#still it feels like I’m attention seeking when like… why is seeking attention bad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

not-neverland06 · 9 months ago

Note

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him.

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned.

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out.

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much. “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling.

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing.

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much.

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted.

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be.

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover.

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark.

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack.

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.”

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you.

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified.

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do.

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up.

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you.

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her.

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both.

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it.

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through.

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it.

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground.

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat.

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest.

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand.

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look.

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings.

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped.

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott.

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at.

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black.

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you.

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple.

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage.

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged.

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?”

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you.

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation.

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant.

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time.

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice.

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott.

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most.

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand.

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens.

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior.

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated.

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him.

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him.

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you.

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire.

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams.

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead.

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you.

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess.

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off.

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense.

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal.

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag.

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you.

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip.

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you.

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known.

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions.

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him.

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad.

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern.

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue.

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room.

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off.

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby.

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another.

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up.

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought.

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all.

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest.

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to.

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her.

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him.

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you.

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him.

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him.

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long.

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again.

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire.

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated.

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes.

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye.

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you.

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow.

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position.

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt.

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared.

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at.

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever.

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor.

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain.

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere.

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had.

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea.

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said.

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love.

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him.

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up.

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order.

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held.

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants.

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him.

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips.

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you.

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass.

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl ♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #x men #x men x reader #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman x reader #anon

3K notes · View notes

no-144444 · 6 months ago

Text

farm girl- o.piastri

summary: what's a better way to a guys attention than shouting at him for being too slow?

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! clarkson farm, farm-hand!! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You weren’t the biggest fan of Jeremy’s reality show, but you enjoyed working the farm, so, as per your agreement, you wouldn’t be featured in episodes as much as possible. You were so far removed in fact, that you didn’t even know that someone else was driving the tractor when you shouted for them to ‘stop being shit’ at driving it.

“Y/n!” Jeremy shouted. “Stop being rude!”

“What?” you scoffed. “I swear to god, if Finn doesn’t fucking speed up I’m going to-” you started, but stopped yourself when you saw none other than Oscar fucking Piastri in the driver’s seat with an embarrassed and guilty smile on his face. “Sorry,” you offered, internally cursing yourself. “Continue on!” you announced before turning back and continuing on with more of your duties.

Oscar looked after you as you walked, an amused smile on his face. “Who’s that?”

“Y/n, one of our farmers,” Jeremy explained, a chuckle on his lips. “She’s… fiery.”

“She’s damn good at her job!” someone from off-camera chimed in, making everyone chuckle.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

As his day went on, he caught glimpses of you. You were tending to animals, or showing someone around, or just generally being beautiful and mysterious. He was desperate to know more. He asked a million questions about you, and he was sure everyone was aware of his not-so-secret crush on you.

“You should ask her out, she likes F1,” Jeremy advised as they sat down to lunch. “You’re one of her favourite drivers.”

He still got surprised when people knew him, forgetting sometimes that he is, in fact, a public figure. “Yeah?”

Jeremy laughed. “Yeah,” he scoffed. “Kids these days…”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

When his day of hard labour came to an end, he made it his plan to seek you out, humoring Jeremy’s theory.

“Hi,” he smiled, standing just behind you.

You startled, jumping up from whatever it was that you were doing and cursed. “Fucking hell! Announce yourself!” You let it slip before you could really stop yourself, but you didn’t feel all that bad, he should have announced himself.

He laughed. “What did you think I was trying to do?!”

“Scare the shit out of me?” you scoffed. “I don’t know.”

“I’m Oscar,” he held out his hand to be shaken. “Nice to meet you.”

You took his hand,shaking it quickly. “Y/n. Sorry about the whole… tractor thing.”

“Nothing but a bruised ego,” he chuckled. “So what do you do around here?”

You shrugged. “A bit of everything, I guess.”

He nodded, and you both stood in silence for a minute.

“Did you need something?” you questioned. “-Not to be rude, or anything, I just… I've got to get back to the rest of my stuff so… yeah.”

He smiled, enjoying the fact that you were as awkward as him. “Can I get your number?”

You stared at him for a second, then you broke out into one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen. “Why?”

He stepped closer to you. “I think you’re really pretty,” he explained. “And I want to get to know you more.”

You nodded. “Give me your phone.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

1K notes · View notes

seresinhangmanjake · 5 months ago

Text

Healer

Feyd-Rautha x reader

Summary: Feyd's a bit attached to his new healer.

Notes/Warnings: nothing really. Cursing, kinda. Mention of injury.

Words: 3500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist

He’s been trained never to forget a face. A lesson that started in childhood, which he instantly showed an aptitude for. Sealing the details of a face to memory keeps the image of an enemy alive. It keeps the anger festering. It overtakes his dreams so not a moment is wasted thinking of anything other than the victory of the battles ahead. It keeps him strong, formidable, a weapon of destruction to be used to the benefit of Giedi Prime whenever the situation calls for it, which is not infrequently.

But there’s been one exception in his life. An exception to those thoughts—a bit of room in his head for a dream other than those of fighting and bloodshed—and it is dedicated to you. Your face. Your eyes. Your smile.

He never met you. Never spoke to you. Only saw you. As you were led around the Harkonnen fortress by the elder healers, who were all growing too old to properly do their jobs, he peeked around corners and followed down hallways, trying to catch glimpses of the foreign girl.

He felt like a fool with each silent step he took. Much like the healers, he was too old to be doing what he was doing: lurking about his own home like a child playing hide and seek, striving to be unseen as if he was not important enough to have eyes upon him at all times. But he couldn’t help himself. He was curious. You were unique, and he liked unique things. He liked special things. Special things were all the more satisfying to corrupt. Though, for the first time, he had to contend with the incessant resistance to the voice telling him he didn’t want to hurt you.

Then you were gone, snatched away from him not a day later. But he’s never forgotten you. Your face has remained a clear image over the last five years, every feature unaltered. Not a mar on your skin misplaced.

That’s why he recognizes you instantly.

You’re a bit taller; hair a touch longer. Your features are more defined but still show the delicacy and softness that he remembers from years prior. Curves are prominent; hips wider, breasts fuller, the Geidi Prime leathers doing a poor job of hiding your shape. But you’re still as foreign-looking as ever. Equally as intriguing as the first time he saw you.

He’s acutely aware of his surroundings: the lack of air circulating, the placement of his body as he leans against the metal table in the center of the room, his discarded shirt. He’d stripped himself of the top half of his bloodied armor before you entered and now can not tell if he’d prefer to have kept it on. Modesty is not a trait attributed to him, but he feels too exposed with you here, like every thought he’s ever had of you is plastered across his pale skin, and the second you look at him, you’ll see the telling display.

But you’ve yet to look in his direction. You’re busying yourself, far more concerned with the bowls of medical supplies on the cart against the wall. You grab a couple of gauzy pads, some tape, and a small metal spatula that you’ve scooped some ointment onto.

Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes flick to his bicep before you return your attention to your collection. “It’s not too bad,” you tell him, and fuck, he likes your voice. He never got a chance to hear it before. You’d been an obedient little guest while trying to keep up with everything the elders were telling you years ago, and obedient little guests sew their lips shut. “Though I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

When the melody of your voice dissipates, he looks down at his arm. Truth be told, he forgot about the small slice that, with a bit of luck, a slave managed to inflict in the arena. The rush of pleasure subsided and he ceased feeling the warm trickle of blood seeping from the wound the moment you walked into the room, instantly more preoccupied with your surprising presence.

He was expecting one of the elders, the healers he’s had since he was a boy. But with their recent displays of poor memories and trembling fingers from age, he supposes it was only a matter of time before they would retire. However, he was not made aware of a replacement—a much younger, captivating replacement.

“You're new,” he says through the gravel in his throat.

“Yes,” you confirm. “But I assure you I know what I'm doing.” Then you turn and set your supplies on the table to the side of his body, laying them out in the order you intend to use them before getting straight to work.

The flinch that your touch induces when you rub an alcohol-soaked pad over his bicep to disinfect and clean the drying blood from his skin stuns him. He’s not a flincher. He never flinches. But he can’t help it. He can’t help the tingle that runs down his spine. He can’t help how his stare glues to your face as you work. He can’t help wanting to press his thumb to your bottom lip and tug it free from the trap of your teeth.

If he did that, would you even notice? You’re a thorough worker, honed in, too focused to stop and pay attention to him. Your steps are executed with the ease that years of practice afford, and the task is completed much sooner than he would’ve liked.

Your thumbs stroke over his bicep, smoothing out the edges of the tape that holds the pad to his skin. “There,” you say, satisfied with the job.

Finally, you look up at him.

The tingle returns, and bumps travel down the length of his forearms as he watches each shift of your features. How your eyes widen, how your lips part, how your breath hitches, making his heart hammer behind the wall of his chest. You’re so close. It wouldn’t take much to kiss you. A slight dip of his head. A hand on the back of your neck to draw you in those remaining inches.

But then you blink. The bond of your gazes breaks, and you take a step out of the bubble of space you were sharing. You clear your throat. Your eyes fall to the floor. “I’m done,” you mutter before quickly gathering the used supplies and discarding them in the trash. “I will see you after your next fight, my Lord. Assuming you suffer any injuries.” And then you’re gone.

—

It’s painful to Feyd’s pride, letting a weaker man succeed in injuring him in front of all of Giedi Prime. Spectators know the slave is an easy kill. He’s too thin, muscle mass barely evident. It’s a duel that should last mere minutes, if that, and yet Feyd lets it extend well past expectations—just long enough to ensure a few slashes of his opponent's blade will penetrate his thin armor without it being obvious he’s allowing the assault to happen.

The second Feyd feels the third nick in his flesh, a swift, skilled maneuver ends the slave’s life. Three is better than one, he thinks. More injuries means more time spent with you tending to him. And he wants that time. It is all he’s thought about for days. Feeling your touch again. Hearing your voice. Peering into your eyes.

He does not waste a moment to bask in the cheers following his victory, a tune he usually absorbs as if the sound grants him extended life. Instead, he drops his crimson-coated weapon onto the sand beside the fallen body and stomps toward one of the arena exits.

You startle when you see him, so subtle that had he blinked, it would’ve gone undetected. A brief scan of his chest confirms what he knew you would be surprised to see: more blood than before, more cuts for you to heal.

Composing yourself, you make your way to the aid cart. His eyes follow every movement of you collecting what you need before you turn to him, once again arranging your tools in the order you intend to use them.

The alcohol is cooler to the touch this time, a direct repercussion of his burning skin, and he grips the edge of the table until his knuckles whiten. He wants to reach out. He wants to feel you. You’re not as close as you were a few days ago, and it’s a glaring mar on the fruition of his daydreams. A wedge of air between you.

He leans in a modest couple of inches to see if you will maintain that distance. When you don’t, he says, “Where are you from?”

Your mouth opens and then closes. A pause, and then it opens again. “Caladan,” you say, your eyes still trained on the process of your work.

Caladan. Now that you say it, it makes perfect sense. The hair, the accent, the color of the clothes you wore five years ago. He hasn’t interacted with many Caladanians, any Caladanians, but still, he should’ve guessed.

“That's where you trained?” he asks, but he knows the answer. It’s common knowledge that Caladan produces strong healers, and you tell him just as much.

“We have good teachers,” you say as you swipe a spatula’s-worth of ointment just under his collarbone. “Healers from many planets find their replacements on Caladan. I was chosen to come to Giedi Prime long ago, once completing my education.” Feyd hums in acknowledgment. Your eyes flick up to his and then go back to his chest. A pink tinge seeps into your cheeks. “I visited once.”

“Is that right.”

You nod. “I liked it here,” you tell him. “It’s different, but different is…” your voice trails off. “Sometimes different is good.”

Feyd agrees. Different can be good. He runs his gaze down the length of your body. Sometimes different can be very good.

“Eager to leave such an inferior place?” he asks as you take a step to his right, starting on the cut across his pec.

Your brow pinches and you swallow—he can sense the hesitation—then you bite your lip. You can’t keep doing that: nibbling on that lip until its swollen state is indistinguishable from that of a long, thorough kiss. He’ll be inclined to do something about it. With each passing second, the urge grows harder to resist, and he’s just about ready to lift his hand to your face when you answer.

“There was nothing for me on Caladan,” you say. “Nothing for any of us. We were the children without families, without parents.”

Feyd snaps himself out of his fascination with your mouth and scoffs. “So what? They’re useless, anyway.”

The pressure of your hand holding the pad against his chest lightens, and you look up. Your expression is blank, but you hold his stare.

He can’t tell what’s tumbling around in that mind of yours. Maybe you know, maybe the truth of what he did to his own mother reached far enough to find an orphan’s ear on Caladan. Though what he’s done does not matter to him, he’s suddenly unsure of the effect it may have on you, and he can’t say he would be pleased to have offended you if it widens the gap between your body and his. But it proves inconsequential when your lips quirk up at the corners.

You lightly shake your head as you get back to work. “I wouldn’t know. They were dead before I could remember them.”

A huff blows from his nostrils. “Then trust me.”

Just barely, Feyd detects the slight curve of another smile. Silence passes as you tear off a strip of tape from the roll. Once the tape is sealed to his skin, you move away to begin cleaning up, but he grabs your wrist. You freeze solid. Then your head whips to stare at the contact. “There's one more,” he says before he releases you and turns.

As you step up behind him, the swell of pulsing energy surrounding you merges with his. Each puff of your breath warms his skin. The muscles in his back flex and shift in anticipation of your touch.

“Right,” you practically whisper. He nearly shudders when the tip of your finger traces a line just under the cut. “Just…stay still.”

Easier said than done.

—

He’ll admit this one potentially went a bit too far.

He had to do something, though. Something drastic. It’s been months of you tending to his intentional low-grade injuries, but lately you've begun to address them at a much quicker pace. After his last three fights, you’ve come in, slapped a piece of tape on his wounds, and rushed out before he could pull a word or two from you.

He can’t make sense of it. He doesn’t understand how what he did made everything change. From his perspective, you’ve grown closer. He knows you better from shared details of your history and life—details he does not care to request from any other soul on the planet—and those touches, those moments of skin-on-skin, were only becoming more intense. Your fingers were lingering longer. Your cheeks would redden whenever your eyes met. When your body was close enough to his, your breathing would turn shallow. Then one day, he touched your cheek, ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and now you run away as if being in his presence for too long will suck the life out of you.

But this you cannot run away from. This requires more attention.

A groan rumbles from his throat as he peels off his top layer and tosses it aside. The fabric is damp, slick with sweat and blood, and it makes a sloppy noise when it hits the floor. He looks down. It’s deeper than he intended. Not life-threatening by far, but you certainly won’t be able to stick a bandage on it and go on your way.

With a heavy exhale, he grabs a pad from the cart and presses it to his abdomen before crossing the room to lean against the edge of the table. He waits. After a handful of minutes, his patience curdles; thoughts of the impossible start to invade. Are you hiding? Did you escape? Have you thrown yourself off a ledge to get away from him?

You open the door before he can entertain any other questions.

“You’re late,” he grumbles.

The door slams behind you, your gaze instantly going to the blood-soaked gauze. There’s a lack of your usual grace as you stomp your steps in his direction. “Let me see it,” you demand in a tone he’s never heard from you. His heart pounds at the fire in your eyes. The pace of his breaths quickens.

He does his best to control the rise and fall of his chest, but it’s impossible. Luckily, you’re too distracted by the state of his lower body to notice. “Why are you late?” he asks.

“Move your hand.”

“Answer me.”

“Move your hand.” His brow raises. A beat passes, and then he pulls back the gauze to reveal the gash in his torso. A frown sets on your face. Your eyes snap to his. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“I watched you,” you tell him. “You gave that prisoner a window.”

“You’re late because you were watching the fight?” You’ve never watched his fights. It is not permitted. Your role is to wait for him, not join in on the entertainment.

You cross your arms under your chest. A crease forms in between your brows. “Why did you let him stab you?” you say, voice steady with the exception of the wobble that briefly sneaks in halfway through.

An immediate sense of satisfaction settles over him. It’s rapidly becoming clear—you’re more than bothered, more than irritated, you’re worried. And now he has the high ground. “Maybe you should assist me instead of asking questions. I’m bleeding out.”

Your lips part, but whatever words you have contain themselves just before they release, and your mouth closes. You stare at him. A smirk curls the edge of his lips that makes you roll your eyes.

With a huff, your arms drop down to your sides. “Stand up straight.”

When he does, your hand knocks his aside to remove the pad so you can better examine him. The bleeding has slowed. The skin around the wound has begun to feel tight. It still hurts like a damn bitch, and the way you focus on him only adds to the pleasurable sensation.

Your fingers press around the perimeter of the laceration, carefully prodding, searching for signs of something he would not understand, and his throat constricts at those gentle brushes on his flesh. His stomach clenches. Tingles and chills and goosebumps.

Once you’re satisfied with your findings, your hand flattens against the ridges of his abs. A sharp inhale sucks into his lungs as your palm slides up his body, stopping at the center of his chest. You lightly push. “Lay down,” you instruct. His hand raises and covers yours. He wants to hold on, pull you down with him, on top of him. If he could have your weight begging to meld with his, if he could kiss you– “Down. You need stitches.”

Your hand escapes from under his, and as you head over to the cart, he pulls himself up onto the table. Your supplies are all the same save for the pliers and thread that you expertly loop through the hole of a needle.

The punctures don’t sting. He can hardly feel them as he watches you nibble on your lip again, unable to jerk his gaze away from your face. With the seconds that tick by, your cheeks begin to bloom a soft pink. The shade deepens the longer he stares.

“It’ll scar,” you tell him as you tie off a final knot before peeling the gloves from your hands. He finally blinks. As he sits up, you take a few steps back and hug your arms around your waist. “You blocked every fatal attack but allowed this one,” you say. “Tell me why.”

He hums. It should be obvious. For what other purpose would there be? “Do you really not know?” he asks. When you don’t answer, he says, “Or are you smart enough to come to the conclusion all on your own.”

When he sees the harsh swallow in your throat, that’s all he needs. He slides off the table to stand and slowly eases closer, backing you up until you’re trapped between his body and the concrete wall. He searches for trembling, any evidence of discomfort, but it’s not there—no shaking hands, no quivering lip. His head dips, eliminating some unwanted space.

Your chin tilts upward slightly. But you hold yourself back. “My Lord…”

“Kiss me,” he whispers.

You swallow again. “You’re the na-Baron.”

“Yes.”

“We can’t–”

“We can,” he says. And then he leans lower and presses his lips to the delicate skin of your neck. He detects a gasp as his tongue darts out and glides across heated flesh. You smell so good. You taste even better. When he pulls back, your noses are almost touching; mouths so close the air between you becomes thin. “Kiss,” he repeats. “Me.”

Your eyes flit between his and his lips, which demand yours. He watches intently, waiting for you to finally surrender and sink into the pulsing thrum of your bodies.

And then you cave. Your hand goes to the back of his neck and your mouth plants firmly on his.

You kiss him hard, like you've wanted this as much as he has, and he can't help letting you have a moment of control to prove it. But he craves more. His head goes fuzzy as he matches the give and take. Fingers tangle into the strands of your foreign hair, lightly tugging, and he swallows the moan it draws from you.

He's greedy—wanting all that you have to offer. When your tongue touches his, his hands can't stop from roaming from your cheeks to your waist to your hips, pulling you closer.

Already he knows he won't be able to get over this. That this will not be a single kiss but rather the first of many. Very many. And by the way you grip his shoulders, it seems you know it too.

Suddenly, the connection severs and he's forced to chase after your lips, catching one more kiss before you pull out of reach. His brow pinches, but you don't acknowledge his distaste.

Your breaths are heavy as you peer up at him. “I don't wish to be a Lord's concubine.”

“You won't be my concubine,” he says. Concubine has been the furthest from his mind as his yearning for you has continued to grow over the weeks. It's too weak a title. He likes you more than that. More than his Darlings, more than any woman his uncle has attempted to throw at him.

“Then what will I be?”

He picks his words carefully, knowing that what he wants, what he's imagined, could be much too overwhelming. Scary, even. And he has no intention of making you a harder conquest. So all he says is:

“You’ll be more.”

---

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. I've struggled to write much of anything for the past two months, so this took a lot, and I honestly don't know how it turned out. If you liked it, let me know :)

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #austin butler #dune 2 #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha harkonnen

897 notes · View notes

wildernessuntothemselves · 28 days ago

Text

Soulmate(s) | Part 3

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 11.3k

Summary: In a world where you get the name of your soulmate tattooed on your skin the night you turn 21, there should be no reason to even think about fucking around with anyone else. Why would you when you know that the perfect person who is made just for you is somewhere out there waiting for you to find them?

So how the hell did you end up messing around with your two best friends and what are you going to do if neither of them ends up being your soulmate or worse, what if one of them is your soulmate?

Warnings: fem!reader, soulmates au, this is not a light fic, there will be backstabbing and manipulation, sub!soobin, dom!soobin, sub!gyu, dom!gyu, switch!gyu, switch!soobin, handjob, cunnilingus, blowjob, tit-fucking, cumming all over oc lol, use of fleshlight/vibrator, somno

Bit by bit, the boys convince you to go further, telling you that two of you are bound to be soulmates and that since you all like each other so much anyway, there would be no harm in sharing for a little bit–to explore this new intimate side to your friendship before the official reveal, and that because you all cherish each other so much, that there would be no hard feelings when the third person eventually has to gracefully step back and seek out their own soulmate after having had this unforgettable, almost sacred experience with the people closest to them in the world. It would all turn out fine if you just keep it lowkey.

That would all be good and well were you one of the boys, but as it stands, you still find yourself holding back due to your persisting sense of unease about the taboo situation and the possible fallout despite their nonchalant reassurances, and you naturally find that you’re not experimenting with them as often as they are with each other. It’s easy to proclaim that none of you would have hard feelings when you’re not the one being left out while the other two grow closer and closer each day.

You know you have no right to feel jealous. You’re the one holding yourself back while the boys have been nothing but welcoming and enthusiastic about your participation, but you just don’t understand how they can be so chill about this. First of all, what you were doing was highly frowned upon and you’d get a lot of flack if this were to get out to others. Second of all, someone is bound to get hurt no matter what they say, and you have a bad feeling it will end up being you if the way they’ve been acting so lovey-dovey with each other is any indication.

Just like they are right now.

You have just woken up and headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat, pulled there by the delicious smell of pancakes cooking, but before you can step fully in and announce your presence, you see the two boys in each other’s arms–or more like Soobin in Beomgyu’s arms as the older boy tried to cook the pancakes while the other wraps his arms around his waist and teasingly jerks him off.

“I’m seriously going to burn this.” Soobin complains, struggling to keep his eyes open and his attention on the stove in front of him.

“That’s okay. We’ll just grab breakfast outside.” Beomgyu brushes him off, kissing his neck, but Soobin still resists. “The fire alarm will wake her up.”

Your heart flutters at the mention of you–at least Soobin is thinking of you, right? How pathetic–but then Beomgyu chuckles. “Let it. Her lazy ass should be awake anyway.”

You frown. Fucking asshole.

“She’ll kick our asses.” Soobin hisses as Beomgyu brushes his palm over the head of his cock, his knees buckling at the pleasure.

“Aw, you’re scared of her. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll protect you.” Beomgyu purrs, quickening his pace on the older boy’s cock and tearing a loud moan from him. “Just shut up about her and focus on me.”

Fucking asshole, you repeat in your head. Well, if he’s so intent on excluding you, you won’t let him.

You announce your presence with a fake gagging sound, and both boys’ heads whip towards you, Soobin looking as if he was caught red-handed while Beomgyu maintains a smirk on his face.

“Do I really have to wake up to this first thing in the morning?” You ask sourly, pretending to be disgusted at the display to hide your jealousy. What the hell did Beomgyu mean by telling Soobin to shut up about you? Isn’t it enough that they’re doing this without you? Now he wants to banish the mention of your name too? What is he playing at?

Oh, there you go again acting crazy over their close relationship with each other. This is exactly why this whole thing was a bad idea. Even though the three of you are very close friends, you were the third and last addition to the friendship. They had been friends for years before Soobin clumsily and literally stumbled into your life and dragged Beomgyu along with him, and even though you’d all been close since then and the boys never said or did anything outright to give you the impression that they favoured the other, you always secretly knew that you could never compete with the special bond they have with each other and that you’ll have to content yourself with being the unspoken third wheel in this friendship. Which is fine, you’ve had years to come to terms with it, but now you have to deal with being the third wheel in this illicit threeway too, and you don’t know if your heart and ego can take it.

“What’s wrong with this? You don’t like what you’re seeing?” Beomgyu teases, continuing to pump Soobin’s dick despite the other boy’s embarrassment. Not that he makes any effort to stop him. He just bites his lips and averts his eyes away from you.

You do. You do like what you’re seeing, but sadly it also fills you with unbridled jealousy and feelings of inadequacy.

“Not near my food. I don’t want cum splatter on my pancakes.” You hold onto your scowl, and Beomgyu laughs. “Fair enough.”

He puts Soobin’s cock back in his pants before petting it teasingly, making the other boy whine. “We’ll finish this later, baby.”

Beomgyu washes his hands and sets the dishes down while Soobin finishes up the last of the pancakes before making his way to the table, awkwardly struggling with his prominent boner that bunches up his sweatpants comically.

Unfortunately, even with you sitting there at the table, they are still all over each other, chatting away about their plans for the day and what they have been up to. They try to keep you engaged and ask you questions but it’s hard for you to match their energy this early in the morning, especially when your mood has already been soured. You just sit there and listen to them talk each other’s ears off about this new album released by an artist they both like but you’re indifferent to, and all the hidden meanings behind his lyrics that throw back to previous songs only true fans will know.

You feel completely isolated from them and it is only made worse by how touchy they’re being with each other, patting each other on the head affectionately or reaching forward to give a playful shove in jest or even just the way their bodies naturally lean close to the other person when they’re speaking. It fucking hurt your heart.

To be fair to them, they try to include you too. Soobin makes sure to look at you when he’s talking so you can feel involved in the conversation and Beomgyu has one of his arms permanently draped around the back of your chair in a semi-embrace, but still isn’t the same. And soon your jealousy and annoyance reach their peak.

“Oh, hyung, this is so delicious! Have a taste.” Beomgyu holds up a piece of whipped cream covered strawberry but when Soobin leans in to try to have a bite, Beomgyu moves his hand and smears the whipped cream over his cheek, laughing.

“Really, Beomgyu?” Soobin pouts, looking painfully adorable.

“Sorry, hyung. You’re just so fun to mess with. Here, let me clean you up.” Beomgyu cradles Soobin’s face and brushes the whipped cream off with his thumb, but instead of wiping it on some tissues, he pushes it past Soobin’s plush lips and into his mouth, making the older boy suck it off.

“There. How does it taste?” He asks, eyes dark as he watches Soobin suck on his finger.

“Beommie.” Soobin slurs, “Stop teasing.”

“I’m not teasing.” Beomgyu denies, biting his lip, making Soobin huff and pull him into a heated kiss, obviously still affected by what happened earlier.

God this must be your own personal hell for agreeing to this diabolical deal. The boys look so fucking hot kissing each other mere inches from you but the sight also breaks your heart as you’re left seemingly forgotten once agin.

Are they going to end up together?

You don’t want to be the one left out. Is it horrible to admit that? But if two of you end up together, the third gets left behind—and you’re scared it’ll be you. You don’t want that to be you. They fit together so easily, like they were made for each other. How are you supposed to compete with that?

You know Beomgyu is largely the instigator in this but Soobin is also much more receptive to his advances than you have been. You know you shouldn’t feel resentful and jealous since you're not making it any better for yourself either but you can’t stop yourself from getting pissed off at Beomgyu. If the pervert could just hold back a little bit, then you wouldn’t always feel so left out. Soobin at least has the decency to shy away from flaunting in front of you, but Beomgyu doesn’t seem to care if you’re there or not. In fact it seems as if he gets a kick out of riling you up.

God, how you want to punish him for it… well, why don’t you? You’re part of this relationship too, no matter how neglected you’ve been. You’ll show him.

You reach forward, grabbing onto Beomgyu shirt and yanking him back, disconnecting them and pulling him towards you instead. He barely gets any chance to react before your lips are on his.

They are not as pliable as Soobin’s. You don’t allow him any control over the kiss, making it clear right away that you’re the one in charge, and your bruised heart is somewhat soothed when he gives in immediately, opening his mouth and letting you push your tongue in.

“Do you ever not think with your dick?” You hiss when you pull back for breath and he has the audacity to smile.

“Sorry, princess, I am just so horny.” He tells you shamelessly and you scowl. “And so bad. Maybe you need to be punished.”

He wears a shit-eating grin, his eyes glinting with excitement. “Oh, kinky.”

______________________

He wasn’t so excited now. Not when he was bound to a chair and forced to watch you pleasure Soobin the way you've been metaphorically bound and forced to watch them love on each other.

He tries to voice his displeasure, tries to whine but he can't say much when your panties are stuffed in his mouth, shutting him up for once. You can see how pissed off he is and if he can talk, you're sure he would chew you both out like he was before you had the bright idea to shut him up. Beomgyu loved being the centre of attention. He wanted both of you to dote on him and he hated seeing you play with each other and ignore him–but it is exactly this, giving him a taste of his own medicine, that gives you immense pleasure.

Beomgyu writhes in his seat, grunting unhappily as he tries to break free of his restraints, his hips bucking into thin air.

“Calm down, Beommie. You're gonna hurt yourself.” You tell him, actually concerned, and he glares at you, fighting against his restraints harder.

Are you taking it too far? Is he actually upset?

Scared to ruin your tentative relationship, you reach forward to finally touch him–needing to prove to yourself that he doesn’t actually hate you, and as soon as your fingers brush his nipples, his back arches and he moans out from behind his gag pathetically.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so sensitive.” You tease, relieved, and he glares at you again but this time the intensity is tempered by the pleasure.

“Yeah, does that feel good, baby?” You coo, pulling lightly at his nipple and watching as his cock twitches and leaks precum, the sight of it making you rub your legs together in need. Fuck, you wanted him, and he wanted you too.

He whimpers behind the makeshift gag and stares at you with big pleading brown eyes that make you weak. Fuck, why did he have to look so pretty?

“Fine, I'll be nice even though you don't deserve it.” You sigh, and instruct Soobin to get you your toy box from under your bed. He scampers away quickly to get it and for the two whole minutes he is away, Beomgyu does his best impression of a kicked puppy, whining and whimpering for you to give him some attention.

“Damn, baby, relax. I said I’ll be nice.” You laugh, acting decidedly not nice as you kiss and nip at the skin of his thighs, so close to his cock, you can feel it almost bursting with need, and by the time Soobin comes back with your box, you’ve already left a few marks on his pretty skin which Soobin eyes up with envy for a second before their attention is quickly drawn to the item you pull out from the box.

“Woah, why do you have this?” Soobin asks as you brandish a fleshlight, and you grin. “I got it to take care of my horny boys because I know you’re both just dying for a warm wet hole to stick your dicks into. Why, you wanna give it a try?” You ask Soobin but he surprises you by shaking his head no.

“No. Want you.” He says meekly and you frown. “Soobin. You know I can't actually fuck you.”

“I know but…” He trails off, silently brushing his fingers between your thighs, and realization dawns on you. “Oh you naughty boy. You wanna fuck my thighs?”

He nods eagerly and you laugh. “I suppose you can. It's dirty but I don't see why not.”

You turn towards Beomgyu, leaning forward so that your tits are hovering over his lap as you arch your back towards Soobin, letting him put his legs on either side of yours and push his cock between your thighs.

“Oh.” You bite your lip, making eye contact with Beomgyu as Soobin's dick glides under your pussy as it moves in and out between your thighs.

Beomgyu really doesn't look happy about being left out and you suppose you’ve tortured him enough. After all, you don’t actually want him to have a bad experience and ruin this for yourself even more. You gotta keep him happy too.

“Don't give me that look.” You roll your eyes at him, gathering some of your spit in your mouth before letting it spill onto his cock, relishing in the sharp intake of breath he takes and the way his thighs tense as it makes contact. You then place the fleshlight at the head of his cock and slip it over it just slightly, teasing him.

You hear a growl rise from deep in his chest and you laugh, pumping only the head of his cock, continuing to tease him. You have to admit it brings you a sick sense of pleasure to torture him like this when he's done nothing but drive you crazy lately. You want him to fall apart for you. You want to prove that he can want you as much as he wants Soobin.

“Is it good, Beommie?” You taunt, your words coming out broken as Soobin fucks your thighs. Beomgyu's eyes narrow, staring at Soobin’s hands that were fondling your tits, and you grin with satisfaction. He’s the one feeling left out now. “Binnie’s having the time of his life fucking me and playing with my tits while Beommie’s all tied up, huh? Poor baby.”

He angrily jerks in his seat again, trying to free himself, but the sudden movement causes him to bottom out into the fleshlight, his ass falling backwards into the seat as he mewls at the sudden pleasure. Deciding you’ve been mean enough, you move your arm to continue to fuck his dick all the way with the fleshlight, and before long he was too delirious to fight anymore, his head lolling back at the pleasure and his hips shaking as he struggles to meet your fast pace.

“There you go, Beommie. Does that feel good on your needy dick?” You ask, your voice suddenly rising in pitch as Soobin grabs your nipples and pulls on them more roughly as his hips smack against your ass harder and faster. “Pay attention to me. I thought he was the one being punished.”

“He is. You’re the one getting to play with me however you want while he’s stuck fucking a plastic toy. Don’t be greedy, Binnie.” You chide him breathlessly, but you secretly love every bit of it. You love to have them fight over you. It soothes both your ego and your worries about being left in the dust.

“You’re right. I'm the one who gets to do this.” Soobin says, pulling you up by the shoulders so you're sat upright instead of leaning over Beomgyu before he pulls your shirt up to expose your breasts to Beomgyu’s hungry eyes as he flicks the nipples and kisses your neck. “Beommie must be dying to do this. He talks about your tits a lot.”

Beomgyu narrows his eyes at him in warning but Soobin doesn't care. “Yeah, what does he say about them?”

“That he can't wait to fuck them.” He says, pushing them together to give Beomgyu a good show. He was teasing him and you’re living for it. “Says that sometimes when we're sleeping in the same bed, your tits would fall out of your tank top and he'd have to hold himself back from climbing on top of you and fucking them until you wake up with his cum in your hair.”

You gasp, pressing your thighs closer together at Soobin's brazen revelation of Beomgyu's dirty fantasies. Your pussy flutter and drips onto Soobin's cock as he rams it between your thighs while you watch Beomgyu desperately fucking into the fleshlight in your hand, unfazed by Soobin spilling his secret fantasies to you.

“Yeah, and what about you? I could feel your big, hard cock pressed against my ass every morning. Don't think you’re slick either.” You say and Soobin chuckles, pushing you back onto Beomgyu. You almost crash into his lap as Soobin palms your asscheeks in his big hands. “Yeah, wanna fuck your ass. That's not a secret. Me and Beomgyu wanna plug you from both ends.”

Fuck. When did Soobin get so confident? Was all that was needed was to tie and gag Beomgyu in order to let Soobin's freak flag fly?

“Do it then, baby.” You take the fleshlight off Beomgyu's dick, ignoring his muffled protests, and put it between your legs, offering it to Soobin to simulate him fucking you, and he is too far gone to think about it twice, immediately pushing his cock into it with a loud moan.

“Yesss.” He hisses, hips picking up pace quickly, rocking your body back and forth to the point where you struggle to get your mouth on Beomgyu. So you grab his dick with your free hand and guide it towards you, finally taking it in and making the boy cry out at the sudden warmth surrounding his aching cock.` ~

Once he’s in your mouth, Soobin’s savage thrusts serve to push you over Beomgyu’s cock over and over again, at times making you gag on the other boy’s length, the tightening of your throat making him shake in pleasure as he meets your mouth with his desperate thrusts that choke even harder. But despite your dwindling air supply and the soreness of both your jaw and ass, you stay put, soldiering through it to fulfill the boys’ dirty fantasies and secure your spot in this ill-advised relationship.

“Fuck–fuck–I’m close. Gonna cum inside you.” Soobin slurs, deep grunts are turning to breathy moans as his hips lose their rhythm and his large hands grasp onto your ass to push you backwards to meet his hips.

“Do it, baby.” You take your mouth off Beomgyu and replace it with your hand, maddeningly slowing your pace down on him to focus on Soobin.

“Fill me up, Binnie. I need it bad.” You say sweetly, though your smile is anything but as you stare up at Beomgyu and watch him whimper and cry at having his own orgasm stolen from him.

“I’m cumming. Take it, baby.” Soobin cries out, lost in his pleasure as he cums inside the fleshlight.

When his frantic thrusts still, you pull the fleshlight off him, taking care not to spill any of his seed. You hold it up for Beomgyu to see, pushing two of your fingers inside and pumping them in a few times, coating your finger’s in Soobin white cum before you pull them out, brandishing them for Beomgyu to see.

“Fuck, please.” He whimpers when you pull your underwear from his mouth but you quickly replace it with your fingers.

“Taste it, baby. It’s delicious.” You mock his previous words and Beomgyu’s pretty lashes hang heavy with unshed tears. He obediently licks them clean for you, even sitting still while you push your fingers to the back of his throat and make him gag on them until the tears finally fall from his eyes.

When you pull them back out, trailing a string of saliva behind them, Beomgyu pleads, “Please. I’m going insane. Please.”

“Aww, poor Beommie… I’ve been so cruel to you, haven’t I?” You taunt him, patting his cheek with your dirty hand and he nods. “You wanna cum now?”

He nods again. You grin and bring the still cum filled fleshlight to his cock, pushing it down on his length and fucking him rapidly–Soobin’s thick, white cum covering his cock in seconds.

“Oh–Oh, fuck… yeah, just like that. Please, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” He cries, but your evil laugh is quickly cut off when you feel a hand sneak between your legs, and look back to see Soobin grin as he rubs your sopping pussy.

“Want you to cum too.” He tells you and you bite your lip, annoyed at him for undermining your moment of control and at yourself for how close you feel already, but you can’t keep that energy up for long because the pleasure quickly overcomes you after you’ve been on edge and neglecting yourself for so long. You frantically jerk off Beomgyu while you hump Soobin’s hand–the obscene wet noises from your activities filling the room.

“Yes–yes–yes! Thank you!” Beomgyu screams, lifting his ass as far off the chair as he can as he bottoms out into the fleshlight, cumming and almost falling over in the process. You’re not far behind him, gasping as your legs shake and you struggle to stay up, the pleasure almost blinding you for a second.

By the time you all calm down, you’re all sweaty and dirty and achy but utterly blissed out.

“Fuck, that was awesome.” Soobin laughs as he undoes Beomgyu’s restraints.

“It was.” Beomgyu agrees, massaging his red wrists and ankles, “Next time, I get to tie one of you up.”

“No way, freak.” You shudder. You hate to think what the perv would make you go through if he ever got you helpless in his hands. “Not happening.”

He pouts. “Well, that’s just unfair.”

“Tough shit.” You roll your eyes, standing up and heading to the bathroom to take a long hot shower.

__________________

Even after doing all of that, you still can’t keep up with them. They’ve thrown themselves into this headfirst, as if the best-case scenario doesn’t end with someone’s heart in pieces, and you can’t bring yourself to do the same.

The relationship has gone beyond just sex. You all go on dates together now, but it still feels like you’re constantly vying for their attention. They move in sync, seamless in a way that makes you feel like an outsider in your own relationship. The inside jokes, the shared glances, the unspoken understanding between them—it gnaws at you, eating you from the inside.

Today is no exception.

This café used to be your favorite. The three of you had spent countless afternoons here—studying, venting, just existing together. It is very dear to your heart, almost like a second home. But today, it is anything but. Today, you find yourself wishing to be anywhere else.

You fiddle with your bracelet absently as the waiter arrives. Beomgyu orders without hesitation—his usual iced americano, your caramel macchiato, and—

“Strawberry matcha for Soobin,” he says easily, handing over the menus.

Your fingers pull at the bracelet, almost snapping it.

What?

“Since when does Soobin like matcha?” you asked, surprised, and a bit annoyed by how Beomgyu had made the order so casually as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Soobin hated matcha. He always said it tasted like grass so why was Beomgyu now acting like he's been a matcha connoisseur for years.

You don't know why you’re fixated on that small, insignificant detail but it just felt like yet another thing you weren't included in.

“Oh, since we tried that new shop, remember?” Beomgyu tells you offhandedly as if you should already know. He laughs loudly and nudges Soobin playfully, an unspoken joke between them.

“Ugh, don't remind me.” Soobin groans, hiding behind his hands, and your eyes flit between Soobin’s embarrassed expression and Beomgyu’s teasing one.

“What, what happened?” You fake a laugh, trying to sound casual, trying to be included.

“We almost got kicked out. You don't remember?” Beomgyu frowns then his eyes draw up in realization and he brushes the back of his neck sheepishly. “Oh right. You weren’t there.”

“No I wasn’t.” You don’t mean for your voice to come out bitter but you couldn’t help it. You clear your throat and try to cover your slip up with a tight smile. “What happened? Why did you almost get kicked out?”

Soobin flushes, ears burning, his eyes still on Beomgyu. “Someone couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

“No, someone couldn’t keep quiet.” Beomgyu retorts, putting a hand on Soobin’s thigh, making the older boy shift shyly and push his hand away.

“Stop it! You’re gonna get us kicked out again.” He whines lowly and Beomgyu bites his lip and regards him with a hungry look as if he could just eat him up right then and there.

You wish you would get kicked out so you don’t have to bear witness to your own heartbreak like this. You have been here with them many times before and you're sick of it. Each time it feels like they’re slipping away from you more and more, and you’re left chasing after their mirage.

“That sounds like fun,” you mutter, your smile fighting for its life to stay on your lips. “What else did I miss while you two were off without me?”

There was a slight hitch in Beomgyu’s smile, like he recognized the edge in your voice, but if he did he quickly masks it with his usual charm.

“Oh, you didn’t miss much, really,” Beomgyu said, his tone remarkably casual. “Soobin just likes matcha now. That’s all.” Then he attempts to lighten up the mood, “Though I have trouble even calling what he drinks matcha. It’s all dessert flavoured processed crap that barely resembles real matcha.”

“Oh, wow, we got a matcha supremacist over here. Not my fault, that's the only tolerable way to drink that stuff.” Soobin says defensively, but there was a fondness in his voice. He reaches out and lightly punches Beomgyu's arm, making Beomgyu let out a genuine laugh–not like the uncomfortable ones they’ve been putting on for you.

You force a chuckle, but it rings hollow even to your own ears. You want to be part of this—to be in this relationship—but every shared glance, every effortless laugh, every unspoken understanding between them only makes you feel more and more like an outsider.

“Yeah, well maybe I’d like it too if it tasted like my caramel iced coffee.” You try to joke but the words fall flat. The boys still offer you half-hearted smiles, but they don’t quite reach their eyes.

Soobin’s smile falters—just for a second—before he masks it with something warm, something reassuring. Beomgyu’s gaze softens, like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. They exchange a glance, that unspoken connection flaring between them, and then Beomgyu finally speaks.

“Next time, we’ll definitely bring you along.” Soobin tells you, and Beomgyu nods, “Definitely… but maybe we’ll keep the fun at home this time.”

You watch as Beomgyu leans in towards Soobin, a teasing lilt in his voice, reveling in the way Soobin laughs shyly.

They’re in their own world. And you’re just standing outside of it.

“Yeah, sounds good,” You mutter, unsure if they even hear you.

__________________________

You couldn’t stand back and watch them anymore. It was slowly driving you insane. You are always the third wheel, always trailing behind, and soon, you feared, you’d be forgotten entirely.

So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

If you can’t break into their world when they are together, then maybe you can when they are apart. If you can’t compete with them as a pair, then maybe you had a chance if you split them up. Maybe it’s not playing fair, but the thought of standing by while they fell into each other and leave you behind, makes your skin crawl.

Nobody knows how the soulmate thing works. Maybe it wasn’t just fate—maybe it depended on the bonds formed before the tattoos appeared, and that by standing by and letting yourself be pushed out of the relationship, you’re undermining your own chance at a happy ending.

No, you can’t let that happen. You have to act now, or risk being left behind forever.

You start small—little things, easy to overlook. You laugh a little louder when Beomgyu makes a joke, speak a little softer when Soobin needs quiet. You’re the one who reminds them of plans they’ve made, the one who fills the silence when things go tense. You begin showing up with little things—Soobin’s favorite tea when he’s stressed, a new hair tie for Beomgyu when he forgets his (again). You slip notes into their bags, nothing big—just dumb doodles, inside jokes, gentle reminders that you’re thinking of them. You find yourself sitting between them on the couch, brushing shoulders with one of them, draping your legs over the other's lap during lazy movie nights.

Bit by bit, you carve out your place within theirs, until the silence between their conversations starts to include you, until their glances begin to seek yours. You weren’t naive. It wasn’t enough for them to care about you—they had to want you, need you, in ways they couldn’t find in each other..

Still, it was rare to catch either of them alone, but your first opportunity came when all three of you had the day off. Beomgyu had errands to run that morning, leaving you with the perfect chance to have Soobin all to yourself, even if just for a couple of hours.

Beomgyu didn’t make it easy, though. You had woken up—not just from the sound of him moving around and getting ready in the morning, but because you were waiting. Waiting for the moment he was gone so you could finally make your move on the still-sleeping Soobin.

But Beomgyu, noticing you were already awake, didn’t leave right away. Instead, he lingered, trying to convince you to come with him instead.

"You wanna come with me?" Beomgyu asked, trying to make his voice sound cute as he gives you his signature exaggerated pout. Normally, it was an infuriating mix of annoying and endearing, but right now, it was just annoying. You had a plan, and you weren’t about to let him ruin it.

You shifted on the bed, your gaze drifting to Soobin beside you. He was still sound asleep, his breathing steady, his features relaxed in a rare kind of peace that only sleep can provide. For a moment, you envy him his rest–free of all your troubles and overthinking, and you almost feel guilty for your plan to rob him of it.

You glance back at Beomgyu, meeting his expectant gaze. Letting out an exaggerated yawn, you stretch before sinking deeper into the blankets.

"Mmm, I think I’ll pass. Too warm, too cozy," You murmur, pulling the covers snug around you, burying yourself into the warmth.

Beomgyu huffs, rolling his eyes before stepping closer.

"Come on, baby," He drawls, voice whiny and playful. "You’re really gonna make me suffer through errands all alone? That’s so cruel." He pouts dramatically, fingers hooking onto the blanket as he gives a gentle tug. "You know I hate doing things by myself.”

You bite back the urge to snap at him. If he kept this up, he’d wake Soobin—and if that happened, there was a chance Soobin might actually agree to go with him. That would ruin everything.

Forcing a smile, you reach out, brushing your fingers over Beomgyu’s hand in a gentle attempt to placate him.

"Sorry, baby," You say, your voice laced with just the right amount of sweetness. "I’ve been exhausted from college lately, and I really need the rest. But when you come back, maybe we can all go out for lunch? We could finally try that new spot you wanted."

A perfect compromise—one that should hopefully get him off your back.

"Or," Beomgyu counters, tilting his head with a hopeful smile, "You could come with me now, and I’ll treat you to lunch there after we’re done."

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t let this go.

"Beomgyu, I’m really tired," You say, firmer this time, making it clear you’re not budging.

He exhales, the playful glint in his eyes dimming as his shoulders sag ever so slightly. And for a moment, guilt creeps in. As frustrating as he can, you hated seeing him sad.

"Alright, alright," He sighs, finally relenting. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Guess I’ll survive without you."

You nod, eager for Beomgyu to leave. But he lingers for a moment longer, his eyes flickering between you and Soobin, hesitation etched in his features, as if there’s something more he wants to say.

But in the end, he just gives you a small nod and turns toward the door.

"You two have a good rest," He says, his voice light, casual, but there’s a hint of something else—something you can’t quite place—before he finally steps out, leaving behind a hush of quiet in his absence.

You watch the door for a moment, a frown tugging at your lips. Was he thinking the same thing you were? Did he, too, fear being left out? Maybe the boys weren’t as secure in this relationship as you had thought.

But when Soobin shifts beside you, the moment breaks, pulling you back to the present. You exhale softly, the tension in your shoulders easing just slightly.

Now, it was just you and him. No interruptions. No distractions. Just the quiet rise and fall of his breath, the peacefulness etched into his sleeping face.

These moments were rare—just the two of you, without Beomgyu’s overwhelming presence filling the space. And maybe, just maybe, this was how it was meant to be.

You watch him sleep for a few more minutes. You can feel the pulse of the quiet in the room, the way the light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his handsome face. There is something about being with him like this, without Beomgyu’s constant yapping, without the unspoken tension that always hung between the three of you, where you could actually sit back and pay attention to Soobin and everything that makes him uniquely him.

You slowly reach out, fingertips brushing over his skin, tracing the delicate contours of his face. Where Beomgyu was all effortless charm and playful charisma, Soobin was something quieter and more familiar—tall, dark, and oh so sweet, the picture perfect image of first love that everyone yearned to have.

Gently, you take his arm and drape it around yourself, savoring the warmth, the way it feels so natural. Then, without thinking, you lean in, pressing the lightest kiss to his lips—soft, chaste, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Do you want Soobin to be your soulmate? He’s sweet, sometimes shy and reserved, but lately, he’s shown you a side of him that’s unexpectedly bold. Could you see yourself ending up with him, waking up to this every day—wrapped in his arms, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, just enjoying the peacefulness of the early mornings?

You could. He feels safe, like a warm cozy night with whispered conversations under the soft glow of your bedside lamp. He’d know when to tease and when to hold his tongue, when to push and when to take a step back–never challenging you but never pushing you past your limits either. With him, love wouldn’t be a puzzle to solve or a bid to win the upper hand—it would be just there, steady and unwavering A stable presence, always there, always yours. Like the boy next door—not the kind who sweeps you away in a whirlwind, but the kind you could build a steady life with.And maybe that’s enough.

With a soft sigh, you ease yourself out of his arms, ignoring the soft whimper of protest he makes in his sleep at the loss of your warmth. You press a gentle shush against his lips, soothing him even as you slip from his grasp.

Your steps are quiet as you make your way to the familiar drawer—the one that holds your box of toys. Fingers brushing over the contents, you find what you’re looking for. Your trusty wand vibrator.

You wear an excited grin on your face as you walk back to the bed and see Soobin perfectly sprawled out for you. All you had to do was pull the blanket off him gently and you had full access to his pliant body which you take full advantage of, turning the vibrator to the lowest setting before pressing it against his clothed cock.

You start slow—so slow that at first, he barely reacts, just a faint shift in his breathing, a subtle twitch of his fingers. That’s exactly what you wanted. You didn’t want to wake him abruptly; you wanted this to build gradually, for the pleasure to have fully taken hold of his mind by the time he is slowly eased into awareness.

Carefully, you continue, increasing the intensity in small increments, watching as he starts to squirm. His brow furrows, his fingers curl slightly, and his body shifts as if caught between dreams and reality. Every small reaction sends a thrill through you, anticipation coiling in your chest as you wait for the moment his mind finally catches up to his body.

“I… please…” He gulps, begging sweetly even in his dreams, his hips canting ever so slightly towards the vibrator, a small patch of precum staining his sleeping shorts.

“It’s okay, baby, enjoy it.” You coo in his ear, letting your voice seep into his subconscious mind. “I got you.”

“Mmmhh.” He whimpers, bucking into the vibrating wand and craning his neck backwards, giving you the perfect opportunity to plant bruising kisses there, intent on leaving your marks for Beomgyu to see. You pay special attention to the spot right under his ear, relishing in the sweet way he keens and whines for you before you make your way down his neck to bite down on the spot joining his neck and shoulder.

He is already far gone by the time he wakes up.

“Oh, god.” He cries, jolting awake and looking around in confusion. “Wha–”

“Morning, Binnie.” You grin, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“What's g-going on?” He rasps, his hips still ever so slightly bucking up towards the stimulation.

“You got a bit too excited in your sleep and I thought I’d better take care of you. Aren’t I so nice?”

“Y-yeah…” He pants, looking down at his dick and his shorts that were already stained with precum. “Where–where is Beomgyu?”

Your face falls but you quickly school it back into a playful expression, reaching out to tweak his nipple with your fingers. “Running some errands. Why? Can't we have fun without him? Am I not enough?”

Your tone is light, teasing, but there's a quiet ache behind the words—are you too late? Have they already made their decision?

“No, no. You are.” He rests his head back and arches into your touch, giving in. “Just didn’t think you'd be interested in doing this.”

“Silly boy, of course I am interested.” You bend down to wrap your lips around his nipple, making him gasp in shock.

“Fuck, I think I might cum in my shorts if you keep doing that.” He slurs, sweat beading on his forehead and in the dips of his shoulders.

“Oh no, we wouldn’t wanna ruin them now, would we?” You grin, pulling down his shorts and boxers to reveal his red, weeping cock. The touch of the vibrator against his bare skin has him thrashing around, causing the wand to miss his cock repeatedly. “Please, please!” He cries as if he’s not the one making it harder on himself.

“Shhh, calm down, baby. Do you need me to hold it?” You drawl, reaching out to grab his cock with one hand as you press the vibrator directly under the head of his cock with the other, making him lose it, moaning loudly at the intense direct stimulation. “Holy shit, I’m gonna cum. I really need to cum. Can I please cum?”

“Hmm, what if I said no? Will you hold it?” You pretend to actually think about it and he whines in despair. “No, please, I can’t. I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“Yeah, is it really that bad?” You coo as if you’re talking to a pet, and Soobin nods pitifully. “So bad. Need you so bad. You’re driving me crazy.”

You laugh gleefully. Soobin is so easy. As weak as he is for Beomgyu, he can be for you too. After all, he has never been subtle about his lust for you. Whenever you wear anything even slightly revealing around the house, he openly gawks at you, almost as if he doesn’t realize that you’re able to feel his stare on you and see the boner he half-heartedly tries to hide.

“Aww, poor, baby. I can’t have you lose your mind, now can I?” You tease his slit with your thumb as you increase the speed of the vibrator to maximum, making him arch his back and cry out as his pleasure quickly reaches its peak. “Cum for me, Binnie. Let it all out, baby.”

White hot cum starts spurting from his slit, and you keep the vibrator pressed just under the head of his cock while you use your other hand to jerk him off, milking every last drop from his balls and painting his tummy and chest with it.

“Goood boy.” You coo, marvelling at the amount of cum he lets out, making a right mess of himself.

“Thank you.” He pants meekly, body shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm and the continued stimulation from the vibrator. Before long, it becomes too much, and he cringes back, “Ah, please, too much.”

You begrudgingly turn off the vibrator and take your hand off him, wishing you could keep his attention on you for a little longer. You run your index finger through the little pool of cum in the dip of his tummy and swirl it around. “Look at the mess you made, baby. Did you need it that bad?” You ask, seeking confirmation from him that he wants you as much as you want him. “Has Beomgyu not been taking care of you?”

“No, he has but…” He throws his arm over his face to hide behind it. “Just wanted you so bad.”

You smile happily and take his arm away, forcing him to face you. This is exactly what you wanted. “You’re so cute.” You bend down to kiss him and he quickly reciprocates, his lips slow and languid, but eager nonetheless, matching your every move but letting you lead.

When you eventually part, he asks, searching your face, “What caused this change of heart? You don't usually initiate these things.”

You shrug, feeling called out. “Can't I think you look hot in your sleep?”

You watch him blush, and you smile, successfully throwing him off your scent. “Hey I wouldn't mind if you woke me up like this every day.”

“I know. I wake up to your boner against my ass every day, remember?” You laugh, and he blushes even deeper, and mumbles, “I haven’t gotten you off yet.”

“No, you didn’t.” You grin, happy at his enthusiasm. “How do you intend to fix that?”

“You could ride my thigh.” He says shyly and you laugh, dutifully taking your pants off and straddling his sweats clad thigh. “Another fantasy of yours?”

He nods, grabbing fistfulls of your ass and helping you grind against the cotton material, not caring about messing it up anymore. In fact, he stares hypnotized as the wet patch grows bigger and bigger with your arousal.

You’ve never thought about this before but it feels surprisingly good, especially as he tenses his thick thigh and uses his large hands to press you firmly against it, your entire pussy getting stimulated at once.

“Fuck, that feels good.” You moan, throwing your head back, and Soobin reaches out to pull the neckline of your tank top over your breasts, exposing them to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck, these are pretty. Wish you'd walk around the house topless from now on.”

“What is it with you boys and tits? You like them that much?” You laugh, making sure to bounce on his thigh a little, making your breasts jiggle from the motion and the horny boy reach for his hardening cock to stroke it.

“Yeah, they’re so fucking sexy.” He groans, fisting his cock in a blur as he encourages you to grind against his thigh faster and harder, the lewd scene getting to his empty head. “Are you close?” He asks, already feeling the desperation, and you nod, biting your lip. “Yes, baby, gonna squirt all over your thigh. You ready for it?

He nods enthusiastically, pinching the head of his cock and squeezing out a few large drops of precum. “Fuck, please, do it. Please.”

You reach out for the discarded vibrator, bringing it to life and pressing it against your clit. It doesn’t take long for you to cry out and cum all over his thigh, your release soaking his sweats and pushing the horny boy over the edge again, except this time, he aims towards you, shooting his cum all over your body, some of it landing on your tits that he loves so much.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” He groans, reaching out to cup them in his dirty hands, clearly admiring the view.

You’re both so blissed out, that you don’t notice that Beomgyu has come back from his errands and has made his way into the room until he speaks out, his voice playful but with an edge of frustration to it. “Hey, what the hell? You having fun without me?” He makes his way towards the bed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He leans in, trying to capture your lips with his but you quickly raise your hand, pushing him back. “I’m beat, Gyu.” Your tone is flat, not allowing for much give and take from him. You don't want him to overtake this moment. You’ve worked too hard for it. You want the only impression of this morning left on Soobin's brain to be just you and how good you can make him feel. You can't have Beomgyu waltzing in and hijacking all your hard work.

He freezes for a moment, clearly thrown off by your unexpected resistance. “That's not fair. How can you expect me to see you both so filthy and covered in Soobin’s cum like this and not get horny?”

“I don't expect anything. You can be horny all you want.” You shrug, the moment feels oddly satisfying. It’s like giving him a taste of his own medicine—making him feel the sting of alienation he has unknowingly inflicted on you too many times.

Beomgyu stands there, stunned, the usual playful energy suddenly replaced by something unreadable. His expression flickers, unsure if you’re joking or serious, and he looks like he’s reconsidering his next move.

“You’re really going to do this to me?” He finally asks, a mix of disbelief and amusement in his voice, as he runs a hand through his hair, trying to put on some of his usual confidence.

You smile faintly, leaning closer, but keeping just enough distance to make your point. “You can jerk off to the thought of my tits. You like doing that, right?”

He steps back, a laugh escaping his lips. “You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?”

“I can help you get off, Beommie.” Soobin offers and you fight to keep the ugly scowl off your face. Damn it, why is Soobin so damn easy?

But to your surprise, Beomgyu declines his offer. “That's okay, baby. You both look exhausted. I'll let it pass this time, but you better wait for me next time.” He jokes, throwing a pointed look at you.

You chew on your lip nervously. You wonder if he can tell what you’re doing. Beomgyu has always been unexpectedly perceptive, after all.

Well, you better hope and pray that he is as easily distracted by some tits like Soobin is.

_____________________

Your chance to make a move on Beomgyu comes when Soobin has a late lecture, leaving you and Beomgyu with some time to kill by yourselves. So you set up a “playdate” with him, luring him in with the promise of playing video games, though you don’t really have to do much to convince him. The boy cannot survive by himself for long, and you suspect it’s because even he will drive himself crazy if left alone with his motor mouth.

You put on a convincing set up of his favourite games and snacks, planning to start off by actually playing for a little bit before you make your move, making it look natural.

But Beomgyu surprises you when he walks into the living room holding a new game in his hands with a proud smile on his face. “Babe, look what I got!”

You glance up from the couch, raising an eyebrow. The game wasn’t something he would normally be into—it was your favorite genre, not his. You’d talked about it a few times, how much you were looking forward to playing it, but it was clear Beomgyu wasn’t particularly excited about the idea of it.

“Huh,” You mumble in confusion, not expecting this. "You don’t even like this game, though."

Beomgyu grins, his eyes glinting with that playful, confident spark. “I know, but you’d talked my ear off so much about it that I figured the only way to get you to shut up is to buy it for you.”

You couldn’t help the massive smile on your face at the unexpected gift. It wasn’t that Beomgyu didn’t do sweet things for you, but this was something different. You know how serious and particular he is about his games. He likes the ones he likes and never bothers with the ones he doesn't. So for him to go out of his way to get you something only you liked, means a lot despite how trivial it may seem to others.

Still, you can’t resist teasing him just a little. "You really wanted to suck up to me, huh?" You say, a sly grin tugging at your lips.

He shrugs nonchalantly, his smile never faltering. "Maybe," He says with a wink, his voice playful. "What can I say, I’m willing to suffer through this to make you happy. I’m hopelessly romantic and a perfect gentleman like that."

You chuckle, shaking your head, but secretly, you were touched by the effort. “Maybe next time, I’ll get you one of the stupid and clearly inferior games you like so much.”.

“Deal. But for now, why don’t give it a try and I’ll try to not die from boredom.”

You start the game, and before long, the two of you fall into a teasing, comfortable rhythm. You poke fun at each other for the mistakes you make—him more often than you—offering tips and laughing at each other’s blunders. The playful banter fills the space, and for a while, it’s just the two of you, lost in the ease of the moment. You forget about soulmates, eternal love, and the nagging fear of being left behind.

You’re having so much fun that you end up playing longer than you’d planned. Beomgyu is loud—his laughter is constant, infectious, and he yells at the TV seemingly every two seconds as if that would help your characters play better. He makes a big deal out of everything, and it’s impossible not to be caught up in it. Every moment with him is larger than life, filled with energy and excitement.

You can just picture a life spent with him, never a dull moment. You imagine your children thriving in that chaos, their lives full of his boundless energy. They would love him so much. He would be such a fun dad.

Your heart flutters at the thought of him as your husband and the father of your children. But is that the life you really want? Constant chaos, never a quiet moment to call your own?

You steal a quick glance at Beomgyu, but he catches you, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. “What?” he teases, flashing his signature lopsided smile at you.

“You’re loud,” You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, and immediately feel silly. Beomgyu rolls his eyes dramatically, tossing his controller aside before leaning forward, his grin growing wider as he looms over you.

“Is that all?” He asks, face mere inches from yours. You don’t know why his straightforwardness was making you so nervous. You’ve wanted this exact outcome out of this hangout anyway, but why are you now suddenly acting like your intentions had been innocent?

“Yes.” You mutter, turning your head back towards the game, but if you thought that might deter Beomgyu then you were sorely mistaken. If anything, he uses this opportunity to press his face into the crook of your neck and pepper your skin in kisses.

“Beomgyu…” You whine, goosebumps bursting all over your skin. “You’re gonna make us lose.”

“Who cares? Aren’t you done already?” He huffs, one of his hands grabbing your thigh as he sucks on your sensitive skin. “Want you to pay attention to me.”

“Stop it. I’m trying to play the game.” You keep up your act, not wanting to appear too eager. Beomgyu is more perceptive than Soobin, and if you give in too easily, he might be able to tell that you’re up to something.

“Why? Do you only mess around with Soobin?” He snorts, trailing his hand between your legs to cup your heat, making you jump. “I want some attention too.”

“But I’m not done playing.” Your heart rate picks up at the hint of jealousy in his voice but you keep pretending as if the game in front of you wasn’t just a blur of colours and sounds, your real focus on his hot lips against your neck and his long fingers rubbing against your pussy.

“Then keep playing and I’ll keep playing too.” He says, pushing your shorts down your legs before pulling them onto the couch, splaying them open so he can stick his face between them and give your underwear-clad pussy a few chaste kisses.

“Beomgyu, I’m serious…” You warn, your voice anything but, yet Beomgyu–whether playing along or too desperate to notice–still falls for it.

“Please, baby. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t even have to stop playing. Just please let me have this.” He licks a long stripe along your covered slit before pressing a few kisses against your clit.

“Fuck, Beomgyu.” You grit, feeling your legs shake already. You hazard a quick glance down at him, your chest bursting into flames at the sight of him looking up at you from between your legs like a horny pup.

“Just focus on the game, baby, and let me make you feel good.” He persuades, pushing your now drenched underwear to the side so his tongue can access your pussy directly, and you fight to keep your legs from clamping around his head at the sudden spike in pleasure.

“Fuck.” You curse under your breath, trying to bring your attention back to the game and making a miserable effort at it. The heat pooling inside you from where Beomgyu was kissing and licking at your most sensitive spots is distracting, sending a rush of warmth through your veins, making your head spin and your ears ring.

The room quickly fills up with a mix of your breathy moans, the obscene sounds of Beomgyu’s wet kisses against your soaking pussy, and the nearly forgotten video game. You try to keep your focus on it but you give up when, out of the corner of your eyes, you see his hips working in tandem with his mouth, rocking against the couch underneath.

“Are you seriously humping the couch right now? How pathetic.” You mock, acting as if your arousal is not currently dripping down his chin. But since when has Beomgyu been shy about his horniness? No, he meets your gaze straight on and says, “I’d be happy to stop humping the couch and bury my cock in your pussy any time you want, baby.”

“Shut up.” You mutter, flustered at his brashness, but you can’t keep up the pretense for long, not when he pushes his tongue into your pussy and nuzzles your clit with his nose, completely burying himself in you. You have never had anything inside of you before, and the feeling of Beomgyu’s wet, rough tongue every so slightly brushing against your inner walls has you finally abandoning the game and throwing away the controller so you can pull your shirt up and play with your breasts while he tongue-fucks your pussy.

“Fuck, you made me lose. You better make it up to me, brat.” You push his face into your pussy further, and for a second you worry that you might be hurting him, but when you look down you see that your roughness just excites him, his hips driving into the couch faster.

And he does make it up to you. He is so inexplicably good at this, and you hate how easily he drags you towards the edge, as if he has done this many times before, his tongue knowing exactly how to lap and curl to have you gushing, his lips knowing exactly where to kiss and suck to have you whole body seize up, and before long, your panting like you’ve run a marathon and can see the finish line in sight.

“Beomgyu! Beomgyu!” You cry out, crashing into your orgasm, unable to hold yourself back anymore from clamping your thighs around his head. Not that Beomgyu cares, continuing to literally lap up everything you give him until he has sucked you dry.

“Oh god,” You shudder, pushing him away from your pussy. He lets you do it, using the opportunity to kiss up your body instead until he makes it to your lips, making you have a taste of your own need on his tongue.

“Did I make it up to you?” He asks, raising a hand to your chest to roughly grope your tits.

“Maybe.” You breathe out, the shakiness of your voice betraying you.

“Well then maybe you can help me out too.” He says, pointedly bucking his cock against your pussy.

“Hmm, I don’t know if it was that good.”

“Not that good? You almost smothered me with your pussy.” He scoffs and you blush. “Don’t get me wrong, I would have died a happy man, but not that good, my ass.”

You roll your eyes at him, pushing a hand between your bodies to grab his dick and jerk him off. “There, are you happy?”

He closes his eyes for a moment, seemingly savouring your touch, but then he opens them again and asks, “Come on, I just let you hump my face and all you’re gonna give me is a lousy handjob? At least suck me off or let me fuck these perfect tits.” He kneads your breasts with his hands while he bucks into your grip despite his protests. “God, if my soulmate has tits like this, I wouldn’t be able to keep my dick out of her.”

He wraps his lips around them, kissing and sucking them desperately, but your mind lingers on his words. Her? Does he think he’ll get a female soulmate then? Could it possibly be you…

“Okay.” You answer in a small voice but Beomgyu’s eager ears pick it up, and he quickly climbs over you so he’s straddling your upper body, leering down at you with dark lust in his eyes.

“Push your tits together for me, baby.” He instructs you and you bashfully do it, looking away. “Fuck you're such a pretty whore.”

“Beomgyu.” You frown, chastising him as he rocks his hips forward, fucking his cock between your breasts.

“Shhh, it's okay, baby. You’re my whore.” He tells you, and as you open your mouth to protest his possessive proclamation, he uses the opportunity to push his cock into your mouth, getting to fuck your tits and your mouth all in one. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s just what I wanted.”

You frown up at him but don’t push him off. He’s looking down at you like he’s drunk off you, and isn’t that exactly what you wanted? You may not have maintained the upper hand but the way he’s looking at you like you hold his balls in your hands is enough to justify letting him do this.

“Yeah, keep looking at me. You look so sexy with my cock in your mouth.” He continues to spit filth at you, his cock thrusting between your breasts and right into your open mouth, the pleasure clearly getting to his head if the bleary look in his eyes or the whiny tinge to his voice is any indication. You’ve got him in the palm of your hand and you didn’t even have to try. He did it all for you.

“Say you want it, baby. Tell me you want my cum in your pretty mouth.”

“Beo–gyuuu–” You slur, barely able to speak with his cock filling your mouth over and over again.

“Come on, baby. You let Soobinie cover you with his cum. It is only fair for you to swallow down mine.” He coaxes, continuing to play with your breasts with his hands as he feeds you his cock. You glare up at him but really you’re loving it. This is exactly what you wanted, the boys vying for your attention.

“Do it, please.” He begs, desperation growing more clear the longer you take to give in. Whether he knows that that would get him what he wants or he simply got lucky, you don’t know but the shiver of pleasure that zaps through you at his pathetic whimpers gets you to finally give in, looking up at him with lustful eyes and begging him oh-so-sweetly, “Please, cum in my mouth, Beommie. Wanna taste you at the back of my throat.”

“Fuck–” He cries, grabbing your hair to steady your head and slamming his cock into your mouth, giving you exactly what you asked for. Your throat closes up around the intrusion and your eyelashes brim with tears but the look of ecstasy on Beomgyu’s face makes it all worth it. “Holy shit, you’re s-so goood…” He whines, emptying part of his load at the back of your throat before he pulls out to finish on your face, jerking himself off into overstimulation just so he can give you every last drop of his cum, covering your face in his hot, sticky seed while your mouth was filled with the salty taste of him.

“Shit,” he breathes, his thumb gliding over your swollen lips. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, voice low, almost reverent.

You scoff weakly, turning your head away, your hair clinging to your skin with sweat and cum making you feel anything but beautiful. “Shut up. I must look disgusting right now.”

But Beomgyu doesn’t relent. Instead, he reaches out, fingers brushing against your skin as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“No,” he whispers, gaze full of adoration. “You’re beautiful. The most beautiful girl in the world. And you’re mine.”

His words stun you and you blink rapidly, trying to make sense of what is happening. What the fuck is he trying to do? Has he been playing the same game you’ve just now started to play all this time?

Your stomach swirls with a confusing mix of happiness, suspicion and guilt, making you nauseous. “Beomgyu… You need to stop saying stuff like that.”

He frowns, confusion flickering across his face. “What stuff? That you’re mine? That I love you?”

You suck in a sharp breath, defensive walls springing up around you in alarm. “Yes. You can’t keep saying that to me and Soobin. You’re gonna get one of us seriously hurt.”

“Sorry, I am not a fucking coward.” Beomgyu looks pissed off, as if you’re the one making wild and dangerous proclamations. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. One of us is going to get hurt anyway, and it could be me. But I’d rather face that than live with the regret of never letting you know how I feel, of not savoring this while it lasts.”

His words hang oppressively between you, even after the intensity is long gone from his face and his eyes take on a pitiful look. They search yours desperately, pleading for something you’re not sure is okay to give.

“Will you say it back?,” He presses, his voice trembling. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

You hesitate. The words seem so simple…I love you–they should come easily. You’ve said them many times before, light and carefree. But now they carry a double meaning–no longer are they just an expression of unbreakable friendship… Now they hide behind them a world of heartbreak and hurt, waiting to pounce on you and tear you apart, starting with this moment as Beomgyu continues to stare at you with hope and anticipation.

You can’t withhold the words from him, and maybe you’re being stupid, trading the small hurt of holding back now for the much bigger pain of possibly taking it away later. But at this moment, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Not when he looks at you like he won’t be able to breathe if you don’t say it.

“I love you too,” You swallow hard, the words barely escaping your lips, but Beomgyu accepts them eagerly, his face lighting up, the tension fading from his features. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

________________

A/N: the plot is finally start to plot lol what do you guys think so far

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #soobin smut #sub!reader #dom!reader #sub!idol #dom!idol #sub!beomgyu #dom!beomgyu #sub!soobin #not done yet with other fic but can't wait any longer

358 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year ago

Note

Hey my lovely, could i equest a blurb where reader seeks one of spencer's hugs and he's all soft and mushy about it!! I just think he'd give really warm hugs and want one so bad!

shy!reader + post!prison Spencer have a hug

Spencer understands why you might find him intimidating. He did go to prison for a few weeks, and even if the idea of his being a potential felon didn’t scare you, there’s nothing wrong with being nervous around the unknown. You’ve had a few more weeks to get to know the others on the team. He tries not to take it personally that you’re closer with some of them than you are him.

Plus, you’re awfully shy.

Spencer’s been trying to communicate that he’s an idiot. He was shy, once, and he tends to be shy about things now, too, even if he’s taken to hiding that. He hides a lot, these days.

But things aren’t hopeless with you. You’re inarguably his best work friend now that Morgan’s not around, taking the desk next to his —through coincidence or insistence, he has no idea.

“What flavour do you have today?” he asks.

You show him your bag. The convenience store outside of work has the strangest sweets from all sorts of places. You’ve been bringing in a different bag each day, and you always share. “Today is apricot and peach ‘millions’,” you tell him, shaking the bright pink bag like a rattle.

Inside, the millions bounce against each other like miniscule polystyrene balls but with a heavier weight.

“Awesome!” he says, holding out his hand. “Please?”

You rip the corner and tip a generous helping of candies into his palm, doing the same in your own hand. “Ready?” you ask.

“Three, two, one.”

You both tip your heads back at the same time. Apricot and peach are similar flavours, and Spencer can’t tell the difference when they’re both in play. He can also taste apple juice and the sharp citric acid flavour they put in every candy.

He can’t tell if you like them. He quite enjoys it, will happily eat the leftovers if you’re not interested, but your attention isn’t on the candy when he looks up. You’re staring straight at him.

“What?” he asks, perturbed.

“Nothing, just. Had a rough morning. Thanks for trying the candy with me.”

He frowns. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do to make you feel better. I can make you a cup of hot chocolate?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Spencer’s sure that to an outsider, he and the team appear to travel to a hundred cities a month. In reality, cases aren’t as densely packed, especially with the government expanding their profiling teams, and the majority of Spencer’s day is spent answering emails and giving advice to agents, law enforcement, and his colleagues. He doesn’t see much of you (where you’re forced to work ViCAP calibration as newbies usually are, almost like a hazing) but he does take you that hot chocolate around lunch time. Just to make sure you have the option.

It’s sometime past four PM when you appear again.

“Hey,” he says, turning to you where you’re paused behind your desk chair, “you're finally done?”

“Not yet. So many case files to transcribe, opinions to cross check, signatures and…” You wince. “It’s a lot. You already know.”

“I don’t, actually. I only ever had to do ViCAP as punishment, and I was extremely well-behaved. For a while, anyway.”

You hesitate with something heavy on the tip of your tongue. You’re like every profiler wherein your tells are self-identified and quelled, but you’re still so new, and Spencer’s an expert. You want to ask him for something, but you don’t think you’re allowed. If he presses the issue you’ll shut down, and if he offers you another cup of hot chocolate you’ll simply drink it without letting him in on the real secret.

Spencer waits.

“Spencer, you don’t have to say yes, just… You’re the nicest friend I have, and you always know what I need to hear. Um, I know you don’t like touching people and I wouldn’t ask you to if you don’t want to, but it’s been a really long time since someone hugged me, and…” Your voice gets quieter and quieter, until you’re whispering, and then fizzling out.

“You want a hug?” he asks, surprised.

“If that’s okay.”

“I give really good hugs,” he warns, climbing from his chair immediately, arms opened, an unmissable invitation. “You’ll never get over it.”

“Really?”

He can’t believe you came to him specifically for a hug. He’s gonna lose his mind. Gentle, Spencer ushers you into his arms, head quick to duck down, his thumb on your shoulder.

You could’ve asked anybody in the office for a hug. Penelope would have hugged your brains out. Emily, Unit Chief and secret sweetheart, would’ve taken you off of ViCAP and given you a loving pat on the back. But you didn’t ask Penelope or Emily, you asked him.

“You don’t have to ask me first,” he says quietly.

“You don’t like touching.”

“That’s more to do with germs, and I’m not worried about yours,” he says. “Unless you’re about to tell me you have a headache.”

“It’s like this pounding behind my eyes,” you say with a laugh.

Spencer smiles, his mouth and nose to the side of your head. He gives you a good ten seconds of quiet, his palm warming your shoulder, before he murmurs, “Any better?”

“You’re really warm,” you murmur back.

Spencer resists the urge to squeeze you. “It's the oxytocin.”

“Or you’re just really, really warm.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 1 month ago

Text

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; “but it’s weird that it happened twice”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“The lab dangerous to use right now?” Tucker asks, because he seriously never knows when the Fentons have put in some new security systems or booby traps, though usually the answer is “always”. Which, welllll . . .

“The lab is literally always dangerous, man,” Danny says, so yeah, that’s still a thing. “Probably won’t kill us right now, though, so it’s our best option. C’mon, let’s get going, just in case Mom and Dad actually do find something. Like, it’s Amity, I’m not gonna assume they aren’t gonna actually find a ghost out there.”

“Yeah, point,” Tucker agrees with a grimace, tucking his PDA away again and pushing his glasses up his nose. Badly-timed ghosts are very much a recurring theme in their lives. Actually they’re a major recurring theme in their lives, even these days. Heck, for a while in there, they just were their lives.

Tucker is so, so glad they’re gotten genre-savvy in their own lives, but man was it a process.

Jazz leads the way down to the lab while Danny texts Sam and Val, and Tucker brings up the rear just in case Dani stumbles on the steps or anything. Superboy falls in step beside her, his posture lazy and his walk more a saunter than anything else, and Tucker suffers about it. It does not make it easy to concentrate on Dani, is all he’s gonna say. Like, he’s doing it, but it is frankly painful.

God, why is this dude so pretty. Why is that a thing? Tucker really did not realize he was into dudes, much less this into dudes.

Okay, well, technically so far it’s just been this one specific dude, and to be fair Superboy is a pretty impressive one specific dude, but seriously, he is this into the guy? Just–seriously?

Tucker is going to have to reexamine so many things about himself after this bullshit gets fixed. Like, just so, so many.

“So like what kinda lab we talkin’ here, am I gonna feel right at home or am I gonna feel like I’m there to punch a bad guy?” Superboy asks Dani, cocking an eyebrow curiously. “Which admittedly those lines are a little blurred for me personally, but just like the general vibes.”

“I dunno, it’s a lab?” Dani wrinkles her nose, then just shrugs. “Lotta chrome, never heard of OSHA, better-lit than Vlad’s.”

“Who’s Vlad?” Superboy asks.

“A very punchable dude,” Dani snorts, rolling her eyes, and Superboy laughs.

“Oh, you the punchin’ type, boo?” he asks, draping an arm across her shoulders and tugging down his glasses to shoot her a flirty leer over the top of them. “‘Cuz I could get behind that, personally, that’s right up my alley.”

Dani looks briefly bemused, then incredibly delighted, and cackles gleefully. Possibly over the promise of future punching or possibly over getting called “boo”; situation unclear there. Tucker has some maybe-weird feelings about the flirting thing despite being perfectly aware of both who Superboy very unsubtly is as a person and of Dani’s total disinterest in ever developing impulse control and both of their very loud and enthusiastic attention-seeking tendencies.

Maybe it’s just that it might be weird to solve a problem for Danny via bringing over a dude who’s gonna hit on his clone/daughter/sister/cousin while they’re trying to save her life? Because that would maybe be weird, Tucker can admit how that would maybe be weird.

Though he hasn’t really heard Dani laugh in a while, so . . . yeah, that could be worse, for sure.

“Like I’m gonna share the punching, please,” Dani scoffs, flipping her mussed ponytail over her shoulder. “Punching’s all mine, Superfly, I got dibs.”

“I dunno, how fast you get, boo?” Superboy teases, and she laughs again. “We can work it out the old-fashioned way if you wanna just race it.”

“You can try, if you think you can keep up,” Dani replies smugly, making a show of examining her nails. Superboy laughs too, and she grins up at him, and Tucker maybe feels like–

Then Dani’s mouth tightens, and her eyes flare, and she–flickers.

Crap, Tucker thinks, and Superboy’s arm sinks a few inches into Dani’s shoulders as her tangibility stutters, and he yanks it back, and her face goes dead-white and her eyes glow, and Tucker curses and Danny whips around and Jazz whips around a beat slower than him as her hand snaps reflexively to the pocket she’s been keeping the Ecto-Dejecto in and–

Dani makes a choking sound, and it’s probably just as reflexive when she reaches out with a fumbling, halfway phased-out hand, and she’s probably meaning to reach for Danny, but her legs and feet go just intangible enough to drop her into the stairs and she goes straight down. Danny lunges down for her, not even taking the instant it’d take him to transform but already phasing to try and match her tangibility.

And Superboy snaps out his own hand and catches hers, and it–doesn’t slip.

Tucker–blinks.

Wait. What–?

Then Dani’s intangibility phases Superboy, and they both fall straight down. Dani shrieks and Superboy yells, and they both disappear through the steps as Danny throws himself after them. Jazz is already whipping back around to barrel down the stairs, the epi-pen full of Ecto-Dejecto already clutched in her fist. Tucker runs after her so fast he nearly ends up falling down them face-first, his heart in his throat as he thinks–is Dani destabilizing again or was that just a flicker, is she already melting, is she already melted, is she–

And he thinks, in a more pragmatic and matter-of-fact and genre-savvy part of his brain: how the frick did Superboy catch Dani’s hand?

He also has some really complicated and unnecessary feelings about how Superboy didn’t let go of Dani’s hand when she phased him out and dragged him down with her. Like–that is standard superhero shit, Tucker reminds himself. Like–yeah. That’s standard. Fully normal and typical.

But he’s definitely still having some weird feelings about watching the guy go right through the stairs with Dani without knowing jack shit about what was happening and not even hesitating.

Okay, well . . . at least he picked a real ride-or-die type for this, Tucker guesses.

#dpxdc #data enkrypton #tucker foley #kon el #conner kent #superboy #wip: but it's weird that it happened twice #qwertynerd97

151 notes · View notes

berylcups · 3 months ago

Text

La Squadra x Reader - How they act when they get a crush 💕

CW: dirty internet search history, gossip, wound mention

Notes: Hey~ I’m finally back making content! I’m probably not gonna make them as frequently as I used to but that’s because I want to really focus on quality. I missed yall! I hope this one works out well! I hope you have a happy Valentine day weekend 💜 even if you’re single like me, at least you can be delulu like me and pretend that you’re in a committed relationship with one of these guys! Enjoy- 💜 Beryl

Risotto

He’s emotionally stunted but he feels a strong connection to you. He tries his damn hardest to get in your good graces just so he can be in your thoughts for at least a second. So he tries to get your attention any time he can.

“Y/N…Can I get your thoughts on this? Who do you think would be a good fit for this target? You have a good sense on the men’s abilities and how compatible they are together.” He guided you to his chair and looked over the information on his laptop.

“Hmm… I think Pesci and Formaggio might be best for this mission. With how laidback he is he probably would keep Pesci from getting nervous and botching the mission. I also think Pesci would be a good distraction while Formaggio sneaks up and...” You explained.

“That’s a very good idea. I think I will try your idea. Even if the target is a stand user, they’re both crafty enough to get the job done and get out in one piece.” He calmly praised your suggestion.

In addition to seeking out your advice, he would show some slight favoritism. He’d make sure you’d have a spot at the couch or get an extra seat for you, open the door for you, hold the umbrella when your both walking when it rains… he’s subtle, but it should be obvious to even the most oblivious teammate that he’s fallen for them.

Also…if you have a keen eye, you might see an appearance from Metallica themselves. If you get a knick when shaving, or accidentally cut yourself while prepping food, you might see them show up in your wound trying to sew you back up. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt ❤️

Formaggio

This guy tries to make an effort to get to know you once he has a crush on you. He’ll stop using meaningless pet names and call you by your real name.

“It’s Y/N right? Why don’t you come over and sit with us? There’s a beer with your name on it! You gotta tell the guys how you got rid of that target, it’s hilarious!”

He uses your name and learns what your favorite drinks and songs are but what doesn’t change are the cheesy pick up lines. That’s his bread and butter, he’s very transparent with how he feels about you!

“Did it hurt?” He asked slyly.

“Did what hurt Maggio?” You raised your eyebrow in confusion.

“Y’know—did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” He purred.

“Pfft—stop. Not again with the shitty pick ups!” You giggled.

Illuso

When he realizes he likes you he stops teasing you… maliciously. He still going to tease because he refuses to address his own feelings but he slowly opens up…through his teasing.

“Aww poor Y/N, still so tired? Didn’t get enough sleep? Well luckily for you I took the liberty of getting you vitamin B12 supplements and your favorite energy drink. I’m not such a bad guy aren’t I?” He said smugly, pushing the items in your arms.

“Thank you..?” You aren’t sure if he’s being nice or being rude but he gave you exactly what you needed. Is this how he teases you now?

He also will gossip with you to try to get a little closer to you. “Keep it between us but… I took a look at Pesci’s internet history. You’ll never guess what the little sicko looked up.” He whispered in you ear as you both looked at him being berated by Prosciutto. “He’s into ________ and ________ with ________.” He snickered in your ear.

“Ugh.” You grimaced and hit Illusos shoulder. “You ruined my entire image of the boy! …you’d think he’d know how to clear his browser history.” You whispered back.

Pesci

You think he would get nervous once he realizes he likes you but surprisingly he doesn’t. Not when he seeks his big bro for guidance. He does whatever he can to show off his talents to you! Regardless of your size he’ll pick you up and carry you during missions and do tricks with Beachboy to show how he can take out 2 targets at once.

He’ll even be eager to help you out with tasks that take some extra strength. It was your turn to vacuum clean the base.(lucky you) thankfully, Pesci was around and happy to help.

“Hey Y/N! Watch this!” He excitedly picked up the couch with one arm.

“Jesus Pesci! That’s amazing! But use both hands please. I don’t want to have to explain to Risotto why there’s a huge hole in the wall in case you lose grip on it.” You slightly panicked as you quickly swept the area where the couch was.

“Don’t worry, if anything happens I’ll take the blame for it.” He reassured you. “I’m used to get getting yelled out by big bro.” He lightly joked as he put the couch down.

“Now time to get the cobwebs off the ceiling…” you barely had time to finish your sentence before you felt a big pair of arms around you pick you up and bring you close enough to the ceiling. “Pesci~” you whined. “ I don’t need help with everything~”

“I know. But I want to.” He beamed.

Prosciutto

Regardless whether he has feelings for you or not it’s a little hard to tell with the way he treats you. He goes from scolding you for doing something he deems dangerous or tells you how he thinks you should do something. He does this because he cares and wants the best for you! The only way you can tell he feels soft on you is that he’s a little bit gentler when he’s giving you a speech.

“Look Y/N… I don’t want to come off as harsh but you NEED to stop staying up so damn late. I can tell you aren’t getting enough sleep because you are getting dark circles under your eyes and you are yawning all the time. We need to make some changes.” He began.

“Aww come on… you know I hate going to bed early.” You whined.

“Hey…no whining. This is for your health. And you have such a pretty/attractive face, we don’t want it to be sullied by those dark circles. So from now on, you’re going to go by my schedule and I’m going to supervise you on missions…and…” it went through one ear and out the other as you stared into those big intense blue eyes of his.

“Oh ok…” you muttered, still hypnotized by his eyes.

“Great! Now repeat back everything I said.” He said pleased.

“Uh…um…”

“Sigh…god damn it Y/N.” His rare smile turned into a disappointed frown.

Melone

Mel is still a perv but when he realizes he genuinely loves you he actively tries to treat you respectfully. He actually looks you in the eyes when you have conversations and they don’t drift down to your chest/crotch.

“Ah, sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to look at you that way. But you are wearing a nice shirt. Is that (brand name)?” He asked bashfully.

“It’s okay Mel. You’ve been doing such a good job with the staring problem. A passing glance to look at my clothes isn’t a crime. Yeah, it is (brand name). I’m surprised you noticed.”

“I’ve been paying attention to your fashion tastes and seeing how they relate to your horoscope… and according to my findings it’s on point! To further test my theory, I want to go clothes shopping with you. Actual clothes shopping…”

Ghiaccio

When he starts developing feelings for you and wants to win you over he tries his hardest not to yell in your presence or at you if you mess a word up.

“This mission will be easy as pie!” You said confidently forgetting that Ghiaccio hated those meaningless idioms. “Oh shit-sorry Ghia ignore that please.”

“No no it’s okay. I’m not mad. But you know I never did understand that saying…” he pondered. “What does easy as pie even mean? Is it because it’s easy to eat desserts?”

This caused you to really think hard about the things you and others say on a daily basis. “Yeah… that’s actually a good question. I guess so, dessert is easy to eat because it’s tasty.”

“Hmm maybe to most people but I take resentment to that saying. I’m not a fan of sweets. So easy as pie isn’t easy for me. It would be as easy as arrabbiata for me personally.” He said.

“I don’t think easy as arrabbiata rolls off the tongue as easily as pie.” You giggled.

“Ok…Now I do have a problem with that idiom. What the hell rolls off a tongue?”

118 notes · View notes

roanniom · 2 years ago

Note

King Steve flirting with inexperienced never been flirted with reader

Smartest

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 2

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV/unprotected sex, teasing, coercion but consensual, King!Steve is a manipulative douchebag and is his own warning

“You’re really good at this stuff,” Steve says, watching for your reaction as you scribble math equations across the notebook paper. He can see embarrassment bloom across your features and he has to suppress the zing of triumph he feels. It’s so easy.

It makes him want to push it.

“It’s kinda hot.”

The pencil stops in its path and your eyes shoot up to his, brow raised.

“I’m not…that’s…you’re messing with me, Harrington,” you finally settle on in what you hope is a dismissive tone. Steve notes the way your hand writing becomes more shaky. He sucks on his teeth for a second before chuckling.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest. Hot girl like you must be raking in the compliments.”

You shake your head but don’t look up from your work. Well…his work. The homework that you’re doing for him even though you were supposed to be tutoring him so he doesn’t fail algebra and miss out on basketball.

But his hand is suddenly on your knee.

“Look at you ignoring me. What, you tutor a football player that’s stealing all your attention? Nothing left for me?”

“I…I don’t tutor the football team,” you answer, dumb in spite of your high IQ. You look up and Steve’s grin is big, glad he could finally distract you. He’d gotten bored with the repetition of watching you do his homework. He’s got nothing else lined up today, might as well have some fun. It’s not like his parents are home and it’s a shame to waste a big empty house.

“Thought I was your favorite pupil,” Steve says in a mock whine, giving you puppy dog eyes that seem to short circuit your brain.

Bingo.

You can do his homework later.

“Y-you are,” you admit shyly. It makes Steve smile at you again and your heart bursts, the shriveled up crush you’ve been nursing for years finally being watered and rehydrated. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

“Good. Because you’re my favorite hot tutor,” Steve says with a wink. You swallow visibly at that and Steve laughs. “You’re still acting like nobody’s ever called you hot before and I call bullshit.”

“No….nobody’s ever called me hot before,” you say in a small voice. Steve’s eyes widen for a second. He’d been pressing on that point, not really thinking too hard about whether or not it could be true. It was just mindless flirting. And pretty lazy flirting, to be honest.

He takes the space of a second to wonder if he feels bad about your clear inexperience and insecurity. Instead, he feels a dark, sour tinge of excitement. Your obvious interest is an opportunity. He doesn’t take any time to analyze whether he should be ashamed of that thought.

“Do you like it when I call you hot?” Steve asks. It’s not a question. Not really. Not when he knows the answer is yes. But he’s angling for something as his hand slides up from your knee to your thigh. You drop the pencil fully and give your attention completely to him.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

“Do you like it when I do…this?” Steve ask, lifting your arm and delivering a kiss to the inside crook of your elbow. You squirm but a smile starts forming on your face.

“Yeah.”

“And this?” Steve asks, moving up to kiss your bare shoulder, just beside the spaghetti strap of your sun dress.

“Uhuh.”

Steve moves to the edge of his seat so that his knee moves between your thighs under your skirt. You squeak a bit at the new proximity. One of Steve’s large hands grips your waist, pulling you to him so he can mouth at the side of your neck.

“What about this?”

The feeling of his lips on your skin lights you on fire and you find it hard to keep responding.

“Oh…” Your thighs try to close, a sudden twinge of need at their apex urging you to seek out friction. You end up squeezing your legs around his knee which has pushed between them. Steve pulls back and smirks.

"Oh," he teases. He slides his hand over the slope of your hip, to your stomach and down to your lower abdomen over the fabric of your skirt. Steve’s heavy lidded eyes find yours. “You seemed to really like that, huh?”

“I….I….” you stammer, unsure of what to do with your hands so you drop them to rest shakily on his forearms. Steve leans forward again, dropping his wet open mouth to the curve of your neck and sucking.

“Oh…fuck,” you whimper broke my. Steve chuckles against your spit-slicked skin.

“How am I supposed to learn from you if you’re going to set a bad example like that?” he asks wryly. You blink at him, watching as his hands move to the buttons at the neckline of your sun dress. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly as your breathing speeds up, both with arousal and anticipation.

Steve undoes the top button with deft fingers. Instead of shrinking away, you arch your back almost imperceptibly towards his hands. Steve definitely notices.

“Ohhhh,” he says teasingly. “Or does the tutor want to learn a thing or two from the student?” His voice is lilting and light, but his eyes are dark. You look away for a second before looking back at him. Eyes the tentative. Nod small. Steve nods back along with you. “Okay then. We’ll first of all, we have to have the right workspace, don’t we?”

When you nod, Steve surprises you by standing up and swiping all the books, papers, and writing utensils off the dining room table and onto the ground in one broad sweep of his arm.

“Steve!” you squeal out in surprise, slapping a hand over your mouth. You know his parents are out of town and the two of you are alone, but when he grabs you and manhandled you to sit on the table, you suppress the startled shriek that tries to come out. Steve pulls you to the edge of the table and bullies his way between your legs, your thighs bracketing his hips. Steve’s hands return to the buttons of your dress.

“Then we have to gather the right materials. See what we’re working with, right?” He pauses, looking at you for confirmation as if you have any idea what he’s saying. You nod mindlessly and Steve proceeds to rip open the last few buttons, exposing your bra clad breasts. He hums in satisfaction as you cringe in embarrassment over the exposure. But all embarrassment leaves you when his big hands close over your breasts, squeezing and groping appreciatively.

“Mmmm yeah. These’ll do,” Steve hums before leaning in and kissing over where they swell out of their cups from the squeeze of his strong hands. You gasp when he yanks the bra down to expose them fully. Steve’s brows life. “These tits’ll definitely do.”

Next thing you know, Steve is kissing and sucking his way from one breast to the other, leaving you a twitching mess in his arms. You feel a hardness press into your apex beneath the skirt of your dress and it occurs to you that he’s turned on just like you are. Which is a stupid thought since he’s literally sucking hickeys all over you right now, but your lust addled mind can still barely comprehend that this is happening right now.

When you begin rolling your hips into that hardness, Steve takes notice.

Pulling back, lips wet, he grins at you.

“Me playing with these tits not enough for you?” he asks, one hand still fondling your breast. Lucky for you, he doesn’t seem interested in a reply. Instead he flips your skirt up, showing the dark wet patch that’s bloomed in your panties and - more importantly - the erection clear in his tight jeans. “That’s alright. It’s not enough for me either.”

You blink slowly as you watch him grind his hard on against your clothed pussy. The friction catches on your clit and you gasp, unable to take your eyes off the outline of the shape pressing against you. Steve takes your hand and brings it down between your bodies, squeezing to make you grip his cock.

“Feel that? You did this to me,” he says, almost accusatory if not for the chuckle. A possessive thrill of pride runs down your spine and you squeeze at him, making him grunt in appreciation. Steve looks up at you from beneath his lashes in a faux display of boyishness. “Gonna help me out here?”

You nod feverishly.

“Yes…I…please–,” is all you manage to get out before Steve’s mouth is on you. The kiss is deep and possessive and aggressive and you feel absolutely devoured. His hands feel like they are everywhere at once, paradoxically, as he pulls at you and grips you and grabs you. So distracted see you by his mouth and tongue that you barely register a moment of cold air hitting between your legs before the warm slide of something hot and thick rubs against your opening.

“Now for the big lesson,” Steve says, the corner of his mouth curving lasciviously. The fat head of his cock teases at your clit, making you sink your nails into his arms. He’s big. Huge even. And that’s the last thought you have before he’s begin to slide himself inside you, splitting you open.

“Steve!” It comes out in a rush with all the air he punches out of you with the penetration. Steve kisses your neck and hums.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

He bottoms out and there’s nothing but your ragged breaths to fill the silence for a moment before he’s pulling out, causing you to reel again.

“I know it’s big, baby, I know,” he coos. The taunting cockiness should put you off, but for some reason it heats you up even more. One his hands finds your clit and you let out a moan at the expert circles he begins to rub in.

Your walls relax with the stimulation, and your increasing wetness makes it easy for Steve to begin fucking you in earnest.

“Taking it so well, baby. Fuck.”

His words ring in your ears and it feels like everything begins and ends with Steve in your line of sight.

“Oh…oh…” you moan with each inward stroke. You’re rocketing towards a climax better than your most lavish fantasies.

Steve Harrington is fucking you. On his dining room table.

Your arms are around his neck, but eventually he pushes you down so your back is flat against the wooden surface. With his hands on your hips, Steve holds you steady so he can piston his hips at a break neck speed. Your entire body rocks against the table, Steve’s eyes focused on the bounce of your breasts with the force of each thrust.

“This is so much better than homework, fuck!” he groans out. You let out a breathless laugh at that and Steve looks down at you. “This is what you wanted, right? For me to fuck you all this time?”

The embarrassment surges up again but he hits a spot deep down inside that makes you whine instead. Steve takes it as confirmation.

“Bet you’ve been wet every time you’ve come over here. Just hoping I’d fuck this - fuck. This tight little pussy.”

“Yes. Yes, Steve.”

“Yes, Steve,” Steve mimics your pathetic, breathy confession. He’s close himself now, and his fingers are sure to leave bruises from the force of him squeezing you. “Next time I should just bend you over while you’re doing my work and fuck you. How’s that sound?”

You don’t say anything, too far gone at this point, and Steve laughs.

“Probably wouldn’t be able to keep doing my work with my cock in you. Makes you too brainless apparently.”

You’re practically drooling as you gaze up at him with hazy eyes, seconds from your orgasm. You being so out of it is what’s doing it most for Steve.

“Christ, look at you. Smartest girl in school and here you are, fucked stupid. It’s so. Fucking. Hot.”

And you - someone who until today had never been called hot ever - find yourself breaking into a million pieces with his words. Your orgasm crashes over you and you spasm around him, back arching off the table as you let out a massive cry.

~*~

Over time you are able to build up to a point where you don’t go as brainless. Eventually you’re able to kind of still do his homework as Steve fucks you.

But inevitably during every tutoring session there comes a point where Steve hits that place inside you just right, and his filthy words filter into your ear - and you go dumb.

Just the way he likes it.

~*~

—

—-

——

——-

Hope you enjoyed! Please reblog and comment to let me know!

Read Part 2

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #king!steve harrington #king!steve harrington smut #king!steve harrington x reader

2K notes · View notes

storiesfromafan · 8 months ago

Text

Look Who's Jealous Now - Benny x Reader

A/N: I was surprised by the amount of interest in the sneak peak I posted got. Thank you all!! Forgive any grammer or spelling mistakes 😅

Previous part: Jealousy Does Look Good On You 😊

Also, I posted this challenge. Feel free to check it out and make a request 😊😊

Tag list: @strayrockette @thegabbyh

Being Benny's girl meant being by his side, arm around you or his jacket. His stormy blue eyes seeking you out in the bar, sparkling when finding you sitting with Kathy or other Vandal women. Him picking you up after work. And taking you for rides on his bike.

Which led to today's Vandal ride. A group of you going to a car show. Those that didn't ride, gave the bikers looks of disgust or distaste. All the while, other biker clubs gave some sign of recognition. You found it all fascinating, how bike owners and car owners didn’t get along. But there were a few exceptions.

You were sitting on a blanket with a few other women, Benny was standing near by with Johnny in conversation. Both men drink in hand and laughing at something Johnny said. You smiled at your man, admiring the boyish smile on his face, or when he'd laugh. Then those eyes were looking at you, as if he'd felt your gaze on him. Benny gave you a soft warm smile, which had you melting.

“Give it a rest, will ya" jested Betty, pushing your shoulder.

Braking eye contact with Benny, you looked back to the older woman, as well as Kathy and Gale as they laughed at you. After that night a month ago, hearing what happened with Benny after you took off. The women had teased you on and off. And every time you and Benny gave each other the goo-goo eyes, one of them told you to give it a rest. You couldn't help it, you were in the early stages of this relationship.

“Sorry my happiness offends ya" you retorted sticking your tongue out.

Once more the women laughed, this time you joined in with them. You felt light and happy. From both the women around you, but also because of Benny. If someone had told you a month ago this was what was install for you, you wouldn’t have believed them. Right now you were happy, even if the road to get here was crazy.

Benny watched how you laughed with the other women. Smiling happily that you were having a good time. For him this month has felt like being on the open road, content and freeing. Finally making you his girl made him feel complete. But also, part of him still felt bad for upsetting you that night. It wasn’t his intentions when being around Angela. But he didn’t feel bad for using her to bait your outburst. He liked that you’d been jealous, made him feel good to know you wanted him, just as much as he wanted you.

“Stop it with the goo-goo eyes, will ya” Johnny said with a roll of his eyes, bringing Benny’s attention back to the older man. “Ya makin’ me sick, kid”. He joked with a laugh.

Benny laughed, sticking his free hand in his jeans pockets. “Whatever old man".

Johnny smile warmly at the younger Vandal. “Nuh, I’m happy for ya, both of ya. It was ‘bout time ya made her ya girl. You’d both been tippy-toein’ around it".

Benny felt embarrassed hearing those words. Because it was true. But you were different to all the other girls – women – for Benny didn’t want to show off and take you just on a ride of his bike. That would have been to easy. That’s why he spent the time with you, talking with you. He wanted to know you. And he did. But then he got nervous and somewhat shy to ask you out. He found himself second guessing himself.

Benny told you that, opening up to you as best her could. And since then you have done everything to reassure him that you wanted him. If you could tell Benny was starting to doubt or second guess himself, you’d be there, doing everything to show him he was good enough or right. Then when it came to you, Benny was pushing you out of your comfort zone also. The best example of that was when you’d ride with him. He’d go so fast on the open road that you would be cursing, telling him to slow down. But he’d always say you’ve got nothin' to worry about sweetheart, I won’t let anythin' happen to ya. And you would believe him. You always will.

“Yeah...she’s really somethin'" Benny said with pride, his eyes going back to you.

You got up from your spot on the blanket, along with Kathy. You both needed to use the restroom. The short walk was filled with conversation and laughter. Kathy being one of the women you were closest too. You thought she was nice and honest, no beating around the bush with her.

After doing what you both had too, you began to walk back to the others, only taking your time to look at the cars in passing. Neither of you knew much to do with cars, but you admired their looks.

“Such a nice colour" Kathy commented on the current car you were both looking at.

You nodded. “It really is, bet she sounds good too".

“You should see her on the road" came a familiar male voice from behind you.

You turned around in shock to see your old family friend Victor. You smiled brightly, taking in how he had changed since you had seen him last, which was before he went back to college. He looked fitter, and tanner. No doubt from playing football. He was the boy next door mixed with jock.

“Victor! My gosh!” You said with amazement, before moving to give him a quick hug. “How have ya been?”

Victor laughed as he hugged you back. You stepped back and looked at him with amazement. Remembering Kathy by your side, you apologized and introduced the two. Victor shook Kathy’s hand with a warm smile, as he said hello. Kathy looked between you too, finding it all to amusing to see you both reuniting.

Unfortunately for you, someone else had been watching. Benny had seen you and Kathy making your way back, but stopping to admire different cars. He smiled at how cute you were. He was making his way to you when he saw the athletic young man step up. And then watched the surprise on your face before you both shared a brief hug.

It left a sour taste in Benny’s mouth, seeing you smile and talk to this guy. And usually he’d find your sheepishness cute – when it’s aimed at him – but he strongly disliked it when it came to this guy. He asked himself who was this guy, anyways?

Slowly Benny crept forward, catching the end of whatever you’d been saying to Kathy.

“...our families have been so close, especially after Victor" – so that’s his name, Benny thought – “and my brother played together on the football team. Guess you went on to play college ball, huh?” You softly laughed, looking to Victor.

Yep, Benny didn’t like this guy. He did not like the preppy look of him. And he really didn’t like how you were all smiles and giddy. Dare he say, Benny Cross was jealous of the guy you were with? Yes, a hundred percent he was.

Stepping up to you, as your back was to him, Benny put his arm around you. Drawing you close before putting a kiss to your temple, all the while staring down Victor. “Hey sweetheart" he greeted with his deep voice.

You jumped before realising who it was. Relaxing, you turned to Benny with a bright smile. Leaning up to place a peck to the corner of his lips. “Hey".

Once you moved your head back you noticed that Benny’s gaze was focused on Victor, his eyes drawn in and sharp on the young male. Whom was standing there looking at Benny, with a smile upon his face, not a care in the world. You shot Kathy a confused look, which she shrugged at. Though you both could feel some kind of tension between the two males.

“Ah, I think I’ll head back” Kathy slowly said, deciding to remove herself from the situation.

You shot her a sour look before she took off. Leaving you with the two males from and in your life. Neither male looked away from the other. You guessed Benny was staking his claim to you, as he probably didn’t know who Victor was. And Victor, being like a big brother, was working out if Benny was good enough.

“Well...” you said clearing your voice. “Benny, this Victor, an old friend to my family. Victor, this Benny, my boyfriend".

You looked a little shock after calling Benny your boyfriend. That word never leaving your lips before. Sure, you’d called him it in your head. You felt a warmth rise in your chest after voicing what Benny was to you. As you were known as Benny’s girl. With a silly smile upon your face you turned to your boyfriend, placing a hand on his chest. Which seemed to get Benny’s attention.

Looking to you, he was greeted to the sight of you smiling up at him. Seeing that silly smile warmed his heart, almost making him forget the man who’d hugged you. He could see a twinkle in your eyes, like something perked you up more. Whatever it was, Benny liked it and always wanted you be like this.

Victor cleared his throat. “It’s nice to meet you".

Both you and Benny turned to face Victor. “Yeah, nice to meet ya". That pointed looked back on Benny's face as he looked to the man before him.

Victor nodded his head. “Well, as I mentioned before, this car" – he moved to stand by his car – “is amazing on the road. I’ll have to take you for a ride, hey cupcake".

You rolled your eyes at the old nickname, but bashfully smiled. “Vic...not that nickname. Let it die, please”.

Victor laughs at your words. “I will never let it go, cupcake”.

You moved forward and swatted Victor’s arm, making him laugh more. And then you laughed as well. All the while Benny watched the playfulness between you too, and not liking it one bit. Especially when Victor put his hand on your arm, holding firmly to stop you once and for all. The way this guy looked at you, the familiarity and warmth. It was off putting for Benny. This guy, even if he’s an old family friend, having his hand on you and looking at your warmly, ticked him off. That green eyed monster rising.

“How about that drive sometime?” Victor’s voice brought Benny back to the matter at hand, the male speaking.

“Ah, yeah. That would be” – you looked to Benny, but am surprised to see the unfriendly look directed to Victor – “...great". Great coming out unsure.

Your old friends face lit up when you agreed, not noticing the uncertainty in your voice. Going on about where you both should take a drive too. All the while you were unsure on how Benny was taking all this. Though with every passing moment that look seems to get darker, and getting annoyed.

That’s when it hit you. Benjamin Cross was jealous. Jealous of your old family friend Victor. Turning back to Victor, you couldn’t help the wicked little smile that crossed your lips. Now would be the best time to give your boyfriend a taste of his own medicine. Finally you could show him how you felt when he spent time with Angela.

“I don’t mind where we go" you replied, placing a hand on Victor’s arm. “As long as you can open that car up".

Benny’s gazed moved to you, not impressed with your reply.

“Of course! She’s made to go fast" Victor laughed.

You continued to smile, looking at Victor. You both talk about his car, you asking any and every question you can think of. All the while feeling the dark cloud that was Benny behind you.

And oh Benny was not enjoying the attention you were giving this guy. Nor did he like the way Victor was smiling at you. He knew he was an old family friend, friends with your brother. But a small part of him wondered if you had ever had a crush on him. If Victor had liked you. Did either of you act on it. Was there hand holding and cuddling. Or did you ever kiss. Every thought making the jealousy in him grown.

Then he did it. Victor held your hand as he led you around behind his car. Leaving Benny standing there seething. This guy had the audacity to take your hand and lead you away from him. Benny’s hands clenched for a moment, before he unclenched them, for he had to control this anger, to control the want to lay hands on this man. He wouldn’t – couldn’t do that, for you would not forgive him if he did.

Next minute he heard your loud giggle. That was it. Snapping out of it Benny made his way to you both. You were leaning against the back of the car, still in conversation with Victor, who stood too close to you with that charming smile. With a small growl, Benny walked over between the two of you. Victor taking a few steps back.

“Benny?” You asked confused and concerned at the annoyed look on your boyfriend’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything alright?” Asked Victor, which made Benny turn and glared at him.

Without a word Benny pulled you from your leaning position. And without an ounce of trouble, he picked you up so you were over his shoulder. You let out a surprised yelp. After realising what had just happened you started to hit at Benny’s back and saying for him to put me down. But it fell on deaf ears, as your boyfriend then stomped off, back towards his bike.

“Ah, sorry Vic!” You called, throwing him a slight wave.

The man you’d just called to looked at you with a shocked expression, returning your wave awkwardly. With every step you continued to hit Benny’s back and repeating your demand to be put down.

“What is ya problem!?” You practically yelled, now gaining an audience as you both moved on.

Benny huffed. “Had enough of him" was his gruff reply.

You blinked, taking a pause from hitting your boyfriend. “Come again?” You asked in confusion.

“I said, I had enough of him" Benny stated, like it was fact.

“Hmm" you hummed.

You took a moment to let his words sink in. As well as his actions. You smiled at your jealous boyfriend, before starting to laugh. Your plan looked to have worked. You got under his skin. You practically cackled, which had Benny questioning you on what’s up with ya?

You smiled brightly. “My, my, my. Looks who’s jealous now, huh?” And again you laughed.

Benny huffed, jostling you on his shoulder, silencing you. He smirked at that. Though it didn’t last for long. As you began to sing that he was jealous. Reaching his bike Benny planted you back on your feet, met with a big grin on your face.

“Admit it, you were jealous~” you sang.

Benny rolled his eyes, but feeling embarrassed by the weight of your attention on him. Yes, he was jealous. And a small part of him feared it could be the start of loosing you. You noticed how Benny looked away, his eyes looking worried. Your smile dropped. You stepped closer seeing how worried he was. You brought your hands up, cupping his face and turning his gaze back to you.

“Hey, you have nothin' to worry about" you said softly, eyes boring into his beautiful baby blues. “If ya think I’d want Vic, no chance. I want my bike riding Vandal any day".

Hearing those words, Benny let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. His eyes softening, the worry slowly leaving. Replaced with warmth and endearment for you, which is everything you had for him.

You pulled Benny’s face towards yours, the Vandal not putting up a fight. You brought his lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss. A reassurance he needed, and felt from you. Wrapping an arm around you, Benny drew you in close. You smiled at how needy he could be at times. But you wouldn’t push it away or say no.

Pulling back you looked at your man. “I still can’t believe ya got jealous" you giggled.

Benny groaned, hiding his face in your crook of your neck which only made your giggle turn into a laugh. Retaliating, Benny began to nip at your neck. Which earned him a small squeal from him, and a playful slap to his shoulder. You both laughing at it all.

“Yeah, I’ll admit I was jealous, happy?” Benny muttered against your skin.

Smiling triumphantly you said, “good...now ya know how I felt".

#benny cross x reader #benny cross x y/n #benny cross x you #austin butler x reader #the bikeriders x reader

221 notes · View notes

baelabong · 9 months ago

Text

ᴍʏ ʏ/ɴ

(ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ,ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰꜰ) ᴍɪɴᴊɪ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

plot: Minji was bad for you, and you knew it, but somehow, you still couldn’t walk away.

Note: this is for my @zaynieshdieh my favourite in the whole wide world of tumblr

warnings: like one punch, lowkey toxic minji, dumbass reader

Minji had always been the nonchalant type—charming, confident, and frustratingly aloof. It was part of what drew you to her in the first place. The thrill of being with someone so unattainable, someone who could make you feel like you were the only one in the world with just a glance, was intoxicating. But as time went on, that thrill turned into a gnawing unease. You both weren’t exclusive, and Minji made sure to remind you of that whenever the conversation even hinted at commitment.

Tonight, you were curled up on the couch together, her black hoodie draped over your shoulders as you leaned into her, seeking comfort in the familiar scent of musky velvet that clung to her clothes. Minji’s arm was slung lazily around you, but her attention was elsewhere, her fingers tapping away on her phone.

You glanced over, catching a glimpse of the name on the screen, and felt your heart sink. She was texting someone else again. It wasn’t the first time, but it stung just the same. You bit your lip, trying to push the feeling down, but the hurt was hard to hide.

Minji noticed the shift almost immediately, her sharp eyes flicking up from her phone to your face. She let out a small, almost mocking laugh, as if she found your reaction amusing. She tossed her phone onto the couch beside her and turned her full attention to you, leaning in closer with that smug, boyish grin that you both loved and hated.

“What’s with the face, baby?” she asked, her voice teasing but with a dark edge to it. “Getting jealous again?”

You felt your breath hitch as she leaned in even closer, her gold chain dangling just above you, brushing lightly against your skin. The closeness was overwhelming, the scent of her hoodie filling your senses, but it did little to ease the unease gnawing at you.

“I just don’t get it, Minji,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why can’t we just make this official? Why does it always feel like you’re keeping me at arm’s length?”

Minji smirked, a cold, detached look in her eyes as she tilted her head, her hand coming up to play with a strand of your hair. “Because I like things the way they are. You know that, baby. We’re having fun, aren’t we? Why mess with it?”

Your heart tightened at her words, the casual way she dismissed your feelings like they were nothing. “But it’s complicated… I can’t keep doing this if I’m just one of many to you.”

Minji’s expression darkened, and before you could react, she grabbed your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look into her eyes. “You’re not just one of many. You’re my only y/n,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “But I never promised you anything more, did I?”

Her grip on your chin was firm, her eyes boring into yours with a mix of frustration and something more possessive. The way she held you, her hoodie enveloping you in its musky scent, made it hard to breathe, let alone think straight. All you could focus on was the heat of her body against yours and the icy coldness of her words.

Minji finally released you, her smirk returning as she leaned back, satisfied with your silence. “That’s what I thought,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost affectionate. “Just relax, okay? You’re the one I’m with right now, so stop overthinking it.”

You swallowed hard, the mix of fear and longing twisting in your chest. Even as your heart ached for more, for something real, you couldn’t help but be drawn back to her, craving the small moments of tenderness she allowed you, even if they came wrapped in toxicity.

———-

She was always out, always busy, and you couldn’t help but wonder who she was with when she wasn’t with you. The small, gnawing doubts turned into something bigger—a sinking feeling in your chest that wouldn’t go away. But you pushed it down, telling yourself you were overthinking, that Minji would never hurt you like that.

One evening, you decided to surprise Minji at her place. She had been distant lately, and you thought maybe spending some quality time together would bring her back to you. As you reached her apartment, you noticed the door was slightly ajar. Your heart pounded as you stepped inside, the sound of soft laughter coming from the living room.

There, on the couch, was Minji, wrapped up with someone else. The sight was like a knife to the chest. The girl in her arms was laughing, leaning into Minji’s touch in a way that felt too intimate, too familiar. It was a scene that should’ve been reserved for you.

“You’re terrible, Minji,” the girl teased, playfully swatting Minji’s chest as she laughed. “But I kinda like that about you.”

Minji chuckled, her voice low and teasing. “I’m just saying, if I wanted, I could have you wrapped around my finger in no time.”

The girl smirked, leaning closer until her lips were nearly brushing Minji’s. “Oh? And what makes you think I’m not already?”

Minji’s eyes darkened with a mix of amusement and something more as she pulled the girl even closer, her hand resting on her thigh. “Guess I’ll just have to find out, won’t I?”

That was when Minji looked up and saw you standing there, frozen in the doorway. Her eyes widened in shock, and the smirk on her face disappeared in an instant.

“Y/N—” Minji began, her voice faltering for the first time, but you didn’t wait for her to finish. The hurt and betrayal washed over you like a tidal wave, too raw and overwhelming to process.

Without another word, you turned and fled, ignoring the frantic calls of your name echoing behind you.

“Y/N! Wait!” Minji’s voice was desperate now, but you couldn’t stop, couldn’t look back. The image of her with that girl was seared into your mind, a wound that would take far too long to heal.

You didn’t know where to go, your mind a blur of pain and anger. Before you knew it, you were standing outside Yujin’s apartment. She was your best friend, the one person you knew would understand. When she opened the door, her eyes widened in concern at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

Without a word, Yujin pulled you into her arms, holding you close as you finally broke down. She didn’t ask what happened, didn’t push you to talk until you were ready. She just let you cry, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

“I walked in on her with someone else,” you finally choked out, your voice barely a whisper. “She didn’t even try to hide it.”

Yujin’s grip on you tightened, her jaw clenched in anger on your behalf. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that.”

You stayed with Yujin that night, finding solace in her unwavering support. She made you feel safe, cared for in a way that Minji never had. The next few days were a blur of emotions as you tried to process what had happened. Yujin was there for you every step of the way, always ready with a comforting word or a shoulder to cry on.

Meanwhile, Minji was falling apart. She tried calling, texting, even showing up at your place, but you refused to see her. You couldn’t—your heart couldn’t take it. Minji’s world, once so perfectly balanced, was crumbling, and she didn’t know how to stop it. She realized, too late, that you were the one she couldn’t afford to lose.

Minji broke things off with every girl she had been seeing behind your back. It wasn’t easy; they didn’t understand why she was suddenly pushing them away, but Minji didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was fixing the mess she had made with you.

After days of agonizing over how to reach you, Minji finally found the courage to go to Yujin’s place, knowing you’d be there. She stood at the door, her heart pounding as she knocked. When Yujin answered, her expression was icy, clearly not pleased to see her.

“I need to talk to her,” Minji pleaded, her voice trembling. “Please, Yujin. I need to make this right.”

Yujin’s eyes narrowed, anger flashing in them as she stepped outside, closing the door behind her. “Talk to her?” Yujin’s voice was low, dangerous. “After what you did? You think a few words are going to fix this?”

Minji took a step back, startled by the intensity of Yujin’s anger. “I know I messed up, Yujin. But I love her. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Yujin scoffed, her fists clenching at her sides. “Love? You call what you did love? You don’t deserve her, Minji.”

Before Minji could respond, Yujin’s anger boiled over. She didn’t even think, didn’t give Minji a chance to react before her fist connected with Minji’s jaw. The force of the punch sent Minji stumbling back, her hand flying to her face in shock.

“What the hell, Yujin!” Minji gasped, the pain radiating through her face.

But Yujin wasn’t done. The rage she felt on your behalf took control, and she lunged at Minji again, grabbing her by the collar and shoving her against the wall. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt her? How much she cried because of you? You don’t get to just show up here and pretend everything’s okay!” Yujin huffed and continued with gritted teeth “if it weren’t for you, I would have given y/n what she deserves from the start. And that’s someone who can commit”

Minji didn’t fight back. She could barely breathe under the weight of Yujin’s anger, the guilt and shame suffocating her. “I know, Yujin,” she managed to choke out. “I know I hurt her, but I love her. Please, I just need to talk to her.”

Yujin’s grip tightened, her eyes blazing with fury. “You don’t deserve to even look at her.”

Inside the apartment, you heard the commotion and rushed to the door, flinging it open just in time to see Yujin pull back for another punch. “Yujin, stop!” you shouted, stepping between them.

Yujin froze, her fist still clenched as she looked at you, her anger slowly giving way to concern. “Y/N…”

You turned to Minji, who was slumped against the wall, her face bruised and eyes filled with tears. “What are you doing here, Minji?” you asked, your voice strained with emotion.

Minji looked at you with desperation. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I ended things with all of them. I can’t lose you. I’ll do anything, just please… give me a chance to make this right.”

You didn’t respond at first, the anger and hurt swirling inside you. But you also saw something in Minji’s eyes that you hadn’t seen before—fear, regret, and a deep, overwhelming sorrow.

“Yujin, let her go,” you said quietly, placing a hand on Yujin’s arm.

Yujin hesitated, her gaze shifting between you and Minji before she finally released her grip, stepping back. “You don’t owe her anything, Y/N,” Yujin said softly, her voice still laced with anger.

“I know,” you replied, turning to face Minji again. “But I need to hear what she has to say.”

Yujin looked at you for a moment, her jaw clenched, before nodding. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” she muttered, shooting one last glare at Minji before walking back into the apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Minji took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, though her eyes remained fixed on you with an unsettling intensity. "Y/N… I know what I did was wrong. Unforgivable, even. But I need you to understand that I ended things with all of them. I can’t lose you, and I won’t."

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check. "And what? You think saying you're sorry will just erase everything? That I'll forget how much you hurt me?"

Minji’s lips curled into a faint smile, almost as if she found your resistance amusing. "No, of course not. I don’t expect you to forget. But we both know you can’t walk away from this, from us. You need me as much as I need you."

A chill ran down your spine at her words, the way she so casually dismissed your pain. "Why should I believe you this time?"

"Because I’m not giving you a choice," Minji replied, her voice dropping to a whisper that was both tender and chilling. "You belong with me, Y/N. You know it, I know it. No one else can have you, and I’ll make sure of that. If I have to prove it every single day, I will."

Her words felt more like a threat than a promise, but the desperation in her eyes was real. The love you had for Minji was still there, tangled with fear and uncertainty. It would take time—time to see if she was truly sincere or if this was just another one of her games.

"Alright, Minji," you finally said, your voice soft but firm, trying to maintain control. "One chance. But this is it. No more lies, no more manipulation. If you hurt me again, I'm done."

Minji’s smile widened, a glint of triumph in her eyes. "You won’t regret this, Y/N. I’ll make sure you never have a reason to leave again."

As Minji pulled you into a tight, almost possessive embrace, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into dangerous territory. But a part of you was drawn to the intensity, the passion in her words. Maybe, just maybe, this time she really meant it—but you couldn’t ignore the nagging suspicion that Minji would never let you go, no matter what it took.

Minji’s lips brushed against your ear as she whispered, “You’re mine, Y/N… and I always take care of what’s mine.”

221 notes · View notes

the-oblivious-writer · 2 years ago

Text

Let the Light In |1|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Princess Tara

Summary: You and Tara Carpenter never got along much. One of the things she looked forward to when leaving Woodsboro was never having to see you again. But one day she unexpectedly bumps into you on her first day at Blackmore University

Warning(s): Swearing, underage drinking and mentions of intoxication, the loving part of their enemies to lovers story has definitely not started yet

Notes: This is gonna be fun

Masterlist|Next part

It was Tara’s first day and of course she was already running late for her first class. She had turned down the maps that were offered at the entrance… goodness did she regret that now.

About seven minutes left until the start of her class and she was ninety nine percent sure she was walking in a circle. She figured she would make one more attempt before asking for help. Just as she began to walk another lap, she bumped into somebody. She was about to apologize but cut herself off once she realized who she had bumped into.

“Sorr—oh it’s you,” her apologetic tone quickly turned sour.

You rolled your eyes at this. “Lovely seeing you too,” you quipped.

Tara scoffed as she knelt down. “What are you even doing here?” she asked while picking up her belongings, you did the same, grabbing a couple of your pens that had fallen.

“Well, you know how I’ve always adored college campuses. I can’t get enough of’em,” you snarked, earning yourself a familiar unamused expression from Tara.

Oh, you’ve missed that.

You exhaled, giving her a look, before continuing, “What does it look like, princess? I’m attending college.”

Tara didn’t appreciate your matter-of-fact tone. She stood before roughly shoving one of your books to your chest. “We’ve been over this, don’t call me that.”

You’ve had the same nickname for Tara for years now. It pissed her off each time you used it, and each time you felt yourself grow with amusement.

“I mean, what are you doing here—in New York?”

“Decided I’d go to a college near my family. What’s it to you?”

Tara rolled her eyes. She sees your condescending tone is still very much present. Gosh, how she despised you. Just when she thinks she has gotten away from everything she left behind without looking back, you show up with your ceaseless snarkiness.

“You know how much I’ve missed our back and forths, but I have no idea where I’m going and my class starts any minute now.”

You didn’t let the blatant sarcasm she started out with stop you from playing into the compliment. “You sure know how to make a girl blush.”

Unfortunately, her attention wasn’t on you. Her eyes were wandering, almost frantically, as she tried to look for the door to her film class. You wondered why she didn’t just grab a map at the entrance. You wore a small smile and looked at the girl.

“Lucky you, we’re headed in the same direction. My class isn't far from your destination,” you told her.

“Great. Perfect. Show me?” Tara impatiently asked, immediately filled with regret as she saw the smug smirk that played on your face. She wanted nothing more than to slap it right—

“—As you wish,” you winked at her and began to walk.

Tara let out a small groan, a familiar feeling returned at your action. The same feeling she got when you pulled a prank on those cheerleaders who teased her or whenever you seeked her praise after pulling another one of your mischievous stunts on the town. It was bad enough you were making your problems her own, you didn’t need to give her a sickening feeling on top of it. She always excused that feeling as stress, stress you gave her.

She always did wonder why you did what you did to those cheerleaders. She feels vain for even assuming she was a contributing factor, it’s probably just a coincidence. But then again, that smile you gave her after Chad told her what happened said otherwise. Right?

She never understood you. She didn’t understand you then, and she doesn’t understand you now. You were insufferable to no end.

“We art h’re,” you said, snapping her from her thoughts. Tara noted another thing that hasn't changed; you were a major dork. Wait… did she only walk about three steps?

“Are you serious, it was right here?”

“You were never good at direction,” you remarked.

“And you’re still as infuriating as ever.”

You shook your head, disappointment on your face. “That’s no way to thank somebody. Where've your manners gone?” You feigned a hurt look, placing your hand over your chest.

“Blah blah pthh,” she mocked you. Still mature as ever, you see.

“Good one,” you said in a monotone voice.

“Thank you,” she said with the same energy. “Now, I get you’re obsessed with me, but I have to get to class.” Without waiting for a response, she shoved passed you and entered the classroom.

A downward smile played on your face as you watched Tara walk into her classroom. Once she was fully inside, you walked the long distance to your own classroom. As you made your way to your class, Tara sat down next to Mindy with a huff.

“Uh oh, I know that look. What’s up your ass this time?” Mindy asked while Tara settled in the seat beside her.

“The same pain in my ass from high school,” Tara grumbled.

Mindy raised her eyebrows, immediately hit with recognition. She knew exactly who Tara was referring to. “Shit. Really? Never thought I’d get to see you two at it again. Never say never I guess,” she sighed as Tara groaned and put her head down.

—

You opened the door to your shared apartment, throwing your bag on the floor and dramatically plopping down on the coach. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes as the door to your roommates room opened.

“Y/N, you up?” she asked. You opened your eyes before sitting up and nodding at her. “Okay good, I need your opinion.” She held up two tops. “Which one should I go with?”

“Uh… left one for sure,” you answered, pointing to the left top.

“Right?” she said in agreement.

She’s been talking to this girl for a bit now and tonight would be their second date. “So, when do I get to meet the girl that has my roommate so smitten?”

“And you embarrass me? Yeah, no. I’m gonna hold off on that.”

You jokingly scoff at her comment. “Come on, Anika. I solemnly swear,” you said while saluting.

Anika let out a small laugh, “I’ve never been more convinced,” she sarcastically replied.

Later that night, you’re left alone in the apartment with nothing to do while Anika is out on her date. You try to pass the time by watching whatever sitcoms are on, before getting a message from one of your friends asking if you were free.

Henry (8:32 pm) you free? I’m so fucking bored rn 😩

bestie (8:33 pm) what do you have in mind?

Henry (8:33 pm) heard about a frat party goin on tn

bestie (8:34 pm) idk, you know how I am with parties

Henry (8:34 pm) ohhh come onnn my little wallflower pleaseee

bestie (8:35 pm) I don’t feel like being around people rn

Henry (8:35 pm) you NEVER feel like being around people

Henry (8:35 pm) besides there’ll be that balless beer you like and you can stay in your little corner if you want

bestie (8:36 pm) Fine.

Henry (8:36 pm) YAYY pick you up in fifteen?

bestie (8:37 pm) okay

Read at 8:37 pm

When the two of you arrived at the party, you immediately wanted to curl up into a ball. Henry stayed by your side for a while but then ventured off to do his own thing. You sat down on a couch, beer in hand, as your right leg bounced.

A large part of you just wished this couch would swallow you whole.

Not far from where you sat, Chad and Ethan leaned against a wall as they talked. Chad told Ethan that this was the night, the night they would find the girl for Ethan. But after about an hour of looking and rejections, Ethan wasn’t feeling as great as he was when the night first started. Maybe he should just call it—oh cute girl.

“Wait—what about her? She’s cute.” Ethan pointed towards a couch, a hopeful smile on his face.

Chad looked in the direction to where he was pointing. His eyes widened at the sight of you sitting on the couch. “Holy crap.”

Ethan scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “What is it? Is she taken or something?”

“Uh, you know that girl that Tara was ranting about earlier?”

“Yeah. She was pissed, but what does that have—oh. Oh. That’s her?”

Chad nodded as he looked at you then back at the curly haired boy. “Oh boy,” was all he could say before sipping on the red solo cup in his hand.

As Chad gave Ethan a little more context on you and Tara, Henry walked over and sat down beside you. “What’s up?” he asked while lightly nudging the side of his knee with yours.

“I feel like eyes are on me, but I don’t know from where and it’s really starting to tick me off,” you told him before you took another sip of your beer.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re not being, like, stalked or something,” he said in his reassuring voice.

You nodded before you looked down your bottle to see you finished it. “I’m out. Come with me to get another?”

Henry hummed and you both got up, walking towards the table where all the drinks were. You really didn’t care for drinking, you found most of what was on the table disgusting. The table wreaked, you could practically feel your nose hairs burning off. You only ever drank this one brand of beer, ‘ball-less beer’ as Henry likes to say. It was low-alcohol and you were fine with that. You needed something to do at these parties you were dragged out to without making yourself look like an idiot.

As Henry was talking to somebody else, you were beside him. When you went for the bottle not far from you, a familiar voice reached your ears.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

You turned your head in the direction of the voice before rolling your eyes.

“At this point you’re stalking me, you have to be,” Tara added with exasperation.

“Someone’s full of it. A friend dragged me here, Carpenter, not everything pertains to you,” you said with unapologetic sarcasm.

“I’m supposed to believe you actually have a friend?” she questioned with an incredulous look.

“Now you know how I felt when I discovered there was more than one person that supposedly tolerates you,” you shot back, slightly tilting your head. “But the more you know, I guess.”

“All I’m hearing is that you can’t comprehend what it’s like to be tolerated,” she quipped, returning the condescending energy you spoke with. She lifted one of the bottles of Vodka, inspecting it, before tucking it under her arm.

You noticed this and stayed silent. This caught you off guard for some reason. Maybe you never thought you would see the day when princess Tara would be going to frat parties and drinking. She hasn’t changed, yet has, all at once.

Her comment was long forgotten as you got lost in your own train of thought. Tara walked away just as you returned with a tap on your shoulder. You looked and saw Henry.

“You alright?” he asked you. The person he was just talking to had left.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I’m just gonna head back,” you said.

“Want me to join you?”

You shook your head. “Nah, it’s okay. You can go. You know where to find me.”

“Alright, but let me know when you wanna leave,” he said. He raised his fist and you reciprocated, bumping fists. He gave you one last nod before he left, already catching up with someone he knew. He was always the social butterfly.

You sat back down on the couch, snapping off the cap to the beer bottle you grabbed and taking a sip. It was disgusting but, as established earlier, it was something to do. You took out your phone and scrolled through your notifications where you saw two messages from your older brother. You clicked on one of the messages.

Dickhead (9:01 pm) mom wants to know if you’re coming over for Lily’s birthday

007 (9:43 pm) as far as I know

Dickhead (9:45 pm) took you long enough

007 (9:46 pm) relax, it was only 42 mins

Dickhead (9:46 pm) how do I know you didn’t get kidnapped in those 42 mins????

007 (9:47 pm) You’re so fucking dramatic

Dickhead (9:47 pm) am I? Or are you not dramatic enough?

Dickhead (9:48 pm) where even are you rn

007 (9:48 pm) Some stupid party, not that it's your business?

Dickhead (9:49 pm) whatever idc

007 (9:49 pm) Seems like you do

Dickhead (9:50 pm) I should block you

You were about to send the reply you typed up but a loud thud against a nearby wall stopped you. You looked up and saw an extremely drunk looking Tara being held up by Chad. You recalled him as one of her friends from Woodsboro.

“Alright, I think it’s time to go home,” he told the intoxicated girl.

She shook her head in defiance. “No, ‘m fine,” she slurred, still struggling to stand on her own.

“Yo, Ethan!” Chad called over a curly haired boy, Tara winced at his volume. The other boy nodded, and seconds later, the three exited the party, leaving you with a weight at the pit of your stomach.

You guess some things really have changed since you last saw Tara.

Back at the Carpenter-Bailey residence, a worried Sam anxiously awaits for her little sister. The flush of relief she felt when Chad messaged her lasted only so long while each minute stretched. She was debating whether or not she should go to them when she heard knocking. As soon as she looked through the peep hole, she opened the door, here worry immediately taking over.

“Finally, I was worried sick! I was trying to call—wait, is she drunk?” Between the speed of Sam’s words and their volume, Tara grew nauseous and overwhelmed.

“Ugh, too loud,” she groaned; she looked half asleep as she leaned against Chad.

Sam sighed at the sight of her sister. Since they moved to New York, this wasn’t a foreign state to see her sister in, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting.

“I’m gonna wash you up. We’ll talk about this when you’re sober,” she said in a gentle voice as she got closer to her sister, ready to take her off Chad's hands.

Tara immediately clung onto Sam’s waist, the action tugging at the older Carpenter’s heart. Chad mumbled an apologetic, “sorry,” as Sam walked Tara to the bathroom.

After it was ensured that Tara was alright and taken care of, Chad said his goodbyes, along with Ethan, before leaving.

—

It was the next day, and you had history. Ten minutes passed and just as you were taking notes, the door slammed open. Everyone turned their head and saw Tara wearing a black hoodie, gray sweatpants, and a pair of sunglasses. You could safely assume she was suffering from a killer hangover after last night.

Your professor, who stood at the front of the classroom, looked at her for a moment before adjusting his glasses with a subtle sigh. “Find a seat,” he lazily said before continuing the lesson.

Everyone else returned their attention to the professor, or whatever else they were doing before, but your own eyes followed Tara. You couldn’t help but notice the only available seat was beside you, how ridiculously convenient. Why wouldn’t today be the day people felt especially curious?

With numerous painful steps, Tara approached the seat beside you. By the time she arrived, you had already turned back to your notes. “You could’ve just skipped,” you whispered without skipping a beat, still not looking up from your notes.

“Sam made me go,” she grumbled back whilst she attempted to subtly tilt her head to catch a glimpse of your notes.

“You live with your sister?” you asked; you used your arm to block her view of your notebook.

She rolled her eyes, painfully so, her head was throbbing. “And?” she inquired in a defensive voice.

You shook your head, finally looking away from your notes. “Meant nothing by it. She seems nice,” you reassured her.

“Since when have you two talked? I mean—obviously you two crossed paths. But I didn’t realize you two had talked talked. Like, obviously, at some point in time—”

Familiar with the Carpenter’s rambling routine, you cut her off before she could speak further. “—Me and her briefly met earlier, before… yeah,” you said.

That was as specific as you were, it was as specific as you would like to be. You weren’t hiding anything, you just wanted the metallic taste in your mouth to go away.

“Really?” Now Tara was curious. “When was that?”

You exhaled, putting down your pencil. You already had a feeling you weren’t going to get much work done with Tara sitting right beside you. “Maybe if you spent as much time taking notes as you did interrogating me, you wouldn’t have to peek over my shoulder every five seconds.”

Tara immediately looked away from your notes as she slumped in her chair. “Whatever, Y/L/N. I’m only here because it’s a mandatory class,” she said.

“Geez,” you mumbled to yourself before throwing a pencil to Tara. “At least look like you’re doing something.”

After what felt like an eternity, the class finally came to an end. It didn’t take long for you and Tara to grow sick of one another. You were both more than ready to leave, almost racing out the door on your way out.

Outside the classroom, you met Anika. You were about to greet her when Tara shoved passed you without sparing a single glance. You rolled your eyes, something you found yourself doing a lot, as you exhaled, “fucking princess.”

The interaction may have been just a few seconds at most, but Anika still felt the tension. She could slice through it with a knife.

“Y/N, please don’t tell me that’s the girl you’ve been ranting about,” your roommate practically pleaded.

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused at this. “Yes…”

“Of course she is,” she sighed. “Well, that girl I’ve been seeing?”

“Mhm?”

“They’re friends.”

“Really? That’s… great,” you said whilst attempting a supporting smile for your friend.

This was going to be quite the year.

-----------

A/N: First chapter finally posted!

(EDIT) A/N: I think this came out well

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #scream #scream 6 #let the light in #jenna ortega x reader