#thinking about how his love could fill a whole ocean | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hongjoongscafe · 1 year ago

Text

Peach.

One-Shot.

Pairing: professor!jungkookxcamgirl!reader.

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, forbidden au, uni au.

Summary: where his lust and admiration fell for a camgirl.

Word count: 15.4k+

Warnings: age gap (oc: 21, JK: 30), masturbation… lots of masturbation, sort of online bullying(?), kind of public masturbation, toys, name-calling, sir/daddy, pussy eating, fingering, unprotected sex (Namjoon will bonk your head if you don't use a contraceptive), spanking, spitting kink, cum eating, choking, overstimulation, a little bit of degradation, pussy spanking. (and that anime-ish picture has nothing to do with the fiction. Imagine the characters however you want!)

Masterpost

“Oh fuck!” Jungkook's voice trembled as he palmed himself through his sweatpants. The thin shining layer of sweat made his face look sexier. His teeth were gritting and his eyes could barely focus on anything but the screen.

He had sworn to make himself wait until he could not wait anymore. He wanted to tease himself until he felt like bursting through his high. He wanted the pain of pleasure to run through his muscles and explode when it was too much to fill his body.

His ears were red from arousal and his veins were popping from lust.

He waited for a whole day to end just to tune into his favourite girl's livestream and tease himself as long as she teased herself.

Through his screen, he admired how her legs were wide open with a camera between them showing her gushing core. The livestream only started about five minutes ago. And he was already so ready to burst in his pants.

He was packing (giddily) to go back home after his day was over at the university to watch her, he was smiling widely. However, his smile dropped when he saw Mr Jameson (the director of the university) standing on the threshold of his office room.

“Mr Jeon, kindly visit conference hall 2 for a staff meeting in ten minutes.”

His lips frowned but nodded and sighed thinking that he probably wouldn't be able to make home soon enough to watch his MissPeach.

The meeting went longer as expected. It was nothing but about exchange students. Jungkook had ten exchange students in total and about three in each lecture he was assigned.

He made it home just in time. While he was juggling the key in the keyhole, he opened the stream and it was on its final countdown till the stream started. He sighed with relief and finally went inside and jumped on his bed, not bothering to turn on his lights. The burnt yellow guiding lights in the hallway and in his room were enough for him which turned on automatically when the sun kissed the ocean through his window and the night began to fall.

“Today, I thought I must not make you all wait,” Miss Peach's soft voice finally speaks. “So I’m going to skip teasing and just jump right into it,” she giggled when the chat went crazy with thank yous and asking for more or some who loved to get teased were upset but so ready to see.

Jungkook’s cock twitched after hearing her seductive yet innocent voice. She never showed her face but he knew she was smiling.

“I’m tired today, so I will use my sex machine instead. I hope it is alright,” she hummed.

Jungkook quickly tapped his screen with a frown of worry.

Bigdaddyj: Baby, it's alright. Relax and just let go, yeah? Don't worry<3 If someone has any problem, Daddy will handle —$200

The ping on Peach's side made her look at the chat. “Thank you, Daddy,” she chuckled. “You are always so generous.”

Jungkook could see her pussy throbbing as she said daddy. He bit his lip and saw a fake cock attached to a machine. Peach rubbed the lube all over it and aligned it with her pussy. She started it at a slow speed.

“Oh,” she gasped as it slowly started to push in. “This feels so good.”

He whimpered imagining his cock pushing into her pussy. Lowered his pants and pulled out his throbbing cock and squeezed the head, trying to feel how it would feel if he were that fake cock. His cock would look prettier and feel better than that thing. But at the same time, he wanted to suck that toy and lick all of her sweet juices, too.

“You fill me up so good,” she rasped. “Please fuck me,” Peach panted as she raised the power and the thrusts got faster and wetter.

“Fuck,” he couldn't control and gave in. His fist picked up the pace of the toy and looked at her pretty pussy swallowing the toy. Her sweet moans and whimpers only fueled his desire.

Not much later, he came all over himself, ruining his white shirt and black pants. But it was worth it.

“That was quick,” she giggled as she panted. Her pussy was red and swollen just how he loved it. “I hope you all came as well… tomorrow I was wondering if we could do qna type of thing? Not the usual stream but just something. I kinda wanna talk. I don't get to do that enough so…”

Jungkook was quick to reply.

Bigdaddyj: aw Peaches I would love to talk to you, baby girl. It will be fun. ^^ –$300

Reading the chat he sent, she hummed cosily. “You think so, daddy? I'm glad. I'll be seeing you all tomorrow then.”

With that, the stream ended and Jungkook slumped against the headrest.

Jungkook used to share a staff flat on campus with two other professors. It was going fine until he found MissPeach. Watching her was becoming a huge task with the other two men in that small flat. It was always obvious whenever he would jerk off.

On many occasions, his roommates would catch him after looking at his flushed face after one of his “sessions”. They said that his face could never hide the fact that he just jerked.

He started to wear makeup but it was frustrating and ended up moving out and eventually purchasing his own apartment off campus. It was rather convenient.

His obsession, however, grew ridiculously embarrassing. And having his own apartment helped him live it. Whenever MissPeach would go live, he would watch without caring about someone disturbing or making fun of him.

Sometimes he felt utterly embarrassed whenever he sat in front of his gigantic TV in his living room with a football game, his one hand holding his mobile with MissPeach's livestream on it and the other hand wrapped around his aching cock. He couldn't miss either.

It all worked out for him.

…

The next morning, Jungkook walked into his lecture hall dressed in a black shirt and black pants, his feet clad in the infamous black boots that made him look professional at the same time a character out of a dark romance book.

“Good morning, class. I hope you all had a long night. I have a job for you all,” he cleared his throat. “I'll be handing you guys a worksheet. You have this whole lecture which is sixty minutes. Take help from your sources and complete it. It's been one month and four more to go. So I want you all to revise what we did this month. I think there is no better way than this. What do we say? Do we agree?” he asked with his bubbly smile that he knew no one could resist.

The students agreed. Soon enough, everyone had two sets of five-page-long worksheets on their desks. In this specific batch, he taught biology. But he had chemistry as well.

You loved biology. And even more now because Jungkook was your professor. You were an exchange student and joined this semester.

On your first day, when he walked into the class, you were positive that he was one of the students but when he stood behind the teacher's desk and started his lecture, your jaw was barely holding up. He looked ripped and broad. The buttons on his shirt were fighting against the monstrosity of his chest. You swore you saw his nipples poke through his shirt at some point.

Even now, when you are sitting in your seat you can't help but look up and steal some glances towards him. He was sitting on his chair, reading something on his laptop with his glasses perched up.

You felt your pussy tingling. Since the first day, you have been masturbating to him. But your pussy just wanted his finger, mouth, and cock.

He never noticed you. You preferred to stay at the corner at the back and just exist. Socializing was not your forte. You had one too many insecurities to even say hi to someone. Even when some of the girls approached you for you to join them around, you always politely declined.

And the rest were not as nice. The thing was that you were a scholarship student at a private university. You barely afford to live. And the others barely kept money in their banks but still had too much money. They were everything you could never be and sometimes they took it as an advantage.

So you preferred to stay away and not get involved with anyone.

You were focusing on your worksheet when Jungkook’s chair screeched against the floor, looking up, you saw him slowly walking around and inspecting if someone needed help. So far, it was not bad. He had taught everything perfectly.

You focused back on your work. You could hear his footsteps. Here and there, the girls asked him some silly questions. You wanted to ask, too. But your confidence was a bit above -200.

So no, you weren't going to ask.

Soon enough, the musky scent invaded your senses as Jungkook was closer to you. He stood by you and looked at your work. You hid your hands under the desk to hide the trembling. It was the first time that you saw him up close. He never took a round, most probably because it was never needed. On the other hand, there weren't any emergencies or something that would make you knock on his office door.

Your eyes met with his as he asked “Miss Park, do you need any help?”

You shook your head, not trusting your voice.

“As expected,” he smiled. He fucking smiled at you. You bit back a silly smile, cleared your throat and looked down.

He moved along and you finally took a breath. He is rather enchanting and you just couldn't rebel.

How could you? That big Professor was a god himself.

“After you are done, you can hand your sheets to me and leave,” he said and took his seat.

You had completed the worksheet about twenty minutes earlier but there was no way you were going to get up and attract any attention. So you started to go through Chemistry.

Chemistry was not your best subject but it meant another hour in Jungkook’s class.

Your concentration enveloped you and made you lose the passage of time. You slightly flinched as Jungkook called your name.

“Miss Park, it has been ten minutes since the lecture got over. You can take the worksheet home if you want and submit it tomorrow if you are finding it hard. Or I can help if you want,” Jungkook offered.

You looked around the empty class and back at your professor. “Ah,” you nervously chuckled and started collecting your stuff. “It is all done,” you said in a small voice and finally gathered everything.

You walked towards him and handed him the sheets. Awkwardly, you bowed and stepped away. However, Jungkook stopped you.

“Miss Park, please write your name and ID number over here, please,” he smiled… again.

You could feel your ears heating up with embarrassment. “Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s alright!” as you were writing your name and ID number on your sheets, Jungkook took notice of your hands. They looked familiar. Way too familiar.

The images of his MissPeach flashed in front of his eyes. That glistening, pink pussy. His cock twitched in his pants. He shook his head to get the images out. “There are many similar hands, JK!” He scolded himself.

“How are you keeping up, here?” Jungkook asked to distract himself.

You slid the now-named sheets back to him. “Um, it's nice here.”

Jungkook’s eyes twitched at the familiarity of your voice as well. “That’s good. If you ever have any problem, you can come to me. We have two classes so feel free to reach out. You are already so far away from your home so don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

You looked him in the eyes and smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” with that, you finally left with a racing heart and wet panties.

Jungkook looked at the closed door. “Ah, I should stop watching her. She is messing up my brain. Y/n can't be her. She is too innocent for that… right?”

But who was he kidding, he was obsessed with MissPeach.

You felt embarrassed when you walked out. His mere smile and thick voice made your pussy clench around nothing and your panties wet. You could feel the wetness on your thighs.

He had an effect on you more than your body could handle without making you feel like his whore.

But you knew he would never look at you the way you wanted him to. To begin with, you were his student and if there was any chance that he would get involved with one, that certainly wouldn't be you.

There were many painfully beautiful girls around you who had maintained themselves like Queens. They had proper skin care, a pretty makeup routine before they came to university and a relaxing night routine. Whereas you, you splashed your face with water and soap and slapped basic cheap face cream on your face.

Most of your money from your “job” was sent to your parents and for your apartment rent. And not to mention, that where you came for an exchange programme, even farting costs money.

Sighing, you walked through the crowd of students and looked around. Everyone was busy with their stuff. In the canteen, groups of friends were sitting and enjoying the food. You brought your own meal but today you were running late and packed nothing. So you walked towards the cheapest of the options, a vending machine.

You bought some rice balls and a can of Sprite. Quickly, you left the canteen and sat on the empty staircase which rarely anyone visited which led to the abandoned old green room.

It didn't take time for you to finish your food. The thought of your hot, ripped professor was still fogging up your mind and probably the sane side of your brain, too. And the more it did, the more your panties became wet.

The image of his beautiful long fingers teased you. You wondered how his tattooed fingers would look while playing with your pussy. Oh, you just wanted just that.

His lip ring was the end of you. You wanted to sit on his face and feel the piercing over your pussy. You always paid attention to when he played with his lip ring with his tongue and just wanted to know how it would feel teasing your clit.

You couldn't take it anymore so you opened the secret pocket of your bad and took out a tiny bullet vibrator that you carried after realizing that Mr Jeon was a sexy man that you just wanted fuck.

Looking around the empty staircase and hallway above, you opened the button of your pants and slipped your hand inside your panties. You positioned the toy over your clit and buttoned up your pants back on.

From your mobile, you turned it on. The low vibrations of the toy shivered you up. You closed your eyes and rested your head against the railing, slowly turning up the power.

It was a perfect gift from one of your viewers who watched almost every stream, Bigdaddyj. You loved this toy the most. It didn't make any noises and was easy to carry around in your bag… or inside your panties.

Soon the vibrations got stronger, leaving your mouth wide open. Your hips thrust in the air and your legs trembled.

A strangled moan forced out so you slapped your hand over your mouth to make no noises. You imagined Jungkook between your legs fingering your hole and sucking on your clit. Thinking of him humming and moaning on your pussy sent you to the edge.

Not so long after, your body seized up and climaxed.

You whimpered at the sensitivity and turned off the toy. It was hard to bring your breath to normal but you somehow managed and stood up yet again questioning your existence.

…

“So I see many of you tuned into this live… I was not expecting this,” you giggled looking at the viewer bar. There were about one thousand viewers. They could only see your boobs clad in a black satin tank top. “Shall we start with the QnA?”

Jungkook was lounging on his sofa with a glass of whiskey. He looked at MissPeach’s boobs. He just wanted to squeeze them and pamper them with kisses and just… keep on worshipping her.

Bigdaddyj: You look fabulous, pretty. How was your day?

You looked at the chat, it wasn't as crazy as when you bare your boobs and pussy. Your heart fluttered when you saw the name of your regular who insisted you call him daddy. “Thank you, Daddy! I'm fine, just a bit tired. It was a long day,” you hummed.

Bigdaddyj: Aw, baby. You should rest. Drink something warm and sleep.”

You smiled at his chat. Playing with the top of your tank top, you replied, “I will. But I have some other things to do and study for a bit.”

Jungkook watched MissPeach play with the top. He couldn't help but pay close attention to the hands. They were similar, he was sure of that. However, he shook his head and paid attention to MissPeach’s chat.

Cummingdick: show face

Natehell: Do you meet in private?

She answered that question, “No, I don't meet in private.”

Then Jungkook asked the question that had been bugging him all-day.

Bigdaddyj: Baby, yesterday you said that you don't get to talk a lot. What is that? Do your friends don't listen to you?

You looked at the question. Your smile faded, lucky you never showed your face. What were you supposed to answer? But it was Daddy who asked it so you had to answer.

“Well, I'm not a very social person. Plus I moved to a different country recently. So I don't have friends here. I prefer staying by myself anyway. It works for me!” you tried to be enthusiastic.

Patrick: show tits, bitch

Fuckboi2000: it's always the quiet ones who whore around

Lovethatpus: I thought you had fucked the whole campus

Jungkook didn't feel good. He heard that strained voice and could tell it was deeper than that. He felt rage reading mindless chat, on top of that. He always saw that innocence in her. Even though she was a camgirl, her demeanour reflected the innocence that he wanted to protect.

Bigdaddyj: it's alright, baby. Try to get along slowly. I'm sure you will make a good friend. Don't be alone, my darling.

The chat from Bigdaddyj brought a smile to your face. Where everyone was requesting you to remove your top and spread your legs, he was making sure you felt heard.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Daddy.”

The chat progressively got disappointing and soon turned into a mess. The viewers dropped down when you didn't remove any clothes.

There weren't many questions, in fact, nobody asked a proper question except Bigdaddyj.

Cummingdick: this sucks

Fuckboi2000: Man, you wasted my time, you fucking stupid cunt.

Ridemycock: never turn up if you not gonna show that pussy

Hideme: You're not as interesting as your pussy

Lovethatpus: No wonder why you don't have friends, bitch. Other than your pussy and tits, you are fucking boring

Boobieman: I would just use you and throw you. Boring ass bitch

You sighed. Maybe you shouldn't have done this. What did you even expect? Talking on a porn website? You shook your head and just looked at the chat, not answering any questions.

Soon, there was only one viewer left. And you were certain who he was.

“Daddy?” you called in a low, soft voice.

Jungkook's eyes widened when MissPeach called him. He wasn't expecting her to know that he was still tuned in. Half of him was burning with rage because of those stupid assholes who had to degrade you instead of going somewhere else.

He quickly typed.

Bigdaddyj: yes, baby?

“Do you wanna know a secret?” she hummed.

Bigdaddyj: yes, of course, baby. What is it?

You didn't say something for a few seconds and then stood up. Taking a tissue next to you, you poured some micellar water on it. “Look here, okay?” you said and took a deep breath.

Jungkook typed a yes and looked where she had lowered her pyjama shorts, brought the tissue and pressed for a few. It was above her hip bone on the left side.

Slowly, the tissue swapped and showed a tiny coloured tattoo. It was a cute little pastel pink peach.

Jungkook's mouth parted and looked at the tattoo. He felt his cock twitch in his sweats.

“I got this when I turned nineteen. But I always hid it. It's tiny but I always feel like not wanting to show this to anyone. But I only put on concealer whenever I come live or when I wear cropped tops or something like that,” MissPeach said.

Again, Jungkook’s fingers tapped across the keyboard.

Bigdaddyj: That has to be the most adorable tattoo I've ever seen, baby. I wanna kiss it.

A soft giggle left her. “You can kiss it, Daddy.”

Jungkook smiled.

Bigdaddyj: Tell me, pretty. What other secrets are you hiding?

She sat down again. Her delicate fingers tapped the tabletop. “There are some secrets that I have that no one knows. Will you keep them as secrets if I tell you them?”

Jungkook didn't need to think at all.

Bigdaddyj: Of course, baby. I'll keep them for you.

At this point, Jungkook just wanted her to talk about things that she couldn't talk about or didn't have a friend to talk to. He loved this. Just talking and existing at the same time.

He knew he was fucked. How could he get attached to a faceless person like this?

“I used one of your toys today…” she rubbed the back of her neck. “At university at lunchtime.”

Jungkook’s cock hardened right away. She used his toy at her university.

“And you know what's worse? I've been taking it every day with me and using it often at the university. I keep it in my secret pocket in the bag. I always feel dirty using it,” she confessed.

“Fuck,” Jungkook cursed.

Bigdaddyj: You always feel that horny, baby? What do you think about when you use it?

She paused for a moment, “will you be angry if I tell you the truth?”

He frowned. “So not me,” he mumbled. “Why would she? She has never seen me before.”

Bigdaddyj: Not at all, pretty.

“Hm… I always think about my professor,” she revealed.

“Fuck me,” Jungkook moaned. Even though it wasn't him, the thought of her masturbating to a professor made his cock harder.

Bigdaddyj: You are one nasty little girl, baby.

“I can't help it, Daddy. I really can't.”

…

Your morning class was supposed to be Chemistry but Jungkook couldn't show up for the lecture. Instead, he sent the worksheet to the students through an adjusted professor.

The instructions were similar to what they were for biology. However, this was not easy for you.

It took ten extra brain cells to solve one damn equation. There was no way you were going to get this worksheet done in time. You scolded yourself in your mind for taking this ungodly subject just to spend one more hour with Jungkook who truly never noticed you.

Later in the day, it was your Biology lecture. And to your luck, Jungkook was present in this class and had brought back the worksheets with him.

“You all did an excellent job with this worksheet,” he said as he stood up and smiled at all. Oh, that fucking killer smile that you wanted to eat up. “However, there was one person who did an exceptionally great job!”

His eyes roamed around and stopped at you. “Miss Park,” he called, making your breath stop. “Not a single mistake. Everything was written so beautifully and accurately. I'm impressed by your work. That one diagram was drawn with perfection even in a limited time. And all those diagram with other processes were great addition. One could tell you know what you are doing. Keep working like this,” he gave you a toothy smile and thumbs up.

Your cheeks turned into rosy red. Not trusting your voice, you quickly bowed to him from your seat and gave him an awkward smile.

The lecture passed by with him starting a new chapter and passing on the introduction of sub-topics to make everything easier when studied in detail— one of his tricks for learning that was your favourite.

As the lecture ended, everybody started to leave and you were packing up as well. It was only 2:00 PM and you were planning to go back to your apartment.

“Miss Park,” Jungkook called your attention. “Do you have time for a moment? I've something to discuss.”

You nodded.

Soon, you found yourself sitting in front of your professor. The same one who made you masturbate in public and that you confessed to a stranger who watched your stream regularly.

“Miss Park, you did an outstanding job in Biology. I'm impressed, actually. When I was handed your performance chart from your university, I knew I didn't need to be worried about you. No one gets into this university without any reason. It's harder. You either need too much brain or too much money,” he said. “I was actually quite eager to go through your Chemistry worksheet.”

You dug your nails into your palm, knowing well that you had disappointed him.

“I can see that Chemistry is difficult for you. Or if I rephrase it, you are thinking that it is difficult for you,” he pulled out the worksheet. “You haven't answered all the questions and there are some mistakes. From the look of it, it seems you have a problem with your basics. I'm pretty sure it will be all right once the lab starts but I think it would be much helpful if you understand things in theory better.”

You fumbled with your fingers and avoided his eyes. Your body was tense and he could see right through it.

Jungkook removed his glasses, “Miss Park, May I ask why you opted for this subject? I see you only had Biology before. Why the sudden addition of Chemistry?”

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke up. “I'm sorry, Mr Jeon. I didn't mean to disappoint you in any way… I just took chemistry for extra credits.”

You lied. Oh, you fucking lied to your professor and you wanted to run away. Lying to him hurts you more than it should have.

Jungkook chuckled, “I’m not disappointed in you, Miss Park. I think with a little extra attention, you will be able to perform just as well as you do in Biology.”

You looked into his twinkling eyes. “I-I’m not sure if I can be that good in Chemistry. It's- it’s stupid, I should probably get it crossed. I think I still have time for that. Yeah, that, I'll do that,” the panic settled in.

Jungkook looked at you and found you a fragile little thing. He had never paid much attention to you knowing you were all good in your studies.

But right now, he wished he did.

You were a simple girl with a straightforward goal. He never saw you messing around or heard any gossip about you other than that you do not get mixed up well with others. Considering the fact that you had just moved out and still settling in, it was normal for not mixing up. It takes time.

“Miss Park,” Jungkook leaned in and patted your shoulder. “You don't need to panic. How about we try solving this problem for a couple of weeks and then see if you get any better, hm?

You sat frozen in your seat and just took in the feeling of his hand on your shoulder trying to calm you down. “What if I don't?”

Jungkook smiled, retrieving his hand and making you want more. “Then you can get it cancelled from your major.”

You nervously asked, “When can we start?”

“If you don't have any other class for the day, we can start right now! Do you have any classes?” you shook your head. “Alright, follow me to my office, Miss Park.”

Almost an hour since Jungkook has been focused on you. He was damn sure that your hands and voice were similar to MissPeach. He has been watching her for a month and he knows her perfectly. Her moans, whimpers, begging, sniffles, everything to the point she showed or let him see, he noticed.

However, he couldn't risk any false situations.

The picture of the peach tattoo flashed in front of his eyes. How MissPeach confessed to masturbating in university and that too while thinking about a professor… right into feeding his fantasies.

Not that he dreamt of that before but since MissPeach and you blocked his mind, he couldn't help but want this to happen. As forbidden as it was, you were a fully grown adult.

His pants started to tighten, his cock begging for a touch. But he pushed the need behind his head. He shouldn't think such filthy things while you are struggling to solve the equation in front of him.

He loved how your bangs caressed your soft cheeks. He wanted to caress your forehead to get rid of the tension lines you got while concentrating. He loved it when your nose scrunched up whenever you got stuck on a specifically harder equation.

He wondered why you had tiredness kissing your face. He hated that and wanted to take you in his arms and hum you to sleep in his lap.

Oh! He would do anything just to free your lower lip from the confines of your teeth and caress it with his thumb… kiss it with his lips and taste your pretty mouth.

His eyes widened at his wild thoughts. Fuck. He thought.

But something in his mind said that he needed to know if you were MissPeach or not.

Tattoo… he needed to keep an eye for it. She herself said that she always hid it whenever she came live or when she wore something like cropped tops.

…

It was the fifth day of the extra classes. You were waiting for Jungkook in his office with your notebook and textbook out as commanded by him. He informed you earlier that in this extra class, you will be joined by someone. You had no idea who this person was.

After about five minutes, the door opened. Along with Jungkook, another girl walked in. Margot.

There was nothing good about her. At least when it came to you, it wasn't. She was the only daughter of a realtor father and an advocate mother. Her nose was always high in the sky and her eyes looked down on people like you.

For her, you were not worth the hassle.

“Miss Park, Miss Bell was having trouble with the topic we are going to cover today. So I thought maybe we could work on it together!” Jungkook said as he took his seat in front of you and Margot on your left.

You nodded.

“Oh, well… I would have preferred this to be a private session, Mr Jeon. You know, it's better with personal attention and not,” Margot looked at you with a side eye, “share it with a scholar.” She spat the word scholar as if it were a pesticide.

Her voice was animatedly high-pitched and it annoyed you to no end.

“Really? I don't think so. Instead, I think that this is better. If you have any doubts, it can help Miss Park as well. And if Miss Park has any doubts, it can help you. Knowledge is never private, Miss Bell,” Jungkook sweetly said. You admired his thinking. He wasn't only hot and intelligent but also highly respectful as well. “Now without wasting time, let's start, shall we?”

It was only fifteen minutes in when Margot started to shit from her mouth.

“Mr Jeon, are you single?” she asked.

Jungkook looked up from his laptop and lowered his glasses. “Why do you ask?”

“You don't look single. There must be someone just as hot as you that you are dating,” your eyes widened at her choice of words.

Jungkook chuckled. “No, Miss Bell. I'm single.” His eyes stole glances at your face. You were buried in your book but he knew you were listening.

“Such a waste of hotness,” Margot tsked. “I think you deserve someone with pretty eyes, a sharp face and an intelligent mind, and money as well— ‘cause you know, there are many who would anything for money if they don't have it themselves! I'm sure you will go for someone who looks like a princess. With dusty blond hair,” At this point, she was just pointing out her own features.

“Miss Bell, I don't think you should be discussing such stuff. Plus, Miss Park must be getting disturbed,” his reply made your butterflies jump.

“Who cares? This is not all, you know? A girl must keep herself up to standards. No one will look at her if she keeps on being like this. A girl must wear good clothes, wear shoes that have solid soles and not hang by a single thread. Get a proper manicure done. Have some sense and class with good brands. And knows how to properly use make-up and not just use some cheap ass shit that cakes up,” you fisted your hands to hide your chipped nail paint as you felt the redness and shame crawling up your neck.

“Stop, Miss Bell! Thi–”

“I- I need to go,” you interrupted Jungkook and stood up. You messily collected your books and ran out without even putting them in your bag. You felt suffocated.

Jungkook could never be yours. You had nothing. You were average-looking, had no money to buy big brands, and had the most average life. and not to mention how you chose to bare yourself on the internet in front of strangers for money instead of going for an actual job.

You had nothing against people who did this with choice but you had never been this open-minded about it. Hell, you were still a virgin.

Long ago, your parents had a small business which earned enough for a healthy living. But because of your father's sudden illness, everything went to nothing. To pay the bills, your parents had to sell almost everything little by little and in that, the business went crashing. They sold the house and moved into a smaller house. It was still expensive. Hospital bills were stacking up. Most of your money went into that. It wasn't your choice to move away and stay like this. But desperate times bring desperate measures.

Why would Jungkook like you when you had too much shit to handle? He would probably walk away. Would he even look at you like you wanted? Never. You were his student, a twenty-one years old but still a student. While he was thirty years old successful professor.

…

It has been a week since MissPeach last came live.

You were kind of not feeling going on live after your qna. People, other than Daddy, made you feel like a worthless object that deserved nothing but to bare herself for the world to see. They had forgotten that there was an actual person with a heart that gets hurt as well.

So when you went live without any previous notice, you preferred to not talk at all and just release your stress. Plus you needed money to send it to your parents.

After coming back from your extra class with Jungkook, you could feel your arousal running down your thighs. Even though you weren't feeling good, your pussy had its own mind.

You were going to take care of your problem in private but you needed that money.

When the notification popped on Jungkook's phone, he quickly turned off the heat under the pasta and sat on the couch. He wasn't expecting you to go live but it was more than fine. He gets to talk to you.

The live started. You were sitting on your chair, wearing your underwear. A pastel blue set. Jungkook was quick to type the compliment and donate some money.

Bigdaddyj: My pretty baby looks so beautiful as always <3 –$300

He waited for you to say something but it never came. It was odd, you always replied to him.

You didn't say hi or ask how everyone's day was. Nothing.

Bigdaddyj: Baby? Everything alright?

You leaned back and sighed. Hooking up your thumbs with the corner of your panties, you removed them showing glistening folds.

Cummingdick: thank fuck this slut decided to show some pussy.

Randomdude: wanna fuck that hole so fucking bad💦

You slid your hand between your legs and teased your folds, not touching where you needed them the most. The slick was dripping down on your bed.

A blissful sigh escaped your throat when your cold fingers finally touched your throbbing clit. “Daddy,” you whimpered. It was your way to make him know that you acknowledge him and him only.

Jungkook’s cock hardened embarrassingly quickly. He knew something was not right and that MissPeach was feeling off but now when she moaned what she called him, he couldn't resist. He was sure that she was thinking of that professor but fuck he would be lying if that didn't just make him want to be delulu.

You picked up a lipstick and opened it. Dropping the cap, you picked another big blush brush with a metallic multi-coloured stick.

You pressed the button at the bottom of the lipstick and it started to buzz. Bringing it down to your clit, you gasped and moaned lewdly when the high vibrations buzzed through your veins.

“Oh my god, fuck,” you moaned.

Jungkook took out his cock from his sweatpants and stroked himself. This was one of his favourite toys that you owned paired with the brush wand in your hand. He always complimented her about it.

Bigdaddyj: Such a good girl, you are. Using Daddy's favourite toys. Hm? –$500

The ting of the donation made you look at the screen and made you moan knowing it was from Daddy. You turned on the brush and teased your hole with it. The double vibrations left you with your mouth wide open in a silent scream.

Slowly, you pushed the brush inside you. “Ah, Daddy please fuck me!” you screamed.

You closed your eyes and imagined Jungkook. He has been leaving subtle touches– not sexual. But they were enough for your weaker self.

You imagined his fingers rubbing your clit, spitting on it as his cock plunged into your filthy cunt. The vibrations against your G-spot made you see the stars.

It was embarrassing to admit that you had seen his huge bulge in the classroom sometimes.

You imagined how his hot cock would feel in your pussy as you rode him while his hands played with your tits, pinching your sensitive nipples. You just wanted him to wrap his hands around your throat and choke you as you lay under him with your knees touching your chin.

The overwhelming feeling of vibration from both the toys and the image of Jungkook ruining your cunt.

Jungkook matched the pace of your hand thrusting the damn thing in your swollen pussy. He was so close.

He had never seen MissPeach so out of it. He loved it.

His balls tightened, ready to burst anytime. Soon enough, his cock twitched and he emptied himself all over his white shirt when you moaned out loud and squirted. The brush slipped out of your cunt.

You dropped the lipstick thing and slapped your pussy as you squirted more and more with the image of Jungkook between your legs, lapping up your juices like the gentleman he is.

Your eyes and breath took time to adjust and when you felt normal, you turned off the live and sat there thinking about what just happened just like Jungkook who was hard again after seeing you squirt like a broken faucet.

You had never squirted in your whole life.

…

There was complete silence in Jungkook’s office. You were sitting in front of him, working on some theory. Your concentration was strong and you grasped everything perfectly.

Everything about you was quiet. You walked quietly, talked quietly, and even your breath was quiet. Not a single noise that you have ever made. However, you were even quieter after that class with Margot and that didn't slip from Jungkook’s attention.

Whenever you had any doubts, you would just slide your notebook or textbook across the table with a circle around the doubt.

He missed your voice.

Subconsciously, he noticed everything about you. You never talked to anybody. Never hung out in the canteen. Heck, he didn't even see you outside of these classes. It was as if you vanish after classes and only appear in the class.

Considering your age, he expected to catch you with a boy or a girl here and there. He had caught almost the rest of the students in such a compromising state. And he wasn't too old himself, just thirty years old, he knew what this generation's needs were.

He was, to say the least, concerned about you.

“Miss Park?” He called.

You looked up from your book and waited for him to continue. “I know it might come out as inappropriate but I couldn't help but notice how you are always on your own. Like, I've never seen you with someone else before and never outside of the classes. Is everything alright?”

You were wondering why he was suddenly interested in your pathetic life. “I don't think I get along well,” you whispered, thinking it should be enough and focused back on the book.

“Why not? You are smart and intelligent. I'm sure there are many who would want to be friends with you,” he said with enthusiasm to encourage her to have friends.

You just looked up at him again and shook your head and looked down again.

“That’s not the spirit, Miss Park. Trust me, friends come a long way. I have my childhood friends and other friends still in contact. Any need? They are right there for me,” he tried to reason.

You sighed, “Mr Jeon, I'm happy that you have such friends. But it's not everyone's thing. Not everybody is able to make friends. Sometimes it's better to be just… left alone. I would rather focus on studies, pass, and get out of here. I have no time for anything else.”

There were unspoken words left. Jungkook wanted to hear those. But he didn't press you much. He could see the wave of sadness that shifted on your face. He hated it.

He still blames himself for bringing Margot with him to the class. There was too much that these rich students (of course, not all but some) didn't understand. And he could see the maturity that you attained. He knew things were much deeper than mere relatability.

“Do you bring your lunch from home, Miss Park?” he abruptly asked.

You frowned but nodded.

“Did you bring it today as well?”

You nodded, again.

“Great! You should eat here. With me. I made some Jjajangmyeon and was wondering if I could have some company during lunch. It doesn't feel right without sharing… you can share your lunch with me!” he smiled, closed his laptop and placed the book he was going through away.

“I don't think you would want to have my lunch,” you nervously whispered.

“Oh, hush! Now pack up, it's lunchtime!”

Not even five minutes later, there were two bowls with noodles in it. Jungkook started to mix his bowl and pointed his eyes at yours with a smile, asking you to eat as well.

Jungkook had happily taken half of your sad American cheese sandwich and ate it with a huge smile. He had said that it was really good and you didn't believe him at all. But his following lines almost made you cry. They were— “You know, Miss Park, I always love food. It could be as simple as bread and butter or as complex as Korean BBQ. In the end, it's food. Not everyone gets to eat it. So I'm thankful for what I have and what I eat. No one should be ashamed of what they eat. As long as it fills up your stomach, it is good.”

This only added another reason why you loved hi–

Loved?

…

The moment you and Jungkook stepped into the library, he kept his eyes on you while you tried to find a specific book for your extra class.

Ever since he started giving you extra classes, he has paid more attention to you. And not from an academic perspective but as in you. He was hurt, to say the least.

You were alone. And he saw that right through your eyes.

Being away from one's home country and staying with ruthless rich young adults was not something as pleasant for someone from the working class. He felt for you. No details were needed to know that these people must have made your time here harder.

Since Margot, he had seen an utter decline in your health as well. Even in the stream, he noticed how your body had gone thinner.

Yes, he was certain that it was you, the MissPeach. But still, the odds were there.

After that lunch from yesterday, he had been thinking about you without any break. He couldn't even set the worksheet for juniors just because he was consumed by you. He kept seeing your tired eyes and the dark circles that stuck to them.

It took all the will to keep his fingers from caressing them and kissing them away. A strange wish to protect you and keep you arose within him that he never felt before.

It shook him, how much he had grown to care for you in just two weeks. He was afraid that you might break down at any moment.

You were this fragile little doll and yet so strong. He admired you. You were everything he ever wanted… scratch that, you were more than what he ever wanted. It was like he asked for an Apple but he got a basket full of apples with an apple pie. And love beside it.

Jungkook kept looking at you from where he was standing and smiled as you looked through the shelves of books to find what you needed. The tiny scrunching nose and your baby hair falling over your face… just adorable. He wished he could thread his fingers through them and tuck them behind your ears as his fingers brushed your nape, raising your goosebumps.

He smiled when he saw your eyes light up after you spotted the book you were finding. It was way above the shelf and you tried to reach it.

You looked too good to be true.

You tried reaching it with your right hand, and when failed, you switched to your left. As if that arm was longer than the other.

Jungkook chuckled and took one step to help you but instead, he froze in his place. His eyes wandered down and stopped at the naked skin just above your left hip. There it was. The pretty peachy peach sitting on your skin, taunting him.

His heart stopped for a moment and then ran faster like the wind in the thunderstorm.

Something feral ticked inside his guts.

You tried to reach for the book but it was too far up. Just as you were about to turn around and fetch the stool, a warm body pressed against your back and a hand rested on your covered right side. You didn't need to know who it was… that musky earthy scent was enough to make your heart beat like crazy knowing it was Jungkook.

You dumbly looked at his hand slowly grabbing the book and bringing it down to you. His hot breath fanned against your ear and his lips brushed against the shell of it.

And then he said in a deadly deep, low, and raspy voice, “I think, next time, you need to be more careful with your tattoo… MissPeach.”

The book dropped on the ground. Your eyes widened and your mouth parted open. Daddy. No one but Daddy knows.

Millions of haunting thoughts swirled in your head making you feel lightheaded. You were sure he was going to expose you and get you expelled.

“Meet me in my office, Miss Park,” he said and lightly kissed your ear. “Right now.”

The coldest warmth disappeared. So did your last brain cell.

You were doomed.

…

When you knocked on the door to the office, your soul almost left your body, trying to free itself from the humiliation.

The ever-soft “come in” made you realize that there was no going back. You fucked up.

How could he be Bigdaddyj? That shocked you to no end. You shouldn't have revealed that fucking tattoo of yours that night. But you felt a need to share at least one thing with that faceless stranger to feel something. To feel like you, too, had someone who knows your dirty secrets. Oh! The worst of all… the confession about masturbation.

Talk about sharing secrets. You scoffed at yourself.

Hesitantly, you opened the door and entered the room without looking up. You shut the door behind you extra tightly, making sure no one on the other side could hear anything. Unless they stuck their ears to the door.

Your body trembled as you stepped in front of his desk and stood there like a shivering statue. The inner screaming made you restless. This was too embarrassing to handle.

Your professor whom you have been crushing over since day one has seen you masturbate on the internet and the worst part is, he donated you good money as well.

He was going to ask for money, wasn't he? You cringed at yourself. How were you going to repay?

“Miss Park, I guess we both know what we are going to… discuss,” he started. You nodded. “Words… Miss Park.”

“Yes, Mr Jeon,” you whispered.

Jungkook stood up from his chair, “We had a nice talk in that stream, didn't we?”

The tears pricked your eyes so you kept your head down, keeping the sight of your face away from his expensive eyes.

He slowly walked around the table and stood behind you, caging you with his arms around you and placing his hands flat on the table. “It’s interesting, you know? To know that one of my students is a camgirl,” he whispered in your ear. “Do you want me to keep this dirty little secret for you, too?”

You nodded to you a few times, praying so that he could indeed keep this a secret. “Please,” you whispered in a weak tone.

“Hmm… but I want to know one thing in return, MissPeach…” his chest plastered with your back.

“Tell me one thing. Who is that professor whose thoughts make you wet, hm?” his jealousy made his brain fog up and let it out on you. “The one who gets you so fucking horny that you play with that pretty pussy in university with the toy that I sent you. Who is he? Is it Jimin? Or Namjoom? It has to be Namjoon. Big, ripped. He is the definition of hotness. I'm sure you imagine him licking your pretty pussy,” you couldn't imagine yourself. You felt dirty thinking about the image he was pasting. The only time you didn't feel dirty was when you imagined Jungkook and only Jungkook. The idea of being with any other professor made you cringe harder.

The more he talked about you being with some other person, the more tears dropped down your cheeks. You didn't want to admit that it was him. You promised yourself that you would let him paint whatever picture he wanted and never tell him the truth.

“Imaging his dick in your pussy? Isn't it? You would love that, wouldn't you? Having Namjoon’s dick in you and just ju—”

“You!” you screeched when he didn't stop. Into the well went the promise. It was too hard to listen to him.

Jungkook went rigid, “what?”

Your body trembled violently, “it’s you that I think about!” you let it out as your voice cracked.

“Y/n,” you felt his hands on your arms turning you around to face him. “Look me in the eyes, please.”

You looked up and he felt his heart break. Your face was red with tears running down. “Please, Mr Jeon. I beg you to keep this a secret, please! I will do anything you want. I-I’ll do better at Chemistry. But keep this to yourself. I can't– I can't afford to get kicked out. Everything will get ruined. Please n—”

Your words died when your face squished against his warm and hard chest. His one hand threaded through your hair and the other one rubbed your back.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he whispered. “I won't ever tell this to anyone, baby. There is nothing wrong. I may have– no… I definitely let my jealousy take over and act like an idiot. You have done absolutely nothing wrong.”

Your eyes were wide open but they relaxed. Your shaky hands reluctantly circled around him and hugged him back. You felt warm. Not only on the outside but inside as well. The ice of burden melted for a while with the warmth he gave you. His fingers caressing your scalp made your head feel better. His hand running along your spine calmed your inner screamings.

Strangely enough, he was all you needed at that moment.

You just wanted to melt into his warmth and become a part of him.

As ridiculous as it looked, it was magical. Healing even.

You felt his nose against your head and he sniffed before pulling himself away just a little to see your face.

Jungkook gently wiped your cheeks and tucked your loose locks behind your ears. Your soft gaze softened his heart and he kept looking into them.

His hands cupped your face and pulled you closer to his face. Your nose touched with his and his minty fresh breath fanned your face.

Without using any words, he asked for your permission. As much as your brain was screaming to push him and run away, your mind made your head nod.

His eyes smiled.

And then he let his soft lips be on yours. Everything about him was warm and soft.

His lips lapped yours in a slow kiss. It was not lusty or heated but the one where he expressed more than he could say. The care, the love, the admiration. He didn't only kiss your lips but your soul. Dramatic but made sense.

Your lips moved in sync.

Jeon Jungkook was your first kiss.

He was careful trying not to hurt you. He held your face as if it was made of glass. Your hands were clutching his shirt as if you let go, you might actually break. It felt like a fever dream, the one from which you never wanted to wake up.

Your lips parted away from his and your forehead rested against his. You opened your eyes unhurriedly and saw him already looking at you.

“Jealousy?” you asked.

Jungkook’s hands slid down and held your waist, “you might have stolen my heart, Princess,” he deeply whispered. “Let it be MissPeach or Miss Park… your both of those sides snatched my heart. You have no idea how bad I've been wanting to be with you, baby,” his thumbs drew circles on your waist. “At first it was the fascination of MissPeach but since I have started to get to know you, I've been dying to make you mine, Princess. You fucked up my mind… And I love it. I love it more than I should,” he breathily chuckled.

“How did you know it was me?” your mind was blurred with proximity.

“Believe me or not but it was your hands that made me realize and when you talked, I knew it was MissPeach,” he said and kissed the tip of your nose.

“My hands?” you frowned and looked at your hands. You turned them around to see what gave them off.

Jungkook chuckled and held your hands in his large ones. Bringing them closer to his lips, he pecked them. “Everything you allowed me to see and hear, I know them. A single look and a single noise of you will always make me know that it's you, Princess.”

You were at a loss for words. “But why would you pay attention to a girl who fucks herself for everyone to see?”

With two fingers, he lifted up your chin and looked into your eyes, “You are not just a girl, Y/n. You are my girl. And don't think of yourself any less just because you are a camgirl. I know you and know that you are better than anyone I have ever known.” You could see the concern swimming in his pebble eyes. “I want you to be mine, baby. Is that too much to ask?”

“You are my professor,” you voiced your fear. “What if someone finds out?”

“Not forever,” he kissed your forehead. “And no one will find out. Just one and a half more years, baby. Then we can be free and be ourselves. Give it a try, okay?”

You had nothing to lose.

“Okay.”

…

Little peeking and pecking kept going on between Jungkook and you. Small smiles and reassuring pats on the back were a new routine that the two of you followed.

There was no need for any extra classes anymore but it only felt right and it was the only way to spend some time without anyone interrupting or feeling highly alerted.

You were sitting on the chair, working through some practical problems on your own. Nothing was better than this. Sitting in your professor's office, studying peacefully, stealing some kisses and praises, and just existing together— no more existing alone.

Jungkook was leaning against the table next to you, running his fingers through your luscious locks. It was his newly found habit that he loved the most.

His fingers traced your forehead, moving along your temple down to your chin, he raised your head and looked deep into your eyes. His thumb grazed your lower lip. His eyes were taking in the softness of your lips.

Leaning down till your foreheads touched, he said, “Have I ever told you how fucking beautiful you are, Princess?”

“Like ten minutes ago,” you closed your eyes and took in the closeness.

“Really?” he gasped. “I should tell you that more often than that,” you giggled. Something in his chest warmed up. “You are the most perfect person I have seen, baby.”

“Yeah?” He hummed in answer. “But don't you think that other girls are perfect and I’m nothing in front of them? They have perfect features and perfect bodies. Their hair is always well-styled and their makeup is seamless. And their skin looks baby-soft all the time.”

It was odd to unfold your insecurities like this.

Jungkook inhaled, “look at me, baby,” he asked in the softest voice. When you opened your eyes and looked into his eyes, he began, “They are pretty and perfect. Just not for me. Everyone is pretty and perfect in their own little ways. And you, my darling, are the most perfect and breathtaking woman I've ever seen in my life. They are pretty in my eyes, but you are prettier. They might have the softest skin but I only want to caress your sweet cheeks. Their hairstyles take much effort, probably but yours are the ones that make my heart flutter. Everything you do is far better than them for me. So, never say that ever again. Of course, if you feel insecure, you tell me. I'll make sure to make you feel like the queen that you are. And if anyone touches you to tell you otherwise, they will be seeing a version of me that nobody asked.”

Your heart quivered. No one has ever made you feel the way Jungkook did. Older men like him always know how to be a gentleman. Nothing compares to him. You were sure that he was a cleaner version of Zade Meadows.

Something else has been bothering you. “Mr Jeon…”

“Yes, baby?” he caressed your cheek.

“I–I masturbate on live streams. Doesn't that bother you?” you looked everywhere but his eyes.

Jungkook straightened up and walked back to his seat and sat down. “Come here,” he patted his lap.

You stood up and shakily walked to him. His hands clutched your sides and made you sit on his lap, your legs on his either side and back against the table.

His hands rubbed your sides to calm your trembles. “Why do you ask that?”

“I don't know,” you whispered.

“You didn't go live since that day, baby. Why is that?” you rested your palms on his shoulders.

“I wasn't sure if you would like that, me going live after everything happened between us,” you hated to talk about this but it was necessary. And the sooner you talk about this, the better.

“Do you enjoy doing lives? Tell me honestly, okay?” he asked. His eyes held nothing but understanding. That made it easier for you. But you still took some time. Were you really into this whole ordeal? “Baby?” Jungkook shook you out of your head.

“I don't,” you blur out. Jungkook's eyebrows raised in half surprise and half question. “Well, not as much. I guess the more I did the more I became used to it. There are things I don't like about it. And if I had other options, I would have never gone this way.”

His hands moved to your back, and seeing your shiny eyes made his heart ache. He pulled you closer to his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Then why are you doing this, pretty? Why is there no other option?”

You inhaled his intoxicating scent before you began, “My father had a business. It had about two million worth of average turnover. It was going perfectly. My mother was a housewife. We were living a perfect little life like any other middle-class family. We had a two-story house in the city and two cars. Nothing else was needed. However, everything came crashing down one day…” Jungkook felt wet against his neck, it squeezed his heart but he kept listening as he rubbed your back.

“He was rushed to the hospital and we got a call. My father had a brain tumour. It was bad. It affected such parts of the brain that made his body non-functional. I was still a minor and wasn't aware of much. Things took a great turn and in a span of a few years, everything that my father built from scratch was gone.

His medical bills were amassing up. We had to sell everything. We sold one car. A year later from that incident, we sold our house,” you choked on your words. Your hands clutched Jungkook's shirt tightly in your fist. “We moved closer to the hospital but outside the city. It was a one-room apartment. It had no rooms. Just a space which had one kitchen and one door that led to the bathroom. Nothing else.

We lived there. My parents still live there. I worked hard every day to get a scholarship. I forgot what it was like to sleep or have fun. In that little space, three of us were… we were just there. Not really alive. But just three beating hearts. I passed my exam. I got the scholarship,” you took a deep shaky breath.

“I got into the University I always wanted. I maintained my grades so that I could change my and my parents’ lives. My professors there were impressed with my performance so they persuaded me to give my name in the student exchange program. I wasn't sure before but they said that it was only going to help me and make my resume look like a quote-unquote shining star

“Good things come with their own bitterness. Even if the fee was forgiven, I still had to reach here. We didn't have enough funds for that so we ended up selling our second car. I preferred to live off-campus. It wasn't the most sane idea but it was harder to be in a dorm.

“So when I came here, I found a job as a barista but that didn't pay any of my bills. And my parents needed money as well. My mother couldn't work because she needed to look after my father all the time. So, I took responsibility because they spent too much on me for me to come here. And I didn't want to be a burden.

“So the only option I was left with was live streaming. It pays my rent and the rest goes to my parents. For hospital bills and all. Nothing else earned me enough but this. So I had to do what I do now.”

It was a dead silence. Jungkook's hands on your back stopped moving somewhere in between. You wanted him to say something or at least run your back to comfort you. But when you raised your head and looked at his face, silent tears were running down his closed eyes. He was biting his lip so that no voice escaped him.

He wanted to comfort you by staying strong but it was harder than it was in his head.

“Jungkook,” you first time took his name. It made his heart flutter. He opened his eyes and just looked at you. You looked tired and it all made sense to him. You stayed away from everyone and closed yourself off just so you could work hard towards your goals and make something out of your life. To make a difference in the family and help them.

You took steps out of your liking and comfort zone just so your parents could have a little bit of ease on themselves. You were beyond perfect. You were more than an angel.

You were too good to be true.

He choked on his words, “I’m sorry, baby. I didn't mean to cry but I just can't help,” his last three words were almost inaudible.

Your heart clenched and fresh tears poured out of your eyes. Holding his face in your tiny hands, you wiped his tears and kissed the tip of his nose. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what, baby?” he sniffed.

“…just take it,” you kissed his cheek.

He smiled and pecked your glossy lips. “You know that I’m so proud of you, baby. And you just keep on making me prouder every single day. I admire your will and strength. There is nothing that can stop you from chasing your dreams, pretty girl. And I'll be right next to you to make sure that you have everything in the world you need to keep you happy. I'll take all of your tensions and work on them with you. You don't have to worry about anything. Let me know the bank details and I'll take care of your parents’ expenses from now on.”

“No,” you said. “I don't want you to do that at all. All I want from you is to be here. Let me take care of my parents, please. I don't wanna take anything from you. The only thing I want is you and nothing else,” you were aware of the blind money that this university paid to their A-listed professors and Jungkook happened to be one of them. But you weren't here for money but for him.

“I will be always here with you just like right now,” he whispered against your lips before joining them.

He bit your lip lightly making you gasp. The innocent kiss turned into a heated one. Taking the opportunity, he shoved his tongue inside your mouth. You let him explore your mouth as you did his. He sucked your lower lip and let it go.

Your jaw was littered with kisses and licks as he found his way to your neck. It took him two seconds to find your soft spot and sucked on it, making you hum. Your hands threaded through his hair and fisted them.

Your nails against his scalp made his cock twitch in his pants and it got harder the more you moaned. He looked into your eyes. “Baby, we need to stop before I do something else,” he warned you.

You whined, “No, please don't stop now,” you begged.

“But you are not fine right now,” he tried to reason.

“I won't be if you don't touch me! Make me forget everything but you, Mr Jeon! Make me feel free… Please fuck me!” you begged.

Something ticked inside him. His eyes went feral. The blood left his brain and rushed straight into his cock. He swiped everything from his table and dropped you on it. He hastily removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He came closer and attached your forehead with his As he looked into your eyes.

In a low, deadly voice, I’m going to fuck you senseless, baby. I'll make sure we leave this campus with you in my arms and not on your feet.”

Jungkook removed his shirt and shortly his pants followed behind. He lets you take in his body. Your jaw slacked open. He had a murderous figure. His chest was big and his abs were defined. What made your pussy throb like a bitch was his right arm which was adorned with tattoos. You knew about the hand tattoos but you never knew about the arm. He was full of surprises.

His thighs were big and stiff. You knew it. Every time he made you sit on his lap, you knew they had their own glory and you wanted to ride it anytime.

It looked like God himself— no, the Devil himself carved this man. There was no way that God would create something this sinful.

“Like what you see, Princess?” if you knew his voice could go any deeper, you would have controlled yourself better. But you let out a loud moan just by hearing his voice while shamelessly looking at his body. The outline of his humongous cock didn't go unnoticed.

“Oh my God,” you shakily whispered.

Jungkook didn't wait any longer, his patience was already running low. His fingers played with the hem of your blouse, waiting for you to give him the green light.

It took a shy smile and a nod from you for him to go wild. He removed your shirt and captured your lips between his. Your tongues fought for dominance.

The bra was next to go. Your sensitive nipples hardened as the cool air touched them.

Then his eyes fell on that little tattoo that made him untamed. That little peach above your hip teased him. “That is going to kill me someday, baby,” he grunted.

Jungkook cupped your tits and kissed his way to them. He pushed you down on the table and lapped on your left nipple. His left hand cupped your other tit and his right hand fondled with your pants button.

He opened it and slid his hand in your panties. His fingers touched your leaking pussy and slid lower to your hole. He brought his wet fingers to your clit and rubbed it slowly making you moan out his name.

He chuckled darkly, “Look at you, all wet for me,” he teasingly bit your nipple as his eyes were fixed on your face. He loved how your face scrunched up with pleasure.

He took the other nipple in his mouth and repeated the assault on them. Slowly, he kissed down your sternum. His warm lips hovered above your tattoo and then he kissed it. You thrashed under him as he kept licking and sucking the spot. He was satisfied when the pastel colours of your tattoo had a deep red and purple hue around it.

He waited for this, to see your face while the tremors of pleasure ran through your body. None of your lives could compete with the real thing that you had. And Jungkook worshipped it.

He pinched your clit and made your back arch, pushing your breast more into his hungry mouth. He loved how your body reacted to his touches. And the forbidden nature of the relationship made him hornier.

It was so wrong yet so right.

“This needs to go, baby,” he rasped. His hands impatiently removed your pants along with your panties. “Fuck,” he grunted.

No, seriously… the real thing could never match the screen.

Jungkook took a seat and pulled you closer by your legs. He dropped your legs on his shoulder, kissing his way up to your pussy. Your legs trembled around his head as he got closer.

Supporting yourself up with your elbows, you looked into his mischievous eyes. You had never seen such a look in his eyes. Your heart felt glad that it was that way. Not in a million years, you wanted him to give this look to someone else.

He teased your pussy by giving light kisses on your folds. But he gave in as you started to whine. The moment you felt his hot lips pressed onto your pussy, your eyes rolled back as you fell back. His lips wrapped around your throbbing clit and sucked it.

Your nails scratched the wooden table as his tongue played with you. He lapped your dripping hole and moaned as your sweet taste coated his mouth.

The vibrations of his moans made your legs wrap around his head harder but he slapped them away. “Be a good little kitten for me, baby.”

“Please,” you moaned.

“Please what?” he bit your clit.

“Please, sir.”

“Oh, fuck!” he grunted as he found out his new kink. His cock got harder, which surprised him. “What do you want, Princess? Tell me, baby. Tell your professor what your needy cunt wants.”

Another wave of sinful shocks travelled your belly as he talked dirty making you cry out in bliss, “Your fingers! Please, sir!”

He smirked at you and licked your clit just as he pushed two of his fingers in your cunt. Your brows scrunched up and your mouth fell open.

His long, thick fingers filled you up. They moved along with the rhythm of his tongue and did come hither motion, teasing your g-spot.

His fingers picked up the pace and fucked you. He could feel your climax coming closer as your pussy throbbed around his fingers. He didn't stop and soon enough, your back arched, your mouth opened in a silent scream, and came all over his fingers.

Jungkook almost came in his boxers when your needy cunt squirted all over him. He didn't stop sucking on your clit and plunged his fingers until he got everything you had for him.

He removed his fingers and looked into your eyes as he licked his fingers clean. He bent over you with his arms next to your head, “You taste so fucking sweet, Princess. So fucking pretty.”

You pulled him in and smashed your lips against his lips and tasted yourself. “You know, that day on live, it was my first time squirting and I was thinking about you doing exactly this.”

“Baby, you are going to fucking kill me,” he said as he cock twitched and begged to be released. He made a quick move in discarding his boxers and freed his cock as it smacked against your pussy.

You pulled apart and looked down at his angry, throbbing cock. Your eyes bulged out at the length and the girth of it. His cock was bigger and fatter than any of your little toys. You weren't sure if he was going to fit.

“I don't think that will fit in,” you whispered, still glancing at his monstrosity.

He chuckled darkly and pecked your lips, “Baby, my dick was made to serve your pretty little cunt,” he hummed in your ear as his hand slid his cock on your slit, making it slicker with your cum. “So, your cunt will take,” he aligned his cock with your hole, “this,” he pushed his angry head in, “fucking,” your eyes rolled as his cock practically ripped your insides, “dick,” he shoved it to the hilt.

His breath came out in pants. He kissed your lips as you got used to his size. “So fucking warm and tight,” he mumbled against your lips. “It’s all mine… all mine.”

“More,” you gasped. “Fuck me like I’m your slut!”

Jungkook smirked as his cock twitched in your cunt. He slowly pulled out a few inches and shoved his cock back, making you moan. His veiny cock rubbed your walls perfectly and the curve of his cock made his hot head caress your G-spot.

It was an overwhelming feeling but in a good way.

Slowly he picked up his pace and fucked you. His right hand went between your body and rubbed your clit. “Oh my God!” you moaned.

He looked between your bodies where you were sucking him in. His cock twitched seeing how your pussy was all spread open around his cock. The velvety warm walls of your cunt made it harder for him to stay sane. He was trembling just like you.

“So perfect for me, baby. So perfect,” he whispered as he kissed your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you do good. I'm gonna fuck my pretty little slut so good that she forgets everything but me.”

“Jungkook!” your moan turned into a gasp when you felt a sting on your ass cheek. Jungkook rubbed the area where he had just spanked you. He looked you in the eye with a murderous glare. He stopped his thrusts.

“What do you say, slut?” he growled. “I think you are asking for a punishment. Hm?” you screamed when his heavy hand landed on your sensitive clit.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whimpered as another hard blow landed on your other asscheek. Your pussy clenched around his cock. He loved it. He loved how you took everything he gave you. Such a pretty little slut for him.

“You like being spanked, don't you?” His thrusts were slow and hard. Your tits jiggled with each stroke. “Look at you, your cunt is practically suffocating me.”

You cried, “Please, sir. I'll be a good girl. Please, harder.”

He leaned in, shoved his tongue down your throat and pushed your legs up. He picked up an animalistic pace and fucked you to oblivion. The sound of skin slapping got louder. His balls slapped your ass.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered.

Like an obedient little slut, you opened your mouth and slipped your tongue out. He collected the spit in his mouth and spat on your tongue. “Swallow,” he moaned as you clenched so badly around his shaft. You swallowed his spit and showed him your mouth. “Good Girl.”

He wrapped his free hand around your neck and squeezed it just enough for you to breathe properly but tight enough to make your pussy throb like a bitch.

“Such a perfect little slut for me,” he grunted. “So fucking kinky and dirty. Just as I love it,” he pinched your clit.

“Only for you!” you gasped.

“Yes, baby. Only for me. I'm never gonna let you go. Do whatever you want, pretty. Do as many lives as you want but only I can touch and fuck this pussy. Only mine,” he bit your lips.

Jungkook could feel you throb around his cock, telling him that you were close. “So close,” you whimpered against his mouth.

“Cum, Princess. Cum for Daddy,” your legs trembled and your back arched as let you cum all over his cock and helped your ride through it.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you screamed.

Jungkook held your legs and fucked you ruthlessly as he chased his own high. He could feel your cum coating his cock. His head felt light as he finally came inside your pussy.

His hot cum filled your pussy to the brim. You felt a small wave of orgasm hit you as he came.

He panted and hugged you closer. His head rested on your chest and listened to your running heartbeat. He loved it. He loved feeling you all naked on his desk. Your hands found their home in his hair as they caressed his scalp. “Baby, are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you panted. You took in the closeness and appreciated every moment with him.

After a moment, Jungkook pulled and looked at your pussy leaking your and his mixed cum. If it were someone else, the thought would never have crossed his mind but looking at your pussy, he wanted to eat it clean. It looked so delicious and creamy. It was as if she was inviting him and taunting him. He needed to eat you.

So he did that.

He sat on his chair and pulled you closer to him and without a warning, he licked your sensitive pussy from your hole to the clit.

You whimpered as he overstimulated your pussy. “Too sensitive.”

“Give me one more, Baby. Just one more. I know you can,” he said and shoved his tongue into your hot cunt and ate till you came on his tongue once again.

You were a trembling mess. You could still feel his cock in your stomach as he got up to clean you. When he gently wiped your pussy with a wet tissue, you flinched but he rubbed his free hand on your side, down to your leg, soothing you and getting you through this.

You looked at his face which was glowing and had an admirable smile on his pretty face. His cheeks and ears were red. He looked at you with stars in his eyes and felt like crying.

Nobody had ever looked at you the way he did. But again, nobody was Jungkook but him.

“Let's go to my place, yeah? I don't want to leave without you. I need you to be closer to me. We can cuddle, watch movies, have dinner, and do anything you want, okay?” he said as he cleaned his softening cock and got dressed up.

You thought for a moment, “Okay…” you didn't want to be alone either. You craved his touch and warmth. This was your first time, it only made you want him more.

“Let's get you dressed up as well,” he smiled.

Jungkook held your hands and helped you off the table but your trembling legs gave up. He caught you and hugged you against his chest. You looked up with your mouth open as you felt sore. He gave you a knowing smirk.

To say the least, he ended up carrying you out of the university to his car.

…

“Oh my God!” you sulked in the corner of the couch as you curled into a ball. “Someone could have walked in!”

It was amusing for Jungkook to watch you just realize that you two had sex in his office at the University. He wondered how only now you registered it and not before while he was buried in your pussy.

“I had my door locked, sweety. Don't worry,” he chuckled as stood by the dining table, mixing the chocolate cake batter.

“Some could have knocked or worse,” you looked up at him with eyes wide open and your expression morphed into horror, “heard us!”

He left the bowl on the dining table and sat beside you, pulling you on his lap. He cupped your pouting face and kissed your lips softly. “Nothing happened, right? So don't worry, my love. Come help me bake the cake and then we will have dinner.”

You hummed and pecked his lips. “Okay, Mr Jeon.”

“Jungkook. It's Jungkook for you, Princess… or Daddy. The choice is yours,” he winked, making you laugh.

Later that night, Jungkook kissed every inch of you. He started from your forehead to your toes. He loved the idea of having you in his bed. He lent you his shirt that was too big for your frame. You wore nothing else under that shirt. He fanboyed over you and worshipped you.

“You look effortlessly beautiful,” he mumbled as he kissed your jaw. “You have me wrapped around your pinky finger in just a couple of weeks, hm.”

You giggled as you rubbed your hand along his tattooed arm. “I never knew you had tattoos.”

Jungkook laid beside you and in his arms and looked at his right arm. “I never show them in the University. When I had recently joined, everyone used to stare. It was a distraction so I started wearing full sleeves.”

“Of course, they will be distracted. And now I will, too! Now whenever I'm going to see you, I will see what's beneath your clothes,” you said.

Jungkook smirked, “Yeah? You will imagine me naked in the class now?” he teased. “I’m your Professor, Princess. Have some shame.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Where was your shame when you ripped my pussy with that sinful thing you call your dick?”

His chest rumbled with a laugh, making you smile. “Touché… I can't really complain, can I? I'll be seeing you naked, too,” he kissed your lips tenderly. “You fucked me up, Princess. I thought it was just lust for MissPeach but fuck, I would be lying if I didn't say I feel more than that and feel like protecting you from everything… Thank you for giving me a chance, love. I'll make sure that you are happy from now on. I'll take care of you from now on.”

“But—”

“Shh,” his finger on your lips shut you up. “I know that it is too soon but please move in here with me, yeah? You don't have to worry about the rent, I own this place. I don't feel good about letting you live alone. It is too soon but you can try, please. As I said before, you can stream as much as you want and support your parents. But let me take care of you. It hurts me to see you tired and not taken care of. So, let me do it. And if someone suspects something. Just say that I rent you a room in the apartment and if they still have any issues, bring them to me and don't hide if someone is rude to my pretty girl, okay?”

“I don't deserve your kindness, Jungkook,” you smiled with watery eyes. “But I'll be selfish for once and take it.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “That's my good girl,” he whispered and turned you around.

Your back was plastered with his warm chest. His arm circled your body and his hand pathed its way between your legs. He cupped your pussy and shoved his two fingers in. His other hand slid under your shirt and groped your breast.

You gasped, “what…?”

Jungkook kissed your shoulder, “you will sleep better. And I get to be closer to you,” he whispered. “Now sleep, Princess.”

You bit your lip and melted in his chest. Your insides exploded with giddiness. It did indeed feel good to have his fingers in your pussy as you fell asleep.

It was the best night ever.

“You deserve all the kindness in the world, Baby.”

…

Epilogue.

12 years later.

The heel of your red bottoms tapped on the floor as you walked down the corridor and you reached your apartment door.

You weren't supposed to go but there was an emergency at the hospital where you were an Oncologist. Luckily, everything was under control and you got to leave sooner. But it was still late.

You entered the passcode and opened the door. However, you were left surprised.

The lights were off but the living room was blooming with candle lights. The floor was covered with roses. There was a lingering scent of your favourite candle along with the mouth-watering aroma of the food.

You walked in and saw Jungkook standing in the middle of the living room. His face was glowing with a perfect toothy smile. “Happy 10th anniversary, Princess.”

You dropped your bag and ran into his arms. He chuckled as you jumped on him. He caught you, spinning you around. Yours and his giggles filled the happy place.

“Happy anniversary to you too, love,” you whispered in his ear. “You didn't have to do any of this.”

“But I wanted to,” he smiled. “Did I tell you that you are gorgeous?”

“About billions of times,” you giggled.

“Ah, still not enough,” he kissed your lips with passion. “I need to tell you that even more.”

“You will go crazy,” you cupped his face.

“I went crazy the day I actually looked at you, Baby,” his nose touched yours. “I love being crazy for you. I love being crazy in love with you. The day you let me have you was the day you made me go insane. I still cry thinking about how the fuck I got so lucky to have you. You are so intelligent, smart, and strong. You did everything for your parents and I don't know how I got you but it's all I ever wanted. Being in love with you makes me realize how addicting you are. All I want is you for me to settle my cravings.

A shy smile tugged at your lips as your eyes watered. “I love you so much, Jungkook. I have no words for it.”

“I see it, Love. I know it,” he hugged you tightly. “Come on, dinner is getting cold.”

In these years, you have come so far. You were no longer a streamer but a well-known Oncologist.

You worked hard towards your dreams and Jungkook stood by your side and supported you. You had nothing to worry about because he was there. Everything fell into one place.

Your father got operated on. Things turned out to be better. He was recovering. But he was fine. When you were settled enough, you asked them to come here. They did. It was the best feeling ever.

Through physical therapy, your father was able to move his body and showed a huge difference in a small amount of time. However, he was still suggested to keep the wheelchair around outside. He was weaker but better.

They were living at the apartment where you lived with Jungkook in University. Along with them, Jungkook’s parents moved into that apartment to help them around. It was fun to have them around, all four of them. They formed a perfect bond in a blink of an eye.

You both bought a new apartment when you found out about your pregnancy four years ago. Jungkook was over the moon and stuck by you like a monkey. He took care of you and the baby.

Two years later you gave birth to another baby. It was a complete family and nothing else was needed.

Jungkook always wanted two kids, a girl and a boy. Now that you had them, he was satisfied with his life. He bragged about you and the babies to everyone. Even at University, he would show baby videos to all of his colleagues.

He proposed to you for marriage right after you completed your degree. He was excited to make you his. He spent hours planning for the wedding that you both wanted.

Everybody teased you about how crazy he was for you.

In the beginning, everyone was disgusted and unaccepting of your relationship. However, everything settled when they saw how genuine you two were. It was as if you two couldn't breathe without each other.

When you became a Doctor, Jungkook cried happy tears and told you how proud he was and that he knew you were going to do big things in life.

That night he showed you so much love.

“Where are Seol and Jae?” you asked about your kids.

“I dropped them at our parents’. I wanted to have you all by myself. In the end, it is our anniversary,” he winked at you with a devilish look on his face.

“Is that so?” you smirked.

“After dinner, be a good girl and go into our room… naked and ass up for me,” his hand grabbed your ass and squeezed it as you looked at him with a slutty look.

“Yes, sir.”

…..

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

Have a nice day/night💓

#bts #bts smut #bts jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

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mrsfancyferrari · 4 months ago

Text

I'm All Yours

Summary: You and Lando have been in the talking stage for some months now. After Lando's third win, he knows he's missing something important. You being his girlfriend.

Song: Thinking Bout You by Frank Ocean

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

You and Lando had been navigating the delicate waters of the talking stage for several months, sharing countless late-night conversations and laughter that echoed through the quiet of your respective rooms.

Each message exchanged felt like a step closer, yet there was an unspoken tension lingering in the air, a sense that something significant was just out of reach.

Lando's impressive third win filled him with an exhilarating sense of triumph. As he stood on the podium, basking in the cheers and flashing cameras, he could almost taste the sweet taste of success.

However, amidst the euphoria, a realization washed over him, an emptiness that he couldn't ignore.

It was you, being his girlfriend, who was missing from the celebration, and the thought gnawed at him.

The absence of your presence cast a shadow over the victory that was otherwise so overwhelming. Lando couldn't help but feel incomplete, knowing that you were the one he wanted to share this milestone with.

The exhilaration of the win was dulled by the ache of knowing that you were missing out on the shared joy and celebration.

Without you by his side, Lando's victory felt hollow and incomplete. He had poured his heart and soul into achieving this milestone, knowing that your support meant the world to him.

But without you there to witness it, to witness his hard work and perseverance paying off, the victory felt less meaningful.

Lando couldn't help but replay in his mind the late-night conversations and laughter he and you had shared, each memory reminiscent of a time when he felt complete and whole.

Those moments fueled his determination and pushed him to work harder, but now, as he basked in the spotlight, he couldn't help but long for the presence of the person who had meant so much to him.

Lando knew that he couldn't control whether or not you were able to attend his victories, but he couldn't help but wish for the opportunity to share this momentous occasion with you.

He longed for the day when he could celebrate with you by his side, when the cheering crowd and the flashing cameras would serve as a backdrop to a beautiful and loving partnership.

As Lando stood there on the podium, amidst the deafening cheers and applause, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for him and for you.

He knew that he couldn't suppress his feelings any longer, and he vowed to find a way to bridge the gap between the two of you.

The tension between the talking stage and something more had always been palpable, but now, Lando realized that he couldn't move forward without addressing it head-on.

He knew that he couldn't continue to navigate these delicate waters without risking the potentiality of losing you altogether.

With a heavy heart, Lando decided to take the first step, to reach out and let you know how much you meant to him, even in the face of uncertainty. . . .

Later that evening, Lando found himself pacing in his hotel room, the trophy gleaming on the table, but his heart was heavy. He picked up his phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing your number.

When you answered, your voice was a soothing balm to his racing thoughts. "Hey, Lando! Congratulations on the win! I saw the highlights; you were incredible!" you exclaimed, your excitement evident.

He smiled, but it quickly faded as he replied, "Thanks, but it doesn’t feel complete without you here. I thought about you the whole time. I really wish you could have been there to celebrate with me."

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart flutter. "I wish I could have been there too. I was cheering for you from home, you know that!" you said, trying to lighten the mood.

Lando sighed, "I know, but it’s just not the same. I want you by my side, sharing these moments. You mean so much to me, and I think it’s time we stop just talking and start being something more."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you felt a rush of emotions.

"Lando, take a deep breath and sit down," you instructed, and Lando listened without hesitation. He settled onto the edge of the bed, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.

"I need you to know that I care about you deeply too. But let's take it one step at a time, okay? We need to be honest with ourselves and each other about what we want and how we feel."

Lando nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "You're right. I just didn't want to waste any more time pretending that what we have wasn't special. I want to build something real with you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with hope. "We'll figure this out together, Lando. No rushing, no pressure—just us, exploring what we could be."

For the first time in a long while, Lando felt a sense of calm, knowing that he wasn't alone in his feelings.

"I love how you know how to calm me down," Lando muttered, looking at your face on the screen.

His eyes softened as he took in your reassuring smile, feeling a warmth spread through him. "It's like you always know exactly what to say to make everything better."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "That's because I care about you, Lando. And I want us to be happy, whatever that looks like for us." The two of you continued to talk about the race that he just won and he taught you some of the rules of the sport.

As the night wore on, the distance between you seemed to shrink, and Lando felt more certain than ever that together, you could face anything. . . .

It was the inaugural week of the much-anticipated long break, and you had made the decision to visit Lando, a choice that filled both of you with excitement. It had been weeks since you last saw each other in person, and the anticipation of reuniting was palpable.

As you made your way to the airport, Lando was a bundle of nerves, standing in front of the mirror in his room, adjusting his collar repeatedly as if it would somehow ease his anxiety.

Charles, his ever-watchful friend, leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed Lando's frantic preparations.

"You know, mate, you’re acting like you’re about to meet the Queen or something," Charles chuckled, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Lando shot a quick glance at Charles, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I know, but I just want everything to be perfect. I mean, she’s coming all this way, and I want to make a good impression," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and dread.

The thought of you arriving filled him with both joy and a hint of panic. He was supposed to pick you up from the airport, and the only thing he was waiting for was the message that would signal your arrival.

"It’s not like it’s the first time you’re meeting her," Charles teased, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall, clearly enjoying Lando’s discomfort.

"Yeah, but still," Lando muttered, turning to face Charles, his hands fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. "I want her to see me at my best."

Charles couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. "Honestly, mate, if she’s still talking to you after all this time, I think you’ve already made a pretty good impression."

Lando, unable to suppress a grin, playfully punched Charles on the shoulder. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m still going to be a nervous wreck until I see her."

The banter continued, but deep down, both friends knew that this reunion was going to be something special, a moment they had both been waiting for.

"Do you think there's something special brewing between you two in the future?" Charles inquired, his curiosity evident in his tone. He leaned back in his chair, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he watched Lando's expression shift.

Lando's eyes sparkled with a mix of hope and uncertainty, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. "Honestly, I really hope so. She's not like anyone else I've ever dated," he replied, a soft smile spreading across his face.

"She has this quiet strength about her, always listening to my problems, but she can also be so lively and chatty. And when she smiles, those dimples of hers just light up the room. I find myself wanting to see her smile all the time. It’s like she has this incredible ability to make everything feel right. And don’t even get me started on how smart she is; I often wonder why she even bothers with a guy like me."

Just as Lando was about to delve deeper into his feelings, a notification chimed from his phone, interrupting his train of thought.

He quickly reached for it, his heart racing with anticipation. The message was from you, simply stating, "I'm landing now, see you soon! <3"

A wave of excitement washed over him, and he couldn't help but grin.

"See, mate? The moment you start talking about her, all your worries just fade away," Charles said, his grin widening as he nudged Lando playfully. "You’ve got to go get her. This could be the start of something amazing."

"You're right, I should," Lando replied, his voice filled with newfound determination. He quickly grabbed his suit, the fabric crumpling slightly in his hands as he rushed to the door. "Thanks for the push, Charles. I really appreciate it."

With a final glance back at his friend, Lando felt a surge of confidence. He was ready to embrace whatever the future held with her, knowing that this moment could be the beginning of something truly special.

As he dashed out, the anticipation of seeing her again filled him with a warmth that made him forget all his insecurities.

Lando slid into the driver’s seat of his car, the engine purring to life as he navigated through the bustling streets toward the airport. The anticipation bubbled within him, a mix of excitement and nerves as he thought about seeing you again.

Once he arrived, he parked and made his way inside, where he found a cozy spot to wait. Time seemed to stretch as he glanced at the arrivals board, his heart racing at the thought of your imminent arrival. Soon enough, he spotted the familiar figures emerging from the terminal, and his breath caught in his throat when his eyes finally locked onto yours.

You looked stunning, a vision in a sleek black dress that hugged your figure perfectly, complemented by a small coat that added an air of elegance against the chilly backdrop.

As you approached, Lando couldn’t help but notice the way you seemed slightly nervous under his gaze, your suitcase rolling behind you as you made your way closer. The moment felt electric, and he found himself momentarily lost in the depths of your eyes.

“Lando? Earth to Lando?” you teased, breaking the spell that had momentarily held him captive.

He blinked, shaking off the daze, and blurted out, “You look beautiful.” The words slipped out before he could think, genuine admiration shining through.

A soft blush crept across your cheeks as you replied, “Oh, thank you, Lando. You look handsome too.”

Your smile was infectious, and he couldn’t help but mirror it, feeling warmth spread across his face as he realized just how much you affected him.

After a few moments of shared smiles and lingering glances, Lando finally broke the silence. “Let me take your bag,” he offered, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest.

He reached for your suitcase, gently taking it from your hand and replacing it with his own, their fingers intertwining in a sweet gesture that felt both natural and exhilarating.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted, his eyes searching yours for a hint of how you felt. “I missed you too,” you replied, your voice soft yet filled with sincerity.

"Congratulations on your win," you said as the two of you left the airport, your voice carrying a mix of pride and excitement.

Lando's eyes sparkled at your words, the acknowledgment of his recent achievement making his chest swell with joy. "Thank you," he responded, his tone humble yet filled with gratitude. "Though I wish you were there to celebrate with me."

As you walked side by side, the bustling noise of the airport fading into the background, Lando couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment.

"Well, I'm here now," you said with a playful smile, "Do you have anything planned?" Lando's eyes lit up with excitement as he opened the door for you, his hand gently guiding you into the waiting car.

"Yeah, but we have to make a quick stop first," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery.

As the car sped away from the airport, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. You glanced over at Lando, who was now staring out the window, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Where are we going?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you. He turned to you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"You'll see," was all he said, leaving you to wonder what surprises lay ahead.

The car soon pulled up to a familiar street, and your curiosity only grew as you recognized Lando's neighborhood. As the vehicle came to a halt in front of his house, you looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Why are we here?" you asked, but he just smiled and opened the car door, holding out his hand to help you out.

"Trust me," he said simply, his eyes twinkling with a secret only he knew.

Your confusion slowly turned to excitement as he led you up the steps and into his home. The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted by the warm, inviting ambiance of the living room.

On the coffee table sat a beautifully wrapped gift and a bouquet of your favorite flowers as well as all of your favourite books.

"I wanted to give you something special before our adventure," Lando said, his voice soft and filled with genuine affection.

"Aww, Lando, you shouldn't have," you muttered, your voice mingling with shock and gratitude as you took in the thoughtful array of gifts.

You knew how much time, effort, and money must have gone into arranging all of this, and it made your heart swell with appreciation.

Overwhelmed by the gesture, you stepped closer and placed a gentle kiss on Lando's cheek, watching as his face turned a delightful shade of red.

"Well, I wanted to make sure you knew how much you mean to me," he said, his eyes meeting yours with an earnest sincerity that made your heart flutter.

"You mean the world to me, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I can't believe you went through all this trouble just to make me happy."

You wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours and savoring the moment.

Lando hugged you back just as tightly, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, "I'd do anything to see you smile like this."

As you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, you could see the depth of his feelings reflected there. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that perfect, intimate moment.

After the embrace, the air between you and Lando crackled with an unspoken tension. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and as you turned to look at him, you caught him stealing glances at your lips, a flicker of desire dancing in his eyes.

It was a moment that felt suspended in time, yet he seemed to fight against the urge to close the distance.

"We should head to the next place," he finally murmured, breaking the spell as he moved toward the door, his voice low and slightly hesitant.

You followed him, a soft smile playing on your lips, but inside, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled. Lando was always so considerate, so respectful, and while you appreciated that about him, there were times when you wished he would take a leap of faith.

The two of you had danced around this moment for far too long, and the anticipation was almost unbearable.

"You know," you said, catching up to him as he paused at the door, "sometimes I think you’re too careful. What’s stopping you from just going for it?"

Your heart raced as you spoke, hoping to provoke a reaction.

He turned to face you, his expression a mix of surprise and contemplation. "I guess I just don’t want to ruin what we have," he admitted, running a hand through his hair, a gesture that always made your heart flutter. "But I can’t help but wonder if we’re missing out on something amazing."

You could see the conflict in his eyes, and it made you want to reach out and pull him closer.

"Whatever your option is, I'll always stand with you," you assured him, your voice soft but firm. The sincerity in your words seemed to ease some of the tension in his shoulders.

"Come on, don't you have a secret place to show me?" you added, a playful glint in your eye as you tried to lighten the mood.

Lando's face broke into a relieved smile, the weight of the moment lifting. "Yeah, I do," he said, his tone more relaxed as he opened the door for you.

As you both stepped out into the cool evening air, the unspoken promise of exploring that hidden place together filled you with a renewed sense of excitement. The night was still young, and with Lando by your side, you couldn't wait to see what adventures awaited.

Lando drove through winding roads until they reached a secluded, picturesque area. The headlights illuminated a candle-lit table set with an array of delicious food, and in the background, a luxurious yacht waited by the water's edge.

The sight took your breath away, and you turned to Lando with wide eyes, unable to hide your amazement. "How did you even manage this?" you asked, your voice filled with awe.

He merely grinned, a hint of mischief playing on his lips. "I have my ways," he replied, stepping out of the car and moving to your side to open your door.

As you walked together towards the beautifully set table, the ambiance of the evening wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The flickering candlelight cast a soft glow, making the moment feel even more intimate.

He gently pulled out your chair, guiding you to sit down with a grace that made your heart swell even more. As he took his seat across from you, the candlelight reflected in his eyes, creating a mesmerizing sparkle that you couldn’t look away from.

The aroma of the food wafted up, mingling with the crisp evening air, creating an atmosphere that was nothing short of magical.

Lando poured you a glass of wine, his movements deliberate and smooth, as if he had planned every detail to perfection. "To us," he toasted, raising his glass with a smile that spoke volumes.

You clinked glasses, feeling the warmth of the wine and the moment seep into your soul. The conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter, shared dreams, and the kind of deep connection that made you forget about everything else.

As you both reached for the first bite, the flavors exploded in your mouth, a symphony of tastes that perfectly complemented the enchanting setting. The dishes ranged from succulent grilled vegetables to tender cuts of meat, each prepared with exquisite care.

Lando watched your reaction with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased that his efforts were being appreciated. You savored every morsel, the delicious food enhancing the magic of the evening even further.

Between bites, you exchanged stories and memories, each one bringing you closer together.

The food was more than just a meal; it was an experience that tied the night together in a perfect bow. The rich, creamy desserts were the final touch, a sweet ending to an unforgettable dinner.

As you finished the last bite, you couldn’t help but feel that this evening was the start of something truly special.

"So, is the yacht just for show?" you asked curiously, glancing over at the sleek vessel docked nearby. Lando's grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Ahh, I was waiting for you to ask about it," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "Do you want to get on it?"

Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and extended his hand to you. With your hand in his, you walked towards the yacht, the anticipation building with each step.

The yacht was an epitome of elegance and luxury, gleaming under the moonlight. As you stepped onto the polished teak deck, you couldn't help but admire the sleek lines and sophisticated design.

The gentle hum of the engine and the subtle sway of the boat added a sense of adventure to the atmosphere. Soft ambient lighting illuminated the pathways, guiding you both towards the interior with an inviting glow.

Inside, the yacht was a marvel of modern craftsmanship. Plush seating areas were adorned with rich fabrics and tasteful decor, creating a cozy yet opulent ambiance. The main salon featured expansive windows that offered breathtaking views of the starlit sea.

A state-of-the-art kitchen and a well-stocked bar hinted at more delightful culinary experiences to come. Everywhere you looked, there were thoughtful details that spoke of Lando's impeccable taste and the promise of unforgettable moments ahead.

"Do you like it?" Lando asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice despite his confident demeanor. You turned to him, eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

"It's absolutely stunning, Lando. You've outdone yourself," you replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He visibly relaxed, his smile broadening as he took in your reaction.

As you continued exploring the yacht, Lando pointed out various features with pride. From the luxurious master suite to the sleek entertainment system, every detail was carefully curated to provide the ultimate experience.

You could see the passion and effort he had poured into making this yacht a floating paradise.

"I wanted this to be more than just a boat ride," he explained softly. "I wanted it to be a memory we would cherish forever."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you as you realized just how much this evening—and this moment—meant to him as well.

You also promised to yourself that you would make the first move to him tonight. With a determined yet gentle resolve, you leaned in closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Lando," you began softly, gazing into his eyes, "I want this to be a memory we both cherish forever too."

After thoroughly exploring every nook and cranny of the luxurious yacht, the two of you found yourselves drawn to the expansive deck, where the horizon was ablaze with the colors of the setting sun.

The sky transformed into a canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples, casting a warm glow over the water.

"Isn’t this just perfect?" you remarked, leaning against the railing and taking in the breathtaking view.

Lando, with a smile that lit up his face, nodded in agreement. “I can’t think of a better way to end the day,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

With the large, plush couch inviting you to sink into its comfort, you both had ample space to stretch out. However, instead of sprawling out, you chose to sit on Lando’s lap, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

"You’re so cozy," you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckled softly, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back.

"I could get used to this," he said, his voice low and playful. As you began to massage his head, your fingers weaving through his curls, you pressed soft kisses on his hair, relishing the intimacy of the moment.

"You know, I could stay here forever," you whispered, feeling the world around you fade away.

Lando looked up at you, his expression a mix of affection and mischief. “Forever is a long time, but I wouldn’t mind if it meant more sunsets like this with you,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours.

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, the connection between you deepening. “Let’s make a pact then,” you suggested, a playful grin spreading across your face. “Every sunset for this break, we find a cozy spot and just enjoy each other’s company.”

He laughed, nodding. “Deal! But only if I get to sit on your lap next time,” he countered, his playful tone making you giggle. . . .

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the gentle waves, you found yourself nestled comfortably in Lando's lap on the deck of his sleek yacht, the subtle sway of the boat only adding to the intoxicating atmosphere.

You could hardly remember how you had crossed the line from innocent flirting to this moment, where your lips tangled and your breaths mingled under the fading light. It felt like a long time coming, a slow build-up of longing and unspoken words that finally erupted in a passionate kiss.

Lando smirked, his famous charm practically radiating off him, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he teasingly whispered, “I think you and I have been waiting for this for ages." His hands began to travel across your back, fingers barely grazing your skin, igniting a fire within you that was both thrilling and comforting.

"Is this really happening?” you asked, half-mesmerized by the way his touch sent shivers down your spine.

“I mean, one moment we were only hands, and now…” you trailed off, a mix of disbelief and excitement coursing through me.

Lando chuckled softly, his hands finding a firmer grip on your waist as he pulled you closer, your bodies fitting perfectly together as if they were always meant to be this way.

“Did you only want to hold hands, though?” he questioned, a playful glint in his deep-set eyes. “I’ve always thought there was something more, something bubbling under the surface, waiting for the right moment to explode.”

His words hung in the air, wrapping around you like the gentle sea breeze, and you felt a surge of confidence at his unfiltered honesty.

You let out a breathy laugh, captivated by the moment as you brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your heart racing in synchrony with the rhythm of the waves.

“Are you saying this was all a part of your master plan?” you teased, playfully raising an eyebrow at him.

Lando leaned back slightly, giving you that signature lopsided grin that made your heart flutter. “Master plan? More like a series of happy accidents,” he quipped. “But if I’m being honest, I wanted to kiss you the moment we first met. You were just too busy trying to keep up with the racing jokes.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, but your heart swelled at his words, realizing how much energy and chemistry had been humming between us all along.

"Well," you replied, resting your forehead against his, "I guess it's a good thing we finally figured it out.

As you settle onto Lando’s lap, a surge of exhilaration runs through you, a mix of the salty breeze from the ocean and the intoxicating smell of sunscreen layered with his cologne.

His eyes, a vivid shade of green, spark with mischief as they meet yours, and a sense of weightlessness seems to blanket the world around you. Moments later, he leans in closer, the heat radiating from his body enveloping you like a warm wave, and without a word, his lips find yours.

You can taste the slight tang of the sea on his mouth, a delicious contrast to the sweet sensation of his kiss.

The world around you fades and the gentle lapping of the water against the yacht become a distant echo; you’re completely absorbed in this captivating moment of connection.

As the kiss deepens, you feel Lando’s tongue dance playfully with yours, each movement sparking a thrilling anticipation that sends shivers down your spine.

You can’t help but pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and feeling the sinewy strength in his shoulders. With every little touch, every brush of his lips, the air seems to vibrate with the unspoken electricity between you.

The world is no longer defined by the yacht or the party behind you; it’s merely the two of you, lost in a fleeting paradise where nothing else matters.

Suddenly, you can feel his hands roaming on your back, and you giggle softly against his lips, teasing him, “You’re not supposed to distract me like this!”

He chuckles in response, his breath warm against your skin, "But how can I resist?"

Just as the kiss begins to take on a more fervent intensity, Lando finds a delicate gap in your dress, his fingers exploring the bare skin of your waist with a confident, gentle caress. The sensation ignites a fire within you, every glide of his fingertips a tantalizing reminder of your shared connection.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and sincere, causing your heart to race.

You smile against him, feeling bold and cherished; “Only when I’m with you,” you reply, feeding the warmth that envelops the two of you.

The embrace seems to stretch into eternity, every kiss and touch intensifying the chemistry that crackles in the summer air, leaving you both intoxicated by the moment and eager for what lies ahead on this magical, sun-kissed day. . . .

Just moments earlier, you had shared a soft, lingering kiss, a tender connection that made your heart race, leaving you momentarily breathless.

"Wow, I didn’t know you were such a great kisser," you teased while gazing into his captivating blue eyes, feeling the flutter of excitement bubbling within you as laughter escaped your lips.

Lando chuckled softly, his gaze locking onto yours with a seriousness that took you aback, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

As the wind tousled your hair and the sounds of waves crashing against the yacht faded into the background, Lando looked at you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

"I’ve been thinking about this for a while," he began, his voice steady yet laced with a hint of vulnerability, "and I just can’t keep it to myself any longer. I thought of making a speech but that doesn't sound like a thing I would do so I thought I was just freestyle it. Y/N, you've made me so happy ever since I've met you, you've made me read more books, you've changed my life entirely and I'm grateful for your existence with everyday that passes by."

The playful banter dwindled, and an anticipatory silence enveloped you both as he continued. "Will you be my girlfriend and make the happiest man in the world?"

His question hung in the air, the weight of it leaving you utterly shocked, your mind racing as your heart skipped a beat. You stared at him, the world around you blurring into a hazy backdrop as those words echoed in your mind.

Was this really happening?

Your heart filled with joy and disbelief, and you found yourself momentarily lost in the depths of his ever-watchful eyes, torn between excitement and an overwhelming sense of surprise.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you finally managed to respond, the corners of your mouth curving into a smile, though your heart was still racing.

"You really know how to throw a girl off balance, don’t you?" you replied, your voice slightly teasing yet laced with genuine affection. "That's quite the unexpected question, Lando. I mean, I thought we were just having fun on this beautiful yacht, enjoying the sunset."

You felt the blush rising to your cheeks as you remembered the kiss, your heart still hammering. "But, you know," you continued, looking deep into his eyes, trying to gauge the sincerity of his proposal, "I’ve definitely been feeling something special between us."

"but yes, of course I will be your girlfriend. I've been waiting for you to ask the question for weeks now," you said, smiling at how shocked Lando looked at your responce.

"Really? I thought it would be inappropriate to ask so quickly," Lando explained shyly, his cheeks turning red for a second.

"Aww Lando you're such a gentleman!" you said, melting at his words and pressing a kiss on his cheek as a reward. "You definitely deserve a treat after this,"

"I'm all yours," Lando smirked, his hands up in 'surrender' but you knew it wasn't going to take long for his hands to get back on your body. . . .

921 notes · View notes

tokkiwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Adstrum in ruinas. | part one.

General Marcus Acacius × F ! Reader

• summary: After your father’s sudden death, the general starts spending more time with you. At first, it feels strange, but as you come to learn, he isn't that big a brute everyone thinks he is.

• kind of slow burn ??, age gap (unspecified), forbidden love, marcus is pretty possessive and in love, and he's cute, mutual pining, mentions of death, lmk if i missed anything.

• tokkis note: This is the first part of a little fic i wanted to write. the nsfw smut part will be in part two since this part already has almost 4k words. i just wanted a little backstory, so who knows... if you guys enjoy this part, maybe i will make it into a short series. i have lots of ideas. anyways, enjoy!!!

The palace felt colder after your father’s death. Though the sun still danced across the walls, nothing could have warmed you.

He had always been a quiet man, steady in his craft and in his love for you. You had grown up watching his hands work leather as though it were clay, each stitch meticulous, each touch with purpose. He had poured his life into the emperor’s court, shaping beauty out of necessity, and yet, when his time had come, they had discarded him without hesitation.

Accused of theft, he had been taken swiftly, the charges flimsy, the judgment quick. You had not been allowed to speak on his behalf. No one had. And when his life ended on the blade of the emperor’s justice, the world moved on as though he had never existed. You had not cried when they took him. There had been no time, no space for grief within the stone walls of the palace. Instead, you swallowed it whole, the ache settling deep within your chest, cold and unforgiving. You could not cry. In a way, crying was admitting to the gods that he was no longer, so you did not dare slip one tear. Let the pain seethe.

No one spoke his name. To your face, at least. Not until General Marcus Acacius.

You had known his name long before you ever knew his face. The empire’s greatest general, a man whose victories had carved Rome’s borders, who had spilled oceans of blood in the emperor’s name. He was the kind of man you had only seen from afar—untouchable, his presence a thing of myths whispered amongst men. To you, he was just that: a man. A cruel one.

So when he first appeared in the apothecary, you almost did not believe it was him. “The town speaks of… you,” he said, voice filling the room like the low roll of thunder. You turned sharply, the pestle slipping from your grasp. He stood in the doorway, tall and broad, his figure framed by the dim light spilling in from the corridor. His tunic was torn, a gash running across his arm where blood had soaked through. “So I heard,” he continued, stepping inside, “if it is true—”

“Oh, yes, I—yes, it is true,” you stammered, fumbling for words. His presence unsettled you, though you could not say why. Perhaps it was the way his gaze lingered or faint something in his tone. It was different this time. “I understand. You have my condolences,” he said. You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Something in your heart fluttered. “Thank you, General.” He was not a monster. Not here with you, not now, at least. It seemed sincere enough. You looked him up and down. Why did the blood keep on trickling? For a moment, you thought he might say more, but he simply gestured to his arm. “May I trouble you for assistance?” No monster.

At first, you thought nothing of his visits.

They were sporadic, a few days apart—always under the pretense of some new injury. A cut from a sparring match. A dislocated shoulder. The aches and pains of a soldier’s life. He came to you because it was easier than seeking the palace’s physicians, or so you told yourself. But then the days stretched into weeks, and his appearances grew more frequent.

You noticed the small ways in which he lingered. The way his eyes followed you as you moved about the room, the way his voice softened when he addressed you. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but as the days passed, you found yourself waiting for the sound of his footsteps in the hall.

For even when he was far, his touch still lingered, you were still drunken on his smell, and his eyes still loved yours.

One evening, as you prepared a salve by the fire, he spoke. “Your father was a great man.” You froze, your hands stilling over the mortar. “I remember his work,” Marcus continued, his voice low. “He made my first pair of riding boots. I was just a young man then.” You swallowed dry, willing your voice to remain steady. “He never spoke of you.”

“No, I suppose he would not have.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, “So why are you telling me this?”

“Because he deserved better,” Marcus said simply. The words struck something deep within you. You looked away, vision blurring as the firelight flickered. Better.

He was all you could think about. Each night, from the first, you would sing sweet, mournful songs to the moon. Maybe it was because you missed your father dearly, and he filled that space up almost perfectly. Or maybe because, when he was with you, he did not seem to be the seven-headed monster all saw him as. Maybe pretending was his virtue.

But you were not the last judgment.

“Why are you always here?” you asked, voice sharper than you intended. He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the floor. “Do you not want me here?” A smile played on his lips. “That is not what I said.”

“Then why ask?”

“Because I do not understand.” You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “You never cared before. Why now?” His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away. But then he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “It is nothing,” he said at last.

“It is not nothing,” you pressed. “You are avoiding the truth.”

He looked at you then, his expression guarded but not unkind. “And if I told you the truth, would you thank me for it? Or curse me for what I know?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What is it that you mean?” Marcus hesitated, the words heavy on his tongue. “Your father,” he said finally. “He did not die because of the charges. He died because they needed a scapegoat. The emperor needed to remind the court what happens when you step out of line.” The room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in around you. “You knew?”

“I tried to stop it,” he said quietly. “But there are things even I cannot change.”

You shook your head, the ache in your chest threatening to overwhelm you. “I do not need your protection, Marcus. I do not need anyone’s.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. His voice was steady, but there was something raw in his eyes. “But you have it anyway.”

You wanted to be angry with him. You wanted to scream, to push him away, but instead, you stood there, frozen, as he reached for you. His hands were rough, calloused from years of battle, but they cradled your face with a tenderness that left you breathless. You craved it. And you will crave it until the day you are no more.

“I care for you more than I have ever cared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that terrifies me.”

Whatever happened to honor and victory? It was brutal. He was brutal. Raw, bloody, and utterly inhuman. But how could he also be the quiet after the storm? The wind that travels over still waters, the sound of dawn over mountains of dead people? You had to treat him many times, but the wounds he had inside his heart came well over the ones on his skin, you think.

You didn’t want to think of him—Marcus, with his dark eyes and the way they seemed to unravel you each time they met your own. But he lingered, even when he wasn’t here. He lingered in the soft creak of the door, the faint scent of leather and iron that clung to the air after he’d gone. It wasn’t fair, how much space he took in your thoughts. How much warmth he brought into this cold, empty life. You hated him for it. You hated yourself more.

“You work too hard.” You glanced up, startled by the suddenness of his words. He was seated by the fire, his armor stripped away, leaving only the simple tunic beneath. His shoulders were broad, his posture commanding even in repose. “You say that as though there’s an alternative,” you replied, turning back to the herbs in your hands.

“You could rest,” he said simply. “And do what? Dream of better days?” The bitterness in your voice surprised even you. Marcus leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You deserve better days.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Finally, you set the pestle down and met his gaze. “Better days won’t bring my father back.”

“No,” he agreed. “But they might give you something to hope for.” You shook your head, unwilling to let yourself be drawn into his optimism. “Hope is for fools, General.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But sometimes, it’s all we have.”

He wanted to hold you, to let his body meld with yours, ask you to run away to far lands. Let him take care of you, make you have his babies. Love you until there's nothing left.

but he couldn't.

“What would you do with better days?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Marcus’s gaze lifted, startled by the question. He leaned back in his chair, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the dim room.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment. he did know. he'd spend them with you. oh, silly it all felt. “I stopped imagining them a long time ago.” You paused, your fingers stilling over a jar. “You must have thought about it. When you were younger, before…” You trailed off, uncertain how to finish the sentence. “Before the blood?” he supplied, his tone sharper than you expected. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose I did. Once.” still.

“And?”

He hesitated, the tension in his shoulders palpable. “And it doesn’t matter. The man I am now... he has no place in better days.” Something in your chest ached at his words, though you couldn’t say why. You wanted to reach for him, to close the distance between you and tell him he was wrong. But you didn’t. Instead, you lowered your gaze and returned to your work, your voice quiet. “That’s a pity.”

The days stretched into weeks, and though you tried to resist, the threads of your lives intertwined in ways you couldn’t untangle. Marcus became a constant presence, his visits no longer marked by the pretense of injuries. He came for you, though neither of you dared to speak it aloud.

Each touch, each glance, was a betrayal of the barriers you had built around yourself. Yet, you let him break them piece by piece, unable to deny the pull that drew you closer.

One night, as the apothecary lay bathed in moonlight, he found you humming an old melody—a song your father had sung on quiet nights. The tune was bittersweet, a memory wrapped in longing. Marcus lingered in the doorway, his shadow stretching across the room.

“I’ve heard that before,” he said softly.

You turned, startled. “My father used to sing it.” He nodded, stepping closer. “It suits you. Beautiful and haunting.” You didn’t respond, your gaze dropping to your hands. “I don’t sing much anymore.”

“You should.”

He was close now, close enough that you could see the faint scar that ran along his jaw, the one you’d traced with your eyes so many times but never dared to touch. “Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because it’s part of you,” he said simply. “And I want to know all of you.” His words left you breathless, the weight of them settling in your chest. You wanted to pull away, to guard the fragile thing that was growing between you, but you couldn’t.

But people talk.

They talk in whispers that snake through the palace walls, slithering through cracks and beneath doors. Whispers of his visits, of his presence in the apothecary, of the time he lingers where he should not. They do not speak to you directly, but you can feel their words coiling around your throat, tightening with every passing day.

You hear them behind you when you walk through the halls: the sharp staccato of hurried footsteps, the low murmur of voices that stop the moment you turn. You catch glimpses of knowing glances, the way the maids shift their eyes when you enter a room, how the guards avert their gazes.

They all know, and yet they know nothing.

Because what is there to know? You have not touched him beyond necessity, have not dared to let your hand linger when you tend his wounds. And yet, the air between you is thick, suffused with something that neither of you has the courage to name.

“You should not come here anymore,” It was late. The apothecary was empty, save for the two of you. You stood with your back to him, arranging jars on the shelves in some vain attempt to distract yourself from the weight of his presence.

“I will decide what I should or should not do,” Marcus replied, his voice steady. You turned to face him, exasperation rising in your chest. “They talk, Marcus. Do you not see the danger in that? For you— for me?” His expression changed fast. “I cannot stop them from speaking,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “And I will not stop coming.”

“Why?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Why do you care what happens to me? Why do you risk so much just to be here?”

He did not answer immediately. His gaze flicked over your face, searching for something, though you could not say what. Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy. “Because you deserve better than this,” he said. “Better than what the court has given you. Just... better." You shook your head, chest tightening. “That is not an answer.”

“It is the only one I can give you,” he said, stepping closer. “For now." But deep down, you knew better.

And you hated him for it, too.

“I see the way you look at me,” he said one night, his voice breaking the silence. You froze, your hands stilling over the poultice you were preparing. “What?”

“Do not deny it,” Marcus said, his tone softer now. “I know that look. I have seen it on too many faces not to recognize it.” You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “And what look is that?”

“The one that says you hate me as much as you try to fight it." The words struck you like a blow, and you turned to face him, your cheeks burning. “I do not—”

“You do,” he said simply, cutting you off. “And I do not blame you for it.”

His gaze was steady, his eyes dark and unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might say more, but instead, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush against your arm. “I do not deserve your forgiveness,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I hope for it, all the same.” You did not hate him. you wish you could, because falling in love wasn't what you wanted right now.

“I think about you,” Marcus admitted, his voice raw. “More than I should. More than is safe.” Your breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening as his words sank in. “You shouldn’t,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction. “I know.”

The silence between you stretched.

“But why?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why do you care now, after all this time? You never gave me an answer, Marcus..."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Because I see you,” he said finally. “And I see myself in you—the parts of me I thought were dead. The parts I’ve tried to bury.” You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I don’tㅡ Marcus, if this is all a game to you, of things you want to rediscover within you..."

"It is not. I do not intend to play with your heart."

So why does the blood keep on trickling?

They were wildflowers, clearly gathered from the edges of the palace gardens, and they looked out of place in his calloused hands. He held them out awkwardly, his expression somewhere between defiance and vulnerability, as though he expected you to scold him for the gesture. “For you,” he said simply. You stared at them for a moment, then at him. “Why?” you couldn’t help but smile. “Do I need a reason?” His tone was defensive, but the softness in his gaze betrayed him. No monster.

Your fingers brushed against his as you took the flowers, and he flinched almost imperceptibly, as if the touch burned him. “They’re beautiful,” you said. He didn’t reply, but you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch— an almost-smile, there and gone in an instant.

“Are you trying to court me, General?” you asked, half-joking. The question caught him off guard, and he looked at you with something close to panic in his eyes. “No.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Good. You’d be terrible at it.” But the truth was, you didn’t hate the thought.

He started threatening the others after that.

The first time, you hadn’t been there to see it, but you heard about it from one of the maids who whispered to you in passing. “The general,” she said, her eyes wide. “He nearly broke Marcellus’s arm. All because he said something about you.”

He didn’t deny it. “He should not have said what he did,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm. “What did he say?”

“It does not matter.”

“Marcus—”

“It does not matter,” he repeated, his voice sharper now. “What matters is that he will not say it again.”

You wanted to argue with him, to tell him he couldn’t go around threatening people in your name. But the truth was, a part of you was glad. A part of you wanted him to protect you. He didn’t just watch over you—he hovered, his presence a constant shadow that both comforted and unnerved you. When he wasn’t by your side, you found yourself looking for him, craving his presence like air. And when he was with you, you felt safer than you had since your father’s death.

Days passed, and though you told yourself you should push him away, you could not.

He was always there, like a storm on the horizon—inevitable, impossible to ignore. You felt his presence even when he was not near, his voice echoing in your mind, his touch lingering on your skin.

You hated yourself for it. Hated the way your heart leapt when you heard his footsteps, the way your breath hitched when his fingers brushed yours. You tried to convince yourself it meant nothing, that it was a passing infatuation born of grief and the fact that he so happened to be there. You tried to convince yourself that the soft yearning in your chest was fleeting. A passing fancy, born of loneliness and the way Marcus had carved out a space in your world so effortlessly.

But as the days turned to weeks, the intensity of your feelings betrayed you. Every glance he cast your way lingered. Every word he spoke seemed to reverberate in your mind long after it had been said.

And every time his hand brushed against yours—whether by accident or intent—it felt as if the earth shifted beneath your feet.

It was one of those moments now. The two of you stood side by side in the apothecary, the late afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows. He was reaching for a jar of herbs on the shelf above, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned closer.

Your breath hitched, and you stepped back quickly, your movements too sharp, too sudden. “Am I in your way?” Marcus asked, his voice low and amused. “No,” you said hastily, turning to busy yourself with a mortar and pestle. “Not at all.” He did not move, and you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unwavering. “You always do that,” he said after a moment, his tone thoughtful.

“Do what?”

“Step away.” You forced yourself to meet his eyes. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” he said quietly. There was no accusation in his voice, only a gentle insistence. “You step away as if the space will make it easier. But it does not, does it?” Your fingers tightened around the pestle. “Marcus—”

“I feel it too,” he said, cutting you off. The words hung between you, raw and unvarnished. You stared at him, your heart pounding. “You should not say that.”

“Why not? Because it is the truth?” He stepped closer, his hand resting on the edge of the table. “Because I look at you and I can think of nothing else? Because when I leave here, all I want is to come back?”

“Marcus, stop.” Your voice was trembling now, a plea more than a command. “I cannot stop,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I do not think you can, either.” The room seemed to shrink around you, the air charged with something that felt too big for your soul to understand. “Tell me to leave,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “If this is too much, if I have crossed a line, say the word, and I will go.” You opened your mouth, the words on the tip of your tongue. But they would not come. Because no matter how much you told yourself this was dangerous, reckless, wrong. you did not want him to go.

You did not step back this time. “I cannot,” you whispered, the words breaking free like a confession. His breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then he reached for you, his hand cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “I do not know how to do this,” you said, your voice trembling. “I do not know what happens now.”

what is this pandora box you have opened?

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was raw and consuming, as though he’d been holding back a storm and now it was unleashed. His hands slid to frame your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as his lips claimed yours. There was no hesitation, no room for doubt. And, oh, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Your hands found his tunic, clutching the fabric as though it were the only thing keeping you grounded. His scent filling your lungs, his warmth, the feel of him, it was too much and not enough all at once.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t…”

“You did,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. “And I didn’t stop you.” His lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile, but his eyes remained serious. “Say the word, and I’ll walk away. I swear it.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words settling over you. But then you shook your head, your hand lifting to brush against his cheek. “I wil not say it.” His eyes closed briefly, as though your words had physically hit him. When he opened them again, they were softer, full of something you couldn’t name but felt in every corner of your soul.

“Then I am yours,” he murmured. “For as long as you’ll have me.” You leaned up, your lips brushing against his once more. A promise, a surrender, a beginning.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius smut #general marcus acacius #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

Note

hi bug! can I please request the dialogue prompt “Hold up, she said what?” with steve and shy!reader? maybe she is robin’s friend and robin tells steve something reader said (maybe that she thinks steve is cute or nice or something of the sort), and it leads to a cute conversation between the two?

ty for requesting angel!! — steve finds out the cute girl at the record store likes him and decides to bring her ice cream as a proclamation of love (shy!fem!reader, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, 2.3k)

blurbcember ⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve interjects suddenly, a metal scoop in his hand and a wild look in his eye. “She said what?”

Robin fumbles with the metal tub of Peppermint-Chip ice cream she’s refilling. It clangs when she drops it into place with haphazard care. The shop goes unusually silent without her rambling to fill the dead air. Holly, Jolly Christmas crackles quietly from the broken speakers overhead.

The girl blinks at him with a wide ocean gaze. Her rogue-tinted mouth falls softly agape. She knows she’s said the wrong thing, but she can’t remember what.

“...Huh?”

“What’d you just say?”

Her doe eyes flit to the left for a moment. It takes her a second or more to recall the words she’d only just said. She does this thing sometimes where she rambles on and on about nothing, and Steve was the first person in the whole world to let her. So it’s way too easy for her to tell him a billion things at once and forget about all of them a second later.

“That the music store just got new cassettes in?” Robin answers, her gritty voice a few octaves higher than usual.

Steve nods slow and with a crooked grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. He rests his elbow on the glass case above the ice cream and eggs her on. “After that?”

“…That you and the pretty new girl that works there have the same taste in music?”

“Before that.”

“That she said she wanted to show you the new tapes,” she says, wincing with the realization that she had, in fact, said the wrong thing. A secret she swore not to tell has just spilled from her lips without her even knowing it.

“And?” Steve lilts with a wider, rosier smile.

“Because she likes you…” Robin confesses (or rather, re-confesses) with her teeth gritted.

Even though Steve had heard her perfectly the first time, hearing it the second makes his heart skip a beat. The pulsing organ lurches into his throat. He almost forgets how to breathe.

“She likes me?” he repeats, mostly whispering, with an incredulous gape of shock. His bushy brows raise until his forehead wrinkles. His eyes go wide until the honey of them starts to glimmer.

Despite her best friend’s lovesick disposition, Robin’s freckled face hardens. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she rumbles like a storm cloud, knocking her shoulder against his when she walks by him.

“Why?” Steve retorts like a child, following behind her just the same.

He nearly bumps into her when she stops short at the deep freezer. She returns the cloth mits she carried the ice cream in with after spending her whole break organizing the case by color. Steve could never even be bothered to put the damn things back where they belonged in the first place.

“Because I swore to her I wouldn’t,” Robin agonizes, then whips around to face him again. Her features are twisted like a hurt puppy as she pleads. “Don’t tell her I said anything either, okay? She’ll hate me.”

Steve wasn’t planning on it. Not because he thought it might make you hate her, though. He’s not entirely sure you’re capable of that.

He’s only known you for a few months — ever since the leaves started changing color and people traded their ice cream cones for cool music at the new record store. He spent half that time admiring you across the landing, but you’ve never been anything but gentle with him. You were soft, with a soul of sunshine.

He didn’t know it was possible to be made of sunlight until he met you.

“Well, did you tell her I liked her back?” he presses, hoping Robin might’ve done some of the hard work for him.

Her face screws up like she’s tasted something sour. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Steve shoots her a deadpanned look.

Robin caves.

“It’s not like I meant to tell you she liked you just now, okay? It just came out!” she explains, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Maybe next time I stick my foot in my mouth around the new girl, I’ll tell her that you’re obsessed with her, and the two of you can finally start dating instead of making sex eyes at each other all the time.”

He wouldn’t put that past her. Robin the Mastermind, Robin the Blabbermouth, Robin the Matchmaker. But his fluttering heart is pumping with too much adrenaline now. He feels like he could move mountains with the knowledge of your affections — knowing that all his own big, fuzzy, suffocating feelings have been reciprocated all this time.

If he doesn’t talk to you now, he’s scared he’ll never work up this kind of courage again.

“No. Screw that,” he concludes with a shake of his head. He’s in King Steve mode now — feeling half as suave as he used to back when the whole town was falling at his feet — chest puffed and ego reeling. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Robin watches, dumbfounded, as he dumps a scoop of their best-selling ice cream into a paper bowl. Another tub she’ll have to refill. Steve ducks under the counter door and heads for the exit. “Wait— what am I supposed to do?” the girl shouts across the empty store.

Now out in the bustling Starcourt mall and taking short strides towards the music store, Steve spins on his heel to face her. He shrugs and readjusts the sailor’s cap on his head. “Wait for me to get back.”

—————

You’ve been banished to the back of the store.

Not exactly. But that’s what it feels like.

You got a bit too overwhelmed working the front counter, and since Eddie’s crazy soft on you, he let you put up all the Christmas decorations he’d been putting off instead. It’s a win-win situation, really.

You’re stringing up sparkling tinsel over the rows of records when a deep blue sailor’s uniform catches your eye. Looking over your shoulder, you find Steve in all his glorysauntering towards you. He’s wearing shorts even though it’s basically winter now in Indiana. He’s beaming at you like sunshine anyway.

Beneath the amber glow of the dimly lit store, he looks borderline angelic. Almost unfairly ethereal.

“What’s that?” you wonder with a smile you don’t even know is there, nodding to the Scoops Ahoy brandedcup in his hand.

You can almost smell the syrup-cinnamon concoction of the ice cream he holds in his palm. Or maybe that’s just Steve, and the sugary sweetness is radiating from his pores after working in a confectionary shop during the holidays.

He looks at you even sweeter.

“New flavor,” he answers vaguely, smirking as he leans against the metal shelves. He stumbles slightly when it rocks beneath his weight. “Oops. Sorry. It’s, uh— It’s pancake chunks with maple syrup swirl. I call it Wake and Bake.”

A giggle tumbles from your lips when he hands it to you. “Eddie’s gonna love that,” you murmur.

“Well, it’s actually called Breakfast in Bed, but— I don’t know— I thought my idea was better.”

“Way better,” you concur with a nod and a pretty smile.

Steve watches with attentive honey eyes as you spoon a bite into your mouth. He feels a bit like it’ll be his fault if you hate it. His irrational need to impress you always makes him feel hopelessly inadequate.

“Woah,” you hum without your mouth still a little full. The cream melts softly on your tongue, tasting of a sweet and early morning. “This is really good.”

His brows raise, and his eyes widen. “Yeah?” he wonders. Your words wash over him like a compliment for a reason he can’t name. It feels good to make you feel good.

“Mhmm. I might have to come by after work and buy the rest of it, actually,” you joke with a curt shrug. It’s a feeble confession — your way of telling him that you want to see him more because you could never say the real thing out loud.

Your heart sinks when Steve shakes his head. Then swells when he smiles.

“No way,” he scoffs, lips curling into a lopsided grin. “I’m not gonna let you pay for it— that’s crazy.”

“You can’t keep giving me free ice cream, Steve—”

“What my manager doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he lilts lowly and with a cool shrug that makes you melt. He goes very distinctly soft when he looks at you, all scruffy-faced and sweet-eyed.

It’s suffocatingly beautiful. You crack under the pressure of it.

“Well, uh— Thanks for the— ice cream,” you stammer and motion the bowl back to him. Thanks for stopping by and keeping me company, but you’re too pretty and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it, you don’t say.

“You don’t want the rest?” he asks with pinched brows.

“I just… should probably get back to work, you know?”

“Eddie doesn’t let you take breaks?”

“No, he does,” you answer quickly, shifting your weight on your feet. It becomes virtually impossible to meet his gaze. “Just not with…”

Steve’s brows raise when you trail off. “Not with me?” he finishes with a laugh.

“Well, not with the… pretty-boy-ice-cream-slinger in the sailor’s uniform,” you correct, then quickly follow. “His words. Not mine.”

In all honesty, Steve couldn’t care less about what Eddie Munson has to say about him. If Hawkins’s local freak is the only thing standing between him and the pretty girl at the music store, he’s down to break a couple of dumb rules.

He takes a small step towards you. His pink smirk widens. You swear your heart stops when he looks at you with it. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” he teases with a twinkle in his squinted eye.

Suddenly, there’s a frog in your throat and you’re fourteen all over again. You’re flustered and drowning and totally unsure of yourself. “I didn’t say that,” you mutter, gaze flittering and smile wavering.

Steve goes to rest his elbow on the shelf again, then remembers its unsteadiness and decides against it. His arm rests awkwardly in the air for half a moment before he crosses both of them over his chest.

“Well, I mean, you didn’t not say it, so…”

You squint up at him, busying your clammy hands with the melting ice cream in your palm. You know what he’s fishing for. Your pride urges you to stay silent even though your heart sings the sweetest songs for him.

“You know you’re pretty, Steve,” you murmur matter of factly.

“But do you think I’m pretty?”

Your thundering heart lurches into your throat when Steve takes another small step closer. He smells like wintertime — like Christmas and nostalgia and boy. You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, so you nod, slow and sheepish.

“Good,” he hums with a beam he couldn’t hide if he tried. “‘Cause I think you’re pretty, too.”

Your chest gets all sparkly at his admission — the affirmation that all your girlish feelings are being reciprocated by a boy you never dreamed you could have. You don’t feel hardly deserving of the fondness dripping from his features, but you pray he never stops looking at you with it.

You grow warm with the irrational hope that he might kiss you. You think he might actually kiss you until your boss’s voice pierces the golden bubble of puppy love the both of you are basking in.

“How’s the decorating going?” Eddie announces himself, appearing suddenly between the two aisles.

Robin idles at his side. She’s in the feminine version of Steve’s sailor outfit — with silver chains around her neck and bandaids on her knees. Effortlessly endearing and totally unaware of it all.

You push Steve away from you without thinking, all but shoving the softening ice cream into his chest. Some of it smears white against the scarlet tie around his chest. “Sorry!” you exclaim in your moment of fleeting panic, then turn to Eddie with the same apologetic wince. “Sorry…” you repeat quieter.

“Robin?” Steve gapes at the sight of his best friend — apparently the second thing standing in his way, right beside the freak. “What the hell are you doing here— did you tattle on me? What are you, four?”

“I got lonely,” the brunette answers plainly. “And I knew you were around here somewhere, so I asked Eddie where you were—” She waves a pale hand your way, fingers painted with chipping maroon polish. “—And now I’m here.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his wild head to his shoulder. “Yeah. Can’t believe you’re trying to taint my one good employee, Steven.”

“I’m not tainting anybody, Munson,” he bites back like a bickering brother, then screws up his face and turns to Robin. “Wait. If you’re here, who’s manning the counter?”

Her freckled face falls like a child caught in a fib. Her deep blue eyes widen when she blinks at him. In a mousier voice, she confesses, “Dustin came by… And I told him he could eat all the ice cream he wanted as long as he made sure no one stole anything.”

The four of you fall silent. The soft rock of Christmas Wrapping plays weakly from the radio at the front of the store. Eddie breaks first. ‘Cause he can’t ever be serious about anything.

The boyish sound of his laughter sends a giggle sputtering from your lips. The pretty noise makes Steve smile despite his baffled disbelief.

He turns to you with a dumbfounded grin. “You’re still stopping by after work, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer softly, nodding as your smiling face grows hot.

Eddie scoffs when Steve walks by him. “If you still have a job by then.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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xoxojuyo · 1 month ago

Text

Out of reach pt. II - jungkook

𐙚 pairing lawyer!jungkook x nepobaby!reader

𐙚 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS SERIES CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT

𐙚 word count 1,6K words

𐙚 warnings jungkook is older than reader, even tough on mention of ages, kissing, CHEATING, reader is aware and feels guilt

Hope you enjoy 🤍✨ pt. I

You adjusted your oversized hoodie as you and Wonyoung stepped into the trendy café, the smell of roasted coffee beans filling the air. Fresh from your Pilates class, both were glowing with a post-workout flush.

“So, this weekend, we’re going, right?” Wonyoung asked, scrolling through pictures of Kelingking Beach on her phone.

“Definitely,” you replied. “I need the ocean breeze. It’s been too long since we had a proper getaway.”

As you approached the counter, a familiar voice from behind caught you off guard.

“y/n?”

You froze. Your eyes darted toward the source of the voice. Jungkook stood there, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. He looked effortlessly stylish in a black oversized t shirt, black washed out black jeans and baseball cap.

“Hi,” he said tentatively, his tone soft, almost careful. “How have you been?”

You felt your chest tighten. Without a word, you turned your back to him, focusing on the menu board as though it held the secrets of the universe.

Wonyoung, sensing the tension, whispered, “Is that… him? The guy from the flight?”

You gave a terse nod, biting your lip.

Once you had your coffees, you sat by the window. Wonyoung leaned in, curiosity brimming. “So… what’s the deal? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You sighed, staring at the swirling foam in your cup. “It’s just… seeing him brings it all back. I was confused at first, thinking maybe I misread everything. But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. He acted like he cared, but he was just playing with me the whole time.”

Your mind flashed back to your flight together—the stolen glances, the laughter, the way he’d leaned in just a little too close. For a moment, it had felt like you were the only two people in the world. And then, the crushing blow of his confession: I have a girlfriend.

The neon glow of the bar lights bathed the room in shades of pink and blue. You clinked your martini glass with Wonyoung’s, the gin warming your chest as you let yourself get lost in the music.

“Eunju, who are you texting?” Wonyoung teased.

“My guy,” Eunju replied with a grin. “He’s here with his friends. Mind if they join us?”

“Sure,” the girls chimed in unison.

Minutes later, Eunju waved over a group of guys. Your smile faltered when you saw him—Jungkook.

“Seriously?” You muttered under your breath.

He caught your eye and gave a small nod, but you avoided his gaze, focusing on your drink. Jungkook, however, didn’t seem deterred, attempting small talk every chance he got.

Finally, needing a moment to yourself, you grabbed your pack of cigarettes and headed to the terrace. The cool night air did little to soothe your nerves.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and Jungkook stepped out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I know I hurt you. I understand why you’re avoiding me.”

You exhaled a plume of smoke, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’ll leave you alone,” he said, turning to go.

“Do you love her?” The question escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Jungkook stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned back to face you.

“I thought I did,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I thought that once I got back to my routine, I’d feel guilty. That it was just a moment of weakness for a beautiful girl.”

Your breath hitched.

“But I couldn’t stop thinking about how incomplete I felt. How little I knew you but wanted to know more. To kiss you again.”

Jungkook stepped closer, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. Your breath intensified as the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you on the terrace.

Without a word, he reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His fingertips lingered, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured, his voice low and vulnerable.

Before you could respond, his lips met yours.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters. His lips were warm, soft, and impossibly gentle, yet there was a tension beneath the surface—an urgency that spoke of longing and regret.

You froze for a split second, your mind racing, the thought of what you were doing was tremendously evil. But then something inside you gave way, it just felt so good, not just his lips felt good, but the controversy of the act, the forbiddeness of your relationship, so you kissed him back. It was like a dam breaking, all the pent-up emotions from your short-lived story on the plane pouring out in that moment.

Jungkook’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a way that made your knees weaken. His other hand rested lightly on your waist, pulling you closer, as if afraid you might slip away again.

The kiss deepened, growing more passionate with each passing second. His tongue caressing yours, his teeth biting your lower lip, the exchange of saliva getting more intense. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, as though he was trying to make up for everything, like he promised.

The cool night air contrasted sharply with the heat between you, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to the moment.

When you finally broke apart, both were breathless, your foreheads nearly touching, his lips swollen and slightly tinted with your red lipstick. His eyes searched yours, as though trying to decipher the storm of emotions swirling within you.

“y/n…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

But you couldn’t find the words to respond, your mind a whirl of confusion, desire, and the painful knowledge of everything that had brought them to this point.

“This isn’t fair,” you said looking at him straight to the eyes. “For neither of us, your girlfriend and me.”

His eyes went from ecstatic to disillusioned, “I understand…”

After that night at the bar, everything changed. Jungkook had insisted on taking you home, his insistence both polite and protective. Before you left his car, he handed you his phone, asking softly, “Your number?”

You hesitated, guilt swirling in your chest. But there was something in his gaze—vulnerability, longing—that you couldn’t resist. You typed in your number, sealing a fate you weren’t sure you were ready for.

Since then, you had been talking on KakaoTalk every day. Your conversations were casual at first—simple exchanges about how your days went or what you were doing. But over time, the messages grew longer, more intimate. He’d send pictures of his meals, ask you about your favorite songs, and even shared silly anecdotes from his day.

You felt guilty, of course. Horribly guilty. Every time his name popped up on your screen, you thought about the girl he was betraying. But you couldn’t deny how much you looked forward to those chats, how comforting it was to talk to him, how utterly magnetic he was.

When you mentioned to Wonyoung that you had invited him to dinner at your grandfather’s restaurant—a Michelin-starred culinary gem—she didn’t hold back.

“You’re awful, y/n,” she said bluntly. “You’re helping him cheat.”

“I know,” you muttered, staring at your phone.

“But…” Wonyoung softened. “I know how much you like him. Just… think everything through, okay? Before this gets too serious. You’re not just playing with fire—you’re bathing in it.”

The restaurant was warm and intimate, with soft golden lighting that illuminated the intricate woodwork and glass displays of your grandfather’s creations. You had reserved a private table, tucked away in a corner overlooking the city skyline.

You chose a sleek, black silk dress that hugged your figure but fell elegantly to your knees, paired with simple gold jewelry and black heels. Jungkook arrived in a tailored navy suit, the crisp white shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of his collarbone. He looked effortlessly stunning, and the sight of him made your pulse quicken.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he pulled out your chair, his voice low and sincere.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, taking your seat.

The dinner began with a series of amuse-bouches, each more exquisite than the last. You watched as Jungkook tried each dish with curiosity and delight, his reactions varying from wide-eyed amazement to playful critiques.

“This one,” he said, pointing to a delicate scallop dish. “Is almost too pretty to eat. But I’ll make the sacrifice.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

As the main courses arrived—perfectly seared Wagyu steak for him, a delicate truffle risotto for you—your conversation turned lighthearted. He teased you about your inability to drink espresso without sugar, and you teased him back about his obsession with perfectly symmetrical food plating.

But then, as dessert arrived—a stunning mille-feuille with caramelized apples—Jungkook’s tone shifted.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, his gaze dropping to his hands. “About my relationship.”

You set down your fork, your stomach twisting.

“My relationship… it didn’t start naturally,” he admitted. “My father is a well-known lawyer, and he works closely with a famous politician. They would joke for years about how their youngest children should date. Eventually, they arranged a meeting for us.”

You stayed silent, watching as he struggled to put his thoughts into words.

“At first, I thought I liked her. She’s a good woman, everything someone could ask for. I convinced myself that I loved her. It was easy. It felt… safe.”

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours.

“But then I met you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“For the first time, I questioned everything. You make me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling—excitement, curiosity, passion. You’ve made me realize how much I’ve been settling.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt a flicker of hope—small, fragile, but undeniable. Maybe… just maybe… this wasn’t impossible after all.

@taekritimin123 @futuristicenemychaos @jnghs

#bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #smut

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queenofwands89 · 6 months ago

Note

Jake saying to the reader “You have my heart please don’t break it” but can you make it cute and fluffy 🥺

This is so cute! 💜

A Sunlit Romance

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x reader

Warning: More tooth rotting fluff.

Notes: Literally was blushing while writing this lmao. Enjoy byeeee

It’s one of those perfect summer days, the kind where the sky is an expanse of unbroken blue and the sun paints everything in lush gold. You and Jake have claimed a small clearing in the park for your picnic, spreading out a checkered blanket under the dappled shade of a giant oak tree. The sweet scent of blooming flowers mixes with the fresh aroma of the earth, making it feel like nature is celebrating alongside you.

Jake, with his confidently mischievous grin, stretches out on the blanket, resting his head on your lap. He is clad in casual jeans and a white t-shirt, his aviator sunglasses barely keeping up with the brightness of his personality. You feel a sense of serenity wash over you as you gently run your fingers through his neatly trimmed brown hair. In moments like these, his laughter is the only sound that matters to you, echoing the song of your own heart.

As you lose yourself in the moment, Jake reaches up and lightly clasps your hand. His eyes, once sheltered by his glasses, are now visible, revealing an ocean of sincere adoration.

"You have my heart," he says softly, lifting your hand to his lips to plant a tender kiss. "Please, don’t break it."

You giggle, eyes twinkling like scattered stardust. "Oh, I’m gonna break your heart so bad," you tease, dramatically clutching your free hand to your chest with playful wickedness.

Jake laughs, a sound as robust as his spirit. "I’ll probably thank you for it," he shoots back, the lopsided grin you adore spreading across his face.

The gentle breeze rustles the leaves overhead, like nature’s applause at your effortless dance of love and words. You watch as Jake's eyes soften, reflecting a depth of emotion masked by his usual buoyant facade.

“You know,” you say, your voice dropping to a whisper, “I’d rather keep your heart safe than break it.”

Jake’s smile fades into something more profound. “I know, babe. But even if you did break it, I think it’d be honored just to have your acknowledgement.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward; it’s enveloping, like a warm embrace. You lean down, capturing his lips in a kiss that is as soft as it is meaningful. It’s in moments like these that Jake’s protective exterior melts away, revealing the loving man he truly is.

Nestled in your lap, Jake feels an overpowering sense of peace. His profession demands confidence, bravery, and a bit of cockiness, but here, in your presence, he feels liberated to be vulnerable. You are his sanctuary, the one who sees through the bravado to the essence of who he is.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with a delightful tapestry of idle chatter, shared stories, and comfortable silences. Laughter punctuates the air as you reminisce about the amusing moments that have colored your past.

"Remember that time you tried to cook that fancy dish to impress me?" you say, a grin spreading across your face.

Jake chuckles, shaking his head. "How could I forget? I thought I could handle it. What was it again? Shrimp scampi?"

"Yes," you reply, laughing, "Except it ended up more like shrimp smoke-alarm."

Jake's laughter joins yours. "I swear, I followed the recipe to the letter. But right when I was about to plate everything, that darn fire alarm went off. I thought I was going to set the whole apartment building on fire."

"You should have seen your face, running around with that dish towel, trying to wave the smoke away. It was priceless," you say, your eyes shimmering with tears of laughter.

Jake smiles, a bit more softly now. "You know, I was so nervous because you were way out of my league. I wanted everything to be perfect because... well, because you'd already stolen my heart."

Your eyes widen and a warmth spreads through you as he continues.

"I mean, from the very first moment we met, I felt this incredible connection. I wanted to impress you so badly, but instead, I ended up making a complete fool of myself," Jake admits, laughing at the memory.

"Hey, for a guy who burned shrimp scampi, you did impress me," you say, a genuine smile lighting up your face. "It was sweet. And nobody's ever tried so hard just to make me smile."

"Hey, I redeemed myself with that dessert, though," Jake retorts playfully. "What was it? Chocolate mousse?"

"More like melted chocolate soup," you tease, eliciting another round of laughter.

"Well, it was all worth it," Jake murmurs. "Seeing your smile always made everything worth it."

With each exchange, your bond strengthened, seamlessly merging their souls. As Jake looked at you, and a realization struck him: your love was as vast and boundless as the sky sprawling above you. It was tender, yet unbreakable. And in your presence, Jake knew he had found not just a lover, but a partner, a confidante, and a soulmate.

As the sun begins to set, casting an orange hue across the landscape, you pull Jake closer. You watch as shadows lengthen, your hearts synchronized in a beat that speaks of endless tomorrows.

"Ready to pack up?" you ask, your voice tinged with the sweet fatigue of a day well spent.

"Just a few more minutes," Jake murmurs, snuggling into your embrace. "I want to remember this — every single second."

You smile, stroking his hair one last time. "Me too, Jake. Me too."

And under the fading light, with the world hushing into evening, you hold onto each other, knowing that in your love, you have found a treasure more precious than anything the sun could ever illuminate.

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman x you #hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #glen powell x you #glen powell x reader #glen powell #glen powell fanfic

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withleeknow · 1 month ago

Text

wishful thinking. (08)

chapter eight: ships in the night

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; i’ve been told this is the angstiest chapter yet saur yk you’ve been warned, mentions of past seggsy times, oc is self-deprecating self-sabotaging, oc has an anxiety attack in this one, erhm just Big Sad overall methinks, also could've been more edited but i am a godless monster word count: 7.2k note: wt is backkkkkk!! and it's the penultimate chapter omg :( lowkey nervous about how this is gonna be perceived bc i feel like my brand is Sad™️ and i haven't properly written anything Sad™️ in a WHILE. but yeah, wt8 is yours now have funnn. also ty chessica @matchannie for proofreading!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / series masterpost / taglist

Sorry, I know that comment wasn’t funny Just wanted you to love me, but I didn’t go about it right Sometimes the best advice that I can give Is to bite my lip and listen with my big fat mouth shut tight

big fat mouth - Arlie

You don’t think you can ever forget the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes when the words had tumbled out of your mouth in a panicked frenzy. The regret was immediate, but so was the damage.

Saying things you didn’t mean, watching Minho so utterly defeated that it kills you, and the deafening silence after he had walked away from you on heavy footsteps – you can’t describe how it all felt that night. It’s just… sinking, and sinking, and sinking; endlessly spiraling in an ocean of your own guilt and despair. It’s true what they say – misery loves company.

Distractions don’t work, because whenever that overwhelming dread eases by even a fraction, you’re once again reminded by the bracelet that’s wrapped around your wrist with the tiny dove charm hanging on the side. Neither of you paid it any mind the other night, that much is clear.

You know you should return it to him eventually; it’s never belonged to you and it never will. But every time you go to take it off, you can’t bring yourself to simply undo the clasp and hide the bracelet somewhere you can’t see. It lets you delude yourself into thinking that you haven’t lost him even after what you said, even after you stomped on his heart and left it bleeding where you stood.

You’d been upset, thinking that you were the only one falling, terrified that you’d crash headfirst into the cold, hard ground because there’d be nobody to catch you. And yet, when Minho told you he loved you, it provided you no relief at all. The fear magnified tenfold, taking over you until you couldn’t see straight, until it consumed you whole.

Home is something you find, and you’ve found it in him. Your sun and your spring and your home, and everything good that you can ever name.

All your life, something is always missing, an empty space that you never learned how to fill. Like when you exit a room and there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that you’ve forgotten something even though all of your belongings are accounted for. Like when you lose your favorite ring, one that’s a little too loose but beloved anyway, slipping over your knuckle without your permission and disappearing forever, and you keep running your fingers over where the golden band used to be until you come to terms with the fact that it’s never coming back and you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning the loss of that familiarity.

You’ve always looked for things you lost in places you’ve never been.

You just want to go home, but you know you’ll only ruin it in the end.

The problem has never been Minho or anybody else. It’s you, and how there’s something intrinsically wrong with you. You paint the ending before there’s even a beginning. You’d rather run and hide than let yourself feel anything, because if there’s happiness then there’s going to be hurt inevitably.

You don’t want him to wake up one day and look at you like you’re a stranger, to realize that he’s wasted his time and effort, that you just weren’t worth it after all.

It’s funny how, when you’re a child, time seems to move so quickly. One minute, you’re four, maybe five years old, and your mother is refusing to speak to you because she thinks you ruined one of her bags, a large scratch running along the otherwise smooth leather surface like it’s been met with a pair of scissors or simply accumulated on her way to work and she hadn’t noticed until she got home and you happened to be in the vicinity of her anger; the next, she’s letting you relish in all your favorite desserts, cavities be damned.

One minute, you’re being rushed to the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning, your parents staring down at you as if you’re actually about to die; the next, you’re already at home, watching cartoons that you couldn’t understand but you like anyway because they’re full of pretty colors and princesses and fairies.

You don’t remember how your mother came to forgive you for the bag even though it wasn’t your fault, or what the hospital felt like or if what the doctors and nurses did to make you feel better even hurt. You only know that you wish to return to a smaller version of yourself whose memories you can’t even recall, return to a time in which you once so desperately wanted to escape from.

Now, when you’re hurt, time doesn’t pass in a blink of an eye like it used to. It stands still, sucks you down a vortex and makes you feel everything.

No one ever really warns you about growing pains, that they’re unavoidable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, that they can last a lifetime because you never really stop growing, and it never really seems to ache any less.

Hyunjin: Attachment: 1 Image. Hyunjin: i sent this one in Hyunjin: u??

You’d almost forgotten about the exhibition until Hyunjin had sent you those texts. Even though you’re not one to neglect deadlines, you suppose it’s fairly reasonable that this one in particular had slipped your mind. You haven’t really been able to wrap your head around that many things after all.

Every semester, yours and Hyunjin’s department rents out a gallery near campus for a whole week to showcase students’ works. It’s nothing exclusive, nothing like a competition where they pit a couple hundred kids against each other just for a spot at a fancy art gallery. Almost anyone in the Faculty of Arts can register before the submission deadline, and you suppose that’s another reason why you’d overlooked it so easily – because you didn’t earn it. It didn’t feel special. It was just another meaningless event to attend.

Regardless, you spent a chunk of an afternoon pondering your selection though it didn’t matter that much, almost two hours dedicated to picking out paintings you realized you didn’t love. Some you even turned out to hate, even though you could remember the pride radiating from you the moments the canvas had felt the last brush stroke. Maybe the glamor eventually wore off, the momentary high that coursed through you when you’d shown your finished works to your professors and peers, and received showers of praise in return.

The piece you chose in the end wasn’t your favorite by any means, but it was one of the only pieces you could still bear to look at without nitpicking too much. It was a painting of the waters, and you’ve always loved the waters.

You could recall the day you went to the promenade by yourself with a need to be away from everyone and everything, and an overshirt that was too light to combat the September evening chill as summer transitioned into fall. You watched the sky slowly darken after the sun had disappeared from view, watched as the buildings on the other side of the river lit up one by one until they made up for the light that retired for the day.

The thin layers made you shiver – the consequence of your poor choice in clothing that night – but there was something about sitting by the waterfront after dark, kicking pebbles around underneath your feet, and the gentle caress of the wind on your face and your hair that made the cold feel welcoming. You always thought the city was more beautiful at night, more calming amidst all of its perpetual chaos. It made you feel like you were inside a dream long forgotten, took you back to a north star that you left to gather dust on an abandoned shelf.

You could recall wanting to dive into that dream again, a dream in which you could chase a perfect version of you that would never exist and find light at the end of the tunnel, instead of returning to the reality where you always wound up suffocating in darkness. You wanted to be free, free from the noise and free from your own life despite one simple truth that you knew all too well – that you could run but never from yourself.

When you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. As you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

You could recall your phone buzzing to life in your bag with Minho’s name on the screen, like a sign from the universe saying “Hey, this one’s for you. Don’t drown. You have a lighthouse.” and it was as though he could sense that you were falling, like someone had tied your heart to a rock and threw it into the very river in front of you to sink to the bottom. Your friends often said he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. Maybe there was some truth in that.

His voice pulled you out of it, even though he only called to ask if you wanted to come over and eat the boatload of food his mom had sent. He made you want to disappear a little less and in that moment, it was enough.

You left your hiding place to go to him, to lose yourself in stupid jokes and not-too-sweet desserts even if it was only for a couple hours. And when you returned home that night, everything spilled onto the canvas just from memory alone, from the feeling that you were desperately clinging onto with your shaking hands.

You always thought you could only run away to places. You didn’t know people could be escapes too, and somewhere along the way, that was what Minho became to you — your treasured escape, your new hiding place.

You manage to avoid everyone – with the exception of Hyunjin; you do have to see him in class after all – over the two and a half weeks leading up to the exhibition, drumming up excuse after excuse to bail whenever any of them asks to grab a bite together or just to simply hang out. If they saw you, they’d notice your puffy eyes and ask if you’ve been crying. They would ask why, and you can’t find in yourself to make up a lie believable enough for that kind of question.

You think Hyunjin has noticed. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid and he’s still blessed with the gift of sight. He doesn’t mention anything though, despite you showing up to almost every class with puffy eyelids. You suppose you’re grateful for that.

Minho hasn’t talked to you at all since that night. Doesn’t ask you how your project’s going, doesn’t ask you about the exhibition, barely even speaks in the group chat, not even a boring comment about the weather. What were you expecting anyway? You get it, you do.

But despite the silence, you never doubted that he would show up to the exhibition. If not for you, then he would be there to support Hyunjin.

The only person who really has an inkling that something is wrong is Jess, when you were getting ready together earlier tonight and she helped you conceal your puffy eyes. She’d tiptoed around the question before settling on asking “Everything okay?” — simple, easy, quickly dismissible if you didn’t feel like sharing.

You didn’t, and she dropped the subject because there was no point in badgering you for answers anyway.

Chan picked the both of you up afterward, and Jess didn’t have to explain anything to him when she slipped into the backseat with you instead of riding next to her boyfriend.

Now here you are, standing in a room full of your friends and peers, wearing a black dress that Jess helped you choose, and Minho is nowhere to be found. You’d spent all day pacing around, anxious at the mere thought of seeing him and even talking to him. What you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment, the unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his absence. You can’t tell which is worse; maybe every moment without him all sucks the same.

When Hyunjin starts whining and takes out his phone to spam Minho’s messages demanding his location (you’re thankful that it didn’t have to come to you), all he receives in return is a measly “Running late.”

And that’s it. A mere text is enough to satiate everyone’s curiosity. Well, everyone but Hyunjin, because he’s still a nagging drama queen.

Minho is running late, and to anyone else, it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But to you… it means something beyond that. Because this was him. This was your Minho. Your Minho who’s never been known for his tardiness, who’s never once broken a promise, who’s always there for you no matter what.

All you know right now is his absence, and it makes you sink.

You sink, and then you wait. Not a lot to be done about it.

You slip away to a quiet spot, a vacant hallway, to be by yourself while everyone is out there wandering around and gorging themselves on the free food and drinks. You shouldn’t be with them anyway. All you need is to wallow in peace and not be the black cloud hanging over everybody’s heads.

There’s something so incredibly lonely in the act of waiting. Waiting to board a plane, waiting in line at the grocery store. Waiting for a phone call or text message that you know won’t come, waiting for a person whom you can only hope would show up. At the end of the day, that’s what waiting is, isn’t it? It’s wanting. It’s hoping, and if there’s one thing you know about hope, it’s that it’s dangerous.

You wonder if this is how Minho felt all this time, waiting on a girl who’s always prepared to leave. You wonder if, that night, he had expected you to reciprocate his feelings. You did. You do, and a part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him too. The words were there, and yet…

It’s true that you love him, and it’s true that you don’t want to. If hope is dangerous then love is fucking terrifying.

He’d been so patient with you, so awfully gentle and quiet in the chasm of his waiting that you mistook the tenderness for everything except for what it actually was – love. Or perhaps you did know. Maybe deep down, you knew that you would’ve loved him back with everything you had, with every fiber of your being. That you would’ve let him be the only one to ever really know you, and it felt like a fear greater than you could bear.

In the end, did you lose him? Can you lose something you never had? It wasn’t a love that you let slip away; it was a what if.

You’re in a room with people who love you and yet, all you can think about is Minho. You miss him so much that it feels like someone has spliced you in two, that it physically makes you ache every second that he isn’t with you. As selfish as it sounds, you want him to walk through the door and you want everything to be okay again. You want to be back in a bubble with just the two of you and a locked box filled with words unsaid. You thought you could stay in that bubble forever, where it was safe and you could pretend that you were happy, and maybe you really were happy with him. But all things — good or bad — must come to an end. The bubble burst, and this was the real world.

You want to undo your cruelty, want him to take back his sincerity. You want an ocean of distance between you and him, you want to pull him as close as humanly possible. All your wants are contradictions. You’re a paradox of puzzle pieces that never seem to fit together.

You want to tell him that it hurts. Want him to make it better because he’s the only one who can make it better.

But miracles rarely happen and there are no shooting stars in sight. Minho was the closest thing you got to a shooting star, burning across your night sky for just a brief moment. Blink and you could miss it. Blink and you did miss him.

Your fingers find his contact in your phone before you could stop yourself, and soon enough, you’re pressing the call button. It’s like drunk dialling, only you aren’t intoxicated. Or maybe you are; maybe you’re under the influence of his absence and how much it stings.

You don’t know why you’re calling him, don’t know what to even say when he picks up.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wonder for long.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. Please leave your message after the tone,” comes the automated voice on the other end.

For some reason, you don’t hang up. You wait for the beep, then you wait some more. It’s not until ten seconds later that you find your voice, the only thing to come out of your mouth is a quiet Hey.

You clear your throat, rub the sweaty palm of your free hand on your dress. “Hey,” you try again. “It’s… me. I’m at the gallery with everyone. Uhm, they’re all waiting for you. Are you on your way? Are you stuck in traffic? Or did you forget it was today? Hyunjin is trying really hard not to blow up your phone–” You pause to chuckle dryly. “But you know it would mean a lot to him to have you here. It… it’d mean a lot to me too if you were here. I don’t know, I assumed you’d come. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I just…” Another pause. This time, it’s so that you could take a breath. “Listen, Minho, I didn’t mean what I said to you. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I don’t have any excuse for that. You deserve better than me. It’s going to pass, you know? I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time on me, but… you’re going to find someone else, and you’re going to get over it. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. It’s fine if you never want to talk to me again, just please don’t let it get between you and our fr–”

The line beeps again. “To replay the message, press 1. To save the message, press 2. To delete the message, press 3.”

You purse your lips together. There’s still a lump in your throat and no peace to be made. It’s like drunk dialling, only you pull yourself together at the very last second. Your thumb hovers over the dial pad on your phone until you eventually end up on 3, because your cowardice will always triumph in the end. Back to square one. Everything’s still the same as it was five minutes ago.

You force your legs to move, like how you'd force yourself to get up and eat and drink water and shower and be a person these days. When you round the corner, you bump against something solid. A person. The collision isn’t hard enough to knock you backward; they weren’t moving, they’d only been standing still.

You look up at Seungmin, who merely blinks at you. You don’t know how long he’s been here, if he heard anything at all. You swallow once, considering whether you should just play dumb and gauge his reaction or ask point blank if you’ve been caught. He beats you to the decision though.

“You and Minho,” Seungmin says, a bit hesitant, like the topic is weird to bring up. “You’re the girl.”

A deer in headlights, you are. A pathetic one at that, too.

But even then, you’re not panicked, not really. You’re just sad, and the truth was bound to come out eventually.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you say.

The discarded voicemail that he overheard, the dejection written all over your face, the silence from both you and Minho recently — it’s obvious to pretty much everyone, and Seungmin is smarter than most.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again like he’s choosing his words. The Seungmin-esque blank stare melting away to make space for some pity, then a question, “Is there anything left to tell?”

You escape to the empty garden in the back where there were a few lonely chairs set up, so you could have some privacy to talk. Despite everything, it feels like you’ve got a little breathing space, just being able to share this with someone. To not have to carry it all on your own. You’re glad that it was Seungmin who found out first. You have a feeling that he would understand, at least to some degree. You’re relieved, even when the first question that he asks is, “So, how did you fuck it up?”

“Why do you just automatically assume it was me?” You’re mildly offended, even though he’s right.

“Between you and Minho, I’d bet on you.” Seungmin shrugs. “You spook easily.”

“I deeply resent that notion.”

He turns to look at you, no trace of any teasing. “Can you prove me wrong?”

But you can’t, and it tells him as much when you avert his eyes in favor of the ground, where you kick at a lonesome pebble sitting among the grass. It lands somewhere between the green blades, lost in the shadows that cast over parts of the garden that are poorly lit.

“So what happened?” he asks, turning away again to stare out at the empty space. You like to think of it as him giving you some elbow room, to ease the pressure of being scrutinized. And as much as you appreciate it, it still takes you another brief moment before you can formulate a coherent sentence, another minute of twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You tell Seungmin about your first night with Minho – not the details, of course; that would be weird and it’s none of his business. Just that it happened, how you both let it keep happening over the past few months while nobody suspected a thing.

Seungmin nods solemnly, like he’s putting together the missing pieces.

“Did you ever notice anything?” you ask.

“I mean… not about you hooking up, but we thought you’d end up together eventually.” He shrugs. “We always kinda assumed that you two would become those people who make a pact to get married if you’re still single by 40 or 50, if you didn’t get together before then. It makes sense. You and Minho just sort of make sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Your heart swoops. Hearing it from Seungmin makes you sad. Not the same brand of sadness that you’ve been wearing lately though. A different kind, the kind of sadness that’s a little numbing and makes it difficult to breathe. “Well, sorry to disappoint everyone but I don’t think any of it is gonna happen anymore.”

“So… how did it happen?” Seungmin asks again, mimicking explosions with his hands.

You let him off easy without a punch in the shoulder, because you just really don’t have the energy for it right now. “Minho wanted something more,” you tell your friend, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, then with the necklace charm resting on your collarbone. “And I just… I don’t know. I guess I freaked. I… said some awful stuff to him.”

Seungmin hums a sound of acknowledgement. He looks like he’s thinking about it, about you and Minho and what it means. “Classic,” he chuckles after a brief moment, mostly to himself. Maybe he’s thinking about what it means beyond just the pair of you too.

You side-eye him. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”

He shoots the glance back at you. “What are you trying to say here?”

You remember her, the only girl that Seungmin has ever hinted at liking. He never admitted it out loud to any of you, but you could all see it.

You only used to see her in passing at house parties, and even then, it wasn’t Seungmin nor her who brought the other one around. They would show up separately with their own group, mingle for a while, find each other after a couple of drinks before they disappeared to god-knows-where for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Changbin or Hyunjin would catch them before they could sneak off and insist that Seungmin let everyone get to know his friend.

These brief interactions are all you have with her, meaningless small talk for a few minutes before Seungmin’s patience ran thin and he whisked her away like they’d both intended. You liked her; she was nice, and she was really pretty. You liked her even though you didn’t know her, because she was the one person who Seungmin cared about enough to keep away from prying eyes. A secret shared only between the two of them, a bubble in which only they existed.

The last time you saw her with him must’ve been at least three months ago, maybe even longer. No one really knows what happened, just that she stopped showing up to parties, and Seungmin never brought it up again. You all assumed whatever he had going on with her had run its course, though it doesn’t really stop Hyunjin and Jisung from mentioning her every now and again just to tease him.

“I seem to recall a Halloween party last year and a certain someone was in a bee costume and–”

“Fine,” Seungmin interjects, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we can form our own dumbass club. Happy?”

You laugh a little, even though the whole thing isn’t very funny. Your shared experience is nothing to take pride in.

“So how did you blow it up?” you ask.

He gives you a sour glare before his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and in his silence you find that you and him are more similar in ways that you’ve never cared enough to admit before. This sadness that you carry, you have a feeling that he knows it all too well.

“Like I said, classic,” Seungmin tells you. “She wanted something more. I freaked. I ghosted her.”

A mirror. Two sides of the same stupid coin.

You lean back against your seat. “Did you like her?”

It takes a beat, but his answer comes out as an honest, “Yeah, I liked her. Liked her too much.”

“Why did you do that to her then?”

“Why did you do that to Minho?” Seungmin deadpans, but he doesn’t seem to want a response from you. He just sighs, wistfully adding, “I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s scary to be wanted because it means someone’s putting you on a pedestal, and when you’re on a pedestal, the more it’ll hurt if you fall off. The more they’re counting on you to not let them down, the easier it is to fuck it all up. People like us, we’re flight risks. We can’t help it. We think it’s better to just leave before we can do any real damage. When you said whatever terrible shit you said to Minho, that was the first thing you thought about, right? To be cruel? That’s what I did too. Such a fucking stupid knee-jerk reaction.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, completely still.

Then Seungmin turns to you, and for the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, he’s looking at you, really looking at you. No snarky side-eye, no playful faux glare. Just a strange and unfamiliar sincerity, like he’s asking you to fix what he couldn’t, undo the cruelty that he never bothered apologizing for.

“Minho would understand, you know? If you’d just talk to him,” Seungmin says. “You made a mistake in the heat of the moment. But you want to have something real with him, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this and beating yourself up over it.”

“I told you. That ship sailed.” And you’re standing up for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re suddenly restless, your stomach twisting in knots out of nowhere. “He’s not even here. He didn’t even show up tonight. I think that’s saying enough.”

Your friend rises to his feet too, probably because he thinks it’s weird to be the only one sitting now while you’re upset and pacing about. It’s not until Seungmin takes a step closer that you realize you’re shaking a little.

“Hey, you good?” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I talked to Minho yesterday. He said he’d come. Maybe something came up or he just–”

Hyunjin’s voice interrupts Seungmin in the middle of his sentence, the excited squeal carrying itself from all the way inside the gallery to the back garden through the door left ajar. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe there’s a reason why people say it. It’s laughable, really.

You and Seungmin both turn your attention to the brief commotion indoors, where you see Hyunjin smiling so big that his eyes have crinkled into crescent moons, where he’s standing with his arm thrown around Minho and shaking him by the shoulders.

These days, it’s easy to pretend that time is standing still. You don’t even know if time is even passing at all; you’re just looking at him, dressed in a black blazer and some dress pants. Casual but he looks good. He always does.

You watch as he says something to Hyunjin that seems to calm the latter down a bit, at least enough for Minho to quickly scan the room, searching. You watch as his eyes sweep through all the people gathered inside, not stopping until they land on you, finding you on the other side of the glass door. Even in this terrible lighting, not entirely visible you assume, he sees you.

There was a conversation you had with Minho some time ago, when you two were sprawled out on your couch munching on strawberry Peperos and not paying attention to the movie that was playing on your TV, when he asked how you wanted your life to be at 40.

You knew what the boring answer was – you wanted your life to be stable, and you told him as much. Isn’t stability always the goal? Maybe a lame corporate job if the whole starving-artist-who-makes-it-big-overnight dream didn’t pan out. A cat and a dog named Mochi and Mocha, if you could afford two pets at once. An apartment that you owned, with framed pictures of everything you loved scattered all over the place, and stupidly cute fairy lights that you often see on Pinterest, and an unfathomable amount of plushies that your inner child was never indulged in. A peaceful and quiet life, at least to some extent.

The honest answer, the one that you didn’t tell him, was you wanted to not live with regret.

But as you lock eyes with him, for a split second there, you know that you will.

About twenty years down the line, when you look back on your life and think of this chapter, you’ll think about a boy who loved you and whom you loved. How you broke both of your hearts trying to protect your own. You’ll wonder if he’s married, if he has kids, if he still reminisces about the girl he used to love when he was young. If he’s happy and if his dreams came true. If the sadness you caused yourself was worth it, if the pain meant anything at all. If you could go back in time and undo everything, would you?

You’ll get over it eventually – surely you will; heartbreak isn’t the end of the world – but you’ll live with the grief of what could’ve been if you weren’t afraid. You’ll be left to mourn the road not taken, your almost but never was.

You’re the one who moves first, when it starts to become a struggle just to breathe. You stumble away from Minho’s line of sight, until you find a wall that you can rest against.

Seungmin is quick to follow. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

Your hands alternate between balling themselves into tight fists and attempting in vain to grab at the flat surface of the concrete. There are no words that you can form to answer him. Only your ragged breathing and your pathetic effort to take in some air through your mouth.

“Okay, shit, uhm,” Seungmin sputters. “Hang on.”

Then he’s taking off. You don’t know how long he’s gone for, where he’s gone off to, and frankly, you can’t really bring yourself to care. Your hands abandon the wall in favor of your dress, something that you can actually hold onto. Your trembling fingers clutch the hem of your dress like they’re pretending it’s a lifeline, bunching and twisting the fabric in your sweaty palms. Hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t at all.

Even over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear new footsteps coming out into the empty garden. Rushed at first, then they stop for a brief moment. You know who it is before he even approaches you.

Damn that Kim Seungmin.

The familiar scent of his cologne greets you before his voice. You spent hours and hours enveloped in this scent until it was dulled by sweat from the activities you were engaged in, if it wasn’t already softened by the kisses you would leave all over his skin.

When he calls your name, it comes out so soft, like you never broke his heart in the first place and that night was only a figment of your twisted imagination. He sounds so gentle, yet it sends you further down the crippling spiral. You don’t deserve him; maybe you never did, despite what Seungmin tried to put through your head earlier.

“I’m fine.” But you know your appearance has already betrayed your words. The first thing you say to him in weeks, and it’s a lie. You’re still leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped tightly around your trembling frame and your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a pitiful sight. Even more so when it registers in your brain that it’s Minho of all people who’s witnessing it.

He doesn’t say anything else, only lets out a sigh, and then his hand is on your body, a warm palm touching the small of your back out of habit before he moves it upward to rub between your shoulder blades. “Can you breathe?”

His question makes you all too aware that there’s something gnawing inside of your chest, makes you think for a second there that you’re going to die though you know that you won’t. You shake your head with your eyes still closed, your breathing coming out more ragged by the second. You can’t even bear to look at him and absorb the worry in his eyes; you’re sure you’ll only cry if you do, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

But it turns out that seeing Minho’s face isn’t the only thing that can bring you to tears. When you feel him tug at your arms, his warmth on your bare skin, you start crying anyway and that makes it even harder to breathe. There’s not a single ounce of resistance in your body, your limbs obeying him easily when they untangle themselves around your waist to fall by your sides as he pulls you into his chest, with one hand over your sternum and his thumb rubbing back and forth. He’s careful about it too, like he’s handling broken pieces of something that used to be beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he says, but you’ve got your face pressed into the crook of his neck and your tears are staining the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… listen to me.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to speak next.

“Name three things you can see,” he says. “You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think about it.”

You open your eyes finally, angling your head until most of your vision isn’t obstructed by the proximity of his body. Minho tightens his arm around you, and you blink away some of the tears.

Your black heels that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

The grass, darkened green and damp.

Him.

“Three things you can hear.”

Light chatter coming from inside the gallery.

Cars passing by on the adjacent street.

Him, the sound of his breathing.

“Three things you can touch.”

The soft material of your dress against your skin.

The bracelet, hugging your wrist, weighing you down like an anchor.

And… him.

Him, him, him.

You don’t know what reason Minho makes up to excuse you for the rest of night, but you don’t bother asking. There’s really no space left in your head to think about it twice, to care about leaving your friends or feel guilty about Hyunjin because he was so excited about today. It’s too much; all you want is to go home, get away from here.

Minho calls you both an Uber back to your place. During the entire ride, he doesn’t say a word and neither do you. And even though you mostly opt for looking out the window at the other cars and houses and people passing by, every now and then you could feel his eyes on you from the other side of the backseat.

When you arrive, he keeps a hand on the small of your back as you make your way up the stairs. When you unlock the door, you leave it open so he could follow you inside. You suppose that one is a force of habit. You’re not used to shutting the door in his face. At least, not in the literal sense anyway.

Then it returns, that gnawing feeling. A feeling far too colossal for your body to house. It sits somewhere inside your ribcage, sharp and desperate, with claws trying to dig its way out. And for the first time in maybe ever, you understand what it truly means to want something this badly. You love him, and it hurts. You love him even though it hurts.

Minho moves around the place while you remain frozen in the middle of your own apartment, as if he’s the one who lives here and you’re just visiting for the night. You let him take off your makeup (with a wipe; you’re going to hate yourself in the morning), let him help you change into clothes that you can sleep in, even let him tuck you into bed like you’re a helpless child. If he notices the bracelet on you, he doesn’t say anything. Everything is done in silence.

You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t think you can handle what you’ll find there.

But you do reach for his hand when he tries to leave now that there’s nothing left for him to do here. There’s not a single thought behind your action, just a need to have him near.

“Can you…?”

You aren’t brave enough to finish the question, your voice trailing off and the words dissipating like smoke after a lonely cigarette drag. You’re being selfish right now, you’re awfully aware of this.

Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even let out a single sigh. For a second there, you think he’s about to leave you here, cold and alone, just like you had done to him. It would be nothing less than what you deserve.

But then he’s shrugging off his blazer and your heart is in your throat. When he slips into bed beside you, something hurts, the kind of ache that spreads all across your chest and makes your lungs burn.

Earlier tonight, he could’ve walked away and let you be somebody else’s burden. Your friends were all there, it’s not like they would’ve left you stranded.

You’re not really sure what to think. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, but maybe it’s just enough confirmation that he doesn’t hate you more than he loves you.

You break the deafening stretch of silence with a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what the apology is for. Are you sorry for that night, for the things you said to him? Are you sorry that you’re only yourself, that he just had to go ahead and fall for you of all people? Sorry that you’re too much of a coward and a lost cause to love him right? You don’t know, but it feels appropriate to apologize. You owe him that much.

“Don’t…” Minho says after a while. “You don’t have to do that.”

The familiar sensation returns – the one that stings the back of your eyes, burns your nostrils and makes you all choked up. You try to hold your breath and will it away, but the first tear spills without your permission, and you can’t help the shaky inhale – close to a gasp and followed by a sniffle – that punctuates your lungs when they start protesting against the sudden lack of oxygen.

You grip the sheets so hard you think you could rip through the fabric and dig into your own palm. It’s a pathetic feeling, like a strange kind of embarrassment that you can’t quite describe. The room is deadly quiet; you know there’s no way he didn’t catch the noise.

You hear Minho shift from where he lays behind you, some rustling when he moves against the duvet and the mattress. “Don’t cry,” he sighs. And it’s still so gentle. You’ve never known him to be anything but gentle.

You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking some of the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… don’t cry.” It sounds like he’s holding something back but you aren’t sure. “Don’t cry. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

You sniffle some more, and maybe that makes Minho think he still needs to appease you even further. He reaches out finally, to brush a comforting hand against your arm. “Go to sleep. Promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You don’t know if you want to talk in the morning, because there’s nothing for you to say. All you really have is what he’s already heard – I’m sorry, like an utterly broken record. But you want him to stay even if it’s only for the morning. Even if all he’ll get is silence at best and choked up breaths at worst. Your last-ditch attempt at grasping straws, a futile effort to chase running water.

“Okay,” you tell him, and neither of you says anything afterward. The tears keep falling for a while, and at some point it tires you out enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes hours later, the sun is already up. The clock on your phone reads 7:06AM and the first thing you register is an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. Behind you, the bed is still warm. You can actually feel it underneath your fingertips when you reach out, the warmth dwindling from the side of the bed that’s been left vacant. Minho has never broken a promise to you before.

He’s gone, and you sink again.

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kazumist · 7 months ago

Text

THROUGH THICK AND THIN .ᐟ

✩ — in which soshiro had forgotten the lengths of your love for him.

✩ — request: hi, can i pls request an argument with hoshina and how u resolve everything 🥹🥹🥹

✩ — includes: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader. hurt/comfort, angst if u squint. cw: arguments, implications of soshiro being injured but thats just it, soshiro is kinda mean Uhm, ooc!hoshina this is another experimental fic help me. wc: 1440. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

if there was one thing sharper than the blades hoshina soshiro wielded, it would be the words that escaped his lips.

hoshina knows how to sugarcoat his words. he considers himself a good talker—negiotiator, if you would. however, when it comes to more sensitive topics, that’s when it all starts to crumble down.

he never expected for him to catch feelings, especially with the line of work he takes. it’s too risky. dangerous. worrying. but he fell as deep as the ocean could get for you. you accepted it. him and his line of work. him as a whole.

yet soshiro seems to forget that sometimes.

getting out of a mission unscathed was impossible. he would always have at least one injury planted on him. it was a repetitive game of russian roulette where either his injuries would be severe or light. and unfortunately for him, today was sadly the former.

a knock was heard at the door of the hospital room he’s staying in. a mission had recently just finished—about three days had passed, and soshiro was unconscious for the first two due to how he overexerted himself. “come in,” he says. and to his surprise, he saw you opening the door.

soshiro hasn’t told you about him being hospitalized yet—so how?

“captain ashiro told me.” oh. so that’s how. well, he was aware that you had also built a friendship with his commander. and that was completely fine with him. it was awkward when you walked over to the bed, pulling out the chair for you to sit on. you refused to make eye contact with him while soshiro just stared at you.

neither of you has an idea of what to say.

“i wish you told me as soon as you woke up. i was worried sick when i heard the news about the kaiju attack and all.” you said, keeping your gaze focused on your fingers as they played with each other. he flinches slightly as guilt starts to bubble up inside of him. it was already five in the afternoon and he’s been awake since ten in the morning. he wishes that he told you as soon as he woke up as well.

however, there’s one thing that has started to creep onto soshiro lately—fear. insecurity, perhaps. he gets haunted by the thought that you would definitely be happier in someone else’s arms and that you would be more happy being bathed in someone else’s affection. being with a man like hoshina soshiro was dangerous, as if it were a gamble to play.

because you never know if you’ll still wake up to him being alive the next day. and believe it or not: hoshina was scared—terrified of that possibility. he doesn’t want you to be sad, he crumbles at the thought of you crying in the first place. so he made it a task for him to push you away. to be distant.

to be someone you would hate.

that’s the only way he could keep you safe.

“sorry. i didn’t want to disturb you.” bullshit.

“why…” you trailed off. soshiro noticed that you werent playing with your fingers anymore and that you were now clenching your fists. “why would you think that? soshiro, your health matters to me.” his heart also clenched when he heard the slight crack in your voice. “why would it matter to you? i could die any day.”

“are you being serious right now?” he hates it. he hates the way that the first time he saw your eyes today, they were filled with such negative emotions. anger. hurt. confusion. “do i look like i’m kidding?”

“soshiro, why are you acting like this? did i do something wrong? i know we haven’t seen each other a lot because we’ve been both busy.” no, you didn’t. this is my fault, but this is also for the best. is what he wanted to say—but he just swallows up his words. “it’s nothing.”

“no, it’s not just ‘nothing.’ tell me what’s wrong, please? so we can fix it. it pains me when we’re like this.” it pains him too—it pains him so fucking bad. but hoshina soshiro is stubborn. so he will find himself accomplishing his task, whether it pains him or not.

because all he wants is the best for you, even if he wouldn’t be able to provide that.

— — — — — — — —

he doesn’t know how things got so heated between the two of you. and he’s sure that you both might disturb the other patients who are confined in the room next to his.

“why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong? i feel like an idiot, soshiro! what am i?! some fucking mind reader on what goes on inside your head?!”

“like i told you, it’s nothing for you to worry about! what can’t you understand with that?!”

“what can’t you understand with me saying it’s not just nothing?!”

“and what can’t you understand with me implying that you shouldn’t care anymore?! dp i have to spell it out for you?”

you weren’t sitting down anymore, and hoshina doesn’t dare to speak anymore. fighting with you was the worst. and this time, he fucked up real bad. “i… it’s getting late. i should get going.” you say, and soshiro could feel a part of him shattering when he heard you hold back a sob.

the next time soshiro saw you, he was on his day off (a day off he didn’t really want to take but captain ashiro forced him otherwise since the doctors told him he shouldn’t be making his body engage in strenuous activities just yet). and the first thing he did? he visited you. he knew you get off work early on fridays, making you free for the rest of the weekend earlier.

he knocks on your door, although hesitantly. he’s nervous as he waits for you to open the door.

and he’s grateful that you still opened the door for him in spite of your last conversation with each other. you didn’t say anything as you opened the door further, inviting him in. the awkwardness gave hoshina a rush of deja vu about the awkwardness in the hospital room.

“i’m sorry.” although these two words don’t just cut it so easily, he thinks.

“do you really mean it? what you said in the hospital?”

his breath hitched as he found the right words to say. if hoshina was going to be honest, he hasn’t thought much about what to do at this point. surely, he had achieved his goal that night, right? “yeah.”

“liar.”

he turns to you immediately, and you were already looking at him to begin with. “you’re lying, and i could tell that because you’re nibbling on your lip. you always do that when you lie. just tell me the truth, soshiro, please.”

why should he? would you accept his reason? would you accept the insecurities that haunt his every waking thought? would you accept him even though he said such mean things to you the last time you saw each other?

would you still love him despite it all?

you would. you always would.

and so he explains from the very start—when and where these thoughts started in the first place. and you listen to him intently, absorbing every single detail he says. once he was done, you took a deep breath.

“god, you’re so stupid. did you know that?” soshiro lets out a weak chuckle at that, avoiding your gaze. you cup his face with your hands, making him face you. “look at me,” he refuses. “soshiro, look at me.” he then complies, slowly trailing his eyes across your features before resting them on your gaze.

“you don’t get to decide what’s best for me when it comes to this type of thing, okay? i love who i want to love. you don’t get to decide that i’d be happier with someone else. because i love you. i love you more than you could ever imagine, more than you could ever feel. remember that. engrave that inside your mind so you can never forget. you are the one i am helplessly in love with, soshiro.”

i love you. i love you. i love you. it repeats inside his mind. you are the one i am helplessly in love with. it echoes. soshiro feels stupid for attempting to become someone you hated in the first place. there was no way he could ever bear the possibility of you actually hating him.

how could he forget? you had already accepted him as a whole. through thick and thin, you will stand by his side.

#( writings )#kaiju no. 8 x reader #kn8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina #x reader

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slickdickwitchbitchh · 28 days ago

Text

Streamer!JJ x Tiktokit!girlreader Headcanons

JJ’s streams are pure chaos, filled with jokes, wild commentary, and unpredictable antics. His audience tunes in for the rollercoaster ride he creates every time he goes live.

He leans into his bad-boy charm, often teasing authority figures or poking fun at Twitch rules (without breaking them).

He streams popular games like Call of Duty, Apex Legends, and Fortnite, but also surprises viewers with random choices like Stardew Valley or Among Us, where he thrives as the chaotic wildcard.

He’s always giving away random stuff like custom merch, surfboards, or even an old fishing rod he signed. Fans love how genuine and unpredictable he is.

JJ thrives on trolling back chat trolls, usually with witty comebacks or playful banter. It’s all in good fun, and his fans eat it up.

JJ’s setup is a mix of high-end gaming gear (probably gifted by fans) and things he rigged together himself, like a hand-painted backdrop. His camera angle is always slightly crooked, which fans find endearing.

JJ often streams with John B, Kie, Pope, and Sarah. These sessions are chaotic but hilarious, with JJ constantly trying to prank the others mid-game.

He occasionally takes his audience outside, streaming adventures like late-night fishing or skateboarding stunts. These IRL streams are just as chaotic as his gaming ones.

His chat is filled with recurring memes, like calling out JJ for always “forgetting” to fix his camera or hyping him up as the “king of clutch plays” when he barely scrapes by in games.

JJ uses his platform to raise money for causes close to his heart, like ocean conservation or supporting underprivileged youth. He does wild challenges as donation incentives, like shaving his head or attempting to surf while live-streaming.

He hosts events like beach clean-ups, livestreaming them to encourage his audience to get involved in their own communities.

JJ Maybank wasn’t the type of guy to get flustered, especially not by some girl on TikTok. But there was something about her. Y/N wasn’t just any IT girl—she was the IT girl. Her TikToks were effortlessly cool: dark eyeliner smudged to perfection, oversized leather jackets, and a smirk that could either destroy you or make your whole day. She was the epitome of black cat energy, the polar opposite of JJ’s chaotic golden retriever vibe.

It started with a repost. JJ was mindlessly scrolling TikTok late at night when he stumbled upon one of her videos. She was mouthing along to some sultry audio, her piercing gaze aimed directly into the camera. Without thinking, he hit the “repost” button and added the caption, "Okay, but why is this so good? Teach me your ways."

He didn’t think much of it—just JJ being JJ, hyping up someone who clearly had their life together. What he didn’t anticipate was the absolute meltdown his fans would have the next day.

JJ went live on Twitch the following afternoon, expecting another chaotic day of gaming and banter. But the chat was already spiraling out of control before he even picked up his controller.

“JJ, explain that TikTok repost.” “Bro, are you crushing on Y/N or what?” “JYN 2024 LET’S GO!”

JJ squinted at the chat, confused. “What are you guys talking about?” Then it hit him. His repost. His face immediately flushed. “Oh, come on! I just thought it was a good TikTok! Can’t a guy appreciate some talent without everyone making it weird?”

His chat was having none of it. Fans spammed heart emojis, ship names, and theories about JJ’s crush. Despite his protests, he couldn’t hide the goofy grin that crept onto his face whenever Y/N’s name came up.

It wasn’t long before Y/N caught wind of the repost. Her comment section was flooded with messages like, “JJ Maybank is OBSESSED with you,” and “When’s the collab with JJ?”

Ever the unbothered queen, Y/N played it cool. She stitched his repost, smirking into the camera as she said, “JJ? Isn’t he that streamer who can’t finish a game without breaking something?”

The video went viral immediately. JJ saw it live during one of his streams, his jaw dropping in mock offense as the clip played on repeat. “Chat, did she just roast me? Oh, it’s on now.”

But instead of firing back with an actual roast, JJ doubled down on the banter. He reposted her video with, "Touché. But we all know I’d win in a 1v1. Prove me wrong?" Fans loved the playful back-and-forth, and the internet began buzzing about their “rivalry.”

After weeks of teasing from his fans, JJ finally slid into Y/N’s DMs. His message was equal parts confident and awkward:

“Okay, so I’m not saying I’m scared of you, but I’m also not not saying it. Wanna settle this on stream? Loser buys dinner.”

To his surprise, Y/N replied within minutes. “You’re lucky I like chaos. Let’s do it. But don’t cry when I win.”

From that point on, their banter escalated. They played a few games together—her calm, calculated black cat energy perfectly balancing his chaotic golden retriever vibe. Every time she called him out for being “too loud” or “too much,” he countered with an over-the-top compliment that made her laugh despite herself.

Fans started shipping them harder than ever, creating fan edits of JJ’s streams mixed with her TikToks. “Golden retriever x black cat” trended across multiple platforms, and both JJ and Y/N leaned into it, dropping subtle hints about their connection.

Despite the internet’s obsession with their ship, JJ and Y/N kept things private. They texted constantly, had late-night FaceTime calls, and even managed to meet up a few times without anyone finding out. JJ would ramble about her to John B and Pope, grinning like an idiot the entire time.

“She’s so cool, man. Like, effortlessly cool. I don’t even know why she talks to me.”

Pope smirked. “Maybe because you won’t shut up about her?”

Meanwhile, Y/N’s TikToks started to feature subtle hints of their connection. A leather jacket draped over a chair that looked suspiciously like JJ’s. A quick shot of a hand with his signature Pogue bracelet. Her fans speculated wildly, but she never confirmed anything.

JJ loved how private their relationship was, but he also couldn’t wait to share her with the world. He just didn’t know how.

It happened unexpectedly during one of JJ’s streams. He was mid-match, trash-talking his opponents, when a voice chimed in from off-camera.

“You talk a big game for someone who just got sniped.”

JJ froze, his eyes darting to the side. “Chat… wait. Hold up. Chat, I didn’t—she wasn’t supposed to be here yet.”

Before he could explain, Y/N walked into frame, looking effortlessly cool in an oversized hoodie and messy hair. She leaned on his chair, smirking at the camera.

“Hey, JJ’s little crew. Hope he’s treating you better than he treats his K/D ratio.”

Chaos erupted. The chat was a flood of messages:

“NO WAY IS THAT Y/N???”

“Golden retriever x black cat IRL CONFIRMED.”

“Our ship is REAL!”

JJ groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Y/N, you just broke the internet.”

“Good,” she replied, smirking. “They needed something exciting today.”

For the rest of the stream, the two bantered back and forth, with Y/N casually roasting JJ’s gameplay and him dramatically pretending to be heartbroken. Fans couldn’t get enough.

The internet exploded with memes, fan edits, and tweets about the reveal. JJ and Y/N trended for days, their dynamic captivating fans everywhere. Despite the chaos, they handled it in stride, continuing to stream together occasionally while keeping most of their relationship private.

JJ loved seeing her in her element, effortlessly winning over his fans with her quick wit and charm. And Y/N couldn’t help but admire how genuine and fun he was, even when the spotlight was on them.

Their relationship became the perfect mix of chaos and calm—just like a golden retriever and a black cat.

Stream Comments :

"THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER 😭💘 THEY'RE ENDGAME, YOUR HONOR."

"JJ pulled Y/N??? The rest of us don’t stand a CHANCE."

"She’s so black cat coded, and he’s just barking in the background. Literal perfection."

"So we’re just not gonna talk about how he’s been soft-launching her for WEEKS???"

"‘She wasn’t supposed to be here yet’ 🤨 JJ, be so serious. You KNEW."

"The way she casually roasted him and he just SMILED??? Sir, you’re down bad."

"Plot twist: They’ve been dating this whole time, and we were just clowns 🤡."

"JJ soft launching her bracelet in the background of his streams… sneaky king 😏."

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #streamer!jj #it!girl reader #streamerjjmaybank

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sleepynoons · 21 days ago

Text

In Dreams

Your heats have become vicious and unbearable, and you're told nothing can cure you unless you mate. The issue is: Dan Heng's a beta.

dan heng x reader, omegaverse, nsfw

word count: ~3,500

cw: descriptions of pain and cramps, allusions to sexual trauma, mentions of sex toys/masturbation/slick, internalized stigmatization of sex/masturbation/etc.

notes: find yourself a lover who wouldn't just die for you – find someone who will still love you when you're incredibly gross and ill and sick and vulnerable!!!!!! anyway, this is j an angsty take on omega heats, and i took some creative liberties/deviations with this au.

It seems your heat has decided to come at the worst possible time.

It’s never cooperated with you in the past few years, and you’ve come to despise it, along with several other reasons. At times, it’s regular, due every three months, with the one to two weeks leading up to the real thing a gradual build-up, a towering ocean wave that you can see from a distance, feel through the rumbling and trembling in your gut. Other times, this time, and most often, there’s no warning at all, and it arrives as a riptide, a tumultous, driving current that has the sole goal of pulling you under.

Heats, as you’ve come to learn, aren’t always romantic, passionate, or arousing, and they’ve never been any one of those things for you.

You stumble to the railing, hearing a screech from your sweaty palms smearing against the cold iron of the bar. Your vision’s blurred, everything hallucinating in double, and the lights glow too fiercely. It’s already a miracle that you’ve managed to make it to Dan Heng’s room, but just as everyone on the Express knows it, the archive’s filled with nothing but books, journals, projections, ballpoint pens, and the barest of his belongings.

As if your feet have detached from your legs and the joints of your legs have rolled out of the sockets in your hips, you manage to trip over the two steps that lead up to Dan Heng’s futon. Unceremoniously, you collapse onto the ground. There’s bound to be bruises on your shins, and you can already feel a dull sensation in your wrists and forearms. Through thick pants and a vision scattered with black dots, you crawl over to his bed and wrap yourself in Dan Heng’s blanket. (It smells like nothing.)

You wake a few hours later, and you know your heat has officially started because you can feel slick gluing your bottoms to your burning skin. Speaking of which, your whole body feels hot, and you bitterly think that’s the closest thing to passionate you’re ever going to get. You need something cold, icy, something that’ll break through this oppressing heat, so you roll over with a few pained groans so that you’re lying on the floor.

But now you feel empty because even if Dan Heng’s things smell like nothing to you, they still provide an unexplainable, irrational sense of safety and assurance. You twist and turn and writhe, until you finally settle your head on his pillow while keeping as much of the rest of your body against the floor.

The thing about having sudden heats is that you’re unable to prepare or regulate yourself. You can’t follow through with typical omega habits, like building a nest or scenting with a partner, all of which are vital preparations to ensure omegas are as comfortable as possible during their heats. But it’s not like you could do either of those things anyway, because you’ve never really learned how to nest and betas, like Dan Heng, and their scents aren’t potent enough to alleviate even pre-heat symptoms.

You’ve tried suppressants before, but they have no effect on you. After several consultations with doctors from all over the galaxies, the only sound hypothesis of a cure is for you to mate.

Another catch is that betas can’t mate. You’re also strictly monogamous, so even if mating would solve your problem, you refuse to.

The best thing you can do is to wait your heat out, and it doesn’t take long for the cramping in your abdomen to cause you to black out from its overwhelming pain.

But you wake again in less than an hour. You’ve soaked through Dan Heng’s bedding entirely from both your sweat and slick, and even through your muddled senses, you can smell your scent practically permeate the room, stubborn as it clings to the spines of aged books, settles in the corners of the shelves, mixes with the ink from an inkwell that you seem to have knocked over and spilled from your fall earlier. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you recall it was a souvenir you had brought back for Dan Heng from one of the Express’ expeditions you had participated in.

With heaving breaths, it takes significant effort just to prop yourself up on your elbows. Your heat’s worse than normal, consuming your senses and thoughts and overall ability to function, an anchor dragging you down to the depths of an ocean, depths you didn’t know existed, and this overwhelming paralysis scares you.

There’s no other choice but to try to slow your heat down.

It’s not like you dislike trying new things. It’s just that you’d prefer to go outside of your comfort zone when you’re able to think straight. Frantically, you search the room for anything that’s Dan Heng’s. You’ve never created a nest before for several reasons, but something in you tells you that that’s the right thing to do. (Though, in reality, that something’s likely your neediness and hyperactive omega instincts.)

Powered by sheer spite, you rely on the railing once again to stagger onto your shaky feet. You gulp, desperate to accumulate a last bout of energy, before beginning your search around the room.

There’s little of Dan Heng’s things. He’s out on a trip with Himeko at the moment, having left two days ago, and brought along the few pieces of clothing he owned. You do manage to spot one of his journals on his desk, a leather-bound notebook that’s glossy black from intentional care and binds hundreds of thick parchment paper together. You mutter a quick apology before chucking the journal in the direction of the bed, hoping that it landed anywhere near the latter.

You make sure not to trip on your way down, and you approach the archive’s bookshelves. You specifically scan the bottom two rows of the middle column, where Dan Heng stores the texts that he’s been frequenting the most as of late. With haphazard grabbing motions, you try to pile as many of the books on your arms as you can, before the weight of only five crushes you down to the floor. One lands beside your face, and you catch a whiff of woody vanilla and roasted almonds.

They thud and tumble around you. Tears well in your eyes, but you’re not sure if it’s solely because of your frustration.

You try again, gripping onto the walls to help you up, forgetting about the books on the floor. You manage to gather four others in your hold, and you stumble back to Dan Heng’s bed.

To your luck, despite your careless throw, Dan Heng’s journal managed to reach his pillow. After piling the books from the shelves in two groups of two, you fall back and curl into a ball.

The throbbing in your stomach and core is almost unmanageable. You’re sure this is the maddening arousal that omegas have described, but to you, there’s nothing pleasurable about it. You don’t want to be satiated, you want this pain to end. In fact, the only way to satiate this pain is to end it.

Getting filled up with a dildo or squirting from a vibrator are the least of your concerns. You’re actually more convinced they’d cause you more harm. Well, they do help, but only when Dan Heng’s there with you. You can’t bear to even think of touching yourself when you’re alone.

A sting pierces at your heart at the thought of Dan Heng. You whimper, a mournful, weak sound, before you roll onto your side and flip open his journal. On the two pages you randomly open to, there are several scribbles, arrows and Universal cursive and diagonal lines of Xianzhou Script covering the sheets. There’s also slight smudges, from where the side of Dan Heng’s hand accidentally brushed against still-drying ink.

You can’t really make out what’s on the pages, not that you have the capacity to do that. Instead, you rub your nose and tear-stricken cheeks against the pages, crinkling the paper with your fervent movements. The journal smells the same as the books from the shelves, only slightly less musky from age. To your surprise, you also catch a faint trace of sea salt and white maple.

This journal must still in use, then, for Dan Heng’s scent to be lingering on it. For a split second, you worry about ruining his research, but then again, omegas can’t really control their urges or instincts, so you can only hope that that’ll be a sufficient excuse when Dan Heng sees the damage you’ve done. You press your face further into the book, splitting it wider apart until the thread stitching the reams of paper together is exposed.

You fall asleep, to the dissipating remnants of his scent.

–

After a brief explanation to Pom-Pom, Dan Heng speeds to his room with wide, spanning steps. He needs to grab his journal and leave immediately, even though he’d personally like to spare a second to greet you. Unfortunately, the research team Himeko and him are meeting up with have run into a problem with their experiments that needs to be resolved immediately, and Dan Heng’s only returning briefly to the Express to grab the right notebook so he can actually be of some help.

However, he stops in the middle of his tracks for two reasons: first, by March who stands a few feet away from the door to his room, looking ghastly and appalled, trembling hands clamped over her mouth, and second, by the nauseatingly sweet pheromones that fill the corridor. He knows they’re yours, and when Mr. Yang steps into view a moment later, with a shared nod, Dan Heng barges into the archives while Mr. Yang stifles his breath as he carries March away.

Even as a beta, your heat’s cruelly stimulating. Just by stepping into the same room as you Dan Heng feels as if he, too, is boiling over, with sweat and steam already forming and sticking to his clothes and skin. Thankfully, he thinks, he doesn’t have a physiological need to mate, so with enough effort and restraint, which he’s honed, albeit unintentionally, for lives and lives over, he can keep himself in check. With quiet steps, ignoring the scattered books with creased pages and the puddle of ink that will no doubt be difficult to remove, he treads closer to your form until he can tell that you’re fast asleep. It’s not a deep sleep, though, given that you’re thrashing about and groaning without pause.

He also notices the few books and his journal and a pen lying around you, and Dan Heng thinks his heart breaks a little at that. He’s always known that you struggle with your omega instincts and needs, but not to the extent that you don’t even know how to nest properly. Of course, it’s not entirely your fault either. He exhales, slightly shaking from anger and disbelief. Even if you knew how to nest in this situation, the fact that he had left nothing for you to nest with is unforgivable.

At the very least, Dan Heng’s good at compartmentalizing, so he redirects his anguish towards focusing on your needs. He adjusts the thermostat to a lower temperature, before rushing out of his room, despite not wanting to leave you alone. You need water, food, painkillers, clothes, and several other things. The corridor seems to have been aired out in the few minutes Dan Heng had been inside the archives, and when he reaches the kitchen, he runs into Mr. Yang.

Mr. Yang nods at him. “I’ve already told Himeko about the situation. You don’t need to go back.”

“Thank you, Mr. Yang,” Dan Heng replies. “Is March alright?”

“Yes, I believe she was just triggered by the pheromones. We had some suppressants on hand, so she has taken them already. She’ll be alright.”

“Thanks, again, Mr. Yang.”

With a nod from his end, Dan Heng grabs what he thinks you’ll need before taking off and heading to your room.

The gravity of your heat hits him harder when he’s inside your room. This entire time he’s been working off of pure conjecture, tidbits you’ve briefly mentioned in passing and advice he’s come across in textbooks and miscellaneous blog posts. But general omega care doesn’t really seem to apply to you, and he’s only spent one heat with you before. All the other times you locked yourself in your room, only receptive to help from March or Pom-Pom.

Dan Heng chides himself to not take it personally. You’ve made it a point to tell him that it’s not that you don’t trust him, but rather, a personal discomfort that you’ve yet to work through. Regardless, Dan Heng can’t help but feel slightly more frustrated and a significant bit more helpless than before.

He grabs a few of your hoodies and t-shirts from your drawer, and sitting on the ground, he begins to scent them, pressing and rubbing the fabric against his scent glands, furiously willing his body to produce more and more. But as he works through each article, the thoughts, the rational, realistic, unpleasant thoughts about your relationship, gradually begin to take precedent and eclipse all else.

Even if you were saturated with his scent, it would not be enough. Betas’ scents have calming, sometimes sedative effects, but they do not provide satisfaction to omegas when they’re in heat or alphas when they’re in rut. Betas also don’t need to mate, so he could never keep up with the physical demands of your heat either. More importantly, he could never give you a mark, something that would do much to ease the fire igniting and searing you from within.

He doesn’t stay for too long, as he needs to return to your side, but he does make one last stop at your closet, where he pulls out a small box that contains your vibrator. He’s also aware that you’re not the biggest fan of it, but it did make you feel a bit better last time, so it might be worth a try again.

When he’s back in the archives, it seems you’ve just woken up. Your face is buried into his pillow, sobbing and yelping into it, while your hips jerk side to side uncontrollably, like you’re being tasered relentlessly with electric shocks. Dan Heng rushes over and runs a hand over the back of your head.

You, on the other hand, don’t really notice his gentle touch. Delirious to the point that you can’t tell between reality and your restless dreams, your mind can only process the burning craving between your legs and the soreness throughout the rest of your body. It isn’t until you feel your body being lifted and a familiar face comes into view that you realize another person is in the room.

You chuckle, though it comes out as more of a choke. Even if you can’t make out the features of his face all that well or distinguish his clothes or even smell the sea salt and white maple that he’s desperately trying to emit, you know it’s Dan Heng, and now you’re more inclined to believe that you’re in a dream. Dan Heng’s not supposed to be here, but at least your subconscious has given you the opportunity to pretend that he is.

You croon and curl your body around him, relishing in the slight diminishing of pain from having your partner so close. His skin is cool to touch, and when you bury your nose into the pulse point on the underside of his wrist, his scent is helpful in calming your high-strung nerves. But, of course, not all of your pain subsides from his presence, and as another angry wave of your heat washes by, all you can do is dig your nails into his skin and bite down on your lips, barely able to mute your frustrated screams or restrain your quivering body.

Dan Heng seems to be saying something, though you can’t hear much beyond the roaring, thumping, and throbbing in your ears. You do get his point, though, when you feel his hands traveling slowly down the sides of your frame, intentionally so that you can process his actions and not be alerted. His hands trail across your ribs, your waist, your hips, before they settle on the bottom of your sleep shorts, peeling the damp fabric with gentle tugs. He does the same with your panties underneath, and discards both somewhere far beyond your care.

Dan Heng knows you’re out of your senses, and he hesitates. He wants to be of use, but not at the cost of your comfort. If he set you off in any way, it would only worsen your already poor state. He worries away at the inside of his cheek, mind coming up with everything and nothing, and in the end, he decides to speak to you again.

“Hey,” he says, leaning closer to your ear, “do you want some water? Or do you want me to take off your shirt?”

You barely make out the first half of his questions, but you nod when he offers to help you further undress. With some effort, mainly because your body convulses whenever you experience a random bout of pain, Dan Heng’s able to remove your soaked shirt. He begins to press a towel against your forehead to wipe off your face, but you jerk away, the touch of it too rough and warm for your taste. Switching gears, he holds your head up and helps you take a few drinks of water, before you choke and ultimately don’t want anymore. He’s worried because you really need it, but again, he doesn’t want to push you.

The thought returns: If only he wasn’t a beta.

This time, he can’t shake it off. He stares at you, observing your clumped eyelashes and tear-stricken cheeks, the bruises scattered around your body, and the weakness in your muscles as they spasm over and over again.

Yet, somehow, in your delirium, you gaze up at him with dazed eyes and an equally dopey smile, as if your heat’s not as serious as it looks, as if you’re simply content that he’s beside you, even if he can’t do anything for you.

And that’s because you feel exactly that way. Despite what the doctors have said, you know your heats aren’t a peculiar product of your genetics or physical nature because they haven’t always been painful and disparaging. Your heats have simply become a manifestation of what you experienced before you joined the Express, events that, to this day, you can’t even bear to think back to, yet they continue to linger, haunt, and poison your state of mind. Besides, now that you have Dan Heng, it’s not like you want a mate, and in this regard, you can say with confidence that you’ve made great strides in overcoming your fear of betas.

On the other hand, had Dan Heng been an alpha, you don’t think you would’ve ever allowed yourself to get close to him. You wouldn’t have let him see you in heat like this, let alone help you through it. In fact, you don’t think you would’ve ever cared much about him at all. You’re sure that Dan Heng wouldn’t be all that different even if he was an alpha, but you never want to try your luck with one again.

The hours pass by slowly, with you clutching onto the remnants of your bearings as you continue to ride out your heat. Dan Heng assists whenever he can, feeding you snacks and fruit juice and painkillers when you feel up for it, otherwise scenting you as he holds you tightly in his embrace. He does his best to check in with you when it looks like you’re more lucid, and as the days progress, he can see your strength and conscience returning.

When your heat’s over eight days later, neither of you talk much about it. You apologize to him and the rest of the crew for your disturbance, to which everyone dismisses with understanding words of affirmation, and that’s really it.

But one thing’s for certain. You scent him more often now, even if both of you know it won’t stay for long, and you stay overnight at the archives more frequently. You spend more time with him in general, and more and more, you leave gentle touches and marks on him, while allowing him to do the same to you. While Dan Heng would prefer for the two of you to eventually acknowledge and discuss what had happened, he doesn’t particularly want to rush you into having the conversation either. After all, you seem to be doing better, and when your next heat comes…

The two of you will cross that bridge. Together.

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