think I'll let my brothers have a turn with you now," she gently nips at your skin, tickling you, making you giggle.

Then she moves from the bed and sits on the armchair across the room, watching with dark eyes. Her legs spread as she watches the show, hand finding her clit and rubbing it slowly.

Elijah guides you to lay on your side facing him, while Klaus presses himself to your back, their strong hands gliding along your curves. Elijah wastes no time and leans down to kiss you, pulling your tongue between his lips and sucking it.

Klaus bites down on the skin of your neck, leaving hickeys along the area from your collarbone to the junction of your neck.

Their hands wander over your curves. Elijah's hand cups your breasts, toying with the hard peaks. "Such a pretty little slut." His voice is low, and he smirks at the way your body reacts to his words.

You can feel Klaus' hard member pressing against your back, along with Elijah's length pressed against your front.

You palm Elijah's cock through his boxers, stroking him in slow strokes, loving the way he feels and smells. His dark eyes watch you with adoration as he gives a gentle thrust into your hand.

"Do you like that?" You ask, your voice soft as you continue to pump him, occasionally bringing your hand higher up his shaft and teasing his sensitive head.

He nods eagerly, his fingers tangling into your hair, pressing his hips into you with more urgency. You can feel the veins on his cock pulsate under your touch as his breathing becomes erratic and shallow.

Klaus turns you so you are lying on your back between them, your free hand reaching for his cock, mimicking what you are doing to Elijah.

The feeling of having their cocks in your hands at the same time drives you crazy, you love being surrounded by them. They start kissing your neck and shoulder blades, leaving little marks of their own. You feel them getting harder and harder as they rut into your hands.

The heat between the three of you begins to rise, moans, gasps and whispered praises filling the air. They tease your breasts, letting their fingers and lips roam your body, softly caressing your nipples.

Rebekah groans at the sight and starts rubbing her clit faster, her breath catching as she watches you from across the room. You turn your head slightly, your eyes meeting hers, and you bite your lip, your hand speeding up, stroking them faster.

Elijah's hand wanders lower, touching your inner thigh and his mouth is pressing lightly on your neck and jaw.

"Fuck, just like that darling," he breathes, slowly circling your clit with the pad of his finger, pulling a small gasp from your lips, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

"You like that?" Klaus whispers into your ear, biting on your lobe as he does.

You look towards him and lean over, capturing his lips and teasing him with your tongue, keeping up the movements of your hands on their cocks. He takes control easily, taking charge and deepening the kiss.

"Why don't you come sit on my lap," Klaus murmurs against your lips, brushing back the strands of hair away from your face, smiling down at you with affection.

You let go of them and let yourself be maneuvered so that you were straddling him, the tip of his thick shaft pressing against your entrance, teasing your soaked pussy.

Before you can slide onto his cock, his thumb brushes against your slit and gently taps your swollen clit, causing bolts of pleasure to pass through you, you suck in a gasp and start riding his finger, feeling tiny pleasure sparks shooting through your body.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and he grabs your hips roughly pushing you down onto his cock, causing you to moan as the pleasure of being filled so deep hits you. You lift your hips and his cock slides out a little bit, before you push yourself back down on him. You move slowly, adjusting to his large size. The way your muscles tighten around him makes him groan in pleasure.

Klaus smiled wickedly, his hand coming down to smack your ass, making you yelp and fall forward, burying your head into the crook of his neck.

Rebekah rubbed her clit as she watched you bounce on Klaus' cock, her chest heaving and a desperate expression on her beautiful features.

"Ride him properly now, he's not a particularly patient man," she teased.

Klaus chuckled and smacked you again, harder this time, his other hand wrapping around your throat. You positioned your legs on either side of his and started really moving. Rolling your hips, clenching, using his thighs to your advantage. Each time you pushed yourself down you clenched hard, dragging a long low groan from his parted lips.

"Such a perfect little whore," Klaus grunted as you picked up your pace. His grip tightened around your neck and his other hand squeezed your breasts, twisting your nipples roughly. Your rhythm grew messy, your hips moving in earnest, searching for friction.

Rebekah couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene, watching you fall apart in Klaus' lap had her chasing her high too.

Elijah gazed fondly at the two of you, moving behind you and licking along your back, grabbing your cheeks in his large hands and massaging them before smacking them harshly. You whined loudly, gripping Klaus' forearms tightly, both men chuckled at your responses.

Klaus slowed your movements as Elijah pressed his chest against your back, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his muscular arms wrapping around you. He wrapped one hand around your body and traced small circles across your clit. You gasped and ground against him, desperate for more friction, he ignored your frantic pleading, holding your trembling thighs steady, growling commands in your ear telling you to settle down.

Elijah's hands moved over your hips then between your ass cheeks and slowly circled the edges of your tight hole.

"Have you ever had two men take you at once?" he purred, your blush deepened, and you shook your head.

"Well then we have so much to teach you," Rebekah cheered, spreading her legs further apart.

Elijah leaned back and spread your cheeks further, teasing the hole and coaxing a litany of pleads from your pretty mouth. Your hole was tight and sensitive, only the tip of Elijah's middle finger slowly inserted inside, pushing against your walls to the first knuckle. Klaus's hand tightened around your throat, his eyes glued to your face. Elijah applied more pressure, before he began to move his finger slowly in and out of your ass.

"Shit, Elijah," you groaned, the sensation making you squeeze around Klaus' cock.

With Klaus's grip on you, there was very little range of movement and Elijah smirked at your efforts, removing his finger altogether for a moment.

You weren't sure if you were relieved or frustrated by this.

You let out a shaky gasp as his fingers circled the tense ring of muscle once again, your nails digging into Klaus's shoulders harder when you felt a second finger at your entrance, the slight burn adding to the never-ending list of sensations flooding your mind.

"Relax, sweetheart, take a deep breath." Elijah said softly, kissing the side of your neck and letting his breath fan over the sensitive skin.

You couldn't stop yourself from trembling as Klaus and Elijah shared a chuckle at your eagerness.

"Do you like the thought of having two cocks inside you?" Klaus said, letting go of your throat and twining his fingers into your hair instead. "Of being stuffed full, stretched to your limit, our little whore?”

You could practically feel Rebekah rolling her eyes and grinning.

"Aren't you glad you indulged Rebekah now." Klaus pressed his mouth to your cheekbone, nuzzling the skin until your eyelashes fluttered. "Can't get enough, can you love? So greedy."

"Y-yes," you stutter, feeling Elijah's cock brush against your hole.

Rebekah made a pleased noise at your shaky answer, but didn't make any indication to interrupt, instead just slowly circling her clit, watching with rapt attention.

"Tell them what you want, darling," Rebekah asked quietly.

You turned and stared into her blue eyes and Rebekah breathed out heavily at your desperate gaze. "I want you to put both your cocks in me, I...want to be stuffed full, please," you rambled breathily, shutting your eyes and gasping out when your reward for those begging words was Elijah slowly easing his cock into your ass.

Your back arched slightly and you let out a loud moan, Elijah wrapped an arm around you, the other on your hip, gently urging you to move.

"Good girl, I'll go slow." Elijah's voice sent a shiver of want through you as he continued pressing in more of his thick length with an agonizing pace that left you begging and gasping.

"If only Elijah could see your pretty little face." Klaus chuckled, slowly thrusting up as his brother eventually bottomed out with a low groan, slowly shifting inside you so as not to hurt you.

After a moment, Elijah guided you with small rocks of his hips, kissing your neck and running his hand through your hair and cupping your chin. You sigh into a kiss, and with a few slow experimental pumps of his hips, the painful stretching turned into waves of pleasure.

"Oh, she likes it," Klaus laughed deeply, using his hands to roll your hips into Elijah's, guiding your hips with the upthrusts of his own.

You were completely overwhelmed as you let Klaus guide your hips. You moaned softly with each movement from either side. You had never been filled so deep. You could feel your climax rapidly approaching and all at once you wanted nothing more than both their cum buried deep inside of you.

The two of them used their combined strengths to pound you at a faster, harsher pace.

"S - shit. Fuck." Your hands started roaming your own body; touching every part of you they couldn't while on the search for release, you pinched your nipples and Klaus dipped his fingers to your clit, furiously strumming the bud in rough circles.

All three of them watched you squirming in pure ecstasy and grunting as their pleasure crashed. The heat was growing intense, leaving you weak and desperate. They didn't stop as your walls began to tighten, continuing at their hurried pace until you finally fell over the edge, taking them with you.

For a moment, everything went hazy as they filled you with their cum, their moans echoed in the room and they caught your shaking body, murmuring praise and reassurances until you regained your ability to think.

Elijah pulled out of you and Klaus caressed your thighs with his hands, his thumb rubbing circles across your skin. He kisses you gently on your forehead and moves you off his lap, laying you down on the bed.

Rebekah laid down beside you, kissing your cheeks and making you giggle. She looked gorgeous, gently biting at her lip as she admired your blissed out expression. You wanted to make her feel good, since she'd been so left out in this adventure.

You pushed her gently on to her back, kissing her neck and lips. You move down her body, licking and biting and tugging. She threads her fingers into your hair and you shuffle between her legs, sucking on her nipples and swirling them with the tip of your tongue. She moans and bucks her hips.

"Thank you for being so patient Becca," you smirk and wink, sending a flush of color rushing through her pretty face.

Using both of your hands, you raise her left thigh higher onto your shoulder as you lick between her soft pussy lips. You glance back towards Rebekah's brothers, expecting one of them to take advantage of your inviting posture.

Elijah steps forwards and bends over you, kissing your ass cheeks before easing his cock into your pussy, moving with slow, lazy thrusts. His hands roam your ass, murmuring praise and making you blush.

Rebekah groans softly, and that is all the encouragement you need to start focusing your attention on her clit, slurping messily, loving the sounds you are pulling from her. You ease two fingers into her heat, curling your fingers as you thrust and swirl them inside her, drawing out more and more of the erotic symphony she makes.

You can tell she is close by the way her legs are trembling. You pull your mouth away from her core to let out a sharp cry as Elijah picks up the speed. You quickly re-attach your mouth to her pussy and fuck her fast and hard with your fingers. The rapid pressure of your fingers against her g-spot has Rebekah grabbing at your hair and trying to hold your mouth firmly to her clit as she falls apart, squeezing your head with her thighs.

She pulls you back by the hair and lets out a contented sigh, softly moaning as your fingers continue moving deep inside her.

Rebekah giggled at the look on your face, watching you being slowly fucked by Elijah, she could tell you were desperate for more.

"You love to torture her, don't you Elijah," Rebekah hissed, feeling the soft bites your teeth delivered to her tender skin. "You want her to beg for more, don't you?"

"She can hardly beg with your thighs clamped around her head," Elijah chuckled.

You moaned as Elijah's hand tangled into your hair, pulling you up so your face was pulled away from Rebekah's pussy, her wetness covered your lips and chin.

Klaus was watching the scene, stroking himself, smirking as you gasped when Elijah took complete control.

"You are ours," Elijah growled, nipping at your neck. "And we are going to show you just how much we love having our little play thing around."

His lips traced along your pulse-point before nipping his teeth across your flesh, leaving red and purplish bite marks as he went.

Klaus and Rebekah moved closer, both of them sitting up on their knees in front of you. You reached out to Rebekah, your fingers moving back between her legs. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath catching in her throat. Your fingers found her clit and gently circled it.

Her hips jerked towards your hand as you continued to grind your ass back on Elijah's cock.

You took Klaus in your other hand and stroked his length, the four of you moving in sync, your hands, lips, hips and tongue working in tandem to tease and pleasure them.

There were so many different sensations and you were trembling from the intensity of it all. You had no control over anything, and yet you had complete power over the sensations they were all receiving.

It was filthy, scandalous, but it felt so good.

Elijah sank his cock deeper into you and his mouth trailed kisses along the back of your neck. Klaus, Rebekah and you were panting and moaning, each of you edging closer to climax.

Rebekah came first, she threw her head back and moaned loudly, her body tensed, her muscles clenching around your fingers. You watched as she rode your hand, her cunt pulsing and you moaned with delight as her thighs tightened.

Klaus was next, and he grunted as he came, spilling into your hand. His eyes were glazed over and he grinned lazily.

Elijah picked up the pace, his thrusts growing faster and harder as he approached his own climax. "Going to fill your delicious little pussy up," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening.

He buried his cock inside you and came, causing you to buck and whimper. You felt his release fill you and you couldn't help but groan.

"Such a pretty little thing, so good for us," Klaus whispered as he stroked your hair. Watching your eyebrows arch as you came on Elijah's cock. Rebekah cooed in the background, smiling with pride.

All thoughts evaporated as the sweet tension took over and you let go, moaning long and low as your climax hit.

Elijah pulled out of you, letting you fall forward into Klaus' arms. Elijah smacked your ass, loving the way the light burn added to your fading high.

You giggled softly as Klaus laid you down on top of him, while Elijah and Rebekah snuggled up on either side of you.

All thoughts dissolved with the warm afterglow, and the loving caresses on your heated skin. You buried your face into Klaus's chest, Rebekah massaging your scalp, Elijah gently rubbing circles across your lower back.

"I think she's the best one yet," Rebekah yawned, her cheeks still red.

"Definitely," Klaus replied, closing his eyes.

Elijah murmured softly in agreement, breathing deeply through his nose. The brothers were quickly fading to sleep.

"You guys do this often?" You chuckled, listening to their hearts thump as they calmed down.

"Only occasionally," Elijah admitted sleepily, kissing the top of your head. "For special occasions with special people,"

You smiled contently, pleased with yourself and the three immortals surrounding you.

"So are you saying I'm special?" You teased, giggling at their groans.

"Yes darling, extraordinarily so," Rebekah sighed happily, nuzzling into your shoulder. "Please, don't leave."

"Ever." Klaus and Elijah grumbled.

"Never ever." You sighed contently, drifting off to sleep in the warm embrace of three, perfect lovers.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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mapofsouthdakota · 1 month ago

Text

Caffeine, chemistry and Caleb II

(Law student POV pt. 2)

Synopsis: The café was supposed to be just another coffee shop. For a law student who enjoys her morning coffee and a shy newbie still learning the ropes, it should have been nothing more than part of the daily routine… But then there’s Caleb.

Details: 1300 words. Pt. 2! (Spring cleaning is done lol kinda) Non-MC!Reader as the law student. Expect flirting, hot af barista Caleb, jealousy blooming and plenty of banter with the newbie barista. You learn something new about Caleb—and, as always, you and the newbie are in this chaotic little mess together.

Chapters: initial doodle, pilot part 1 (law student), pilot (newbie), part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

Tags: @gavin3469 @mipov101 @unstablemiss

Turbulence | Pt. 2

It’s been three days.

Three days. Eleven drinks. Two shaky hands. One minor caffeine-induced breakdown in the library bathroom. And not a single Caleb.

The newbie’s been your reluctant caffeine lifeline. Quiet, sharp, tongue piercing flashing when they talk, salmon-colored hair tied back messily, a silver ring glinting at the edge of their nose. They don’t ask why you keep showing up—mostly because they already know. They catch your glances at the door, your pauses when Caleb’s name is mentioned, your steady descent into coffee-fueled delusion.

They say nothing. But every time they hand you your drink, their eyes say: same hat, different clown.

But today?

Today, you’re done pretending.

You step up to the counter, drop your bag, and level them with a look.

“Okay,” you say, voice flat. “This is not a crush. This is a case study. I just need to know—when does he work? For science. National interest. Closure.”

The newbie blinks, then gives you a slow, unimpressed look.

“You could ask him yourself.”

You open your mouth to argue—just as they glance at their watch, untie their apron, and say under their breath:

“Actually… perfect timing.”

And that’s when the door opens behind you.

You feel him before you see him. The shift in energy. The hum in the air. The ghost of that smirk from three days ago.

Then his voice, warm and amused:

“Hey.”

You turn around.

There he is—Caleb. Dressed in the same soft black shirt, hair slightly mussed, sleeves already rolled like he’s here to work and ruin your life.

He walks past you toward the counter, claps the newbie on the shoulder with easy affection, and ruffles their hair like it’s a normal thing people survive.

The newbie’s whole body goes still.

They turn to you, dead-eyed, mouthing: Kill me.

Then they mutter something about their shift ending and vanish into the back before Caleb can do more damage.

You’re still smiling when he turns around and spots you.

“Oh hey,” he says, tying his apron behind his back, eyes bright with something unreadable. “Didn’t expect to see you this late.”

You shrug, trying to keep your cool. “Guess I’m still unpredictable.”

His grin curves. “You wanna try something weird?”

You blink.

“I’ve been thinking about this drink all week,” he continues, moving behind the counter. “Coffee. With apple juice.”

You stare. “That sounds like a war crime.”

He laughs. “Exactly. But it might also be genius. C’mon—let me make it for you. Worst case, you hate it and I owe you a real drink.”

He’s already reaching for the espresso.

And somehow, you’re already saying yes.

You watch as he works. Veins shifting under his forearms as he moves so precise, so practiced, you’re tempted to file an official complaint with the Department of Hot People Doing Too Much. He talks while he works—voice low, casual, like this is all completely normal. Like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you.

“Apple juice cuts the bitterness. Adds brightness. Kind of a shock to the system, but in a good way.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That sounds like a tagline for your whole personality.”

He smirks without looking up. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He finishes the drink, slides it across the counter toward you. The cup is warm, the smell… confusing. Like summer and danger and something that should probably not be consumed without signing a waiver.

“Try it,” he says, watching you.

You hesitate. Not because you don’t trust the drink—but because he’s watching you like this matters. Like your opinion on this weird little experiment is somehow important.

And it shouldn’t feel intimate, but it does.

You lift the cup, take a cautious sip.

It’s—good?

Weird. But good. Tangy, slightly sweet, the coffee mellowed into something strange and spark-bright on your tongue. You blink, surprised.

“Well?” he asks.

You look up at him, lips still on the rim of the cup.

“…This is actually kind of amazing.”

His smile is slow, satisfied. “Told you.”

You lower the cup, trying not to look like you’re about to write an entire thesis on the way he’s leaning forward just slightly, hands braced on the counter like you’re the only thing in the room.

You glance at the drink again, then up at him. “What made you think of it?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter. “I just have a thing for apples.”

And that’s when you see it.

The thin chain around his neck catches the light as he shifts—barely visible under the collar of his shirt. It slips out just enough to show what’s been hiding all along:

A dog tag.

And next to it, resting against the metal, a tiny apple charm.

You freeze.

You’ve seen it before. Or maybe you haven’t. Maybe you’ve been too distracted by everything else. But now, it’s all you can see.

Delicate. Meaningful. Not self-gifted. Not accidental.

Someone gave that to him.

And it’s been there. Long enough to be worn down at the edges. Long enough to become a part of him.

You look back down at your drink.

He didn’t make it for you.

He made it because apples mean something to him. Because she made them mean something.

And you hate that it matters. But it does.

You sip again. Slower. Trying not to show your face.

Trying not to wonder if everything about him is already spoken for.

You sit back down at your usual table with the coffee-apple crime still in hand, but your appetite for it has cooled. You pretend to read a paragraph of case law and get through maybe five words.

Because you’re still thinking about the necklace.

The charm.

Her.

Is she like you? Blonde? Quiet? Loud? Prettier? Softer? Did she work here? Was she the one who taught him to like apple juice in his coffee, or worse—did she drink it first?

You’re spiraling, and you know it.

You adjust your blazer. Reread the same line three times.

Across the room, Caleb’s voice drifts through the hum of espresso and indie guitar.

It’s just coffee. He makes drinks. You’re not special. This is nothing.

You take another sip.

…It’s still good. Damn it.

The newbie walks past your table on their way out, shooting you a look that says you okay? without bothering to say it out loud.

You raise your eyebrows in a silent do not even start.

They shrug like fine, but as they pass, they murmur:

“Don’t look too hard at the charm. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

You whip around to say excuse me?, but they’re already gone. Vanished through the entrance with a pling of the doorbell, leaving you with your overactive brain and that damn necklace burned into your memory.

You try to recover. Get your bag together. Your pride. Your notes.

And just as you’re slipping your laptop back into its case, you hear him behind you:

“Hey, Golden Girl.”

You turn, eyes wide.

He’s leaning against the counter again, arms folded, apron dusted with a bit of cinnamon.

“I’m working the early shift tomorrow,” he says. “Should I make a cup of sin for you again, or… are you too scared to handle it twice?”

There’s that smirk.

That exact smirk.

And just like that, every ounce of composure you rebuilt cracks apart like a dropped glass.

You force a smile. Steady. Controlled.

“Careful,” you say lightly. “Turbulence, remember?”

He flashes that grin, all white teeth and silent challenge. “Trust me. I’m a trained pilot.”

You walk out, smile still frozen on your lips, heart pounding in your chest like a full-on procedural hearing is taking place in there.

And as soon as the door shuts behind you, you mutter under your breath:

“I’m lawyering the hell out of that apple girl.”

——————————————————————————

Part 3

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: So when I say my drafts are empty, I don’t mean literally—but you’ve successfully squeezed the last half-decent AU I had kinda ready since you wanted the law student with the MC existing. I was just too scared to commit lol. Congrats, you’ve all unlocked the “fine, I’ll post it” hidden achievement on my tumblr. We can always make the MC disappear if you change your mind (said with Colonel Caleb intensity)

I’m honestly amazed (and so grateful) that people enjoy this simple AU of mine—thank you for the comments, likes, and reblogs! Muah!

Let me know if you’d like more, dear reader! I’ll be off doodling my newfound Apothecary Diaries AU in the meantime—before dropping a headcanon for all the boiis later this week, hehe. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

#HERE IT IS 🫶🏻 dusty draft made into something hiiiii #i love writing in caleb canons i used this in plated too but it’s too caleb coded not to mention #iykyk #the poll has spoken and what luck because that was exactly what my last draft for the law student was #let’s see where her obsession takes us lol #love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #lnds caleb #lads caleb #you x caleb #non mc x caleb #fanfic caleb #fanfic love and deepspace #reader x caleb #barista caleb

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dirtysvthoughts · 2 years ago

Text

ur gymrat boyfriends <3

tags/warnings: smut, pwp, female! reader, boyfriend! wonwoo, boyfriend! jihoon, poly! relationship, pet names (baby, honey, princess, my darlings), literally one mention of ass smacking, reader gets fully nude, wonwoo and jihoon are gymrats (kinda obvious lol), dirty talk, pussy eating - but guess who though 👀, sorta kinda wall & mirror sex? you’ll see, wonwoo kinda takes the lead in this one heheh 🤭

word count: 2.5k (i got carried away y’all, i’m so sorry this was supposed to be short 😭)

a/n: i was told several times i was a menace for coming up with this idea, so why not continue my spread of mischief 😗 i saw this pic and instantly got several thoughts running through my brain… thanks to @playmetheclassics @wonwussy and @gyuwoncheol for dealing with my nonsense 🥹

when jihoon suggested you join him and wonwoo at the gym, you were hesitant at first.

“won’t there be lots of people there? and i thought you two working out together was a you guys thing, i don’t wanna intrude on that.. we all need our own spaces,” your voice and eyes lower, but the hand your boyfriend places on your thigh immediately has your eyes staring into his.

“working out is never just a me and wonwoo thing, you’re always welcome to join us. you’ve just been too shy to tag along,” jihoon’s ruffles your hair as your eyes shift away again. “besides, we haven’t done anything with all three of us in a bit. it’ll be nice,” he pats your back as he gets up, heading towards your bathroom to take a shower.

a few days later, you take up jihoon’s offer, and decide to join him and your other boyfriend at the gym. donning a strappy black sports bra and black shorts, you enter the room your lovers are in - their bodies coming to attention once you come into the space.

“hi my darlings,” you sweetly muse as you put your things down. wonwoo immediately sets his weights to the side and approaches you, hands falling on your waist as he kisses the center of your forehead. “hey pretty girl,” he smirks as you lean further into his touch, caressing your cheek delicately with his fingertips. “i haven’t seen you in a minute, are you taking care of yourself?”

“yes, i promise,” you respond back, pressing a chaste kiss to his soft lips. wonwoo kisses you back moving his hands toward your chest - until jihoon clears his throat loudly, stopping the both of you in your tracks.

“i know you two haven’t seen each other in a while, but we do have to stay focused. wonwoo and i can’t spend all day here unfortunately, we have other schedules later on tonight.”

you sigh disappointingly, wanting more of wonwoo’s touch on you, but also realizing that jihoon was right. he did warn you in advance this morning that while the three of you would be reunited, it wouldn’t be as long as you would like it to. they could only stay at the gym for an hour until all three of you had to go your separate ways again. it had been about two weeks since all three of you were able to hang out together. who knows when the next time would be?

you then decided you just need the savor the present moments with your boyfriends.

30 more minutes pass in which all of you have worked on different body groups - your boyfriends helping each other with their chest workouts, and jihoon helping you on some of your weighted exercises, giving you tips and pointers on how to make it challenging, but not overwhelming. all three of you take a break from the exercise, getting some water as you lay down on your mat and your men sit on different benches.

“how do you guys do this everyday?” you question in astonishment. “it’s only been 30 minutes but i feel like i got in a workout for the rest of the week,” you grab your phone and scroll through some of your apps while your boyfriends laugh at your joke.

“you just gotta keep it consistent honey,” wonwoo comments. “the more you do it, the less harder it becomes.”

“and the faster you get the results you want,” jihoon adds in. “wonwoo and i didn’t get our physiques overnight. remember those late nights when one of us would have to facetime you at the gym?”

your pussy throbs at the memories jihoon unlocked for you. “how could i forget when you both unintentionally teased me with your muscles?” you murmur in your head, thinking about your last gym facetime with jihoon and how you wanted nothing more than for him to pin you down after seeing him in a tight, sleeveless black shirt, hair covering his eyes.?

“y-yeah,” you whisper biting down on your lip, quickly and tightly closing your legs to prevent the boys from catching on. “i don’t think i ever told you guys this, but i’m proud of you both for working so hard to take care of yourselves. and trust me, i definitely see the work you put in.”

wonwoo chuckles, running his hand through his hair. “i think you need to elaborate honey, what does that mean?”

you roll your eyes as you sit up, looking directly at wonwoo when your response comes out of your mouth. “i think you know what i mean, baby,” you tease as you roll up to your knees. “you and jihoon are too hot to handle,” you bite your lip as your mind continues to drown in your needy thoughts. “your arms are so built that i want to be pinned down or choked by them practically every day. when you both wear oversized shirts, you can still see the details of your chest muscles, and god, both of you have the waist of greek gods.. you’re my fucking adonises.”

“mmm, is that so honey?” wonwoo questions, but he already knows the answer. “if that’s the case, then come over here and sit on my lap, let me show you how this gym work can be put to very good use.”

you stand up, walking towards your boyfriend and when you’re close enough, gingerly putting one leg over his, making sure your pussy pressed against his crotch. once you feel situated, you begin to grind on wonwoo’s lap, hands pressing down on his shoulders, moaning at how you could feel his hardness at you just got started.

wonwoo quickly takes notice in how you were lost in pleasure, your eyes closed and your head falling back, revealing how pretty your neck and their lines looked. he takes advantage of this opportunity, and pulls you closer by the waist, holding you by your lower back. wonwoo then attaches his lips above your collarbone, pillow-like kisses heightening your sensations.

“mmmm,” you moan in ecstasy, sounds getting a bit louder as he kisses his way down to the valley of your chest. “mmm, wo’neil, more pl-please,” you reach for the nape of his neck and pull him forward to bring him to the exact spot he’s trying to reach. he smiles knowing both of you were on the same page, and starts mouthing at your breasts, leaving open kisses and licks anywhere he could.

jihoon was watching you both intently from his corner of the room, but when he heard you moan beautifully for the third time in a row and he saw wonwoo making love to your chest? he was done being a spectator. he had to join the action.

you and wonwoo are so caught up in each other that neither of you notice jihoon walking up to you both and stopping once he reaches your backside. his fingers grasp the hem of your bra and gently pull it up, causing you and wonwoo to momentarily freeze. your tilt your head back to look at your boyfriend, in a trance from how wonwoo riled you up.

“jihoon?” you question as he sits you up to pull your bra over your head, tossing it to the other side of the room.

“couldn’t let the two of you have all the fun,” he teases, now moving to touch your mounds. “such a beautiful body you have, baby,” smirking at how with every touch, your nipples got perkier.

you moan out jihoon’s name as wonwoo goes back to making you feel good with his mouth. the feeling of both of them on you has your toes curling and your panties getting wetter.

“shit, w-wonwoo, ji-jihoon,” you breathlessly whisper their names. “needed you both so bad, i missed this so much,” your last word turns into a moan when wonwoo feels up your clit through your shorts.

“jihoon, she’s so wet already,” wonwoo chuckles circling his thumb over the center of your crotch, enjoying the many noises that left your mouth. “we’ve barely even started honey, you wanna share with the class?”

“i’m practically about to make a spot on these shorts, i’m dripping wet for the both of you! take me on the floor, the wall, this fucking bench - i don’t care, i just need you both inside of me,” you desperately plead.

both of their dicks twitch at your words, and they share at look with each other. they nod their heads in agreement, and wonwoo places his thumb in your chin, ensuring all of your focus was on him.

“stand up pretty honey,” he commands, and you do, trying not to lose your balance. once you’re off wonwoo, jihoon slowly pulls your shorts down your legs, revealing the black, strappy panties you decided to wear.

amused, wonwoo trails his fingers over your waistband, pulling it away and then letting it snap against your skin. your core gushes, not expecting wonwoo playing with your panties to have such an effect on you.

“oh my god, please!” you whine. “no more teasing, i don’t think i can take it.”

jihoon laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers playing with your earlobe. “c’mon wonwoo, help me get our baby to the mirror.”

wonwoo gladly obliges, turning you around to have your back facing his chest. he helps you walk backwards as jihoon temporarily leaves you two, making sure the door was locked.

you turn your cheek toward wonwoo as his back finally presses against the reflective material, fingers slowly crawling towards your folds to touch you again - this time without any clothes blocking his way. “why do i get the feeling that you and hoon planned this before i got here?” you scoff in disbelief, but it quickly turns into another moan as wonwoo begins a scissoring motion that had your body aching for more.

“and if we did?” jihoon smirks, making his way back to you. he kneels when he gets in front of you, blowing lightly on your folds and you think you might pass out from the combined feeling of oral and physical touch in your most sensitive area.

“y-you guys are some-something el-else,” you can barely muster as jihoon begins to inhale your scent down there, groaning and mentioning how good you were going to taste.

“and i bet she would taste good too jihoon,”’wonwoo chimes in. “every time i’ve eaten you out, you’ve always filled my appetite. you’re so satisfying. you taste so sweet, pretty honey,” he brings his fingers out from inside you and brings them to your lips. without another thought, you suck dramatically on his fingers, enjoying how wonwoo pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth.

he pulls off with a pop and he goes to your chest, grabbing at any skin he could get his hands on. you press down on his hand as you brace for more, whimpering at how good it all felt.

you weren’t expecting to get louder however, and that’s when jihoon finally decides to put his mouth to use. he leaves one long lick on your clit, and your body breaks out in good shivers.

“oh my fucking god,” you breathe out, feeling like you were going to an otherworldly paradise. jihoon doesn’t stop there and continues his motions, alternating the pacing of his tongue.

“you like it when jihoon eats you out baby?” you nod frantically. “such a pretty little thing when you’re getting fucked out.. maybe i should fuck you from behind? hmm, put my tip in just a little bit and get you writhing for me,” he curves the shape of you ass and spanks the left cheek, causing you to tilt forward a bit as you cry out.

“please, please keep talking that way wonwoo, it s-sounds so good coming out of your mouth!” jihoon can’t help but laugh to himself because you were right, the more wonwoo talked dirty to you, the wetter you became, and all he wanted was to have your juices covering the bottom half of his face.

“such a needy, desperate little girl.. you love a filthy mouth don’t you?” before you can respond, wonwoo’s tongue roams on the edge of your earlobe and you whine out for your boyfriend.

“that’s right, keep calling my name out like that.. who’s helping you get off like this?”

“you are! wonwoo, wonwoo!”

“and be nice princess, who else is making you feel good? he’s working just as hard as me,” wonwoo tilts your head down to have you view jihoon, still making love to your folds like a pussy-starved man. jihoon looks at you with the most cunning, seductive look and you fear your coil could come undone any second.

“jihoonie,” you moan, biting down on your lip. “you’re making me feel so good down there, but i don’t know how long i can la- ah!” his tongue goes at its fastest pace since you three started and that’s all it takes for you to finally release, chanting both of your boyfriend’s names like they were the only words you knew.

jihoon moves his mouth away from the lower half of your body, a cheshire grin sweeping across his face, knowing his wish for today finally came true.

“came so much that you got it all over my face baby,” he licks his lips and the move has you clenching again, even though you had an intense orgasm seconds before. “dirty talk does something to you because you were dripping on my lips.” you blush at jihoon’s intimate statement as your body tries to slump to the floor, but wonwoo brings you back up.

“can’t have you laying down just yet, do you think you can handle another round princess? i do wanna put my dick inside of you, but only if you’re ready. what about you jihoon?”

the mentioned male nods in agreement, “yeah neither of us has filled you up yet, and i don’t think we can go anywhere until we’ve accomplished that.”

you look at the clock in the room, and there were about 10 minutes left before you guys had to leave. surely that’s enough time for one more orgasm.

“okay, but this time, i actually wanna see some skin from you two,” you pout. “i was the only one naked, and that’s not fair.. lemme see all of your work,” you innocently tease, doe eyes making them both horny.

“you really are something else,” jihoon expresses as he takes off his jacket first, then his shirt. wonwoo follows suit, hoodie coming off and his shirt following, both of their outerwear now in a small pile.

“you’ll have to help us with our pants though if you want both of us in your pretty little holes,” wonwoo remarks.

you sigh, knowing that even though you will get what you want, it’s not gonna come to you easy. that’s what it was like dealing with your gymrat boyfriends.

“yes baby,” you whisper as you come down to your knees, pulling down wonwoo, then jihoon’s pants and boxers down, revealing their pretty and girthy dicks.

“hm, i guess those late nights were worth it,” you say to yourself.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #svthub #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #wonwoo smut #woozi smut #jihoon smut #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo imagines #woozi imagines #lee jihoon imagines

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tubatwo · 2 years ago

Text

workaholic - kang taehyun

summary: doing soobin a favor leads to a night alone with your boss... who you just so happen to be crushing on

pairing: gn reader x kang taehyun

genre: fluff; 1.6k words

a/n: maybe in a dream world a boss would let you take all the hours you wanted LOL but let’s just pretend~

some would call you a workaholic, but you simply called it living. there was no such thing as “working too hard”. you liked having money, and you didn’t dislike your job. especially as long as you got to see a certain someone. a certain someone who may also play a teensy tiny part in the reason why you enjoy working so much.

maybe that certain someone was your boss.

who you definitely did not have a crush on.

nope…

the door to ‘kang cafe’ chimes as your coworker soobin walks in, halfway through the process of putting his apron on. “y/n! you’re here already?” he asks while opening a drawer that held all of the staff name tags and important keys.

“yup,” you nod, “i’m working day shifts this week since i’m a little ahead on schoolwork.” you had been working your ass off teaching yourself the material since your professors proved themselves to be absolutely useless. going to class in the mornings only wasted your time and frustrated you further, so you decided to switch up your schedule a little.

there’s a hint of disappointment and guilt in soobin’s eyes, his fingers still fumbling his name tag around, desperately trying to attach it to his apron. “I was gonna ask if you could cover my night shift tomorrow…” he whines slightly. “I can’t ask you to work a full day…”

“huh? you won’t be here?” you ask. soobin shakes his head before a shy, proud smile covers his face. “nope, I happen to have a very special date,” he responds before loudly groaning, “ah, this stupid thing!” you laugh at the sight of him still struggling to get his name tag on.

“here let me..” you reach over to help the clumsy boy while giving him a reassuring smile, “and don’t worry about coming in tomorrow, I was gonna take some extra hours anywa–”

your words are interrupted by the sound of the back room closing and footsteps approaching. you both look over to see your boss, taehyun, looking at the two of you with a startled face. the sight of you and soobin, close proximity, your hands laying on soobin’s chest. he quickly clears his throat before returning to his usual chill persona.

“okay one, sorry for interrupting whatever this is,”

“um, they were just fixing my na–”

“and two, y/n, what are you talking about?” he looks at you, a glint of confusion in his eyes as he completely ignores the boy next to you.

your hands finally release from soobin’s nametag as you turn to fully face your boss, trying your absolute hardest not to scan his entire body. what was someone so attractive and close to your age even doing owning a coffee shop like this? I mean, you know he’s slightly older. graduated too. but shouldn’t he be the manager at a best buy or something? better yet, working a modeling job?

stupid kang taehyun.

stupid kang taehyun and his stupid black tee that just so happens to be tightly clinging onto his–

“y/n?” taehyun snaps you out of your trance while soobin snickers to himself behind you, pretending to make himself busy with a random cup.

“huh?” you ask, completely dumbfounded and a little embarrassed.

“why do you need more hours? you’re already scheduled every day this week.”

oh right. “oh, um, well you guys know me…” you start, “always working...” the chime of the door sounds again as a trio of customers walk in. taehyun gives soobin a look, signaling him to handle the small crowd as he grabs your hand to take you to the backroom. you don’t even have time to digest what’s happening or the dizziness that’s suddenly consuming you because taehyun immediately continues his light scolding.

“y/n, I know i’m your boss but i’m not a shitty one,” he says with a sad look, “I know you still have classes, so you don’t have to worry too hard about the cafe, okay?”

“no, I promise it’s okay! I don’t mind helping you, really.” you explain, quickly shaking your head, “it could be busy too and I know the feeling of having to handle it alone…” taehyun sighs at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you can’t really point out. at least not until his next words:

“ah, you’re too sweet to me, what am I gonna do with you?”

your eyes widen, blinking quickly as you mentally remind yourself to scream into your pillow about this later. how do you even respond? why was he looking at you like that? maybe you’re overthinking. does he talk to soobin this way?!

“um… g-give me a promotion?” you joke, trying to distract yourself from whatever just happened.

…

“alright, get back to work.”

“are you absolutely positively sure you’re okay with taking my shift?” soobin asks for the hundredth time over the phone.

“yes, soobin, now please go get ready before I punch you for making your date wait.” after a few more minutes of bickering (and lots of complaining from soobin’s end), you end the call. you guess you could say the angels were on your side since it was extremely quiet tonight. since there weren’t many customers, taehyun had excused himself to run a few errands. he told you to call him if a large crowd ever showed up. but they didn’t. only a few customers here and there. you spent most of your time scrolling through tiktok and seeing if there was anything you could restock.

you start trying to remember if you restocked the toilet paper already before your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door chime. you look up to see your boss, dressed in a different black tee, looser this time, and a pair of sweatpants.

great.

“taehyun? you’re back already?” you ask, trying your hardest to keep yourself composed.

“mhm, I finished my errands a while ago, just went home to get into some comfortable clothes if that’s okay with you.”

“oh, no it’s okay!” you shake your head, “never thought i’d uh– see my boss in sweatpants but here we are.” taehyun lets out a light chuckle before joining you behind the front counter. he pulls a fancy notebook out of the drawer and begins writing inside. whatever it is, it’s probably business owner things since it looks quite important.

“so, uh, do you know what was so important for soobin tonight?” he asks, eyes still locked on the paper.

“he’s on a date tonight~” you respond, slightly exaggerating your words in a teasing manner. taehyun’s hand freezes and his eyes immediately shoot up to look at you. “a date?” he questions. you nod, a bit confused at his reaction.

“but I thought you two…” he trails off while looking somewhere else. anywhere else but you.

your eyes widen in disbelief. soobin? you? and soobin? I mean sure, the guy is handsome, but he was like an annoying brother more than anything. “huh?! no– no, me and soobin are just friends!”

…

“ah, that’s a relief…”

you freeze. taehyun was a good-looking guy. you’ve witnessed customer after customer try to flirt with him multiple times but he usually didn’t go along with it. instead, he would give a blunt answer that would leave you snickering in the background.

but with you, things were different. it started with small compliments on your performance, then your personality, then maybe one or two about how you did your hair that day. then it turned into long glances from afar and warm smiles. and now, it’s these comments that he keeps making. comments that are making you feel like you’re one more word away from exploding.

taehyun was silent for a while, taking a moment to find the right words. “actually, i’ve been meaning to tell you something, and I hope you don't mind me being honest.” turning to give your full attention to him, you nod and wait for him to continue.

“over time, i’ve come to realize that I really really like you, y/n. not just as my employee, but as a person too. you bring so much joy to this place, I can't help but feel drawn to you."

his words leave you in shock, your mouth gaped and your hands sweaty. you can’t even come up with anything to say, but he wasn’t finished yet.

“and you work so hard. so hard to the point where it leaves me conflicted. because sometimes I wish you would just give yourself a break, but I also wake up every morning excited to see you again…”

“i’m sorry if this is crossing the line, and I understand whatever decision you decide to make after this. I appreciate the relationship we had, no matter what happens."

you smile warmly, taking a few steps closer to taehyun, making him flustered in the process. you reach out to grab his hands and rub them with your thumb. ”I really really like you too, tae, you have no idea.”

taehyun smiles widely at your confession and your nickname for him before hiding his face in your neck, letting out one of his famous cute noises. “oh? who knew my boss was such a softie?” you let out playfully. “don’t tell soobin.” he whispers, making you laugh. taehyun removes himself from your neck to cherish the sight of your smile, one of his hands reaching up to rest on your cheek.

“is this okay, darling?”

“more than okay.”

you both lean in to finally press your lips together. the kiss is soft and sweet, filled with the unspoken words you two had been sharing through glances and gestures. as the kiss becomes deeper, your arms wrap around his neck loosely and his arms wrap around your waist to pull you even closer. the two of you are so wrapped up in each other that you don’t even hear the familiar chime of the door.

“guess who just had the worst date eve– OH MY GOD”

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