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moonywritez6 · 4 months

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Mark Me (Reupload)

Character: Toji Fushiguro x Tattoo Artist Reader

Reader: Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, drug use, high sex, smut, violence, unprotected sex, blood, harsh language, pet names, Praise kink, Dacryphilia, Exhibitionism kink, Daddy kink, degradation, marking kink, Age gap (Reader is in 20s, Toji is 30), brat kink

Wc: 7,293

A/N: Hello my sweets! Unfortunately, I got locked out of my old blog account, so I had to make a new one! So, chances of you having seen this before are high as it's on my old account! (I am so sad about it honestly). But I am going through all my old accounts posts and reuploading them here! I hope you can still enjoy my works!

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Ding!

The sound of the front door opening, indicating that a customer walked in, filled your ears, along with the quiet buzzing of the tattoo gun in your hand. "Oh! Welcome, do you have an appointment?" You hear your person at the front desk cheer, followed by muffled voices. Your eyes, which were once solely focused on the piece of art you had been skillfully engraving into the tender flesh of your current client, drift over to the small watch that rests on your wrist. "How's it looking baby?" Your client questions his eyes, looking back at you with a slight smirk, causing you to groan in disgust. This particular client of yours had been flirting with you since the day he walked into the shop, which at first didn't bother you as you were used to those occasional clients; however, this one was super persistent about it, always giving you a hard time with his tattoo design making you change things that he was once okay with into something else the next visit so that he could keep seeing you.

"It looks fine, however, we're gonna have to cut this session short as it's almost closing time and I have one more client for the night." The man lets out a small grunt, not finding a problem with your words as it just meant he could see you again, much to your dismay. "You got it boss!" He laughed while tossing his shirt back on, following behind your smaller form as you walked towards the front of the store. "Ya know I always found all those piercings and tattoos of yours to be." The man started his usual flirting with you, always leading with the art that covered your body. This time, you tuned him out, your eyes traveling to the two figures seated in the waiting room area, one of them being very familiar. "Ichigo set this guy up with his next session for me, will ya?" You mumbled while snatching the last clipboard from the desk, your eyes scanning your next client's information. "Of course, boss right away!" Ichigo cheered brightly while quickly booking the man's next appointment. You didn't get many clients at your shop, at least not many rich ones, as you had built your place in a dangerous area where lots of criminals claimed to call their homes.

It didn't bother you, of course, as you were already seen as a problem by many people due to your appearance, so you thought, why not make a profit when people will happily give you their money for the dumbest shit sometimes. "By the way, I see Mr. Playboy is back," Ichigo whispered into your ear, a playful smirk tugging on her lips as she went and pointed to what kind of tattoo the client wanted. You hummed, feeling your eye twitch as you read that same name. You found yourself tattooing on what seems to be hundreds of different women every few weeks. Toji. "This has to be his, what? Sixth girl this month?" Ichigo Scoffed before bidding your client goodbye as he shot you a slight wink, causing you to throw up in your mouth. "It's his seventh, actually." You sighed before pushing yourself off the counter as you called the two figures over.

In front of you stood the familiar face of one Toji Fushiguro. Next to him was a girl not much older than you who desperately clung to the man's bicep, pressing her exposed cleavage against his bare muscle. "Okay, so who's getting the tattoo?" You questioned as if the answer wasn't as clear as day in your mind. You watch as the girl lazily raises her hand with a slight giggle as she makes goo-goo eyes up at Toji, who stares at you unimpressed with how long it had taken for you to see them. "That would be me~ I want it as a tramp stamp~" She sang, eying the tall male to see if he would give her the reaction she wanted. Toji grunts a lazy smirk, tugging at his lips as he tilts his head down at you, an all-knowing look in his eyes at what you must be thinking right now. "And this must be the lucky guy, huh?" You heard Ichigo laugh from behind the counter, earning her a slight glare from you.

"Mhm! Isn't he so handsome?" She asked, squeezing him closer. You watch as Toji goes and wraps his arm around her waist, giving it a slight squeeze. "Think you can give her what she wants? Especially since you kept us for a bit?" Toji asked, giving you a smug look, knowing you hated doing these tattoos even more each time he brought in a new girl. "Follow me." You muttered, tossing the clipboard to the side. The two of them follow you towards the back, where you have all your equipment set up. "Let me just clean up really quick. My last client ran late, so it took a bit." The girl nodded in understanding; meanwhile, Toji just scoffed, scratching his head as he leaned on one leg. "You mean that scumbag was your client? Damn, how low have your standards become, Y/n?" He mocked while watching you sanitize your equipment and replace the ink.

"Oh, shut it. He gives me money, so who am I to complain?" You muttered before glancing between Toji and the girl. "You should know what I mean after all." You added, causing the girl to frown, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Toji!" She cried, wanting the man to say something. Toji stayed silent, knowing your words were true as he did many things for many people, the girl next to him being one of his more frequent clients who paid him pretty well to go on dates and have sex. You just shrugged, taking Toji's silence as not wanting to get involved as you went and put your gloves on while carefully getting the stencil out. "Whatever, just lay down for me, cutie." You mumbled, a slight smirk forming on your lips at the girl's shocked expression, along with the tinge of pink that lightly coated her cheeks.

Once she laid where you needed, you carefully took care of the area of skin she wanted the tattoo on as you set the stencil down. Toji hovered behind you, watching the placement, nodding in approval. "Looks good, baby~" He sang lazily, smirking, earning a giggle from the girl. You scoffed as you put your mask over your mouth and nose before turning the gun on. "Yeah, let's see how long it's gonna take." You muttered before getting to work. The sound of your tattoo gun and the girl's whines and cries fill the room as you carefully paint her lower back with the letters of Toji's name. 'Honestly, I'll never understand why so many girls get this.' You carefully wipe away some excess ink while glancing over at Toji, who stood leaning against one of your walls, eyes closed, probably thinking of other things he could be doing right now.

'Especially when they know they're not the only girls in his life.' The girl suddenly jolts, causing you to pull away as you glance at her trembling form. You let out a small sigh, turning the gun off as you go and remove your gloves. The sudden disappearance of the buzzing causes Toji to open his eyes as he looks at you, a brow raised in curiosity. "Ya done already?" His tone sounded impressed with how your speed with these things has increased. You shake your head as you go and pull your mask down with a finger pointing to the girl who is lying on the table, still shaking. "I'm going to give her a break for about fifteen minutes, maybe twenty if she still needs time." You sighed before standing up to exit the room.

"Ichigo, I'll be outside for a bit." You muttered to the girl, who responded with a pitched kay as you opened the front door to step outside. The nighttime breeze smacks you in the face, causing a relaxed moan to slip past your lips as you lean against your shop wall, reaching into your pocket to pull out a joint. You never smoked during your shifts or when you had clients; however, you had gotten so good at tattooing Toji's name on these girls that it didn't even matter if you were sober. You place the joint in your mouth before patting your pockets for your lighter. The bell to your shop rings, causing you to glance to see Toji standing in the doorway, lips curled up in a cocky smirk.

"Oh? Is smoking while on the job allowed?" He teases, watching as you roll your eyes before returning to looking for your lighter. "Tch, I would be heading home right now smoking it anyways if it wasn't for you always bringing your girls to my damn shop last minute almost every fucking night." You growled, getting frustrated that you couldn't find the small device. Toji just scoffed, standing next to you as he leaned against the wall, pulling his lighter out and aiming it towards you. You hummed, nodding as you pressed the joint's tip to the flame, watching it light. "Thanks." You muttered, leaning against the wall. This wasn't the first time you and Toji had been in this position, as this happened with almost all the girls he brought over, one of them needing some break from the pain. Toji was the first to start conversing with you about who did your tattoos. He was impressed When you told him it was you or some friends of yours. Since then, the two of you found yourselves outside your shop, often talking about life and random things whenever you waited for the girls to feel better.

You let out a puff of smoke, watching it disappear into the night sky. "How's she doing?" You asked, glancing at your watch to see how much time she still had for her break. "She'll be fine. Just give her the full twenty minutes." He muttered before going and plucking the joint from your lips, causing you to growl as you glared up at him. He just smirked, giving you a wink before hitting the joint himself. The two of you went back to saying nothing, a comfortable silence falling between the two of you as you passed the joint back and forth. You sneak a glance at Toji, taking in his well-built form, watching as the muscles in his neck slightly tense as he inhaled, how his bicep flexed every time he brought the joint to his lips.

Yes, you found his muscular body attractive, and yes, you found Toji to be your idle type, but that wasn't what caused you to grow an interest in the man. What grabbed your heart were those piercing green eyes that held a mysterious dark hue over them as if hiding his true feelings. You don't know when you started feeling this attraction towards the man, but you knew that you would never give in or act on your lustful desires as you knew nothing would come of it. "Come on, don't take all of it, you jackass." You growled and jumped up to snatch the joint, which Toji had practically smoked all of. Toji chuckles as he leans his arm on your head, causing a vein to pop as your eye twitches in annoyance. "Oh, come on, Y/n baby~ You know I'll pay ya back." He cooed before snatching a strand of your hair between two of his calloused fingers. You ignored him, not minding that he was playing with your hair as you finished the joint before glancing at your watch.

"Come on, lover boy." You tap Toji's chest with the palm of your hand as you walk by him to open your shop door. "Let's finish marking your latest victim." Toji just grinned at your words as he obediently followed behind you with a slight chuckle. "What? You want one too?" He joked, his eyes trailing down the back of your form, resting on your ass unbeknownst to you. You scoff, waving him off as you continue to make your way back to the girl. "As if! Keep dreaming, Toji!" You scoffed.

Oh, he will.

__________

You stood outside your shop, a joint in your hand, as you quietly watched the night sky. It's been weeks since Toji has stopped by with another girl, making you wonder if he's finally found someone or if he's marked every single client he has. "Hey, baby~" A familiar voice calls, causing your eyes to drift over to the sound. To your dismay, it's that client you had finally finished giving the tattoo to who had been nonstop flirting with you. You internally cringe but keep your professional, laidback persona as you provide a superficial nod toward him with a half-assed smile on your lips. "Oh hey, it's you. What's up? Is there something wrong with the tattoo?" You asked, tilting your head at the man curiously. The man shakes his head with a cocky smirk as he leans his arm against the wall. His head rested in his palm as he looked down at you with a predatory gaze.

"Oh, the tattoo is bitching, baby~ thanks again for such a good job on my body~" He cooed his body language, signaling that he was feeling pretty bold and wouldn't be taking any rejection today. You stared at him momentarily before letting out a small sigh as you carefully took the joint from your lips. 'What should I do? I sent Ichigo home cause we didn't have any more clients tonight, so no one is around to help me get out of this one.' You think a vein is popping on your temple. The man notices this and smirks, letting out a small whistle as he reaches his hand towards your face. "I noticed you've looked stressed and annoyed lately, baby~" You go to move away from his touch, which causes him to get annoyed as he suddenly grabs your chin, forcefully lifting your face to his. "Hey, now don't go being a bitch just cause you look like some trash whore always showing off so much skin. Be honest, you don't do it to show off those shit tattoos; you do it because you want men to see how easily fuckable you are." His voice was harsh, his ego probably not liking how you had tried to reject him.

"Why don't you come home with me tonight and show me all those shit tattoos, baby~ I can paint them so pretty with my-!" The man's words abruptly cut off as you watched a fist collide with the side of his head, causing a giant dent in your shop's wall. "Toji!" A girl's voice cried out in horror. You slowly followed where the fist came from, your surprised eyes meeting Toji's enraged ones as he went and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, lifting him off the ground. "Whose tattoos are you calling shit, big guy?" He growled, face inches from the man's now bloody one. "Or better yet…" You watched as Toji's jaw shook from how tight he was clenching, its veins popping out from his neck and face as he bared his teeth at the now-crying man.

"Who the hell do you think you're touching and calling baby you motherfucker?" Your body shivered at how bloodthirsty Toji's tone was not expecting to see such a sight from the usually calm and laid-back man. "H-hey, man! I was trying to get laid! I didn't know the whore was yours!" That did it. Whatever self-control Toji had was instantly gone as he went and smashed the guy's face in blood, splattering all over himself and you in the crossfire. The girl Toji had come with, stood there horrified as she trembled, not knowing what to do. You quickly snapped out of shock as you grabbed Toji's arm. "Hey! Toji, that's enough! What's gotten into you?!" You yelled, trying to pull the bigger man away from the unconscious body.

Toji's eyes shot at you, causing you to freeze as you felt your heart skip a beat at the feral look in his eyes as if he was a wild animal being torn away from his prey. When Toji realized it was you, he instantly calmed down, allowing you to feel the muscles in his arm relax as he went and dropped the guy to the ground. "Fuck." He hissed, running a hand through his messy hair as he looked from the guy to you to the girl he came with. "Give me that." He growled, snatching the joint you had forgotten all about. You watched him take a resounding hit off it before walking over to the girl. He appeared to be comforting her as he went and called her a cab. In the meantime, you dragged the unconscious guy into the alley next door, making sure he still had a pulse before heading back. When you got to the shop, you saw only Toji leaning up against the wall, a hand ruffling his hair as he let out a deep sigh, the joint hanging from his lips.

"Toji." You called, getting the man's attention. You smiled as you carefully took the joint back, putting it between your lips. "I believe you still haven't paid me back for the last time I shared one with you." You joked, trying to ease the tense atmosphere. Toji looked down at you for a moment, a frown still on his face, before you saw the scar curl up as his facial features softened. "Is that any way to say thank you brat?" He scoffed. You hummed, scratching the back of your neck as you eyed the blood-stained sidewalk and the dent in your building. "Fix my wall and clean that blood. I'll call it even." Toji let out a gruff laugh, finding your response to the situation amusing. "So did you send her home?" You asked, addressing the fact the girl was no longer around.

"Yeah, I apologized to her and said the next date was free." He sighed, annoyed that he had to waste his time for free on such an annoying girl. "How nice of you." You joked before stomping out the butt of the joint. Your eyes scanned Toji's hand, noticing the mix of his and the man's blood dripping onto the cold cement. With a sigh, you carefully take his hand, causing him to give you a confused look. "Come on, I'll clean you up." The two of you walk into the quiet shop as you go and sit Toji on one of the couches in the waiting room. He leans against the couch, spreading his legs as his arms rest on the back. "Where's your nosey assistant?" He muttered, taking note of the dramatic girl's absence. "I didn't have any more clients tonight, so I sent her home. Of course, I see you were planning on stopping by without even an appointment." You scolded while going through the first aid kit.

"Hey, if it wasn't for me not making an appointment, who knows what that guy could've done to your dumbass." He scoffed before cursing as you went and pressed the rubbing alcohol against his cut knuckles without warning. "That's what you get. As for what happened, I could have handled it." Toji just scoffed, looking away from you with an annoyed look. Neither of you said anything as you silently treated his wounds before feeling yourself starting to get high. "Ah shit it's kicking in already." You muttered as you finished treating his hand. "They're all better. Next time don't waste your time getting hurt on a girl who does tattoos for your clients, and you occasionally smoke with." You scold, standing from the couch. Toji was still looking away, causing you to sigh as you went to put the first aid kit back.

You looked in one of the mirrors to see blood on your face. You stare at it for a moment, the look in Toji's eyes filling your mind as you bite your lip, feeling your thighs rub against each other as the effects of the weed and the memory of the fight cause your body to start heating up. 'Fuck I should head home.' You mentally cursed as you walked out of the room.

Toji sat on the couch, his blood still boiling as he remembered walking the familiar route to your small shop. Yeah, it was small and out of his way, but he always found himself at your shop for some reason. Maybe it was because there weren't many people that stopped by when he showed up, or perhaps he was starting to find your assistant Ichigo entertaining as she would sometimes trap him in the waiting room to talk about some random shit he never cared for. Or maybe he came to the shop so much because of-! Toji's thoughts stopped when he and the girl turned the corner, his eyes landing on your familiar form, trapped by an unfamiliar, much bigger one.

"Hey now don't go being a bitch just cause you look like some trash whore always showing off so much skin. Be honest, you don't do it to show off those shit tattoos, you do it because you want men to see how easily fuckable you are."

Toji instantly felt his body seethe with rage as he listened to the guy's words, his gaze finally falling on how the man squeezed your pretty face between his disgusting hand. Before he knew it, his body was moving alone as he angrily stormed towards the two figures. 'Who the fuck does this fucker think he is touching what's mine.' He thinks, remembering all the times he would mess with your hair or brush up against your body, pretending that it had been an accident or that he wasn't paying much attention. Toji loved it when he would poke your cheeks, feeling the squishy skin against his rough finger and how your eye would twitch each time, finding it adorable. As Toji reached the two of you, he heard the man's following words ring through his ears like a siren.

"Why don't you come home with me tonight and show me all those shit tattoos, baby~ I can paint them so pretty with my-!" All Toji could see was red as his fist collided with the man's face. He watched as the man slid to the ground, face bleeding from Toji's fist breaking the skin. Without hesitation, Toji picked the guy up, feeling so enraged that he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. "Who the hell do you think you're touching and calling baby you motherfucker?" The words left his lips, but in his mind, there were so many things he never got to say, especially when the man went and called you a whore. Toji didn't know how many times his fist collided with the guy's face; the only thing he could hear was the loud ringing in his ears as he clenched his teeth, eyes feeling like he was about to break every blood vessel they had.

Toji thinks back to one of the times the two of you sat outside. He had asked you about all your tattoos, questioning who did them. When you answered that it was mostly work you did, he remembers being impressed at how well the artwork came out and how proud you looked when you recalled all the time and effort you put into each one. "It's something I love to do…and I want to keep adding more and more art to my body because it's something I really love!" You cheered with the brightest smile Toji had ever seen across your face, a happy blush tinting your skin as your eyes sparkled with pure joy. Toji remembers feeling his chest flutter at the sight. 'How fucking dare this scumbag say they're shit!' Toji's blood boils as he feels his chest tighten in anger.

'Don't fucking touch her! She's mine…Mine. Mine. Mine!' The thoughts ran wild in Toji's head. A sudden grip on his arm causes Toji to shoot his eyes to the side, ready to kill whoever got in his way. "Hey! Toji, that's enough! What's gotten into you?!" Until it was your face that slowly cleared the red that had drenched his vision. You stood there with your small arms wrapped around his giant one, eyes filled with worry. Toji felt his entire body relax as he took in your expression, noting the tiniest glint of tears that lined your eyes, which he always wanted to see crying under him. 'Who are you making that face for, Y/n? Are you worried about this fucking scumbag? Or that useless bitch crying in the back?' After that, Toji only thought of you, not processing anything else that happened.

'Will you worry for me? Will you cry for me again? I only want you to think of me.'

Toji sat on the couch staring at the ceiling as he felt himself getting high from the joint, his body relaxing, allowing a small moan to leave his lips as he continued to picture your worried, tearful expression, wanting to see it again as he started to imagine you under his body eyes leaking tears as you reached your arms up for him while crying his name like you did earlier to get him off the guy. "Fuck." Toji curses, feeling himself start to get hard as he crosses his legs when he hears your footsteps approaching. "I got some of that guy's blood on my face." You grumbled as you went to the front door, carefully turning the open sign off.

Toji watched as you tried to wipe the scumbag's dried blood off your cheek. As you stood there, blood staining your skin, Toji couldn't help himself as he bit his lip, letting out a low growl before standing up. Unknowingly to you, you continued to try and get the blood off your cheek while staring at your reflection from the door. "Hey, Toji, I'm about to head home. Are you going to be!" Your words stop as you feel rough hands gently grab your hips, pulling them back as your ass feels something poke and slide against it. You stand there stiff as a giant blush slowly makes its way to your cheeks as you slowly look up at the door's reflection. Toji stands there, his eyes narrowed, a slight frown on his face as he goes and lightly grinds against your ass, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. "T-Toji?!" You cried, shocked and embarrassed, as anyone who walked by the shop would be able to see the inappropriate scene unfolding. "Let me see it." Toji mumbled, his voice an octave lower, causing a shiver to run through you as you nervously looked back at him. "C-come again?" You asked, watching as Toji scowled, his brows knitting as he went and grabbed your face, turning your cheek towards him. "Fuck that scumbag's pathetic blood did get on you." He growled, his fingers twitching.

You whined, feeling your upper body press against the cold glass as you placed your palms against it for support. Toji's hand that still held your hip tightened as he released your face, causing you to look away embarrassed as you felt the familiar warmth between your legs quickly forming from the constant grinding. "Y/n look at me." Toji commanded as he licked his thumb, ensuring it was coated in his saliva. You do as told, slightly turning your cheek towards him. You cringe when he presses the wet digit against your heated flesh, making sure to rub all that scumbag blood away. "Y/n, from now on, I want you to keep this in mind." He growled before roughly shooting his hips forward, causing a small gasp to escape your lips as you felt your chest rub up and down against the cold glass.

'Fuck, this is bad...I didn't wear a bra today.' You thought, feeling your nipples poke out from your top, thanks to the mix of friction and the cold. "No scumbag is allowed to touch you, got that?" Toji growled as he pressed his body against yours, his giant size trapping you against the door. You can only whimper, your eyes slowly clouding with lust as you look into the reflection. Your eyes locked with Toji's as he smirked, sliding his hands up your sides and under your shirt, causing you to let out a small cry. Toji stiffens when he notices the lack of a bra before a giant smirk crosses his face as he goes and bites at your ear. "No bra today, naughty girl~?" He purred his rough hands, groping your breasts as he skillfully took your perked buds between his rough fingers, pinching and pulling them as if they were some instrument, loving each noise he pulled from your precious lips.

"Fuck baby, that's it…come on, keep making noises for me." Toji moans as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, feeling his erection getting more prominent as his mind becomes slightly clouded from the weed. "T-Toji, stop…what if someone comes by?" You whined in protest as you tried to push off from the glass door. Your actions cause you to grind into Toji, earning a rough grunt as he sinks his teeth into your neck. "A-ah Tojiiiii~" You whined body shivering as his teeth lightly pierce your sensitive flesh, a bit of drool escaping the corner of your mouth as you relish in the slight pain. Toji hums at this as he lightly sucks on the spot pulling away with a small pop as he grins his fingers roughly pulling at your nipples, causing your eyes to widen as you arch your back. “Is my Babygirl a fucking masochist? Do you like it when I pull on your nipples~?" Toji coos while leaving sloppy kisses up and down your neck, making sure he leaves as many marks as possible. "Sooooo sensitive, haha~" He mocked, feeling your body tremble in his grip. "I-It's cause of the weed…. MMH!" You slap a hand to your mouth as Toji goes and slides his hand down to your crotch, roughly cupping it from your shorts.

"T-Toji, please, someone will see…ah… i-i'll be ruined." You cried between moans. Toji growled, not liking that you thought of others when he was groping your body. "Tch." He clicked his tongue as he pinched your nipples as punishment, causing your knees to buckle. Thankfully, Toji had quick reflexes as he went and wrapped an arm around your midsection, making sure to hold your weak body up, his muscles flexing. "Who the fuck cares? Do you think you can think of others while I'm right here? What if I want them to see you like this, huh?" Suddenly, you feel your shorts get pulled down, exposing your wet panties to anyone who was to walk by. Toji glanced at you in the reflection, watching as tears of embarrassment filled your eyes, causing his chest to fill with pleasure as he loved seeing you so vulnerable.

"What do you think that scumbag will return and see you like this baby? All wet and messy for the guy who beat him unconscious?" Toji's words cause you to moan as you recall the look in his eyes from the fight again, causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head. "Yeah? Does thinking about that get you turned on, baby? It's turning me on too. You can feel it. Right." He growls as he grinds into you faster while sliding his hand up your neck to tilt your head back. "Fuck Y/n, you look so fucking hot like this…" You whine, your mouth opening as you look up at him with lustful eyes, drool falling from your chin. Toji growls as his grip on your neck tightens before smashing his lips against yours in a heated, messy kiss. You whine, going and grabbing a fist full of his hair as he shoves his tongue around your wet cavern, wanting to taste every inch of your flavor. He moans into the kiss, pulling away with a few strings of saliva still connecting the two of you as he looks at you with dark eyes.

"Open your mouth." He commands. "I wanna see you stick out that pretty tongue." You feel his fingers dance around your neck as you obediently do as you're told, making sure the wet muscle stretches out as far as possible. "That's a good fucking girl." Toji groans as he spits into your mouth, his dick twitching as he watches the glob slide down your tongue and into your mouth. "Swallow it, princess…let me see you swallow daddy's spit like a good slut." He groaned, watching you close your mouth, his hand feeling your throat expand as you swallow. "Fuck…Come on." He growled, pulling away from you roughly, picking you up as he tossed you over his shoulder. You let out a surprised squeal as you gripped the back of his shirt, causing him to chuckle as he went and smacked your ass.

"God, you're so fucking sexy baby." He purred as he walked back to your station, carefully placing you on the chair. "You know how often I've wanted to fuck your dirty ass in this chair?" He growled, pressing his fingers against your soaked panties, causing you to moan as you tilt your head. "W-why my chair?" You sighed, finding that Toji fantasized about you sexy as you tried to rub your thighs together. Toji scowls at this as he roughly spreads your legs apart, pressing his fingers deeper against your wet panties, causing you to gasp. "Don't close your legs, princess…you better keep them spread for Daddy or else." He warns as he goes and sits himself between your legs. You watch through lidded eyes as he lifts one of your legs, pressing kisses up and down your inner thigh, leaving the occasional bite mark, shivering each time you cringe and squirm in his grasp.

"Now be a good girl for me, Y/n." He whispers as he slides your panties off his breath, stopping as he watches a string of your slick connecting your needy hole and the useless piece of fabric. "Fucking hell, brat." He growled before ripping the material off as he wasted no time in consuming your sweet juices, a deep growl escaping his throat as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Toji mentally curses to himself as he swears, you're one of the best things he's ever tasted, wanting to eat you out for hours as he slides his thumb down over your clit, the rough pad aggressively assaulting the bundle of nerves. You let out multiple moans and curses as you arch your back, your hands gripping the armrests of the chair as Toji eats you like a starved animal. "Tojiiiiii~ mmh So fucking good~" You cry out as you weakly grab a fist full of his hair. Toji grunts his tongue, sliding up and down your folds before he plunges the slick-covered muscle into your hole.

"Fuckfuckfuck!" You cry, your legs tensing as you push Toji's face deeper into your dripping pussy; you feel your orgasm rush through you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your entire body. Toji growls as he makes sure to lap it all up, his tongue greedily sucking it into his mouth as he gulps your sweet juices down, pulling away from your needy hole, his face dripping with your cum. "Did my baby girl cum just from my tongue~?" He purred, his fingers sliding up and down your slick folds. You watched with hooded eyes as Toji watched some of your juices drip to the ground, some landing on the chair, causing him to grunt. "Come on, baby again…you can cum for daddy again, right?" He growled, leaning over your body as he pressed rough kisses along your neck, one of his fingers sliding into your needy hole.

"Mmmmmm!" You moan loudly, your walls clenching around the rough digit as he presses it against the squishy flesh. "That's right, baby if you can cum for me, Daddy will reward you." He chuckles, watching your pleasured expression. "So, fucking pretty." He mumbled before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he lightly bites and pulls, causing tears to roll down your cheeks. "T-Toji don't! H-hurts! EEEEEK!" You cried, feeling the man pull harder as he looked up at you with narrowed eyes. "That's not what I want you to call me princess." He growled before leaving a few apologetic licks to the irritated bud. You whine, looking away, too embarrassed to look him in the eye, when you feel another finger being inserted into you, causing your hips to buck up. "Fuuuuuuuck~" You moaned, earning a satisfied hum from Toji, who decided to mercilessly pump his fingers in and out of your puffy pussy, licking his lips as he stared down at you with a cocky grin.

"Come on baby say it! Say my name and I'll make you cum~" Toji went and licked your bottom lip, gently biting the tender flesh as you whined, eyes rolling back again. “D-daddy…ah…I wanna cum please." You cried while shielding your eyes from his gaze. This didn't sit well with Toji as he went and pulled his fingers out, causing you to whimper at the loss as you felt your walls clench around nothing. You let out a loud gasp followed by a pathetic cry as Toji slapped your pussy, eyes narrowed. "Y/n, you're being such a brat." He growled, pinning your arms above your head with a tight grip. You winced, letting out more whimpers as you looked at him with a pout. "Stop being a brat and I'll reward you now instead of later~" He whispered, licking the lobe of your ear, causing you to shiver as you felt yourself needing more.

You bite your lip, eyes wide, watching Toji free his erection from his pants. You felt yourself starting to drool as you watched his sensitive tip pulse as precum oozed. Toji smirked, his ego growing as he watched you go dumb at the sight of his cock. "That's right, baby~ If you beg me for it, I'll fill your needy pussy as much as you want~" You watched as he slid the tip up and down your folds teasingly, causing you to whine as you tried to free your wrists from his grip. "Toji!" You cry, not liking how he was teasing you so much. "Uh uh…." He tuts as he smacks your pussy twice with his rough hand, causing you to arch your back, tears falling. He chuckles, leaning to lick the tears up while nibbling on your jaw. "Come on, princess…say it. Beg me." He growls while pumping his twitching cock.

You bite your lip as you look up at him. "P-Please fuck me D-daddy." You beg with the most pathetic look Toji has ever seen. Before anything else can happen, Toji roughly thrusts into you, causing you to arch your back as you toss your head back from the intense feeling. "That's my good girl! Fuck you're such a good girl for me Y/n! Your pussy is so tight it makes me want to ruin you." He growls as his hips press against you. "Fuck! Daddy too deep! Too deep daddy!" You cry Toji just grins as he continues to pound into your abused hole, loving how fucked out your expression is. "Fuck baby, you look so dumb on Daddy's cock." He releases your hands as he tosses your legs over his shoulders, guiding your hands to his biceps. "You wanted to know why I always wanted to fuck you in this chair, right?" He growled as he pressed his forehead against yours, scanning your every expression with those eyes of his that you loved so much.

"It's because every time one of those fucking scumbags comes in here to get a tattoo while their filthy eyes scan your hot body…fuck… they're going to be sitting in this chair embedded with all your slutty juices from being fucked by your best customer." He laughs at the thought while relishing as he watches your eyes go back into your skull as your walls clamp down around him. "Fuck baby, are you gonna cum for me?" He growls, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his face, kissing each tattoo that graced your skin. "So, fucking beautiful. You look so fucking sexy with these tattoos, baby. That fucking scumbag didn't know what he was saying." He moaned out, his thrusts becoming sloppy. You moan, your nails digging into the flesh of Toji's biceps.

"Daddy~ am I really that pretty~?" You whine, wanting to hear his praise again. Toji smirks as he presses his lips to yours in a passionate kiss while cupping your cheeks in his hands, his thumbs rubbing your tear-stained cheeks. "The prettiest baby. You're so fucking sexy crying under me, covered in your art. Fuck baby, let me mark you~ I want everyone to see you, mine." He growls as he feels himself reaching his limit, gritting his teeth. You moan as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching. "Mmmh~ I won't be labeled like one of your whores." You admit causing Toji to scoff as he bites at your lip, his lustful green eyes locking with yours as he presses a deep kiss to your lips letting out a deep moan. "You're nothing like them, baby; ~ You're only mine~ I'll make you a new mark, yeah? Would you like that princess?" He leaves messy kisses across your face while gritting his teeth. "Daddy will give you a mark that only you can have~" He moans before giving you one last harsh thrust, his cum spraying all over your walls as he roughly bites into your shoulder to muffle his noises.

The two of you stay still for a moment, both recovering from your highs as Toji caresses your body, his hands admiring each tattoo he knows you worked hard on. "Yeah…I know what I'm going to do." He cooed, slowly pulling out from you and kissing your cheek as you whined from the sudden loss, causing you to feel empty. Toji hummed as he watched his cum spill from your messy hole, pride filling him as he reached for your tattoo gun, carefully turning it on as he gave you a sadistic smirk.

"Be a good girl for Daddy one more time tonight, baby~"

_______

Ding!

Your eyes slowly travel to the front door, where you see Toji standing with a new girl by his side. Ichigo giggles as she watches you lead them to the back and start tattooing the usual name onto whatever body part she's chosen. As you sit there carefully tattooing the girl, Toji stands behind you, his eyes landing on the tattoo, still healing on your shoulder. The detailed bite mark slightly starts to peel from the healing skin, causing Toji's eyes to narrow as he walks closer to you. "How's it looking Toji~?" The girl questioned with a giggle. Your body stiffens as Toji gently cups your shoulder, running his thumb across the healing tattoo. His eyes fill with lust as he licks his lips, noticing the deep blush on your cheeks.

"Oh yeah… it's looking perfect baby~"

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk toji #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #smut #x reader #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction #toji fushigro x reader

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abiiors · 8 months

Text

disclaimer: please don't copy, translate or reupload my work here or on any other platforms!

key: a → angst // f → fluff // s → smut // h/c → hurt/comfort // a/f → angst to fluff

matty blurbs

august━(s, f) | contains oc. cara is a on a holiday in italy and runs into a handsome stranger

canvas━(s) | painter!au. you're a nude model for a really hot painter and... well, you decide to make art together

cold shower━(s, f) | the ac is broken and in lieu of fixing it, you and he decide to take a cold shower

corruption━(s) | politician!au. your boss is Quite unhappy with how a tv debate went and decides you teach you a... lesson

crush━(f) | he has a crush on you and it's only minutes until showtime.

edinburgh━(f) | you have a broken leg resulting in the cancellation of your edinburgh trip

the frontman━(f) | he gets to meet his celebrity crush (you) at an award show

i like it when you sleep━(f) | he sings you to sleep

jealous boyfriend━(a) | he gets jealous of your actor costar after he watches you shoot an intimate scene

jealous boyfriend pt 2━(a/f) | he apologises for being jealous and acting immature

just let me━(a/f) | you won't let your best friend help you while having a slight mental health crisis until he snaps

miserable together━(f) | both of you wake up sick together

mother hen━(h/c, f) | you're sick and he takes care of you

naps━(f) | he's super tired and you help him take a nap

onesie━(f) | you both go onesie shopping for your baby. onesie pt 2━(f)

on wednesdays, we wear pjs━(s, f) | you hate wednesday mornings to begin with and your very warm, very sexy bf makes it impossible to get out of bed

palimpsest━(f) | matty's giving you a tour of manchester and can't help but reminisce about the things that have changed

quiet━(f) | you're still getting used to dating your famous bf

rainy tuesday night━(f, s) | it's still early stages of dating and you're forced to spend a night in because of the rain

sick day━(h/c, f) | he's sick and you take care of him

slit━(s) | you're his date to an award show and the dress you're wearing has a Very high slit

stay━(a) | you run into your ex a year after breaking up

west coast━(s) | road head

wired autocomplete━(f) | you both do the wired autocorrect interview together

your lips, my lips━(f) | dancing in the kitchen with the love of your life

ross blurbs

anniversary━(a/f) | it's your anniversary but he's busy touring on another continent

bass strings━(f) | he teaches you how to play the bass

drunken nights━(f) | he takes care of you while you're super drunk

exhaustion━(h/c, f) | you've been working away non-stop and are at the brink of exhaustion until he makes you take a break

homecoming━(f, s) | he comes home from tour after a long time and you can't seem to keep your hands off each other

helpful━(s) | after a boring one night stand and your vibrator breaking, you're really frustrated at work the next day. he offers to help

hungover mornings━(f) | he takes care of you when you're really hungover

limbo━(h/c) | after a really hectic couple of days on the road, you're really overwhelmed and exhausted

lessons in patience━(s) | your husband's busy working but you're feeling super impatient and needy. turns out, he knows how to tame a brat

marital bliss━(s, f) | an italian honeymoon with your husband

morning routine━(f) | a sweet, quaint morning with him

small comforts━(f) | he takes care of you when you get your period

so you're tired━(a) | you travel to paris to win him back after a breakup but it might just be too late

tomorrow━(a/f) | he isn't dealing super well with the fact that tour’s going to make him miss important days in your relationship

what’s his name?━(s) | a slight bit of jealousy can't hurt when it means getting railed backstage

george blurbs

in stages━(a/f) | five times he almost confessed and the one time he finally did it

red hearts━(f) | dying his hair

support━(f) | he's there to support you at your book launch event

three's a party━(s) | after a lackluster date, you meet two strangers at a pub who make the night thrice as more fun (ft. ross hehe)

HAUNT // BED (MATTY)

do me a favour━(a) // prequel part 1━(a, f) part 2━(a) part 3━(s, a) epilogue━(a, f)

BIRTHDAY BASH (MATTY)

firsts - monday (first birthdays as a couple - his birthday)━(f) special girl - tuesday (first birthdays as a couple - your birthday)━(f) to build a home - saturday (34 headcanons)━(f, s) red lips - sunday (birthday smut)━(s)

WRITE ANYTHING THAT YOU WANT TO (MATTY)

book - monday (early matty, pre-notes/bfiafl)━(f) boyfriend - tuesday (boyfriend matty)━(f) baking - wednesday (dad matty)━(f) birthday - thursday (trope night)━(f) bet - friday (slutty matty)━(s)

WEEKENDS IN MANCHESTER (MATTY)

the meet (cute?)━(f) i'm not stalking you, i promise━(f) i know a place━(f) gathering of strangers━(f, s) say that again━(f, s) i'm so obsessed with you━(s)

KEEP YOUR ENEMIES CLOSER (GEORGE X OC)

masterlist matty and cleo have been best friends for almost a decade; inseparable, until she left for new york. but now she's back—abruptly and clearly hiding things from him—and staying at matty's place until she can figure something out, all while trying not to kill his infuriating housemate george...

PROMPTOBER 2023 (THE 1975 X READER)

masterlist a series of short one-shots from my autumn-themed prompt list

marital bliss━ross

#the 1975 #masterlist

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f4er-ie · 1 year

Photo

˗ˏˋ faerie 2.0; a reshade preset ´ˎ˗

this is specifically made for sims 3 but will work in sims 2 and 4 (you will most likely need to make slight shader adjustments in-game).

im so glad so many of you liked my first “faerie” preset! i decided i wanted to spruce the preset up a little when i switched back over to reshade. this is technically compatible with gshade as well but i am no longer using that program.

important: you’ll need to add/replace some shaders for this to look the way it’s supposed to because some of them are from gshade. i’ve included all the shaders used in this preset in the download. if you’re interested in knowing how to switch from gshade to reshade and make them compatible, this video may help. it’s for the sims 4 but it’s nearly the same steps when doing it for the sims 3.

i use this lighting mod by brntwaffles (with auroras & ip water), so your game might look slighty different than mine if you don’t have it.

toggle keys: mxao on/off (shift + 2)

this is the preset i use for my gameplay. mxao could be a little heavy on your game so turn off/on as needed! mxao also requires edge smoothing to be turned off.

installation & download link below the cut

if you do not have gshade shaders in reshade yet:

♡ plop the “Shaders” folder in the download into C:\Program Files\EA Games\The Sims 3\Game\Bin\reshade-shaders

♡ click replace files if needed

♡ drop the .ini into C:\Program Files\EA Games\The Sims 3\Game\Bin

do not reupload my preset and claim it as your own.

do not edit or change my preset and upload it as your own.

you can edit and tweak for personal use but don’t reupload and always give credit.

♡ download ♡

#sims 3 #faeriepreset #reshade #reshadepreset #s3reshade #ts3 #s3cc #ts3cc #preset #sims #the sims 3

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daizymax · 1 year

Text

these wicked delights | psh (m)

summary: in the dead of night, a sinful creature visits you, penetrating and encompassing your mind, body and soul…

pairing: seonghwa x fem reader

genre: incubus!au, smut

word count: 3.4k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: incubus!seonghwa; supernatural elements; vulgar language; degrading dialogue; not your modern day dirty talk because seonghwa is thousands of years old; the reader is legally an adult but seonghwa calls her a child because, again, he’s thousands of years older; very slight religious elements; graphic sexual content; situations of dub/non-con; dom/sub themes without discussion of boundaries / safety / safewording; dom!seonghwa; rough handling; sensory deprivation; vaginal fingering; oral (f receiving); squirting; unprotected penetrative sex (no condom use, no established birth control method in effect); mirror sex; brief mentions of blood; creampie; an unreal amount of cum; no proper aftercare

author’s note: reuploaded from my old blog and rewritten featuring seonghwa now. no changes to the content itself though. please take extra care to heed the warnings on this one, this is not like my other fics.

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

This is how it begins: with a curious tingling sensation at the beginning of your spine, right at the base of your neck. It gradually builds into a dull burn that travels southward, growing warmer and warmer as it goes, until eventually your whole body is awash with white-hot pinpricks.

Yet you are not even sure that you are fully conscious. Sleep’s shroud still clings to you as tangibly as the comfortable cotton sheets draped over your body. Your closed eyelids may render you blind to the surroundings of your bedroom, but they do nothing to block sound.

“Good evening, pet…” drawls a guttural voice, manifesting out of nowhere. It sounds decidedly otherworldly from the way it resonates in the air.

A throaty groan of acknowledgment is all you can manage in your fright.

I’m dreaming, you think, hoping it is true.

“Does this feel like a dream?”

Something inhumanly strong clutches your covered ankle. The sudden gesture startles you, but your body does not - cannot - flinch. Not even your lips break apart to let out the squeal trapped in your throat.

Wh-what is this?! you panic silently. What have you done to me?! Who are you?!

The visitor, whoever he is, seems to hear your unspoken thought.

“A more apt question would be what am I,” he answers cryptically before soon elaborating, “My name is Seonghwa. I am an ancient being well-learned in the ways of copulating with females of your species. As for your paralysis… it is only temporary. There is no need for you to be mobile tonight. I am the master, and you are the pet. You are not in charge here, not even of your own limbs and tongue.”

The claw around your ankle tugs swiftly at the sheets blanketing you, leaving you naked and bare. One long, sharp fingernail drags its way slowly from your foot to your calve to your inner thigh. Your leg may not be able to move, but neither is it numb to the sensations drawn on your nerves.

W-what are you d-doing? Even in your mind, your voice sounds woefully weak.

The jagged end of the bony finger pauses on the outskirts of your exposed entrance.

“Engaging in foreplay,” he - it? - answers matter-of-factly. “You are a lonely, miserable, pathetic little thing, starving for physical attention. That is why I have come.”

His words ring a sour note because of the harsh truth they carry. You have been wallowing in lonely misery for quite some time. Nearly a year has passed without so much as one lousy date or meaningless hookup.

“Hmm, do not despair, child,” your uninvited guest coos almost soothingly. Was his voice this melodic before? “It is that very nature of yours that attracted me to you. Your fragile little mind called to me so sweetly, I had to oblige. You should consider yourself quite fortunate I am here. You will never find another who can stimulate the delicate flesh between your legs better than I.”

Your cunt tingles in recognition from the foul words, and the creature senses your body’s involuntary reaction.

“Yes, I can feel your carnal desires. Shall I begin satisfying them?”

You gulp in apprehension. Would he really stop if you said (thought) the word ‘no?’ But before you can ruminate further, this creature named Seonghwa resumes his earlier movements and tickles the folds of your center.

“I can sense your hesitation, pet,” he says. “But beneath that, your body and your subconscious are screaming for me to continue. I can feel the vibrations of your lust pulsing from you. Would it relax you to know that I desire this, too? Your body is quite exquisite… for a human. I would be delighted to plumb its treasures, starting with the sweetness about to drip from your genitalia.”

With that said, his gnarled finger glides easily into your surprisingly wet cunt. Your gasp of shock and pleasure goes in through your nose as a deep breath. The action encourages the creature to curl the digit purposefully, as if to beckon another reaction out of you.

This is wrong… you fret with what must be the last vestiges of your sanity. I didn’t ask for this…

“No, but your kind is rarely granted the things for which they ask. And many things that are or seem wrong often feel too good to deny,” Seonghwa counters. “Millions of your species give in to their wicked and morally corrupt ways every hour, child. You frail little thing... why should you be any different?”

I’m not a child, your mind argues, latching onto the word with offense.

A deep chuckle reverberates against the walls. “You may be considered a mature adult amongst your species, but I have more than a thousandfold years on you. Now stop this pitiful, stubborn attempt at righteousness and submit to me.”

The boom of his voice is terrifying, but as he adds a second finger to your heated core, you find yourself powerless to resist. You absently wonder if he is casting some sort of spell over you to force your obedience, but the burning arousal in your loins does not feel like a trick. Could you really be so desperately depraved as to want this to happen?

In any case, the demon hums his approval at your compliance.

“There’s a good pet.” He withdraws his hand and uses it to lightly pat your pussy appreciatively, only to immediately plunge his fingers back into place inside you.

His long fingernails graze your g-spot, but rather than being painful or uncomfortable, the sensation is oddly gratifying. Every brush against your deepest recesses serves to torment you in the best way. If you could gyrate your hips, you would, but the best you can do is allow a soft moan to thrum inside your chest.

“Enjoying yourself already?” Seonghwa muses. “How weak you are indeed. And so soft…”

His other hand skims along the side of your body, following the curves from your hip to your breast. He grasps the fleshy mound and squeezes with surprising tenderness.

“Perhaps I should loosen my hold on you,” he wonders. He gives your nipple a pinch and clarifies, “Not here, just over your lips. I am an admittedly vain creature. I would very much enjoy hearing your uncensored cries - in full volume - when I bring you to the height of euphoria, over and over, until your voice is utterly shattered. What do you think, pet?”

As he speaks, he wiggles his fingers and digs the heel of his palm into your clit determinedly, while the hand on your chest moves to your other breast to caress it with the same attention as the first. The stimulation is positively electrifying.

I… you plead vaguely, unable to string coherent words together.

“You what, child?” he urges. “Speak freely now. Tell me what you so desire.”

Your freed tongue pokes out to wet your lips, then you say unabashedly, “I want to come so badly.”

“Do you?” he teases.

Seonghwa’s pointed thumb begins strumming against your clit with the faintest touch, and this time your gasp is much sharper when able to be inhaled through your mouth. Again, you lament the inability to rock yourself against him. The light stimulation is not enough.

“More…” you rasp. “I need more.”

“Is that any way to speak to your master?” he states coldly. His thumb lifts away from your bud, and his fingers draw back to the start of your opening and stall there. “Try that again. Ask me nicely this time, pet.” He spits the last word to reiterate your role in this unnatural union.

“Please… m-master,” you stutter over the uncomfortable word. “Will you p-please make me come, master?”

“That’s better,” he approves, then begins shoving his hand into you repeatedly.

A third finger joins the first two, and the thick stretch has you groaning incessantly. His thumb descends back onto your engorged clit to rub skilled circles into it. Every little twitch of his hand pulls the knot inside your belly tighter and tighter.

“This silky cavern of yours is taking my fingers so well, pet,” Seonghwa purrs, and you mentally preen under his praise in spite of yourself. For reasons you can’t explain, you’re honored to please him.

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for your orgasm to wash over and pour out of you. The inability to hunch your back or even curl your toes makes it feel all the more powerful, and the high-pitched whine that squeaks out of you is unlike any sound you have ever produced.

Seonghwa continues undulating his wrist until the spasms of your pussy subside and the overstimulation on your clit nears the point of becoming painful.

“Such a messy little thing,” he tsks. The squelching sound when he removes his hand from your center alerts you to just how much wetness you released. “Open your eyes now and look at the mess you have made.”

You blink your heavy eyelids open and let your pupils adjust to the darkness. From the moonlight streaming through the curtains, you can definitely discern a distinct sheen running along the back of his hand, but what really captures your interest is the hand - claw - itself. It is even larger than you imagined. The skin is alabaster and smooth, but the pointed nails are black as moonless midnight.

You raise your eyes upward to look upon your visitor for the first time and are immediately captivated by his piercing crimson gaze. His eyes are quite literally glowing, illuminating the pale face sculpted from the same ivory marble as his hands. Thick, silver hair frames his temples, brushing just above high cheekbones.

Oh… he is so beautiful…

The thought is automatic and also instantly heard, as Seonghwa’s wide grin indicates. His teeth are blinding white in the dark and noticeably sharp.

“Of course I am beautiful, child. If I am to take the form of a wretched human, only the best will do. Although some appendages have remained unmodified, as you will find out,” he informs you. “But first, let me see if you taste as delectable as you look.”

With that, he parts his lips and snakes his sharp tongue out to catch his dripping fingers. He sucks them thoroughly before releasing each of them with soft pops.

The verdict is rendered as: “Delicious,” while he continues to grin down at you devilishly. Then he decides, “I think I would like a taste straight from the source now, if you don’t mind.”

Without actually giving you a choice, he drags your body down the mattress without touching you and kneels at the foot of your bed to bring his face inches from your sensitive pussy. Before you have time to marvel (or cower) from the magical action, he is on to the next thing, which is yanking your immobilized knees apart. His claws dig into the supple flesh of your thighs possessively.

When he dips what can only be his tongue into the folds of your cunt, the muscle feels strangely scaly and clammy. It soon becomes clear he is quite skilled with it, however, and its reach far extends that of all your previous lovers.

He licks along your slit tantalizingly without heed for your still-throbbing clit. Then he delves his tongue in and out of your tight hole at a steady, rhythmic pace.

“Such sweet syrup you have stored inside you, child,” Seonghwa murmurs huskily. “What a shame to have it bottled up for so long. It is a good thing I am here to release it for you.”

You would say plenty of it has already been released, considering the stickiness seeping down into the crack of your ass, but you doubt your imposing ‘lover’ would appreciate such a quip. And truth be told, you are flattered that he seems to be enjoying giving you all the pleasure… so far.

He suddenly digs his tongue into your clit, directly under the hood. A jolt frizzles along the nerves of your frozen body and escapes past your lips in the form of a whimper.

While his mouth is attending to your nether regions, his hands creep back up along your abdomen until he finds your breasts again. He fondles both of them rather gently, occasionally rolling and tweaking your nipples to send a pulse of electricity below. Your moans become louder the longer he carries on lapping and stroking and pulling you to the brink of madness.

Your second orgasm crests every bit as high as the first, and although your limbs still cannot move, you can feel the aftershocks in your very bones.

“So easy to unravel,” Seonghwa comments as he resurfaces from the drenched juncture of your thighs. You watch as that red, serpentine tongue outlines his coated lips to capture every lingering drop of your essence.

Your eyelids droop in exhaustion, but the unholy creature has not yet finished taking its fill.

“You are not the only one in need of release, child,” he tells you. “It has been ages since I have visited upon one as enticing as you, and I do not intend to waste this opportunity.”

Again, he uses his otherworldly power to manipulate your body to his will, this time flipping you over onto your stomach. Your startled yelp is muffled against the sheets when he manually yanks your bottom half into the air, fully presenting your ass to him. His hands roam over your backside slowly.

“I am going to penetrate you now, pet,” Seonghwa says in a low tone; it sounds like a warning. “The fit will surely be excruciating for you. I suggest you take a deep breath and exhale it as I make my entrance.”

The unmistakable head of his cock presses against the petaled lips of your pussy. The circumference of it is wider than any you have known, and your mind balks when your muscles cannot flinch. It has not pushed inside of you yet, but you know without a doubt it will rip you apart.

Before you can voice your concerns, your lover is speaking to you again.

“Shh, stop your fussing,” he growls. “Your anatomy is made to birth infants larger than my genitals; you will be fine. I will guide you through this. Breathe, child.”

You obediently suck in a gulp of air.

“Good girl. Now let it out. Slowly, now,” he instructs next.

You allow the air to slowly leak from your lungs, and Seonghwa begins the plunge of his turgid cock into your core. As wet as you are, it is a struggle to fit even the tip of him inside. It spears through your walls agonizingly, tearing the sensitive skin just as you predicted, and you cannot even twist your fingers into the bedspread to help cope with the pain.

“You are doing well, my pet. Very well,” Seonghwa assures you, conscious of your pained state. “But we have a way to go yet. Keep breathing.”

Each breath comes in shakier and rushes out whinier as inch after inch locks into place inside you. Your walls stretch to their limits around his rock hard shaft, and still he continues to push until eventually he meets the resistance of your cervix.

“There we go,” he announces quietly, not sounding nearly as affected by the tight fit as you are.

He reaches up and fits one of his hands between the side of your face and where it rests against the bed to cup your cheek lightly for a moment, then glides his fingers slowly around to the back of your neck, across your shoulder blades, down your spine, finally coming to a halt at your hip. His delicate touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His other hand finds purchase on the other side of your waist, and his hold becomes bruising.

“Now, stay just like that and let me do all the work,” he commands, as though you have a choice.

Seonghwa withdraws his monstrous cock until only the mushroomed head remains, then thrusts back into you sharply, causing you to utilize the only parts of your body with mobility by parting your lips to groan loudly and squeezing your eyes shut tight. He gradually builds a steady pace, driving himself to knock against your g-spot relentlessly. The punishing blows make your eyes roll back in your skull.

“Is that what you think, child?” Seonghwa questions suddenly without interrupting his movements.

“W-what?” you ask shakily, unaware that you had even been thinking of anything specific for him to pick up on.

“That you are being punished?” he specifies. “You are not being punished, my pet. If it feels that way, you are mistaken. I am not ruining you. I am ushering you into paradise. Don’t. You. See?”

He punctuates his last few words with especially hard snaps, and you choke on a moan. Your pussy is clenching repeatedly around him now, signaling an impending third climax, even without stimulation to your clit.

Seonghwa jerks the top half of your body upright with a claw hooked around your throat, and the unseen force he wields is used to plant your palms firmly into the mattress to help keep yourself propped up. The mirror of your vanity dresser magically floats through the air to lean against the headboard of your bed. The reflection shows only yourself situated on your hands and knees, breasts jostling lewdly from the consistent pounding you are taking from behind. Your lover is nowhere to be seen in the glass.

“Look at yourself, child,” Seonghwa demands. “There is no use denying that you enjoy being ravaged like this.”

You are unable to tear your gaze away from the crazed eyes staring straight back at you. They are your own, but they are also a stranger’s. You moan wantonly in a broken voice.

“You can be louder than that,” the demon spurs. “Let all the heathens in Hell and all the seraphs in Heaven hear me taking over your body, mind, and soul.”

He speeds his thrusts even more to help earn the noises he so craves, and you do not disappoint. Even if the damned and the higher beings cannot hear you, your neighbors surely can through the walls of your apartment.

“Yes, my pet, yes. That’s it. Give in once more to the primal needs inside of you. Do it for your master.”

And you do. You shut your eyes and feel your pussy quake as it releases one last sinful gush.

Seonghwa pierces the flesh of your hips with his nails sharply enough to draw trickles of blood as he tumbles over the edge with you. His massive cock balloons even more at the moment of his impressive climax. The grunt he lets out sounds like a clap of thunder as he discharges a gratuitous amount of cum, drowning your insides overfull. Even with his cock still lodged within you, it does little to plug the boiling liquid; it drips out around his wide length, down your pussy, and onto the sheets below in thick, copious rivulets.

When it is over, he removes himself from your gaping opening with a cringe-worthy slurp and releases all hold over you. Your used body crumbles in a heap.

“I believe I have sufficiently satiated you now, sweet pet,” Seonghwa says rather calmly. Even after pounding you like a jackhammer and unloading what felt like liters of cum inside you, he is not the slightest bit breathless. “It is a shame I cannot visit you again for a while. The toll it would take on your fragile soul is not to be taken lightly, after all.”

You give no indication that you have heard him, but he does not seem to mind. With strong arms, he manually lifts your limp body and tucks you into your sheets with care. You are too tired and too out of it to realize they are totally dry.

Or that your sore hips are not actually bleeding.

Or that the mirror has returned to its rightful place over your dresser.

“Sleep now, child… Or perhaps you truly have been sleeping and dreaming this entire time…”

An amused cackle echoes against your eardrums, and you slip into unconsciousness with one last vision of his wicked grin to haunt you.

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

#seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez smut #atz smut #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #atz x reader #these wicked delights #daizymax

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k-evans-reads · 1 year

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In Living Color

Chapter 22 - Part Two

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 3,962

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

April 2022

“Hi Nattie.”

Nat felt as though her stomach was in her throat and she could do nothing more than stare at Chris – her ex-boyfriend – in disbelief. Her phone sat abandoned and ignored in her hand as it buzzed with a notification, watching the man who was no longer hers stand in the opening of the elevator, his hand holding the doors open as his ball cap sat low over his face.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to find something to say to him, hesitating for several moments as her brows furrowed even deeper and she pushed her curls back behind her ear nervously. Nat swore then that her eyes were somehow tricking her. There was no way that he actually was standing there, holding the elevator doors open in the lobby of that San Francisco hotel. So many questions started swirling in her mind, not knowing how or why he was here, let alone how he even knew where she was. But even in that moment of pure shock and plain confusion, there was a piece of her heart that knew this felt right, that somehow knew that there was something still holding them together.

“C-Chris?” She finally asked shakily, pausing to clear her throat and hopefully calm down a bit. She slipped her phone into the pocket of her leggings, then crossed her arms over her chest as she curiously asked, “What are you doing here?”

“...I wanted to talk to you,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder quickly as a couple entered an elevator on the opposite side of the room. He turned back to look at Nat, raising a single eyebrow and added, “If that’s okay with you.”

“I’m just um, I can’t believe you’re here,” she admitted, blinking her eyes rapidly as she shook her head. She reached up absentmindedly, adjusting the strap of her purse before she paused and asked, “How did you know I was here?”

A slight grimace appeared on Chris’ face as he shook his head, glancing down at the beat-up sneakers on his feet. “Jamie told me,” he informed her quietly. He paused as the elevator behind them beeped and someone exited it, leaving the room without a second glance to them. Once they were alone again, he explained, “After I went to your apartment and you weren’t there, I asked him if he knew where you were.”

Nat’s brows furrowed deeply at those words, surprised at the admission. “You went to LA first?” She asked him in disbelief.

“Yeah, um, Nat, can we talk? Maybe somewhere more private?” He asked, a tight expression on his face as the sound of a large group approached from the lobby. But then he paused, staring at the mirrored wall of the elevator before he clarified, “...Do you want to talk?”

She hesitated, still reeling from the sudden change in events before she nodded and stepped to the side, telling him, “We can go up to my room.” Her hand hovered over the button for her floor as he removed his hand from the opening and stepped into the small elevator car.

It felt so weird to have him step into that elevator, leaving space between them while an uncomfortable silence settled over the space. She didn’t have a clue what to say or even how to feel in the moment. As her brain slipped back into memories of the previous weekend, Nat felt a pang in her heart as she thought of all those harsh words and the pain that it had caused. Tears prickled at her eyes as she remembered Chris saying he felt as if he didn’t know her and how easily he had wanted to draw boundaries on what she should be doing in life while he did exactly what he wanted.

She hadn’t thought their relationship was like that, and wanted to believe that it wasn’t and was just a massive misunderstanding. But when he slammed that door of her apartment, leaving her alone and in silence, she hadn’t thought even then that her phone would go quiet without a single text or call from him which only solidified that it wasn’t a misunderstanding. That was it. They were over almost as quickly as they had started.

Nat felt like her heart had completely broken in two. She had never felt love like she had with him, feeling fully known, fully celebrated, fully challenged, and fully loved by him in every way but having him leave so easily and holding her job decision over their relationship had caused her trust to be shaken. Nat had spent the last week feeling like this whole relationship truly had been too good to be true. At the end of the day he didn’t want her more than anything. He wanted her only as long as it worked for him.

The problem was that she still loved him. She still wholeheartedly loved him and didn’t know how she’d get that to stop. Nat was a headstrong person and wasn’t afraid to work hard, but the emotions that she felt so deeply and clearly made it so hard. She had thought this time was different. This time was going to be forever. But all of that had come crashing down with one simple argument.

But now she wasn’t so sure.

Seeing him taking her by surprise, standing here while asking her to talk gave her hope. It made her think that maybe he was feeling the same way she was. Maybe he wasn’t willing to give up as easily as he had seemed to. Nat had so many moments this last week that she had picked up her phone, staring at his contact as she thought about just clicking ‘Call’, but each time, that hurt and fear seemed to creep back up and resulted in her clicking her phone off. It seemed so hopeless and as if there wasn’t a point, but seeing Chris who had flown across the country – and evidently, the state too – just to talk to her made her realize that it wasn’t as hopeless as it had seemed even just a half an hour earlier. She’d been struggling to reconcile what their reality had quickly become, but now, face-to-face with the man who had admittedly hurt her so so badly, she felt her arguments and defenses weaken.

She got pulled back to reality when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Nat tucked her curls behind an ear as she stepped out into the hallway and saw Chris out of the corner of her eye lift his hand, instinctively reaching out to rest his hand on her back as he followed behind her, just as he’d done so many times before, but then saw him drop it just as quickly when the reality of the situation dawned on him. Just that one simple action was enough to make her want to cry, hating the chasm that seemed to be between them.

They were never like this before, having been drawn to each other since the very first day they met, over a year ago. Even though their relationship hadn’t started until the previous May, he’d quickly become her closest companion before then. They were always affectionate, nearly always touching when they were around one another, and to see him hesitate to touch her for the first time ever… it hurt. It hurt almost more than the sound of him slamming her door did the week before.

Right then, Nat knew in her heart that although there were a lot of things that still were left unsaid and needed to be dealt with, she knew that she didn’t want it to be this way. She wanted him. She wanted to be with Chris and she was willing to work through the struggles that came with it because to her, he was worth it. As she pulled out her key to hold it up to the door, she felt emotions weighing down her chest, touched as she thought of him getting on a plane in what had to be the middle of the night to try to track her down. He had gone to so much effort just to talk to her, without any guarantees of a positive outcome, and the realization of that had tears forming in her eyes and she just couldn’t seem to hold back any of her feelings once the door was closed.

Now it was Nat’s turn to surprise Chris as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling her body up against his and pressing her lips against his. It didn’t take him more than a second to react, his hands coming to press against her back, holding her even tighter against him as he kissed her back just as passionately. Nat knew they needed to talk and work through this all, but she just couldn’t have gone one more second without him knowing that his effort to come track her down hadn’t gone unwanted and that through all of this, that she still truly, deeply, loved him. It was still there, she always knew that by how much pain she’d been in for the last week. But to know that what they shared between them was still there, still beating strong in both of them, unaffected by what had been fractured, gave them both something to continue fighting for.

When they couldn’t breathe anymore, they each finally pulled their lips away from one another but their arms stayed holding onto one another. They just stood there for a long moment before he brought a hand up to tuck some of her curls behind her ear, giving him a better view of her face as he looked down at her with so many emotions in his blue eyes.

“I love you, Nattie,” he told her, his voice low and wavering before he took a deep breath, shaking his head in frustration then admitting, “I was so stupid. So fucking stupid and I’m so sorry.”

The tears that had been threatening to fall since the second they saw each other finally spilled down her cheeks openly as her body shook with the weight of the words. He pulled her closer to him, his arms wrapped around her and holding Nat up as she buried her face in his chest. She let the emotions finally leave her system as he pressed kisses to her hair, quietly holding her until she finally took a deeper breath, gathering herself as she moved her face away from his now tear-stained tee shirt.

“I love you too,” Nat’s voice cracked as tears still cascaded down her cheeks while looking up into his arched eyes as she honestly spoke, “I’m sorry too Chris, I overreacted and I’m sorry and I just…I really really love you.”

When her words dissolved into more tears, Chris just pulled her right back against him, her head laying against his chest while he rubbed her back and comforted her with, “Shhh, it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay, baby.”

She felt his hand moving up and down over her back, the action soothing her as he tucked her head under his chin. Her ear was pressed against his chest, next to the spot where she knew his tattoo for Dodger was, but as she nearly clung to him, she recognized the sound of Chris’ heart racing below her ear. The rapid thumping of his heart echoing in her ear reminded her that it wasn’t just herself that was relieved, put back together from being broken. It was about the two of them coming back together as one whole unit instead of two fractured halves, something she hadn’t thought was possible before stepping onto that elevator today.

Breaking the silence, she felt his low voice rumble in his chest as Chris spoke, “I know there’s a lot we need to talk about, but I just want you to know that I adore you Nattie. I was such a fucking idiot and I’m so sorry. I’m just so sorry and I love you so much.”

“I just can’t believe you’re here,” Nat shook her head while she ran a hand over his chest that was covered in a soft tee shirt, almost wanting to remind herself that he truly was here. She brought her eyes up to meet his, still in disbelief as she asked, “You really flew all over just to find me?”

“If I wasn’t so stupid I would have done it a helluva lot sooner,” he admitted, his voice low and slightly amused as he chuckled to himself with a shake of his head.

“I still can’t believe you came here for me,” she whispered. She’d never be able to reconcile that – that he believed so strongly in even trying to fix this mess that he’d fly all over just to try to find her, with absolutely no idea if it’d even work.

But here they were. And she was so so so glad he tried.

“I love you Nat, and I just couldn’t give up on us,” he whispered to her, a soft smile on his bearded face as he stared down into her eyes.

She was completely out of words, unsure how to even say how she was feeling and instead just pulled herself back against his chest, hugging him tightly. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head as he held her right back just as securely, both feeling like everything was finally going to be alright.

They shared another long kiss, relishing once again in the feeling of being back in each other’s arms before they made their way over to the small couch, Nat leading Chris as she held his hand. She paused right as they came to a stop in front of the couch, dropping his hand to unceremoniously move the various clothes and her bag that she’d shoved onto the couch the night before, only so she could sleep in the messy bed behind them. Once the couch was clear of her things, she curled up next to him, bending her legs to let them rest in his lap, his hand dropping to rub along her thigh as they relaxed in one another’s presence.

“How’s Dodge?”

“Did you really just ask how Dodger was?” Chris asked, his nose scrunching as he laughed in disbelief. His voice was light and amused as he pointed out, “I flew across the country and the first real question you’re going to ask me is about Dodger?”

She simply shrugged her shoulders, a smile spreading across her lips as his hand kept moving over her legs absentmindedly. “Well he’s clearly the best part of being close to you,” she joked.

His voice was low as he pulled her impossibly closer to him with the arm that rested over her shoulders, admitting more to himself than to her, “God, I fuckin’ missed you Nattie.”

Reaching out to rest her hand on his chest, fingers brushing against his necklace as she admitted, “I was so afraid I’d never see you again.”

“I felt that too which is why I just couldn’t stand it anymore,” Chris spoke truthfully, fingers curling and uncurling against her leg, just happy to feel her underneath his touch once again.

There still was an elephant in the room though, one that couldn’t and shouldn’t be avoided and they both knew it. Although they both would have loved to just stay in that happy and relieved moment, Nat spoke what they both knew to be true and said, “I think you are right though, I think we need to talk about…everything.”

“Do you want to talk now or do you want to go get something to eat first or just have a break for a while?” He asked her, his voice small as his fingers tapped on her leg softly.

She pursed her lips as she thought. She was hungry, that was undeniable, and her goal earlier had been to go find some food before she ran into Chris. But putting off this conversation would do them no good, especially if she knew Chris was only a few floors away, pacing in his own room before they talked it out fully. “I think I’d rather talk now,” she began slowly, pausing to sigh as she shook her head and confessed, “I just don’t even know where we went wrong, Chris. I feel like everything just blew up suddenly.”

He took a deep, steadying breath, his nostrils flaring slightly as he nodded his head. “It did, but I think where we both went wrong was walking away instead of just tabling things until we were more clear headed,” he pointed out.

“I know you’re right,” she agreed with a whisper. It was easy now to point out the faults in everything, seeing things clearly once the dust had settled. But they had to do some work before things got to an okay place. As his hand sat on her shin, she pushed the rising anxiety back down inside her and mustered up the courage to tell him, “I know I overreacted and I’m sorry for that. I know I can get all spun up and too emotional about things but I just felt really… alone. I felt like you weren’t listening to me at all.”

A small sigh escaped Chris at those words, and she knew that seeing the other’s view for the first time wouldn’t be easy for either of them, but it was certainly necessary. “Nattie, I want you to know that I really was trying to look out for you. I really was just trying to make sure you were doing what you want, but when you told me that you wanted to do it, I should have supported you and I didn't. And I'm sorry for that.” He simply apologized, his thumb moving in a small path over her leg as he spoke.

“I know you were Chris and I’m sorry I didn’t really give you any room to voice your concerns. If I ask for your opinion, I need to be ready to listen and I wasn’t,” she apologized. She recognized her own faults in the argument, she had since the second he stepped out of that apartment in a fury. But the fault laid on both of them, and she needed him to admit that.

He nodded slowly, fingers tapping an anxious pattern on her leg as he said, “I just didn't think that this job was something that you wanted to do and I think it surprised me and I didn’t really understand why… although I still don’t.”

Nat nodded, knowing she hadn’t been able to give him the full reasoning behind this move. She ignored the way her heart was racing with adrenaline, anxiety, and nerves, and instead explained, “I really thought that this job would be the answer to so many things. I thought it would give me better hours for us to be together, I’d have more flexibility to go home and see my family, and I’d be putting so many years of hard work to use and having a great career in art.”

Judging by the tender look that had crossed his face, she knew that the vulnerability in her voice must have been evident and he shook his head softly for a moment before his eyes came to look right into hers, “I’m sorry that I didn’t support you and I promise that I’m completely on board for what you want, Nat.”

“It’s not an excuse but I think I’m just a little extra sensitive because of Shane. He expected me to just drop my career for him and I was feeling like you were willing to go film and sign onto new projects but didn’t want me to keep moving up,” she tried to explain. Nat wanted him to see how what he had been asking her to do was something he wasn’t doing himself. “It wasn’t fair to project that onto you though. I let my emotions rule me rather than relying on what I knew was true about our relationship.”

“I’m not going to lie Nat, that really did hurt me that you felt like I was just trying to control you and not that I had your best interests at heart,” Chris’ voice was soft, his hand lifting up in the air as he thought of what he was trying to say before it fell back down to rest on her knee, “I want you to be able to trust me.”

“I do, Chris, and I’m sorry. I really am,” she honestly apologized, dipping her head to the side to catch his eye. “I think what wasn’t okay was that you wanted everything to revolve around your schedule and not taking mine into account. You signed onto new projects and wanted me to come see you but then complained when I’d have to work longer because of taking time off to see you.”

There was something in his voice that was almost unrecognizable that she didn’t understand was fear until he told her, “I was just worried about you working so hard.”

“Something to keep in mind though is that you have an irregular job,” Nat wanted to be sensitive to his feelings but also wanted him to be able to recognize how wildly different his life was from most peoples. “You work hard, but you don’t go to work every day and never have and most of the people you’ve dated had a similar schedule. I think some of it you just don’t realize what having a more regular career is like.”

He blinked a few times as he stared at Nat, a perturbed look settling over him as he admitted, “I guess I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I feel like you were only looking at it through your point of view,” Nat pointed out to Chris, starting to touch on the root of the issue on his end.

“Nattie, I really wasn’t trying to be selfish. I just didn’t think that this job was a good fit for you,” he still wasn’t changing his mind on his reasoning but went on to explain, “But what I realized is I don’t think we have to agree. I care more about us being together than all the other shit.”

“I feel that way too,” Nat couldn’t help but reach out to rest her hand on his bearded cheek, her thumb stroking softly as she told him, “I love you so much.”

At first Chris didn’t verbally respond, but the tenderness in his blue eyes said everything he needed to. His hands came to rest along the sides of her waist, leaning in slowly, his lips brushing against hers before he whispered, “I love you,” before crashing their lips together.

Nat melted into the kiss, moving to lay back against the couch as Chris followed her down and kept kissing her and moving against her until they both were seeing stars. She realized just how true Chris’ words were, how they truly didn’t need to agree or always see eye to eye, but what they did need was to be together.

Everything felt like a blissful blur as they peeled each other out of their clothes and let their hands start to explore warm skin and hear soft sighs. Nat swore it didn’t even matter what he was doing, but just feeling him again was pure heaven as she was reminded that they belonged to one another. They needed one another more than they even knew and Nat knew now, in her heart, that they’d always have each other, no matter what.

A/N: Our asks are always open!

129 notes · View notes

subskz · 2 years

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treat - h.js

note: this is a reupload from my old blog

content: sub jisung, dom reader, reader’s sex is unspecified, puppyplay, praise, footjob, edging, orgasm control, slight foodplay (?), a bit of aftercare

word count: 3.9k

“Jisung!” You called, pushing your apartment door open with your hip. You set down the grocery bags you’d been carrying with a heavy exhale, cursing yourself for being too stubborn to bring them up in more than one trip.

The boy in question raised his head from where he was lying on the couch. You softened as his cheerful face came into view. “You’re back!” He chirped, sitting up in his spot.

Jisung had stayed home while you’d gone out to buy some groceries, claiming that he had a lot of work to do. You were fairly certain that he’d just said that as an excuse to not change out of his pajamas, but you ultimately decided to leave him be anyway.

“Mhm, and I brought snacks!” You sang, swinging a plastic bag of goodies around.

Jisung’s eyes lit up, and he threw a hand over his heart. “Thank God,” He wailed dramatically. “I’ve been working so hard, I wasn’t sure how much longer I would last.”

His theatrics made you giggle, and you turned to unload the bags before he could see the fond look on your face. “What would you do without me, hm?” You hummed.

Jisung rested his head back against the arm of the sofa. “Don’t even wanna think about it.”

Once you’d finished putting everything away, you grabbed the bag that contained the various snacks and you made your way over to him. Jisung’s hair was tousled, sticking out cutely in all directions, and one of the sleeves of his hoodie was pulled up much higher than the other. He looked like a mess—adorably so.

“How are the lyrics coming along?” You asked, flopping down on the cushions next to him. Jisung turned his phone towards you, still open on his notes app. There were a few lines typed out, but other than that the screen was mostly blank.

You raised an eyebrow. “Working hard, huh?”

Your stern tone made him whine defensively. “Don’t scold me.” He pulled the hood of his sweater over his head. “It’s not easy.”

“I thought you were a genius, Han Jisung.”

“Not when my muse is gone,” He declared. “I miss you too much.”

You rolled your eyes at his attempt to appeal to you, trying your hardest to suppress a smile. “Genius and a sweet talker, lucky me.” You played along, digging among the snacks to pull out a bag of chips. Jisung peeked out from under the fabric of his hoodie, leaning forward eagerly when he noticed the brand—they were his favorite.

“Why don’t you recharge, yeah?” You suggested, popping open the bag. Jisung instantly scooted closer. You titled the chips in his direction, inviting him to help himself, but he made no move to take any.

You gave him a questioning look, and Jisung wordlessly pushed out his bottom lip into a pout, eyes pleading.

“Ah...you’re such a baby.” You huffed, realizing right away what he wanted.

Jisung simply smiled back, his lips curving inward cutely. Despite your complaint, you reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of chips. He opened wide as you dropped a few into his mouth, humming contentedly before he crunched down.

“These are the best.” He announced, cheeks full. “Even better when they’re fed to me.”

Jisung wiggled his eyebrows at you, and you clicked your tongue without any real annoyance behind it. “I think I’ve spoiled you too much.” You sighed.

Jisung settled himself into the back cushion of the couch, unlocking his phone again. “It’s more effective if I work this way.” He insisted. “And now that you’re here, I can focus properly.”

Though you knew he was purposely being over-the-top about his affections, your heart fluttered nonetheless. Jisung always seemed to have that effect on you. You got comfortable yourself, hand diving back into the bag to retrieve more chips. As Jisung began typing away at his phone, you leaned over to feed him some more.

He opened his mouth for you without taking his eyes off the screen, and you admired the serious look on his face as he brainstormed. Jisung’s lyrics always came to him either in sudden bursts, or over painfully long periods of time—there was no middle ground for him.

You continued passing chips to him periodically, taking some for yourself in between. As you watched the way he compliantly opened his mouth each time, a mischievous idea came to mind.

You grabbed two or three chips and brought your hand to Jisung’s face, just as you’d been doing. Naturally, he leaned towards you, parting his lips to take the snack into his mouth—but it never came. You pulled your hand away bit by bit the more he inched closer, a smile forming on your face as his lips kept missing his target.

It took a few moments for Jisung to register what was going on, and he finally tore his eyes away from his phone screen to give you a look of adorable confusion.

“No fair,” He whined, seeing the amusement written all over your face. “You’re teasing me while I’m in the zone.”

“I can’t help it. You’re so cute when you’re concentrating.” You giggled, pulling away just in time as Jisung stretched forward to snatch a chip with his mouth. He sat back with a defeated huff, and for good measure, you waved your hand around playfully in front of him.

“Say please,” You hummed.

Jisung’s eyes followed the path of your hand as you taunted him, his head tilting from side to side with each movement. Assuming that he was just playing along, your giggles turned into a full laugh. “You look like a puppy begging at the dinner table.”

The lighthearted atmosphere faltered a bit when Jisung didn’t respond. Instead, he kept watching your hand with wide eyes, almost as if he’d become locked in some kind of trance. His strange reaction caught you off guard, and you wondered with a start if you’d said something wrong.

“Jisung?” Your voice softened.

He blinked slowly a few times before responding. “Mm?” He cocked his head, grip on his phone loosening so that it toppled unceremoniously onto the couch cushion.

Growing worried, lowered your hand and carefully dropped the chips you’d been holding back into the bag. As expected, Jisung’s gaze—somehow wider and more awestruck than usual—followed you, locking on the chip bag.

His behavior had you taken aback, but you couldn’t help but consider an explanation that nagged at the back of your mind.

Jisung had shown small hints of this behavior before—going oddly quiet, watching you with wide, expectant eyes, and hanging on to your every word as if he were awaiting some kind of order. You were no stranger to the signs he was exhibiting, and after a handful of instances, the two of you had eventually sat down to have an only slightly awkward discussion about the premise of petplay.

Though you’d never quite tried it out together, Jisung had shyly admitted to you that it was something he would be very interested in. It may have been a stretch, but the sudden shift in his attitude led you to believe that maybe this was his way of initiating it.

Deciding to test the waters, you shook the chip bag a few times. “You want these, Sungie?” You asked tentatively, raising the pitch of your voice.

Jisung straightened up at your change in tone, licking his lips and beginning to squirm a bit in his spot. “If you want a treat, you’ve gotta show me that you’re a good puppy.” You continued carefully.

He nodded instantly, and you felt a tinge of relief, taking his reactiveness as a good sign. You pondered your next move before speaking up again, growing more firm with your words.

“A good puppy doesn’t sit on the couch without permission.” You frowned at him. Jisung scrambled to the floor in a matter of seconds, and your expression softened again when he crawled over to sit at your feet.

“Good boy.” You praised. You gave your thigh a pat, and he came to rest his chin on it obediently. “Hannie’s gonna do whatever he’s told right?” You asked, bringing your hand to stroke his head gently.

Jisung was unable to nod against your leg, and instead he let out a small noise of agreement. His big, earnest stare bore into you from below as he awaited your next command.

“You’re so quiet, puppy.” You commented. “Let me hear you speak.”

He lifted his head, a brief look of hesitation passing his face. You faltered for a moment, wondering if you’d crossed a line, only to relax again when Jisung let out a shy bark. He finally broke eye contact out of embarrassment, cheeks flushing, and you moved your hand to scratch under his chin reassuringly.

“Good boy,” You cooed, your approval making his face light up. “My puppy has such a cute voice.”

You reached into the bag, and Jisung perked up when you pulled out a chip. You waved your hand around just like before, his hopeful gaze following it. “You want your treat?”

Jisung barked softly again, curling his hands against his chest in a silent beg. “Ask nicely,” You ordered.

“Please…” He breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Want a treat please.”

With a smile, you lowered your hand, and Jisung eagerly took the chip into his mouth.

As you fondly watched him chew, the growing bulge in Jisung’s shorts caught your attention, and your smile widened. “Hm...what’s this?” You drawled in mock surprise. “Something got you excited, Hannie?”

Jisung swallowed hard, blush deepening and telling you all that you needed to know. He lowered his hands in a pointless attempt to cover himself, releasing the tiniest whine.

“Don’t be shy,” You encouraged, petting his soft hair. “C’mon, lemme see how worked up my puppy made himself.”

Jisung ducked his head, but obeyed you without hesitation. As soon as his hands uncovered his clothed length, you moved your foot to press down on it gently.

He gasped at the unexpected pleasure, his reaction making your spine tingle. “So sensitive.” You murmured. “You like this?”

“Yes!” Jisung whimpered as you toyed with his cock ever so slightly. “R-really…like it.” His hands came to lay flat on the ground to support himself, arms already trembling.

You rolled your foot around his length rhythmically, relishing in the soft noises bubbling in his throat. His eyes squeezed shut as you applied more pressure, and another whine escaped him, louder this time as his impatience grew. “Did hearing how good you are for me get you like this?”

Jisung nodded frantically, letting out a low moan. “Yes...hah...I’m your g-good boy.” He managed to stutter.

You removed your foot, a pathetic mewl escaping Jisung as you did. His eyes fluttered open, wide as ever, and your heart skipped a beat over his lost expression. He looked so innocent, so ready to meet your every demand.

Despite his obvious disappointment with the loss, Jisung didn’t complain. You scratched underneath his chin affectionately, and he lifted his head for you like a reflex.

“I wanna see just how well you can behave.” You announced, using your other hand to tap your own chin thoughtfully. Jisung cocked his head curiously at that, straightening up in his spot.

An idea immediately came to mind, and you grinned, leaning down until your lips were next to Jisung’s ear. “I’m gonna make you feel good, Sungie, but you have to promise me you won’t cum until you get permission. Think you can do that for me?”

Jisung swallowed hard, his expression full of nervous determination. “Y-yes...Sungie will be good. Promise.”

You gave his cheek an approving pat before pulling back slightly. His breath hitched when your hands snaked down to tug at the waistband of his shorts. Jisung instantly lifted his hips for you, and you pulled the garment off with ease, allowing his now fully hard length to spring free.

“Cute,” You marveled. “My poor puppy’s so hungry for attention.”

Jisung whined, his hips jerking up as if to wordlessly agree. Your eyes raked over his body before you brought your foot back to his cock. He gasped even louder than before, the sensation of your skin against his bare length sending sparks of electricity through him.

“Remember, be a good boy and don’t cum until I say.” You commanded gently, beginning to move your foot along his dick. Jisung let out a strained whimper before nodding, his eyes fluttering shut once again.

You slid your foot up and down slowly before stopping at the head of his length to tease it. He mewled your name weaky as you rubbed his slit, and his arms began to tremble once more. “So cute,” You cooed, repeating the action. “Is Hannie feeling good?”

Jisung panted lightly a few times before answering. “Ngh...so good.” He breathed. “M-more...more, please.”

There was a desperation in his tone that sent a shiver down your spine, and you obliged. You began to move with more urgency, stimulating every sensitive inch of Jisung’s dick. The boy cried out sharply at the sudden increase in speed, bucking up against you needily.

You took your eyes off his aching length to drink in the sight of him. His eyes were still shut tight, and his head was thrown back as delicious moans spilled out of his parted lips. You applied more pressure, and just moments later, his warning cry filled the room.

“G-gonna cum!” Jisung stammered between moans. “Can I...hah...can I p-please?”

You made no move to slow down despite the way his dick twitched under your touch, instead continuing your steady pace. “So soon?” You frowned. “C’mon, angel, you can hold out for me.”

A miserable, high-pitched whimper left Jisung in response, but he obeyed nonetheless. His thighs began to shake along with his arms, and his sounds melted into each other as they grew more and more frequent. You admired the way his brows furrowed intently as he focused all his energy into delaying his orgasm.

It wasn’t until Jisung began writhing helplessly beneath you that you finally removed your foot.

He gasped weakly, his hips surging upward in a desperate attempt to seek out more friction. His chest heaved as his high quickly escaped him, and you leaned down to cup his cheek gently.

“Good boy,” You praised, voice dripping with pride. “You handled that so well. Such an obedient puppy.”

Jisung blinked up at you, giving a lopsided grin in response to your adoring words. His breathing began to slow back to normal—though his cock was still red and dripping with precum, making his ache for release hard to ignore.

You reached into the chip bag once more, and Jisung’s glossy eyes lit up.

“Does Sungie want another treat for being so good?” You cooed. Jisung simply parted his lips, sticking out his tongue for you eagerly. You placed the chip in his mouth, suppressing a giggle with how quickly he crunched down on it.

He hummed when your hand rested on his head, stroking his hair gently as he chewed away.

Once he’d swallowed, the boy looked up at you expectantly, waiting for your next order. You ran your fingers through his locks one last time before leaning back against the couch. “Are you ready to go again?”

Jisung perked up at the question, spreading his thighs ever so slightly. He sucked in a sharp breath as you brought your foot to his length once more, making his whole body tense up.

“Same rules, puppy.” You reminded him as you began to move. “I know you can do it.”

He pressed his lips together in determination, the action puffing his full cheeks out adorably.

A warm feeling spread through your chest as you observed Jisung, heeding your commands as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Self-control wasn’t typically his strong suit, but with every soft moan and stutter of his hips you could see just how badly he wanted to behave for you, and it made your heart swell.

An especially high-pitched cry from Jisung snapped you from your thoughts, and you realized you’d slid your foot along his dripping head. “Did that feel good?” You asked innocently.

He bit his trembling lower lip and nodded. “Want me to do it again?”

“You c-can’t!” He gasped out weakly. You raised an eyebrow at him, and he immediately shrank into himself, averting his gaze in quick surrender. “S-sorry…” He whimpered. “It’s just...I’ll c-cum. If you keep d-doing that I’ll cum.”

You tilted your head to the side, circling your toes around his cock lightly. “Mm...but Hannie’s a good puppy.” You reasoned. “I know he won’t cum without permission.”

There was a moment of hesitation, then Jisung gave in. “Y-yes,” He agreed softly. “Good...‘m good.” The word seemed to have a hypnotic effect on him, as if hearing it washed away any misgivings or uncertainties he might have.

“That’s it.” You purred, increasing the pressure of your foot against him. You ran it along his slit, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body once more. Jisung practically keened at the feeling, and the filthy noise aroused you more than you’d like to admit.

It wasn’t long before he began twitching wildly again, and you knew by how quickly he was unraveling before you that he wouldn’t be able to take much more.

He threw his head back in ecstasy as you sped up your movements, letting his moans spill out of him without any restraint. “A-Ah!” He gasped. “G-gonna cum! Please let me, please!”

You hummed in response to his begging, as if carefully considering the possibility. “Hmm...I dunno, puppy. I think you can last a little longer, don’t you?”

The boy let out a choked sob, trying with all his might to contain his rapidly approaching orgasm. “Please,” His voice cracked, interrupting the near-chorus of sounds leaving him.

Despite the pity you felt at the sight of him, your delight easily outweighed it, and you continued to rub his length for a few more moments before pulling away.

A long, pathetic groan escaped Jisung. His length continued to jerk against his stomach as his orgasm was denied for the second time. You made a sympathetic noise, bringing your hands to cup his face just as you had the first time.

Jisung opened his eyes to meet yours, his gaze watery and disoriented. He looked so far gone, as if the only thing occupying his mind was whatever you chose to fill it with.

“Look at that.” You squished his cheeks together lovingly as you spoke. “You did so well for me, Hannie, I’m so proud of you.”

You placed a soft kiss on his nose to boot, and the action seemed to re-energize him. “Thank you.” He slurred.

You flashed him a warm smile, reaching your hand into the bag for another reward.

“I’m lucky to have such a well-trained puppy.” You murmured as he enthusiastically took the chip into his mouth. “So good at listening to his owner.”

Without warning, you pressed your foot down on Jisung’s length for the third time. He squeaked in surprise, his hips jerking up at the sudden contact.

You used your foot to smear the precum that had gathered at his tip along the rest of his cock, earning a sinful whine.

His sensitivity had increased tenfold from being worked to the brink of his high twice, and you relished in each and every one of his cute reactions. Even the slightest movement on your part pushed him closer to his limit, which only encouraged you to test it more.

You slipped your foot underneath his length to press it up against his stomach, and Jisung released a moan so shameless that you felt yourself twitch. With his cock now steady in place against him, you were able to slide up and down even faster than before.

Jisung’s cries quickly burst into the room, pouring out of him nonstop in a string of pleasure. You admired the way his thighs clenched and unclenched in unison with his rapid breaths. His head began thrashing from side to side as you kept up your merciless pace.

“You sound so pretty, Hannie. Maybe I should just keep teasing you like this forever.” You mused.

Jisung whined in response, proving your point even further. His legs began to quiver once more, and he bucked his hips up wildly, no longer concerned with trying to contain himself.

“You gonna cum?” You rubbed your sole against his head to elicit another pitiful sound. “Is my puppy gonna cum all over himself?”

“Y-yes!” Jisung moaned, a trail of drool spilling out of the corner of his mouth. “Feels...ah! So good, ‘m gonna cum…!”

Before he could even beg you for permission, you granted it to him. “Go ahead,” You urged. “Let it all out, you’ve earned it.”

To emphasize your words, you slid your toe along his slit once more, and just like that, Jisung came undone.

He cried out sinfully as his seed shot out of him. The spurts were so strong that they splashed his face, decorating his skin with the sticky fluid.

Jisung whimpered your name as pleasure racked his body, several more pearly ropes seeping into his hoodie.

It took several moments for him to come down from his high, and you admired his cum-stained face as he did. Jisung slowly blinked his eyes open, all the lust from earlier now replaced with a sleepy haze.

He looked up at you, lips still parted as he tried to catch his breath to speak.

“Water.” He rasped.

The request took you by surprise, and you felt a tinge of guilt for not considering how thirsty the chips would have made him. You instantly rose from the couch to go retrieve a bottle from the fridge, grabbing a napkin with you on the way back.

Jisung smiled at you gratefully when you returned and unscrewed the cap for him. You tilted the bottle gently, and he drank to his heart’s content. As he did so, you used the napkin to delicately wipe his face clean of his seed.

By the time he’d finished, Jisung had downed nearly half the bottle, and you felt your guilt increase. “Ah...I’m sorry, angel.” You murmured. “I should’ve checked on you earlier.”

Jisung shook his head as if to dismiss the idea. “S’okay.” He assured you. “Didn’t even realize I was thirsty ‘till now.”

His words comforted you somewhat, but seeing his worn out state still had you concerned. Putting the water bottle to the side, you crouched down to carefully tuck Jisung back into his boxers.

He watched you, eyes half-lidded and dreamy, as you shifted back to the couch. You settled into the cushions before patting your legs to invite him over. Jisung complied immediately—albeit with less energy than when you’d ordered him onto the floor earlier.

He curled up snugly into your lap, his frame meshing perfectly against yours. You wrapped your arms securely around him and planted a soft kiss to his forehead.

“How are you feeling, Hannie?” You whispered.

Jisung nestled his head into your neck, letting out a blissful sigh. “So happy.” He mumbled into your skin. “So sleepy.”

There was a pause before he giggled that familiar, awkward giggle. “I’m never gonna be able to eat those chips the same way again.”

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!jisung #dom!reader #jisung smut

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fertilize-my-eggs · 11 months

Text

"You have a what?" Shigaraki x chubby fem! Reader smut

A/N: again this is reupload btw but hope y'all enjoy clueless tomura ^.^

Part two

Waring: smut with no plot + both virgins losing it together + creampie + unprotected sex + slight breeding kink lol.

Tomura casually sits next to you as the bar is empty, you were the newest recruit to the league.

" Have you ever go to town on scratching your balls y/n? " You tilt your head at your boss, it's so random. He never asks you this type of question. It was mostly him ignoring you or chatting about gaming. Sometimes plans for his goal.

" uhh boss, I don't… have balls, I have a pussy. "Tomura paused for a very long time until he looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

"You have a what?" You busted in laughter at how clueless he is.

"It's not funny why are you laughing.. I'm being serious." You could see his cheeks getting red when you realize he never heard that word.

" have your parents ever talked about the birds and bees? " Tomura looks extremely pissed and scratches his neck a bit as you give a worried look.

"Uhh nevermind boss… pussy is a slang word for vagina.. Uhh." Tomura looks at you more intensely but not scratching, he's listening to you speak.

"Do you know about women's anatomy shigaraki-kun?" Tomura looked puzzled as he shook his head.

So you're guessing his parents must be very strict because your family was against talking about sex like it's a taboo topic when you were growing up.

"Well… I can show you what it looks like if you want boss?" You give your big doe eyes to him as he looks more confused.

"What do you mean you can show me?" You had to hold your giggles in as you gently held his hand, you were expecting him to move his hand away but he froze up and stared at your hand.

You lean in to whisper into his ear seductively."I mean I can show you my pussy if you want boss, would you be okay with that?"

Tomura doesn't have words for this but nods his head fast.

You quietly giggle as you hold his hand and head into his room.

Once inside you let go of his hand as you stand in front of your boss.. Wait, I'm gonna show my lower half to my OWN boss and he DOESN'T know what a vagina looks like?!

You felt a little self-conscious but you noticed how Tomura didn't stop you or move away, his eyes looked.. curious.

You pull your pants down while removing your shoes and socks. You look into his red eyes while he watches your hand movement.

You finally got to your underwear while you watched his facial features change. His eyes bulge out as you remove your panties and fall off of your bodies.

You felt a little nervous but judging him, he looked like he was about to have a nosebleed.

You also notice his very large bugle in his pants and you couldn't help but to rub your thick thighs together.

"Can I touch it??" You gasp a bit and didn't realize your boss was asking YOU to touch your core.

You feel your cheeks turn red and shyly nod your head.

It was awkward since he was getting close, leaning in… Tomura caressed my pussy in his room but it was very gentle, like he was petting a small kitten.

You gasp a little loud when his fingertip caress your clit, your eyes close tight and hold his wrist.

"What's wrong?? Am I hurting yo-..."

"No no boss… you found my ahh clit." Tomura tilted his head and asked."this?? Am I hurting you?" Bless his soul for being THAT clueless about sex, he really doesn't know it.

You shake your head gently as you look up into his worried eyes."no tomura, it's very pleasurable if you rub it." You bit your lip a little hard to notice him having a faint smirk.

"Oh… I see." His finger rubs it slow and gentle, your body being pushed onto the bed as he continues to rub your clit.

Your breathing gets heavy and soft moans come out of your mouth, you can see your boss getting into it, lost in lust and pleasing you.

He freezes as you gasp out, his fingertips at your entrance.

"What-... What is that??" You softly giggle at him, begin to roll your hips to him.

"That… ahh fuck.. That my hole, you can slide your fingers inside to stretch me out if you.." You huff your breath and smile at him.

"That if you want to.. Boss it's up to you."Tomura had a few moments until it clicked in his mind, he didn't waste any time removing his clothes.

Now It's your turn to have your eyes widened by his size. Holy shit.. How does your boss hide that thing in his pants?

"... What is wrong? You look nervous." Your eyes finally meet his as you give a soft chuckle.

"It's nothing… it's just that-... You have a really big cock." You bite your lip more as you watch his cock twitch. His cheek gets more red and looks away from you.

"Shut up." Tomura gets on top of you, gives light kisses, you were expecting him to be rough but he is being extra gentle and sweet to you.

His hands moved back to your core as he slid his fingers in. You notice how his pinkie is being tucked inside his palm.

"Am I doing this okay y/n?" You roll your eyes back and moan out his name.

"Shit-.. Do that again please." You beg at him, he tilt his head and try it again, roll his fingers upward touching a sweet spot that you didn't know existed.

Your moan was going straight to his dick, making it twitch more as you rolled your hips fast and heavy.

The rhythm was very clumsy but it was quite pleasurable. You cry out his name when you hit your first orgasm, your toes curl in, your body arches as he keeps hitting that spot.

Your breath heavily as you watch him remove his fingers and begin to lick it.

His facial expression is the hottest thing you've ever seen, his eyes roll back as he sucks his fingers enjoying your sweet nectar.

"Can we have sex?" Tomura quietly asks you that you didn't hear him but you nod your head fast.

Tomura pulled your top off as the clothes were flying to the floor. Tomura waited for you to get comfortable, you adjusted the small pillows on your head and another one under your lower back.

"Tomu-.." You lock your hand with his as he gives a concerned look.

"I'm nervous, I've never done this with anyone." he smiles softly and kisses your lips.

"I know… me too, I'll be extra gentle." You nod your head, your hand slides between bodies to grab his thick cock to your core. You gasp out loud to feel his spongy tip at your entrance.

He slowly pushed in, you felt a bit uncomfortable, his body shook a little costing him to shoot his load a little too early.

"Shit..sorry you feel too good I-.." You kissed his lips and said.

"No no it's okay.. Keep going baby."

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simmireen · 1 year

Photo

♥ DAY TWENTY-THREE ♥ simmireen goes santareen ♥ it’s not about how much we give, but how much love we put into giving

on DAY TWENTY-THREE I give you ...

'too much champagne’ 17! champagne couple poses for just standing, in a bathtub and a hottub to celebrate (slight tipsy maybe?) ♥ Champagne glass included

DOWNLOAD (SFS) DOWNLOAD (Patreon) (always free!)

♥~♥

The poses work with Teleport any Sim and Andrew’s Pose Player The posepack is as usual provided with previews. These poses are somewhat gender-neutral, but there can be minor clipping or floating because every sim-body is different. I really would like to see if you use my poses! So tag me at tumblr, instagram or twitter (@simmireen) You can find an overview of all my posepacks at Pinterest You can support me on my Ko-Fi page > but never feel obliged to tip! Terms of use Don’t claim as yours or put behind a paywall Don’t re-edit (adjusting hands is always allowed, just don’t change up my pose) Don’t reupload Oh, and let me know if something doesn’t work! @ts4-poses @sssvitlanz thank you for reblogging <3

#posepack #simmireen #simmireengoessantareen #couple poses #sims4poses #ts4poses #ts4 poses #sims 4 poses #simscoupleposes #sims4coupleposes #sims 4 couple poses

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tenderlyrenjun · 2 years

Text

When It Comes To Us

⟿ college!au, friends to academic rivals to lovers, competition, mutual pining, study buddies.

summary: although he laughed at you the first time you met, you were instantly friends, but that five year law program brings out competition, brings out the worst in you. thankfully it takes maybe one or two study sessions to get back into a grove, and maybe one of those study sessions is less about studying.

includes … unprotected sex/pulling out, oral sex (f / m receiving), facial, fingering, hickeys/marking, penetration, missionary sex, dom/sub undertones (re: some slight begging); it’s pretty vanilla sex, sorry.

author’s note ... this is the old fic that I mentioned when I said that the debate episode renjun reminded me of a specific old fic. I also edited to be slightly longer and more cohesive. the formatting was bad on the last one, so i reuploaded it a third time. DO NOT come into my inbox to criticize my fic or tell me that it is written badly.

anger management problems renjun enthusiasts, dni.

network tag: @neohub

word count: 15,8k (sorry)

do not reblog without comments

bots + minors do not interact

You wander around just outside the student experience center, nose buried beneath a campus map, eyes glued to a poorly drawn sharpie trail that one of the “orientation leaders” (air quotes because he seemed as equally lost and inexperienced as you) traced. The library has to be here somewhere, you wonder before glancing up.

But the moment your vision changed scenery, you walk right into a cement column, forehead colliding first with the inconveniently placed architecture, making you stumble ass forward to the ground. As you rub the new, hot mark above your brow, praying to God that no one saw anything, a sirenic laugh calls your ear, soft and throaty – something to make you fall in love at first listen. You peak around the empty space, gaze coming into a playful glare then pout when you spot someone laughing at your misfortune.

He walks over to you with nothing helpful, like an ice pack or magic band aid, except a hand to help you up, but his smile looks like it could heal the deepest wounds, and you immediately assume he came from the science department.

“Hey,” he greets, a small smile tugging his lips and even smaller bow dipping him right below your eyeline. “I’m Renjun. Are you also lost?”

The pain recedes quickly, quicker than you anticipated, letting your stomach fill the silence with little pokes through your abdomen to chest. Hopefully, walking into cement did not leave weird texture along your hairline for this really cute boy to spot; otherwise, God, you might as well perish on the spot.

His half-circle eyes crescent upward with the apples of his cheeks, and future you will swear that you met at night, despite (future) his better recount of this meet-cute taking place during the bright, autumn day – either way, Renjun’s happy features ground you, making focus on everything he has to say, to offer.

“Wait a minute.” You pull your hand out of his, holding up your palm, and you miss the way his eyes briefly follow your motions. “Too?” Your eyebrows come together; head tilted slightly to the right, searching his eyes. “Why? You’re also lost?”

“Yeah,” he nods, biting his lip. You nod back at him, still searching; you don’t feel your smile lose its curve until Renjun pushes his bottom lip through his teeth with his tongue, licking the seam open. “I, um, I was looking for the financial aid office but my RA [resident assistant] directed me toward the library.”

“Oh, thank God,” you nearly moan, reattaching yourself to his thin bicep, like he touched you with The Hand of God. Confusion takes its turn on Renjun’s face, his head flexed to the side again like deepening a kiss with Eris, neat brows coming together over his pretty eyes, so you snap your hands away. “Sorry, I just meant that I’m looking for the library,” you clarify. “One of the orientation leaders handed me a map, then set me off to the second star on the right without further instruction. I’ve been lost for, like, -“ You push your sleeve up your arm, reading your bare wrist, again missing Renjun’s smile. “– 10 minutes, maybe.”

“Well, it’s just around the corner in that direction.” He points behind his shoulder. “Go straight until you see the gymnasium, take a left by the counselling offices, then a right at the education building, and it should be in front of the pharmacy department.” Renjun tries directing you physically, pointing his index finger this way and that, as if touching the map still in your hand. Once he turns back to you, an accomplished smile finishing his thought, you are in the middle of nodding again, mouth falling open, only to inhale. “Or,” he drags out, internally debating for a second as your body perks up, “I could show you where it is.”

You beam at him. “Please? Will you? That would be … amazing, and really helpful.” You sigh, teeth fighting their way to the front. “To be honest, I’m not the best with directions and stuff.”

“It’s not a problem,” he tells you, honestly, his voice partially going up. He gestures out to the path, asking if you are ready.

You surprise him by taking his arm again, curling your hand to his wrist. “Lead the way, Peter Pan.”

“Peter Pan?”

Renjun tilts his head again, not moving despite initiating the journey. He bites his lip again, and he would shrink into his narrow shoulders, but you keep him propped up. Then, you mimic him, subconsciously taking a step back when he makes eye contact.

“Um,” you stutter, swallowing the thousands of thoughts on the tip of your tongue, not knowing where to start, so you pick the middle: “Second star to the right, and all; you did say right … right?” You cringe a little at the syllable repetition, but it makes him throw his head back and laugh, so the warm tinge across your face subsides until completely disappearing when he leads the way. “So …” you say, a little too loudly, abruptly changing the topic.

“So?” he parrots, guiding you onto the inner sidewalk, closer to the buildings, farther from the street.

“So,” you repeat, equal in cadence, bobbing in tune as you drag out the conjunction, not looking at him in fear that your brain might bombard you with a thousand thoughts again – either this can lead to a wonderful friendship or blossom into something more … which makes you kind of nervous, if you were being honest, except you don’t want to be presumptuous. You just met the guy two minutes ago. “How, um, how long have you been going here?”

“Ah,” he responds, open mouthed. His free arm flies behind his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s my first semester. I’m a freshman.”

“Oh … but you seem to know, at least part of, the school really well.” You bite inside the corner of your cheek.

“Yeah, my parents moved me into the dorms last weekend, so I had a lot of time to, like, roam around and find out where my classes are going to be on Wednesday, but I’ve literally been looking all over half the campus for the financial aid office today.”

“Huh,” you mumble, a slow eureka. “Maybe, after this, if you’re able to wait, I can show you where the financial aid office is. It’s like right next to my dorm building on the other side of campus. I just have to check out a textbook for property law.”

Renjun beams at you now. “I’d like that a lot.” And he’d like to spend more time with you.

Haechan calls your full name – Funny, since you’ve only heard him referred to by his real name a handful of times, but now, with the alcoholic flush heating your face under the wintery night sky, you cannot, for the life of you, remember his government name. Renjun mentioned it to you once or twice, between ranting about something Haechan did, before he brought you into his friend group a couple weeks ago. He had been meaning to merge you with them, ever since Jeno got a small break from his military service for Chuseok weekend, but things piled up, no one actually free until the second half of autumn term. Jaemin barely got a break from his o chem lab reports; Haechan is taking a small breather between pre-trial motion write ups; Renjun left the library for the first time in, essentially, a week; Chaewon just finished her art project this morning and woke up literally fifteen minutes before arriving at the restaurant; you only finished creating flash cards for property law (those vocab words are going to get you one of these days); and the military doesn’t really let Jeno out on holiday, as it would defeat the purpose of compulsory military service (on the bright side, he won’t have to take a break from school or work like the others; although, Jaemin plans to use his [future] medical degree to his advantage).

You whip your hair around, the inches that have grown since summer almost hitting Jeno in the face, so you lean a bit more into Renjun, who has a slightly buff arm strewn along the back of your chair as you change conversations from one end of the table to the next, the two of you sitting in the middle like Jesus at The Last Supper – which might as well predict your relationship status, almost as if Renjun wants to test you, but you push the thought away. If he wanted to be something more, he would have done something by now; you have known him for, like, two months now, nearly approaching finals. You swear that you picked up on a few close calls, confiding in your roommate, a psych major Dahyun; except, she might be more excited to study your brain like a bug than really listen to the problem. But she did say that this – the two of you going out with his friends (Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, and Chaewon) could mean something.

And maybe it does.

When all five of you moved from the bar inside the restaurant to a longer table outside (Jeno kept complaining about the lack of leg room because people kept pushing against his chair on their ways to the bathroom; something no none, except maybe Jaemin related to, but eventually, everyone relented), Renjun walked through the door last, having led you, a hand on your mid-back, through the other patrons and busboys. He stopped you from accidentally catching the jacket around your arm on fire; you took it off because Jaemin started grilling one of the side dishes and the bottle of soju you started nursing with Renjun got to your face. It left some skin exposed, skin that he touched. You didn’t have time to analyze him really, a waiter dropping off a complimentary alcohol mix for the discomfort, not like now when Haechan gives you an excuse to check him out.

“Really,” Haechan begs, “why’d you stick to him?” He points a thumb at Renjun, and Renjun takes immediate offense but does nothing other than verbally object, his chest sighing weakly. Haechan flops his wrist, wanting your answer more than to argue – a rare event, considering that half the table is enrolled in the law programme.

“I don’t know,” you answer immediately, mostly as a filler word while you size him up. Over the semester, Renjun started training with Jeno and Jaemin (and Xiaojun from the poli sci department), gradually replacing his daily water intake with whey protein powder. His body has gotten … bigger, noticeably bigger; his shoulders filling out the grey, cashmere sweater, muscles faintly contouring down in bulges to the thin watch on his left wrist. You eventually reach his face again, briefly pausing at his clear jawline, and he raises an eyebrow before knocking back another shot, daring you to say the thought so clearly reflected in your eyes. “I mean,” you start, shifting back to Haechan, who starts pouring your fourth round, as if seducing you into saying something provocative, “he was nice; he is nice. He picked me off the ground, literally, and –“ You throw back the shot. “– you know, we had – have a lot in common: similar taste in movies, same major, he even sang a line from this one OST I used to hear whenever my grandmother watched dramas.”

Haechan, hums, dispensing yours and Renjun’s fifth round and a fourth to everyone else.

“What about you?” Jeno garbles to Renjun, slowly laying his head on the table, Jaemin rubbing his back. “If I were – were you –” He hiccups and points at you. “– I would’ve left as soon as I even heard him laughing at me.”

“I guess I’m just nicer than you,” Renjun laughs, sitting slightly more forward. “Remember when we first met. I thought you were cold as ice.

Jeno pouts.

“And now,” Renjun clarifies, pushing the shots further down the table and grabbing a napkin. His free arm slides down your back for the second time tonight, heat radiating off his hand to your hip; his fingers twitch in the air, inches from your skin, and your breath stops in your chest. You shift a little closer to his belt, rocking left and right until you meet him, and he helps you, too, hand rising above your high-waisted skirt, pulling you closer. Then, he leaves his arm dangling there, elbow caught in the chair’s spine, fingers caging your hip. “Now, we’re best friends.”

You admire Renjun’s side profile as he talks behind your back with Jeno, reclining on the bench, you perched over the table to give him enough space. He smirks at something in the middle of the conversation, head nodding off center, falling even more into your body and continuing to stay there after, sans objection. All eyes eventually lead to Jaemin, when he starts pouring the sixth round, except yours. Yeah, you instinctively moved with the crowd, but Renjun’s lips caught your gaze, licking his mouth open wider for another laugh, shoulders following suit. Halfway through another weak objection (he is already pushing his shot glass to the end of the table before his sentence finishes), Renjun glances your way, lingering back and forth between you and Jaemin, who tends to overpour after two shots, until he stops, staying on your face. He reaches out the same hand that gave a glass to Jaemin, grabbing yours too, then mouths come here, finger curling close enough to make your skin tingle. Still, you comply, and he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, matting down all the baby hairs floating away from how hot your face burns, knowing that, as a side effect of the law major, appearance is everything. Or maybe he just thinks you’re pretty.

“Oh, leave them alone,” Chaewon complains between drinks, groaning through her fifth and sixth shots. “I think they’re cute.” She wipes her mouth with her sleeve, and you are tempted to do the same, except to Renjun, a little like returning the favor, even though he wiped the pretzel crumbs from the corner of his mouth already. “Besides, their meet-cute is better than spilling that disgusting demon coffee on a stranger at eight o’clock in the morning.” She narrows her eye sat Haechan.

“That was for him!” He points at Jaemin, nearly banging on the table, much to Jeno’s annoyance. “And it will be the last time I ever buy coffee for you!”

“How are you going to repay me for the kimbap I bring you after literature on Thursdays?!”

“You get it from the dining hall!”

“Yeah, on my meal plan!”

“Please, okay! It’s literally ₩3,000!”

“Should we get kimbap?” you hum, leaning into Renjun’s hand, further from the three-person argument.

He trails his fingers under your chin, tickling you until he laughs when you slap him away; he drops his hand on his jeans, rubbing his thigh wider into his seat. You tilt your head to the door into the restaurant, eyes fluttering at your suggestion, pouting. Renjun copies, lips tightened into a contemplative melody. He sighs, stomach growling in agreement. The last time either of you ate was after your 10AMs, barely catching a quick snack from the café in the biochem building, because you had been promised the alleged best samgyeopsal marinated in red wine.

“If our food doesn’t arrive in –“ Renjun pushes his long sleeve far up his forearm, shaking his watch into view. Your tongue salivates. “– 10 minutes, I’ll buy you dinner at Gen.”

It comes by in four.

[Renjun, 3:23 PM]

Renjun time!

[Renjun, 3:23 PM]

Study session at mine tonight?

[You, 3:24 PM]

Yeah, I’m going to finish scanning this civics passage in the library, then head to Starbucks for coffee, but I should be free the rest of the day. Civil procedure got cancelled. Want anything?

[Renjun, 3:25 PM]

Grande mango black tea, light ice, please and thank you. Do you need help studying? Prof Choi will probably give a pop quiz in your next meeting.

[Renjun, 3:26 PM]

Oh, and a double bacon if there are any left. I have constitutional law in 5 btw.

[Renjun, 3:27 PM]

I’ll buy you dinner at Gen on Monday.

[You, 3:27 PM]

Please.

[You, 3:28 PM]

You keep saying that, but we have yet to actually go.

[You, 3:30 PM]

Sit in the back. I’ll sneak in.

Sneaking into Professor Moon’s constitutional law class, which has over a hundred students, is as easy as slipping into a routine with Renjun, if not easier, even after summer break. And this year, you actually have a class with him (!), not constitutional law, obviously, because you took it last year, but legal writing. Ironically, your classes overlap with his – e.g. you took constitutional law spring term, he takes it now; he took civic practices winter term, you take it now. Basic classes, the ones that only go over the law, not how to interpret it, don’t really function like maths classes; they don’t build off each other, just accumulate knowledge, so you and Renjun (and Haechan and Chaewon) will spend the first two years learning the general idea, figure out what specialty you eventually want to pursue, then argue during the last three – which means that, in the long run, you essentially invest in having more time with Renjun … not that he isn’t already attached to your hip. Plus, you can cheat off each other’s notes.

Ice shaking alerts Renjun to your presence before a syllable from your greeting can reach his ear. You slowly drag the chair beside him on the carpet, no loud sounds alerting the professor to your existence (thank God), and set everything down next to him.

“Thanks,” he whispers, sipping the iced tea like every other student in the room does with coffee.

You lean over his arm, simultaneously giving him the sandwich and stealing a pale-yellow highlighter. “No problem.”

Renjun trails your hand, watching you set up to study civic practices on your iPad, completely missing his professor’s plan for today’s class. His smile twitches on the corners of his cheeks. He remembers doing that last year: studying activists who used pamphlets to declare independence from some distant sovereign, and admiring your side profile. The way you ignore him, too focused on Common Sense, let him stare a bit longer, without you making a face to stop him. Some rose-pink color outlines your lips today, a few patches missing in the middle. He asked you, this morning, while catching an early morning bibimbap, why you actually dressed up for civic practices, because no one took Prof Kwon’s dress code seriously. You said something about wanting to get an internship with him for your practicum in two years, and he wasn’t aware that you had started planning that far ahead.

“Pay attention to this next part. It will be an essay question on the next exam.”

Renjun glances at the projector. Justiciability. He has no idea what it means (well, he has some; he vaguely recognizes the abstract concept), so he starts paying attention. But throughout the lecture, he slips his elbow onto the table, resting his cheek over his hand, preoccupied by your distracting pen taps, as Professor Moon sets up clicker questions after each section. He tries to stay focused, adding any random thought to the corner of his OneNote … until he ends up doodling your name; it began as writing something you mentioned in passing last year and didn’t stop … you look so cute right now … if you use all my yellow highlighter, we’re going to the pen shop later … you, you, you. He erases all the evidence though, seconds after he makes it, not wanting to incriminate himself, even outside the law, before he becomes a lawyer.

After the lecture wraps up, you and Renjun walk to the library, partway through campus, iced drinks in hand, catching up on your lives despite having seen each other every day. Surprisingly, you always have a new thing to say, new opinion about whatever you saw, and Renjun always has a rebuttal.

“Oh!” You pull off your straw once he finishes recounting his point of view on Moon’s theoretical federal case. Renjun flutters his eyes up, ducking down to slurp the last of his tea. “Did you hear? Jeno is starting the architecture programme spring term after he discharges.”

“Yeah,” Renjun hums, breaking off his empty drink. Jeno called him about it last night. “I think Haechan is going to see if the housing department will let them room together since there’s an empty bed in his suite.” You nod slowly, contemplative, and Renjun opens his mouth again, to ask you the question he has been pondering since Jeno even brought up living on campus.

Speaking of the devil (well, one of them), Haechan accidentally happens on the two of you, rounding a corner from the psych department. He launches his arms around your shoulders, swinging his legs between you and Renjun, making you both dip down and yelp.

“God, I share more classes with Renjun than you, yet I don’t see him nearly as much.” Haechan lands in front of you, bouncing backwards a few steps to balance himself.

Renjun verbally objects; he saw Haechan yesterday for dinner, so this makes the fifth day in a row, plus they have a grocery store date tomorrow morning; he ran out of satay hotpot soup base after you helped him complete his first draft for legal writing. He flitters a grateful eye when you massage his shoulder. You squeeze his bicep three times, returning the blood flow to his face, and he mumbles a small thank you, with an even smaller smile, before glaring at the intruder.

“It’s almost like you live together,” Haechan shrugs, tucking in his elbows and wriggling between you two.

You giggle when Renjun sighs, his shoulders dropping as his chin tilts to the sky.

“I mean, I was considering it.”

“You were what!?”

Renjun raises an eyebrow, walking slightly ahead of Haechan to see you, and you return it, frowning deeply.

“You never told me that,” you grumble, falling behind Haechan, who copies the both of you, frowning like he did something wrong.

“I mean,” Renjun starts, “Yeah, of course, I’ve thought about it. We’re practically together all the time, like he –“ Renjun points a thumb at Haechan, pausing to glare, then softens back at you. “– mentioned. You have enough stuff in my dorm to live there for a month, anyways, and we’ve had sleepovers before, so –“ He shrugs. “– why not?”

Renjun may not have started planning his fourth-year practicum like you, but he has been thinking about the future, about asking you to move into an apartment with him before the school year ends.

It takes just slightly over two weeks (16 days) to finalize a pros and cons list for living with Renjun. You don’t say a word to anyone about, nearly neglecting your actual studies and opinion papers to really determine if you could do it. Halfway through the pros column, you considered asking your current roommate, a psych major named Dahyun, for help – to see whether you ignore the red flags, or to diagnose with the first thing that snaps you out of this boy craze, but you shook your head and continued writing. So far, the list has more pros than cons, as you expected; Renjun is basically perfect – decent cook (or take-out order…er); clean, physically and environmentally; quiet when important; cooperative; gets along with you; etc. The only con is … is … well, you get along with him too well, so you keep the list to yourself, not wanting that information, specifically, to be leaked. You even cross out the one con with a sharpie and expo marker, ripping it into the shredder before anyone could interpret it.

But Chaewon inevitably heads to your dorm for an extra shirt when Haechan spills yet another demon coffee on her (before 8 AM this time).

She walks out of your private bathroom, wearing an oversized sweater, dabbing a Tide pen into her pale pink shirt, trying to revive it before criminal law.

“Oh, I hate them,” she enunciates about Haechan and Jaemin for the fifth time this week alone (and it’s Thursday). She puts the pen back in your desk draw and blows on the wet patch, trying to get it ready for class, but you saw the black water stain her shirt irrevocably, even from the closet, where you pull out a blazer to go over the plain white pyjama shirt you stole from Renjun. “Oh? What’s this?”

“What’s what?” you ask while sliding your arms through the sleeves. You yank your hair from the back, fluffing it before walking up to her, tiptoeing above her shoulder as she pulls a colorful, small spiral notebook from your drawer.

“Reasons to live with Renjun,” she reads.

Your eyes widen, and you snatch it from her, holding it close to your chest.

“Reasons not to live with Renjun?” She reads the back.

You push her out of the way and shove it back in your drawer, slamming it shut rather loudly.

“You’re going to … move in … with him?” she asks slowly, lowering her head gradually, her voice unusually soft.

You hug your arms around your waist, hands gripping the waistband on your trousers, and study her expression, your own eyebrows furrowing deeply. She brings her hands together, thumbnail clawing at the cuticles on her opposite fingers.

“Yes,” you nod, equally quiet and long. You stand up straighter, tucking your hair behind both ears a few times before opening your desk drawer to organize it; no use in hiding the list now that Chaewon knows and wants to address it. “I was just thinking about it.”

“Are you … Are you sure it’s a good idea?” She puts a hand on your upper arm, and your muscles tighten, everything temporarily paused until the single highlighter you hold starts shaking; you start shaking. Once you inhale twice more, no air expelling until your lungs finally reach max capacity, you turn towards Chaewon. Her hand drops into yours, squeezing it gently. You want to assuage her misplaced guilt, possibly about finding your notebook and involuntarily demanding to know the reason you might move in with Renjun – because the roommate agreement has yet to be written into stone.

But you shrug, rattling her off of you. “Yeah, we’re practically together all the time, and we have stuff at each other’s places.” You pause, recoiling, physically cringing at reusing Renjun’s reasoning.

“What are you going to do when he goes on a date?”

You frown. “Renjun doesn’t date.”

Chaewon raises an eyebrow, her palms weakly slapping her thighs, the sound resonating too loudly in the silence. Your ears ring, like the aftermath of a bomb, and you go back to studying her face, maybe also too long. You tilt your head to the side, something in your chest piling on an extra ton that leans your body to the left.

“I mean, I’ve never seen him go on a date, and I’ve known him for more than two years now.”

Chaewon bites her lip and moves her hands behind her back.

Your shoulders hunch forward. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, mostly to the floor. “I thought you knew.”

“No,” you reject, a little forcefully, and she winces. “No, it’s …” you repeat gentler, matching her expression, “It’s my fault for assuming.” You throw your hands low in the air, hands slapping against your thighs, but not as strong since her implications weigh your body down. “Of course, he dates. I just … I just thought …”

Chaewon reaches an arm out again, grabbing your forearm first for your attention, then your hand, squeezing it again, in the same capacity, although now you know what she knows. She evidently knew what you thought, but her breath had to spell out what she knew. You try slinking into yourself, elbows tucking backwards, until she hugs you, accidentally tripping over her feet. It doesn’t make you laugh.

“I just … thought he was too busy, you know,” you lie, obviously too, by the way your nose starts to itch, “like me,” you whisper, finally accepting her embrace, adding your arms around her waist and your chin into her shoulder.

Chaewon pats your hair. “I know.”

But does he?

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I told you already that I didn’t have the time to study with you today. I’m still behind on my second draft for legal writing, and I can’t afford to drop below in the rankings again.”

“Then why did you even come!?”

You purse your lips. Renjun should know, at this point, why you hang out in his single person dorm, oscillating between listening to his overactive imagination about the different animal combinations his brain dreams up and walking to the convenience store near the physics building 160 meters away. He should know why you help each other with the classes you’ve already taken, help him compete against Seungmin in his constitutional law, help him technically get a better grade than you ever did (despite academic standing relying on your literal standing in class among more than 50 people). Regardless, he still looks at you as if meeting you for the first time; or, not meeting you because, when he actually did, he had a smile on his face and laughter on his shoulders; now, he just gives you an uncharacteristic head shake, questions spilling from his tight lips. You grip the page of your notebook that you had been writing on, it standing partway up, then turn it; you accidentally use too much strength and rip the perforations, which makes a hot, deep sigh leave your diaphragm.

It has been almost three weeks (three weeks and two days), since you told Renjun that you cannot move in with him. You initially avoided him, like the plague, lying that you cannot be on top of everything. Well, partially lying. Your classes got harder – more pop quizzes, more mini-essays and discussion posts, more commitment; how he manages to retain information so easily, you will be forever jealous, but it also means that you have to sacrifice your 10 PM philosophical talks to get work done. You l… you lo… You enjoy his company, you really do, but being with him takes an extra 0.5x the effort, slowing down your typed average words per minute until you just stop writing, because he needs you to explain a concept. And you don’t mean to nag; it goes vice versa – it takes him an extra 90 minutes to complete his flashcards when you ask about Enlightenment ideas or to translate his annotations to something you understand. You just … don’t know how to accommodate for his follow up questions, for actually being with him, for all your lies falling through, and it makes your heart drop; if you can’t even improvise with Renjun, how will you be a lawyer?

By telling the truth?

You sigh. “Renjun …” He looks at you expectantly, on the tips of his toes, despite sitting half a table away, on the opposite side of his desk, creating the distance you only speak. “I …” you start, heart never having recovered from that meeting with Chaewon, “I’ve just been busy with school.” His entire chest deflates. “You have too,” you reinforce – partially because it’s true, and a half-truth is better than a lie; it is an omission of the whole picture, which is something arguable in court.

And something he regurgitates to you the next weekend.

You follow up the same thing the next day.

Another month passes, the end of fall term, and saw Renjun maybe three times, at least one of them being in class when he sat next to you, backpack sliding between his legs like a kicked puppy, his eyes, also, somehow mimicking a baby. You nearly cave, turn to him with an open mouth, but he packs his bag and leaves before the professor announces the assignment. It is written in the syllabus anyways.

Spring term comes faster than winter term ends, and you have literally no idea what happened.

Everything stays the same: the grass still retains dew outside the agriculture building; the biochem café still wakes up at dawn; hell, even Haechan manages to spill coffee on Chaewon again, not that you see them so often anymore. She stopped spontaneously dropping by your dorm (you live off campus now, still with Dahyun though), choosing her side like the other three – two if you count Jeno not being informed until three weeks into winter term. But you and Renjun no longer bear the conjoined rumors, whispers about your breakup swirling among the nosy grad students who assign your group projects. And the further you delve into the five-year law program, the smaller the class sizes get, meaning that you eventually circle back to Renjun’s side, just adding the distance he created in his dorm two terms ago. Again, everything stays the same.

Dahyun, your psych major roommate, argued that the competitive school system sets you up to hate each other, and you fell into its scheme (you asked what her major’s scheme was, and she said depression; you refrained from asking anymore questions), inevitably hating Renjun. However, her social psych class did not account for all the sparing matches, during Socratic debates, during the extraneous study sessions set up by the TA Qian Kun, during … every student event really. It never ends because neither of you allow each other to have the last word, to give a final argument, as if holding an arsenal back, waiting to drop the atomic bomb at the perfect moment. It feels like holding the weight of the world, weight of a secret, on your shoulders, and you confessed this, drunk, to Dahyun every night through the end of the year. She tried to offer you more advice, more perspective, adding a shrug here or there to lessen the hostility while still telling you the truth, but you continued to dive further into defensive mode, even when she pointed out that it could be your professors’ faults, posing public rankings rather than private grades, forcing you and Renjun into survival mode to come out on top, if not top three (Seungmin, too, eventually revealed himself as your uncovered nemesis).

All those study dates spent getting to know each other for naught, escalating into passive aggressive battles through your individual essays. If the TAs put your assignment next to Renjun’s, it would read “re:fuck this guy” back and forth despite arguing the same position, just using different reasons. Then, wars break out in the form of debates, the both of you misplacing your anger onto each other (from the rankings, and innocent bystander Seungmin who really wants to work for the international diplomacy office). He would lose his spot at number one in torts, a class you took freshman year; you often did minor corrections, like spelling for him; and you would receive your research papers drowned in red ink, distorting your muddled point without Renjun to move around the sentences for cohesion; he is … was the only one who followed your rapid thought process, almost on the exact same wavelength. Eventually, you two grew better without each other, forcing yourselves to use the student resources like the writing center or your actual professors, and you were happy, elated, that he improved on legal literacy, as he was happy, elated, that you understood social policy on your own, but fuck, it hurt like hell to see each other’s names drop, losing first place when you tried so hard to make it work, even more when one of your friends’s stupidly endearing smile attempted to console you, saying that “rankings do not matter”, even though they clearly do.

Oh, you two saw each other as frequently as freshman year, nothing changing drastically except what kind of feelings you had for each other, occasionally bumping into one another on the street – you caught Renjun slipping on a puddle once and helped him up after laughing at him, only to receive a glare; he also caught you tripping up the stairs in the language department, dropping your tea a flight below. Everything stayed the same, and it felt the same, in those briefest moments, but no longer did the flirting mask the tutoring; no longer did the glances feel heart-stricken, just rallying frustration back and forth, when you think the other isn’t looking, like a trick shot; no longer can you “accidentally” bump elbows in his dorm to look at a textbook that you rented together to save on money.

Unfortunately, you find yourself in Renjun’s legal ethics class winter term of your third year, and truthfully, it functions more like a psychotherapy group meeting than anything else. You swear, every class, that your old professor can read your mind, can see your tiny glimpses at Renjun from the back of the lecture hall, and purposefully relates each module to your lives.

“You cannot equate legal ethics with business ethics!” Renjun argues, voice echoing off the amphitheater, surround-sound encasing all 19 people to accommodate for the 150-max capacity. “Business ethics are not always a matter of law,” he furthers, seeing your ears burn steam, all openness flying out the window. He does not miss the irony, something about the passion for you manifesting in different forms, maybe, if he let himself sit with the thought for long, but he distracts himself with the lecture, using all of his brain, and half of his fragile glass heart, to make a plausible argument that you cannot refute easily. “Yes,” he seethes, “legal ethics might determine what is acceptable, like a morality blueprint, but business ethics do not always have to adhere to the law!”

“Pertain,” you hastily correct, nearly spitting across the fishbowl setting that your professor had everyone arrange from the desks. You almost stand up, to nitpick at his argument, at his choice of words, but restrain yourself; you have some decorum. “Business ethics always have to adhere to the law.” Your voice hitches for a moment, an insult (dummy, idiot, clotpole) scratching its heels on your lips before it can fully pass into audio.

Renjun, though, unfortunately, sees the taunting term of endearment (of irritation). His smirk begs you say it, his tongue licking the seam of his lips open to prod you more, but Socratic seminars have a direct impact on his grade and ranking. He cannot afford to be thrown out of class again for getting too heated in debate.

“If we cannot equate business ethics and law ethics, then do out laws not reflect morality, the moral compass? Do our laws lack in some sense that alleviates business workers from punishment, puts them above the law?” you further, chest rising instead of your legs, asking him impossibly ambiguous questions to which you know that he does not have the answer. He could ask the theoretical judge (your professor) for an objection, but there is no witness testimony, so he would remain invalid unless he can bring a valid philosophical response. “Business ethics have arbitrary rules that would otherwise not hold in a court of law, so how can we determine the validity of their rules?”

You nearly forget about everyone else in the class, spotlight effect enhancing only Renjun Huang; you swear that you see the cogs turning, at rapid pace, behind his exposed forehead, as you pile question after question, trying to undermine and tear apart his dispute on the basis of morals and ethics, as is the name of your fucking class.

His clench fists tell you exactly where you can shove those intangible questions, also succumbing into tunnel vision with only you at the end, as if you were the sole answer to your own insufferable questions, to the universe, to this god-awful class section that you decided to sign up for, simultaneously with him. According to Haechan, there has to be at least two other sections, although it would coincide with the comparative law class you also share with him and his technology and science law class. He and you are not the only ones in this programme, in this class, despite the numerous times neither of you have focused on anyone else; other than Seungmin, who has ethics Tuesday, Thursday, Friday at 11 AM. Perhaps Renjun should have skipped the breather altogether, he thinks, then, you would still be talking to him … well, talking at him, given your disposition … not that he minds … he does somewhat agree with you, simply following the polar opposite because you do too.

Once Professor Jeong dismisses the lecture (after Renjun’s closing argument; you gave the opening argument), determining that both sides presented “enough” evidence for final ments, everyone begins cleaning up, putting the classroom back to the way it started. Only a few of you stay, out of the already few, including Renjun.

You turn to the front of the classroom, pushing the desks into a neat line. Seeing him, even after he essentially became your moral enemy, brings something forward, in you. The best or worst, you honestly cannot determine. Your grades, debates, fleeting relationships. All paled in comparison to what you had with Renjun, your nostalgia glasses tinted rose-gold. You cringe, physically, lips holding back vomit; you hope that your external shudder, too, only reflects the classroom’s 30-degree weather, not your melodramatic young adult life … or its absence. Maybe you have enough relationship experience, or maybe you need to get out more; maybe you need to think about what you actually had with Renjun, because – you look at him now, his thumbs typing fast enough on his phone to get carpal tunnel syndrome – this certainly did not end up being one.

Oppositely, Renjun, himself, cannot place the exact moment your relationship went downhill. Of course, he knows about you being overworked sophomore year and about the quote-unquote natural competition brought upon by the five-year law program, but he never really thought it would be enough to rip you two apart. Sometimes, he even catches himself reminiscing about your rom-com-esque meet-cute during the warm autumn day after new student orientations – the day shined brightly, as he used to correct you, and his heart thumped so loud in his brain that he didn’t register his own laughter until you mentioned it. He ruminates on the moments with you – fixing your hair as an excuse to look into your eyes before you drop eye contact; reviewing concepts he already knows just to hear you talk, uninterrupted; only touching elbows in the library, to verify that the other stays, because students took the longer desks, forcing him to chose the singles with immovable dividers. He ruminates, not because he wants to, but because it plagues him; it makes him overanalyze all your interactions thereafter. And maybe he did overcompensate for his misplaced frustrations … even though some miniscule part of you irritated him, burned this flame inside his chest, like heartburn.

He can make a list too:

He hates the way you talk, so short and easily annoyed with him;

He hates the way you walk into class, wearing those tennis shoes, like you try to mute your steps, even though people will stare at you coming in 1, 3, or 5 minutes late;

He hates the way you spar with him during Socratic seminars, treating the classroom exercise like an actual courtroom or debate, leaving him hot and breathless, feeling as if no one else can match his wit, even though half the class probably shares the same IQ;

He hates the way you are always right, especially in class when he gets the most minute fact wrong and you dismantle his entire case;

He hates it when you lie, when you claim to love the cold so you grab the seat under the vent during every class study session with the TA, so no one else gets sick;

He hates the way you breathe through your mouth when your nose ultimately gets stuffy after the library turns on the aircon;

He hates it so, so much when you stay later than everyone else, and he sees the way you shiver, too stubborn to move seats, to move closer to him.

He hates the way you make him want to wrap you in his obviously warmer jacket, make him hyperfocus on nursing you back to health instead of the lesson at hand.

He hates the way you never look at him, even after all the others have left, and he mumbles the occasional bless you or are you okay?, which scarcely get a response.

Renjun hates the way he has to steal glances at you or ask you for the source material to get you to look his way. And he hates that he currently does it, waiting, like a coward, for even the TA to leave the room last.

“Do you have a copy of Article 6?”

You bury your nose further into the library’s copy of the Constitution. “Yeah, I just read it.” He hates the way he sees something stop in your throat, masked by a cough; you almost said more to him. Silently, you pass him the book. “Here. You can –“ Cough. “– You can have it.” You bring your hand to your mouth, covered by your sleeve, coughs bubbling into it.

He hates the sympathetic look in his eyes, that he can feel, that he can see in the glass reflection, that you do not acknowledge. Renjun hates the way he purposefully brushes his hands against yours despite you having sneezed on it earlier. He threw a disgusted bless you at you, almost standing from his comfortable position to give you a tissue. But you would never accept it, on the basis of mortal enemies.

“Thank you.”

He hates the way you say nothing back, the way you ignore him again. He hates the way that, at this point, he has to wonder if he really does hate you, hate the idea of you, or hate himself for letting your relationship, now lack thereof, get to this.

And so do you.

Another week passes until your TA schedules another study session; this time before the midterm, one that you need to attend because the vocabulary continuously becomes too complicated to understand. Like, academia is already an unnecessarily convoluted foreign language, and you do not want to hear how it is pronounced, especially when it comes from Renjun’s stupidly pretty voice that always has a perfect cadence. Even now, as he answers the TA’s pointless pop quiz, you are compelled to listen, somehow retaining the information better when he says it, too consumed by his tone … that you miss half the class exiting, until you are left alone with him again, and the reserve textbook that the TA checked out for an extra two hours after the session, knowing exactly which two students would probably study near each other before getting kicked out (again) at midnight.

The click of an AirPod case opening snaps your attention, forcing you toward the tangible Renjun five seats away, furthest from the room’s only exit, other than the window you contemplate jumping from.

“What are you looking at?” Renjun snips, micro-jutting his chin toward you like a meaningless threat. He would never spar you … in a library, that is – he really does not enjoy getting kicked out of places. But he goes back to tuning out the world when you fail to respond, so you do the same, with your favorite band’s newest album.

Unfortunately, for Renjun, this meant enduring your off-key, sporadic humming, broken by cracks in your voice as if it were hoarse, vaguely resembling instrumental, much less the actual lyrics. He lets you get a bit louder, equally turning up his volume, until your humming elongates into one dissonant note, and he pulls out your earbud, pausing your music, your singing, and your studying. You un-click your pen, the corner of your eye flittering toward him, sparkling a glare because the angle will not allow you to narrow your eyes at him.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” he mocks, placing the AirPod on the table by your phone. Renjun returns to his seat just as easily and silent, the sound of his chair scraping the carpet replacing both your playlists. He is halfway through pulling his seat closer to the table when he continues, seeing you oscillate between him and your phone (not even the textbook; wow). “I meant it.” He glares. “If you’re just going to daydream, you can leave. I’ll even encourage you; you can be hung up on that Timothée Chalamet wannabe.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, head turning away. “I’m not hung up on him.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he mutters back, popping open an orange midliner. He doesn’t use yellow anymore. Variations of the color, yes, from orange to orange-yellow, then yellow-green to green. His favorite color is still yellow; perhaps why he holds it in such high esteem, like dedicating little emojis across his Instagram captions to it or detailing small embellishments around his apartment, but not something he carefully looks at every day, like his notebooks.

Equally petty and bitter, you say something under your breath, trying to be unintelligible. Renjun, though, knows about your mother’s speak clearlys, and it comes out crystal: “Sounds like you’re hung up on him more than I am.” And neither of you understand why – why he would think you are hung up on some asshole in your philosophy class who probably thinks Thanos was a genius; why this is a conversation topic; why he even cares.

“I’m not the one who went on a date with him,” Renjun almost bites, in the form of a growl. He remembers almost literally running into your classmate just outside the boba place off-campus behind the math department, like you did with the cement pillar a couple years ago. You also walked out the door, in the same manner he did to go inside the shop (or, really, stop outside it), distracted by complimenting the matcha blend; you also shrugged him off and sauntered the path with Chalamet.

But what does Huang Renjun even know about your taste in men?

A lot, actually, considering that encompasses so much, if not everything, that you want from a significant other: passionate, honorable, empathetic. You would rather die (or shut him up) before you said anything like that to him. Except … you already did. Freshman year, prior to meeting his friends, when you both were still in that weird getting to know each other phase, not the talking stage just yet, you had been in his dorm, sitting on a bean bag he stole from the floor lobby, and he asked you, out of the blue (because he was finishing up a social psych paper), about the things that make someone attractive romantically. You told him the basics – funny, verbally appreciative, trustworthy, etc., then he watched your eyes sparkle outside his window and your hands wrap around your knees, gently rocking as you described the really specific details. He wondered, at that time, whether he could be all that, your fantasized ideal type.

“I don’t know where you get your information, Huang, but Xiaojun and I aren’t dating, nor did we ever go on a date. I don’t know which event you’re probably misconstruing in your mind, but you’re wrong, and I don’t –“

“Sounds like you don’t know a lot,” he interrupts, starting a new argument, running away from the last topic he started. “Maybe you should actually focus on getting back into the top three in this class, or do you want Seungmin to keep taking out spots?”

You purse your lips. “Bold words for someone who can barely spell.”

“Yeah?” Renjun perks his head, shaking it just the one time. “What’s your excuse?” His question is met with silence, and since your eyes downcast again, brows furrowed with harsh lines in the middle, you fail to notice him return to work. “Thought so,” he mutters, in the tone your mother would disapprove.

You wish it was different.

Ethics would be so much easier, just to comprehend, with his help – bouncing ideas and theories off each other, cowriting drafts and outlines, simultaneously shouting eureka after everything comes together. Except, you wish this was also different – the irritation, the discomfort, the … the resentment. You both know why you resent each other, though only internally; he doesn’t know why you resent him, nor vice versa, and it bubbles into these micro-arguments, passive aggressiveness; the both of you too awkward, maybe even timid, to reconcile without your hearts on the line.

Another sigh leaves your lips, hidden under your breath, and no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, Renjun’s ears attune to it, to your every move. He puts his midliner down, contemplating the benefits of talking to you again like … like a friend; he even opens his mouth to say something, anything, but really, what is there to say? What can he say? One of you will have to be more vulnerable, praying on the other’s empathetic, or sympathetic, side. You did it last, telling him that you couldn’t move in with him, something of a sad expression on your face that he made him immediately go to your defence. He tells himself that he forgave you as soon as your lips moved, but you were not so sure … And neither was he.

“H … he … hey,” he calls out slowly, voice growing audibly to coherency as his confidence settles on vulnerability, a harsh 180 from his previous spite. “Hey,” he repeats, even louder. You finally turn to him, lowering your music just enough to hear him but not taking it away completely, in case he just wants to insult you again. He doesn’t. And he hopes his face shows that.

You scrutinize him, staring down from his eyes to his lips, pausing there, maybe hesitating, before trailing up again. “What?”

“Do you understand the implied contract prompt?”

“Mm … hmm …”

Renjun exhales through his nose, slowly rolling his eyes, trying to expel the budding frustration with each rotation. “Can … Will you go over it with me?” He knows that he has to ask a yes-no question, to ask for help in a format that will not have you nitpicking each word to dismantle his entire request like an argumentative statement. And he does not start it with an apology, like he should. He rarely reveals his emotions so easily without a special occasion, though his every feeling writes itself across his face, chokes his throat.

Not that you indicate any consideration – which is probably his fault. Who could even give a warm response to his resting bitch face, or that scolding tone? Who would even want to?

“I can,” you overenunciate, possibly pondering the implications of his question, taking an eternity to say the simple words. You lower your head, again, to your notebook; pen scratching the air above the half-filled page, twitching. He dips his eye to your smallest movements, but when he catches nothing, he returns to your face, still contemplative. You partially inhale, keeping your breath at the base of your esophagus until you make your decision. He waits and waits, falling onto his toes with each millisecond. You lick your lips and exhale, shakily; you take another moment, giving him a bit of hope that you change your mind at last second in his favor. And you do: “… Ye-yeah, I think I will.” You point a finger at him. “As long as you confine your arguments to the texts.”

“Thanks,” Renjun sighs. He breathes again, hand sliding down his chest. “Maybe we can bounce ideas off each other too.”

The corners of your lips twitch upward. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You and Renjun spend another two hours in the library until a student worker’s voice echoes through the speakers, essentially kicking you both out. You helped each other pack your belongings, then walked down to the first floor together, in silence. He told you that he had to return a book at the front desk, and, despite your better judgements, you waited for him.

“So …” you say outside the library, grabbing both straps of your backpack. You stop first, in front of him, and he skids down, mirroring your posture on his tote bag.

“So …” he copies.

What does this mean? What happens now? What are we? Do we just go back to … You cannot call it ‘normal’, because what is normal? Even before everything, he blurred the line between friends and l… and more, which gave you a false hope that was shattered by Chaewon in just one minute, not that you speak to her so often anymore. You two get together occasionally, every 1-2 months subject to projects and midterms, working on different subspecialty electives – honestly, that itself is nice, not being forced to compete for the same internships, the same classes, the same fields. The same cannot be said with Renjun. Although, he gets it. Despite the way you two collaborate on similar theses, whether you agree or disagree with the hypothetical plaintiff, he validates your stances and vice versa, bringing up evidence to really strengthen each other’s arguments. He just … You just … debate whose evidence is better, which opening statement would be received by the judge (your professors) more positively.

A hundred questions linger on the tip of your tongue, nearly begging you to cross-examine him on the spot without preparation. Maybe lawyers are like this, kind of intense in all areas of their lives, needing the black and white extremes because they deal with the grey areas for days, if not weeks or months. Though, you still have yet to pass the bar exam. You and Renjun, who drops his arms to his sides like the iPhone emoji, his lips sucked inside his mouth.

“I …” You inhale, pursing your lips. “I …” You inhale again and bite your lip to keep the vacuum sealed. “I …” You start again and again, inhaling once more at the start of each sentence, reconsidering where to take this momentum. And Renjun follows your words, heels coming off the ground, leaning into you until he trips. “So …” you settle lamely, eyes drifting away from him, to one of the flickering lampposts in the midnight sky.

Renjun releases his lips into a tiny upward curve, sliding his feet individually into your personal bubble. “We can study at my apartment,” he suggests, “if you want.” And you bite your lip, pushing it out via tongue in the same second. Maybe he feels the same way, doesn’t want this good thing to end. These moments have happened before, after the massive fight move-in dispute, like when he offers you a pen or charger in class, seeing yours dead, or when he shows you that he listens, classroom or not, just like now, reading your body language, probably, and changing the trajectory of the night.

“… Can we?” you ask in a small voice. “I … I still have trouble with philanthropic and ethical responsibilities, and …” You drill your ankle into the ground. “And I think you know Carroll’s corporate social responsibility pyramid better than I do.”

“Right.”

You pick your head up, and he ducks his down.

“I … just … I mean,” he stutters, “If … If you think about it, we have different strengths, so we can … we should rely on each other a bit.” He inhales again, so you study his readable face, looking for all the signs that lead you to his fragile heart. His hands clasp in front of his chest, palms too sticky and perspiring to make the familiar rubbing sound. You try to find his eye, find his gaze, but he finds yours first, boring his widening pupils into you, making you take a small step back, slightly noticeable, given the way his fingers twitch forward, ghosting the outline of your palm. “An … And I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “For the last year.”

You brush your hair back through the middle. “It’s fine,” you breathe, pressing your palm into your stomach. “I mean, it’s … it’s not fine, because, you know … I … I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he whispers, so quietly that you almost don’t hear it. Renjun clears his throat and looks over your head at the empty quad, lampposts dimmer than the second star on the right. “So, um, my place then?”

You bite your bottom lip again, trying not to show how wide your smile can get, because although this doesn’t cure the past 12 or 14 months of verbal rallying at every glance, it is a start. He still agrees with you on the important things, on the morals and values; he still, like, keeps the corner of his eye on you, in public, in private, in the classroom, everywhere; he still spends time with you, stays in your proximity, your eyeline, your conversation. And you know that the separation is your fault. Renjun talks about communication all the time, as the basis for any relationship, yet you couldn’t give him that. But maybe you can now.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The next day saw another study session in his apartment again, like every rom com movie’s college students – sitting on the floor, a takeout box housing rice in your hands while he balanced a bulgogi platter in his, chopsticks replacing the pen that you really should be holding instead. Occasionally, you had to cover your mouth, when he said something witty, else little grains fly into his face, not that his smile would be mad, too consumed by how own laughter.

Then, later, deep into the night, after the styrofoam piles on the garbage bin, Renjun crouches next to you, laying his head above the couch cushions while you yawned toward the open living room plan. He admired your dedication (really your side profile) and asked if you wanted to wrap up for the night, or to take a break, or to nap even, but you shook your head, reclining in his same position, restarting the explanation for your essay question to tell him why your practice exam deserves at least 85%, not 70. You kept talking, between yawns, eyes drooping, chest slowing, until your words broke completely from their last train of thought. Somewhere, you stopped listening too. He was not sure where, because he stopped also, eyes closing after yours, falling onto the floor.

Oh, it happened again, that same week. And the next, and the next, happening every other night for months.

Jeno and Haechan, his roommates this year – the two who replaced you, or made room, spontaneously, for Renjun when you abandoned him – were surprised to see you, that initial night. They enjoyed your company freshman and sophomore year, sporadically, while you had been with Renjun (not with him, just by his side) and the even rarer occasion they saw you separated. Of course you bonded as friends – all six – you, Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Chaewon, Jaemin, but law school is competitive and, worse, time consuming, restraining your already limited time from people you do not see regularly (e.g. not Dahyun, Jimin, Renjun, Chaeyoung, or Yeoreum) So, as you and Renjun fought more, recoiled from each other, he retreated to his childhood friends, inadvertently distancing you from them too. And slowly, you rebuilt your relationships with them, too.

You rebuilt your friendships enough to walk from the maths department to Renjun’s apartment with Jeno at 7pm on a Thursday after studying alone in the library a couple hours, laughing at the story he told you about the time Jaemin lost his shoe in the fountain by the engineering department, only for you to return it with a senseless debate: how many holes are on a straw?

“You’re insane!” you shout as he opens the door, dropping your bag on the couch to follow him into the kitchen, completely missing Renjun’s small wave from the dining room behind you two; he brings his hand to his chest and stares at his palm while you follow Jeno around the apartment. “The math says it’s one.”

Jeno cracks open a soda, leaning against the counter. He smacks his lips, pondering the debate. You know he took calculus and geometry, and currently he has that topography class he just got out of, so he should be on your side! “It’s like this.” He puts up his finger. “There is one passage, –” He sticks up a second finger. “ – with two holes. There are two places you can enter. If we define a hole as an opening to which you can enter only or leave only, then –“

“What are you two talking abou –“

“– there are two holes in a straw.”

You smack Jeno’s hand down. “This isn’t a philosophical question. A straw is real and tangible in a torus shape, so it has just the one.”

“Can I give my opinion?” Renjun walks to the counter, poking his head above it.

“No!” you and Jeno shout together.

“Okay, then let me ask you this: do you consider your mouth and asshole to be separate openings or just the one hole?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Technically,” you sigh, “Yes.”

“So you just admitted you’re talking shit!”

You deadpan. “Do you want to die?”

Jeno surrenders his hands, giggling to himself. “There’s a reason I’m not trying to be lawyer like the rest of you.” He puts his can upside down in the sink to drain the soda that wouldn’t fall out and claps his hands. “Anyways, I’m going to bed. I’ve gotten, like, 4 hours in the last three days, and I swear that I started hallucinating concert halls in the middle of architecture, so good night.”

“Yeah, yeah, good night, whatever,” you wave him off.

“Good night?” Renjun half-sings, staring Jeno down the hall.

“Oh!” you shout again, making him whip his head around as you rush to grab something from your backpack. You pull out a paper, small bag, tossing it to him in the same movement. “I got you some gummies from the library café. They were restocking, and I don’t know if you bought any since last night, so … yeah, there you go.”

Renjun pulls out the candies one at a time, sprawling them across the arm of the couch while you take a seat on the opposite, pulling a pillow into your crisscrossed applesauce position. Coca-Cola Haribo, Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers, Vilac peach yogurt jellies – Renjun doesn’t remember telling you about his favorite gummies; though, you might have just been … paying attention. He is not too subtle, he hopes, about it, about anything really. His emotions, he has been told, are written all over his face, involuntarily reacting before he can even think to process them. And with you in such close proximity, with the both of you fixing this relationship, his brain goes fuzzy, rewiring again, slowly coming down from disappointment to hope, but prevents him from slinking to your side again, unsure how near you will allow him to be. Renjun pops a candy bag open, just like Jeno did a soda, then points it at you first. You take two, one for yourself and place the other in his hand, coaxing him closer. The both of you rearrange on the couch until your shoulders are a magazine-width apart, necks reclined on the pillows, legs thrown toward the ground.

Renjun only lets the lull in conversation last a few seconds, maybe less, until his head starts drifting to the side. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I –” Your stomach growls before you can answer, metabolism having been ignited by the gelatin. “I guess I am …” You sink into the couch, pressing your lips tight, trying to hide between the cracks without bumping into him. He gives you space, inching away. “Sorry …”

“It’s fine.” Renjun tucks his pretty hair behind his ears, eyes cast between his legs on the cushion. “We can order food before we start studying.” He pauses, giving you time to think about from which delivery service to order, phone in his front pocket suddenly feeling heavy on his thigh, dropping a little too close to center; he rearranges his phone. And you rearrange your body to look up at the ceiling. Renjun copies you, after a second, after appreciating the glow across your cheeks, no matter how tired you seem. His eyes follow the outline around the apples of your cheeks, walking the same path to his ceiling, head tilting closely to yours. “Is hotpot okay?” he whispers near your ear.

Your shoulders shudder, almost hitting him in the chin, and you turn to him. “Again?” you ask, ending through a sigh. You hug your waist and snuggle deeper on the couch. He almost replaces the cushion with his narrow shoulder; albeit, he has been consistently going to the gym. It might be more comfortable now than freshman year, but he does wonder if you would have that playful smile on your lips again. It appears in your eyes. “Will you actually pour the soup into the bowls correctly, or are we going to have to drop meat into the broth again?”

Renjun smiles for you. “I can’t promise anything, other than it will taste good.”

“It’s hotpot,” you say as if the reasoning were obvious. “It’s hotpot, and more importantly, it’s your taste in hotpot.”

Reminiscing with you only goes as far back as when he apologized in the library this term, but he recalls everything before then too. You never really went to get hotpot with him before now; occasionally, yes, if you were available and nearby when he planned it. Actually, Junhui, one of the PhD students from the biology department, invited you sometime during sophomore year, when you and Renjun were walking around campus for fresh air, sipping melted bubble tea. That was every once in a while, maybe every couple months, but now, you go with him or order out with him every couple days. Your late night study snacks (dinner, really) does not always have to be hotpot, or boba; you also buy gimbap from the convenience store and pineapple juices, when neither of you have the time to dedicate 30-minutes, or an hour, to a full meal. Those moments remind him about freshman and sophomore year, in which school did not consume your waking hours like a ticket counter at an arcade.

“Are you ready for the exam?” you ask, once he sends the order, curling up on the couch.

Renjun flops next to you again, brushing his bangs away from his eyes to see you better. “Partially. There are still a few concepts I’m uncertain about, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to complete the writing portion in time, if Jeong really is going to reduce our time limit to an hour, instead of 90 minutes.”

You drop one leg on the ground again, extending your back on the cushions too. “Should we start going over the last lecture then?”

Renjun nods and reached over the arm of the couch for his backpack, pulling out a fat stack of cardstock. “Yeah, I started making flashcards on Tuesday after the finance PowerPoint. Too many vocab words.” He turns the index cards around his fingers, then looks up at you. Your eyes droop a bit down, wrists waddling on the side of your thigh. He tilts his head to the side. “Or we can eat first.” He would offer to walk you to your apartment, but you can stay over; you have, in the recent past and further. Plus, you usually protest him. Renjun thuds his head on the cushion, pulling a pillow into his lap, flittering his eyes up your face until he meets your gaze. “Do …” he swallows. Your pupils dart around him, but he feels as though you never leave his eye, so he restarts, “Do you … remember … when we first tried to get hotpot?”

“Yeah,” you yawn, slinking onto your shoulder. “I don’t think I trusted your suggestions completely back then, but after Jeong’s brutal pop quiz, –”

“No, um,” Renjun clears his throat. “Back-back then.” Before we broke up.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat passes.

Then another one, both of you just staring at each other, unmoving, unblinking.

You open your mouth, but his chest rises, and you close it again.

He almost takes it back, mentally drawing all the what-ifs, even though he lives in a reality where all of this happened already – his breathing, his question, the fight. Even if he wanted to withdraw everything, he couldn’t.

“Yeah,” you surprise him, fingers pinching the couch. He mistakes the movement for another what-if, another hesitation, and reaches out, slowly threading his fingers under your palm. “I … I …” you stutter, corners of your lips twitching wide. “That was the first time I met your friends.”

“They’re your friends too,” he whispers, sliding his knuckles to meet yours. Renjun tugs your wrist weakly, and you comply. “They like you too.”

You search his eyes, small frown on your face. “… They do?”

Renjun swallows. “Yes, they do.”

Almost 48-hours pass before you see Renjun again, not seeing him during the intermediate day between business ethics. Your other shared class gets cancelled, too, giving you another excuse to avoid him.

You know why you avoid him, and you know when you avoid him – any time your friendship blurs the unspoken lines: talking through dawn, the smallest touches, always finding each other in the crowd. Even after your ‘break’, both of you found each other in your classes, unintentional at first. Everything was by chance this third year of college. Then, you talked to him, and he talked to you. Well, really, you argued back and forth, rallied at each other in class, encouraged by your fellow classmates and occasional professor. But you kept finding each other, preemptively refuting each other’s theses; it was a guess, of course, and it was always right.

Now, too, Renjun finds you outside the building, holding your backpack straps in both hands, twisting the fabric in circles.

“Hey,” he greets softly, jogging over to meet you faster. He catches your elbow, turning you to face him when you, still focused on the law building, bite your lip, dismissing his presence. You release the tension in your body, slinking into his singular hand, as if he were the only thing supporting you. “Nervous?” Renjun raises an eyebrow.

You swallow, then give him a weak smile, your mouth dropping the instant it formed. “That obvious?” You flicker your gaze across his eyes and frown. “Are you not nervous?”

Renjun relinquishes your arm. “No, I am. I just …” He pulls you to the side, away from the door, when other students start walking inside the building. His thumb rubs over your jacket, not that you feel it; you hear it though, like a scratching sound, before he stops, dropping his hand again, one last squeeze on your arm. “I just wanted to check on you first.” He gives you a weak smile, but this time, it does not go away as yours did, staying through the conversation. “Final exam,” he nods to the door. “Last one.”

“Of the term,” you mumble, then cringe, elbows tucking in your sides and lips pursing. If this is his attempt at comforting you, you aren’t being very welcoming to it. “Sorry.”

“How about,” he starts, and your glassy eyes peer into him, “Um,” his voice stutters, like caught between a rock and a hard place, unable to crawl out until you put a hand on his upper arm, resting there, circling around his small bicep like a funerary armband. “H-how about one more competition?”

You tilt your head to the side, frowning, hand slipping away too.

But Renjun catches you, compressing your knuckles in his swift move, then relaxing, slightly, not letting you go again. “If you’re ranked higher, –“ He pauses, briefly losing his train of thought, when you lick your lips open, leaning into his hold almost to the point of you both falling; but he stands solid. “– I’ll buy you dinner at Gen.”

“Gen?”

He brought it up a few times in the past, in the far past, asked you to go with him even more rarely, after a drink or two. And everyone knows the restaurant – a popular (and common) date night barbecue house, given by the candlelit atmosphere and the high frequency of two-person booths. Conversely, you brought it up once, that time you met his friends, dying for a reprieve, or a switching the night into something more intimate, you cannot remember. Although, depending on the day, your definition of intimacy differs; currently, you remember it as wanting to just be with him, wanting to slowly retire from the large crowd, wanting to hide your feelings a bit more, again, when he does not confirm his. Now, too, you counter him with follow-up questions, trying not to get your hopes up again, only for them to be dashed.

But Renjun nods and confirms his decision, his word. “Yeah,” he smiles, “Gen.”

“And …” you hum, tipping onto your toes, getting closer to his face, to his lips. You glance at his heart-shaped philtrum, so filled with love that his body expels it in the smallest details. He traces your eyeline, falling a little behind, just staring at your eyelids until you look back up at him. “… And what happens if you rank higher?”

“Mmmmm,” he ponders, voice a couple octaves higher, as if he had not yet considered winning, at all. “If I win,” he continues speaking slowly, dragging out the hypothetical. “If … if I win,” he restarts, darting through your face for an objection; you give none, instead breaking his personal space, coming just a biology textbook-thickness in front of his chest – far enough to take it all back in a second but close enough to give him more, should he ask. And he does. “If I win, you’ll owe me a kiss.”

[Renjun, 4:51 PM]

Have you checked the rankings yet?

[You, 4:55 PM]

I went this morning. They’re not up yet.

[Renjun, 4:57 PM]

[Renjun, 4:58 PM]

They were supposed to be up yesterday.

[You, 4:59 PM]

I know :( but I can check again tomorrow.

[Renjun, 5:01 PM]

No, it’s fine. I’m heading in that direction anyway. I’ll check right now, and if it’s not up, we can go together tomorrow.

Renjun stands outside your apartment, late into the night, teetering on both his feet, hand rising and dropping over and over again … until you open the door.

“Oh,” you weakly blurt, stopping one foot ahead of the doorframe, almost through the small opening between his legs. You rub your eyes with your cotton long sleeves, the hair loose from your ponytail flopping around your face, framing the yawn escaping your tongue. “What …” You drop your hands to your sides, blinking rapidly at him. “What are you do –”

Renjun wastes no time, letting his body answer for him. He grabs your cheeks, linking his clean-cut fingernails behind your ears, thumbs rolling up the apples of your cheeks. You grab onto him, onto his waist and wrist, bunching your fingers around every surface you can reach. Renjun smacks his wet lips together, having obsessively bit and licked them just seconds earlier. His eyes close halfway, mid-prayer; you copy him, standing on your toes, too. He comes just a hair away, lips nearly brushing yours. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you whimper, so faintly that he almost misses it. Almost. You never leave his attention.

He waits another millisecond, inhaling some extra courage, telling himself that you are more permanent than he thinks, before, finally, bending down. You push your mouth higher, involuntarily tightening your grip on him. Renjun slips his tongue between your lips, quickly, elongating the single kiss so he doesn’t have to ask again. You adjust, easily, even more when he simultaneously moves one hand into your hair, supporting your head, and the other under your chin, thumb lifting your face upward. His tongue tentatively slithers past your teeth, prodding your tongue awake, flicking it unfolded, and your knees buckle, walking him inside your apartment. He presses you against the closest wall, closing the door behind him.

“Does,” you swallow, digging your fingers into his flexible hips, pushing him into a pause, “this mean you ranked higher?”

Renjun steals a chaste peck, head rushing in, then pulling out slower, admiring all the minute details in your face until you open your eyes widely, peering into him. He shakes his head, “No,” breathing the word onto your mouth, lips puckering across the word. “It wasn’t up.” He cautiously steps forward, only by his toes. And when he sees your lack of restraint, he adds another. “I just … I didn’t want you to think that I had any other intentions.”

“Than?”

“Than to date you.”

You yank him even closer, his palm banging into the wall, his heartbeat beating on yours. You tilt your head to the side, too, nose brushing his cheek. “Can I … Can you kiss me again?”

Renjun combs your hair away from your ears, pushing it behind your head. He grazes his lips on the last layer of your vermillion, all the little nerve endings sensing him but not entirely feeling him. “Can I do more?”

“Anything.” You arrest his wrist, contracting like a festival bracelet that will not loosen, also needed for entrance the next day. “Please.” You walk him toward your room, almost like a waltz, leading him first this time. “Please.”

Renjun accepts, taking off his bag and jacket in the same action, dropping them outside your bedroom door – an accident; he aimed for inside, but kissing you takes priority, any day, and he returns his chest, his lips, his hands to you, standing only in his t-shirt and slacks, you mirrored on him with your own oversized long-sleeve and lounge shorts. He spins you around, your back against his torso, you gasping at the suddenness, and nips into your neck, tongue dragging along your skin to mollify it and prevent a mark. For now. One hand holds your jaw, letting him find your perfect pulse point; then travels between your clothed boobs, cupping and squeezing, harder, provoked by your winded whispers. His fingers flick your waistband, tapping into your skin. He moves his lips down your shoulder, peppering gentle kisses coolly.

“Renjun, please.” You sigh into his embrace, his hug, then take off your shirt, giving him more skin to touch.

He kisses your bare shoulder, hands diving into your underwear now, and you grab his bicep even tighter, making him grunt lowly. Your nails dig through his thin t-shirt, dragging him another step forward, his cock nudging your ass cheeks separate. But it’s not enough. The material prevents him from feeling you, from you feeling him, entirely, so he pushes apart your vulva, slipping his fingers over your pussy to your clit, getting you wetter while he single-handedly unbuttons his trousers. They fall to the ground, and he steps out of them. When he stands taller again, he leans forward, fingers slipping entirely, knuckle-deep, inside your wet pussy. You, reflexively, bend over, face sloping toward the mattress, catching yourself on his arm.

“Ah, Renjun.”

“Too much?” he mumbles, nose brushing low behind your neck. He drags his nimble fingers on the crevice between your pussy and leg, drying them as he pulls out to put his hands on your shorts and spin you around, bare chest to bare chest. Renjun stares into your eyes, stooping a bit lower to give you the upper hand. His gaze dips down your face, just briefly, when your lips part, an exhale escaping.

“No,” you shake your head, returning his eyes to yours. You touch the waistband of his underwear, running your thumb along the seam. “I – I want more.”

Renjun nods, just once, letting the sentence seep into his brain, then he nods again, more fervently, his lips running back to you, after he understands/it fully hits him. His palms slide across your body: on the crown of your head, fingers spreading downward to support your neck, and on your lower back, guiding you over the bed. You don’t go down pliantly though, sticking to him, swiftly moving to anchor on his sturdy shoulders, keeping him locked in until he kisses down your face, down the column of your neck, sucking at the base and leaving budding hickeys to decorate your collarbone. He licks between your boobs, tongue covering his bottom teeth as he takes your nipple in his mouth, hands holding your hips down kneading the neglected teat, rubbing his tight fingers along the hard bud like a washboard.

You inhale sharply, picking your head off the mattress to see him better, then drop back down again, back arching, moaning, “Renjun, yes, oh my God.” You pick your hips up, planting your feet on the duvet, humping the air to feel him, feel the outline of his abandoned dick. “Mmm,” you thrash about, knocking him down your body.

Renjun lands above your appendix, adding another mark low on your stomach, before saying, “I’m getting to it.” He picks up his head, smirking. “Or, are you going to argue with me now?” He kisses above your shorts. “Again?”

He sneaks his way into your shorts, under your panties, jerking them down your smooth legs, and diving into your pussy, cold breath igniting the bundle of nerves. You accidentally twitch your thighs, squeezing his face; you hold him there a moment longer, raising your clit to his waiting tongue. When he licks around your vulva, your legs slacken, allowing him to do what he initially wanted. His tongue trails along your inner thighs, gently nipping and sucking. He holds your knees apart, giving himself the space to work, focusing on the outer part of your cunt, tenderizing the area until your legs start shaking, collapsing on the bed – that is when he pokes his tongue through your orifice, resting his cheek on your inner thigh, his wet sloppy kiss returning to him. His nose circles over your clit, scraping it side-to-side as his tongue flutily cleans your walls. He inserts a finger beside his tongue, wriggling it deep inside your cunt, met with your spongey, little spot, then another one, pulling back and forth, sliding his lips onto your clit again.

“Fuck, Renjun,” you whine, twisting and turning, knocking him about. He pushes his free plan just outside your pussy, keeping you down flat, sucking your entire clit between his lips, tongue ruffling the hard nub. “You’re going to make me cum.”

“Mmhmm,” he nods, briefly disconnecting to spit on his fingers. He slowly slides the tip of his palm under your clitoral hood, winding his arm in a half circle, preparing to drive his fingers in you at a faster pace. “That is my intention. Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head.

Renjun climbs on top of you again, lunging into your face, his head sloped to the side, barely supported on the one hand at your side, repeatedly milling his boxers between your legs. Occasionally, he breaks the kiss, to check on his fingers buried inside your cunt, only to restart his grinding. Your lips split, releasing a moan inside his mouth. Renjun grits his teeth, the tip of his dick getting flicked by your heavy blanket, then smashes his lips on yours, coiling and toiling, exhaling heavily through his nose, onto your cheek. He shoves a third finger in your cunt, so far that your body arches off the bed; he grabs the front of your pussy, roughly wriggling his entire hand and, essentially, pawing at your pussy, your hamstring muscles contracting, toes curling. You clutch his bicep, eyes shutting, knees turning outward.

He repeats long pecks behind your ear, gently nibbling the lobe where you periodically wear earrings. “Can I give you more?” he whimpers, begging, hips knocking a little bit closer, biting his lip.

Your nails dig into his skin, chin jutting to the side, neck allowing him extra access. “Please, Renjun, I’m so close. You’re going to make me cum, you’re going to make me cum. Deeper, oh my God, please.”

Renjun slips off his underwear, using the edge of your bed and his legs. He lines the tip of his dick behind his knuckles, gently prodding his hand forward to give you a deeper sensation like you ask. You peek open your eyes slowly, then stare at him, feeling him kneel high between your thighs; you glance down to his cock in hand, damp head leaking pre-cum like lubricant, and nod, catching his drift. Renjun pushes his thumb onto your clit, rocking it side to side, and slips his fingers out, replacing it with his cock. He groans with you, interlacing his dry (yet soft and moisturized) hand, jaw hanging low, heavy breaths flattening his lungs.

Your free hand snakes into the bedsheets, crawling under a pillow, arm raising to the ceiling. Renjun kisses you again, strangled moans from both of you shaken, not stirred, by your tongues. And the moment his cock buries fully inside your cunt, you gasp, opening your mouth wide enough for him to slip his tongue inside too, swirling yours to the front of your mouth, into his, where he can suck on it. Your body rises in temperature rapidly, chests abrading simultaneously, fervently trying to fuse your bodies together, exploring each other’s mouths. His hand falls close to your cheek, almost slipping and falling completely as the pressure in his abdomen builds.

“Tell me you’re close,” he whispers shakily, legs, abs, biceps trembling. Renjun feels your walls gradually tighten, coaxing the pre-cum from his cock; he can feel that, too, trickling down his shaft, mingling with your wetness. He picks up the pace, hips turning obviously, left, right, left, right, then pelvis snapping up, up, up, joining your pussy whenever he bangs you into the headboard. “Angel, does that feel good?”

You bite your lip, nodding, then let go. “I’m … I’m …” He keeps the pattern: left, right, left, right, left and right, up, up, up. His pelvis drives you through the bedframe, but his hips bring you back down, and you roll your eyes into your head, moaning loudly. You hold onto his wrist, ground yourself through the building orgasm. “So, so good, Renjun. Oh, my God, I’m cumming. Keep going, keep going.” He continues rolling his hips, cock floundering inside your pussy, tip thumping rhythmically on your sweet spot, until your wall spasms slow down, the compressions loosening enough for him to slip through. Your pussy quickly returns to its original tightness in the downtime, and you mewl when he pulls out, tip catching on the stretch.

Renjun clenches the base of his cock, fingers replacing your pussy as he pulls out, mumbling, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” the syllables of your name also spilling from his tongue.

You sluggishly pull yourself back up, but when you stand on your knees, similar to him, you fall forward. It gives you the perfect position to suck his dick though, and your hands join his single one, tugging on his shaft, twisting your wrists in different directions, at different speeds, spreading your cum all over his length. Tentatively, you stick out your tongue, his cock barely scraping it as he fucks the tiny hole created by your hands and you jerk him off. You cautiously look up at him and find him, eyes closed, pointed toward the ceiling, jaw dropped smally as he controls his breath. His hands comb into your hair, sketching around your ears, gently pulling you further up his cock, making one of your hands disappear.

"Oh, just like that, angel," he moans, "I'm gonna cum. Can I cum in your throat?"

You give him a strangled whine, bobbing your head up and down largely. Yes. You pump him a couple more times, slurp his cock loudly a couple more times, and he cums into your mouth. Renjun pulls his cock out, white cum stringing from his to your lips, overflowing on the corner, onto your cheek and chin, your tongue curving down like a bowl to catch every drop. He cups the beads falling down your face and swipes it into your mouth, persuading you to swallow, which you do, around his thumb.

Silence envelopes the two of you for a second, you and Renjun locked in that final position, breathing heavily, chests still heaving. You lay down first, then gesture for him to join you. He shakes his bangs in front of his face, smiling, and complies.

"Don't you need to use the bathroom?"

"In a minute," you wave him off, nudging yourself onto his shoulder. He lets you rest there, his eyes closing, breathing evenly, also spent, yielding to that end-of-the-term exhaustion. "Can I ... give you something too?"

Renjun opens an eye, then the other, seeing you stare at him. He analyzes your features, darting through the exhaustion, finding your wide eyes and fidgeting hands. "You've already given me everything." He mattes down your hair, brushing the shorter layers behind your ear to see your pretty face better. "Do you want to go again?" he smiles, dropping his arm on your shoulder, clinging closer to you. "I might need a minute,” he laughs.

You kiss him quiet, lips closed, staying on his for a long moment before you pull away, snaking a leg between his. "It's not necessarily the same ... as what we just did," you explain, whispering, "I want you to know that ... that my intentions, too, are to date you."

Renjun beams. "So, how about we get that dinner at Gen then?" You search his eyes, shoulders rising faster. His hand slips onto your upper arm, squeezing and rubbing the naked skin. "No competition," he clarifies, "No winners or losers, just you and me."

"Yeah, okay," you smile back, feeling him scoot even closer. “I’d like that a lot.”

#neohub #nct smut #renjun smut #nct dream smut #nct fluff #nct angst #renjun angst #renjun x reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic

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jambaspice · 8 months

Text

eroticism

kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!stripper!reader

summary; Gaz and Price take a detour to the strip club to get some information out of a woman who’s known to be associated with a malicious gang. they get more than they bargained for.

warnings; smut, cursing, unprotected sex (pull out method), grinding, pussy-slapping (literally like one), edging, implied threesome, not proofread because I just physically can’t

{jambaspice reupload💖}

gaz looks around the red and pink lit strip club in bewilderment, “you sure this is the place Laswell was talking about? Or is this what you meant as a ‘small break?” he asks, looking at his captain with a smirk.

“no, this is definitely the place. The target should be around here somewhere.” Price says gruffly, looking around the room with quick eyes.

Gaz hums as a woman on stage begins to strip out of her baby blue lingerie set, he licks his lips in anticipation.

“Oi. Focus.” Price snaps his fingers in the sergeant’s face with a groan, “head over to the bar and keep lookout for a woman by the name of y/n, you know what she looks like. I’ll see who I can get some information out of.” Before Price fully walks away, he turns and grips Gaz by the shoulder, leaning in, “find me if you get her, and make her come with you.”

with a final pat on the shoulder, price walks away, disappearing into the bubble of flashing lights.

Gaz walks over towards the bar and sits down with a sigh, giving the bartender a grin, “scotch please.”

three drinks later, and still no sign of the target, gaz has moved over to one of the cushioned chairs, watching the show with half lidded eyes.

He’s convinced that maybe somehow you had figured out their scheme and was already on your way out of the country by now.

He had half the mind to get ahold of Price and call it a night.

“Why do you look so sad on a Friday night, honey?”

Gaz turns and sees a woman around his age standing next to his chair, he recognizes your face, immediately straightening his posture, “I’m not sad.”

He could tell you were attractive from his memory of the photo, but finally seeing you up close and personal was a different story, you were fucking sexy, exactly- no, precisely his type.

You give him a half smirk and sit on his lap sideways, “with those puppy dog eyes, it’s hard to tell.”

He nods and takes another sip of his drink, “you must be y/n? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Good things I hope?”

He gives you a smile and nods, “of course.” everything he’d heard about you was very very far from good.

From what he knew you were apart of a gang by the name of Red Owls (cliché), a gang which had committed mass murders and laundered millions of dollars from the government. For what reason? Nobody knows, which is why he and Price are in this situation now.

“Well if you’re not sad, what’s a fine man like yourself doing here?”

Gaz clears his throat, a ball of lies rolling around in his head at lightning speed.

“I was looking for someone to cure my boredom. Looks like I’ve found that someone.”

He internally cringes at that, he absolutely sucked at flirting, and you weren’t helping his case with the look you were giving him.

You grin at him and change positions, completely straddling his lap now, “looks like you’ve found the perfect person, puppy.”

Gaz can’t stop the glare and slight flush to his face from appearing at the nickname, “my name’s Gaz.”

You only nod your head as you begin to roll your hips steadily against his crotch, feeling up his shoulders and toned arms through his sweater.

Gaz inhales a staggered breath at the new sensation, feeling himself get lost in the erotic haze, he composes himself, setting his half empty glass down on the little table next to him clumsily and grabbing your hips to halt your movements.

“How about we go somewhere a little more secluded?”

You nod and slide off of his lap, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the back of the club.

You yank him into a empty dressing room and push him up against the door, attacking his mouth with wet, sloppy kisses.

He groans into your mouth and pulls you closer to him, forcing his erection to be pressed into your stomach.

Your fingers, ever the explorers, travel down the front of his pants and palm his clothed cock, coercing him to let out those pretty moans of his.

Gaz regains control, he spins you around and lifts you up onto the nearest vanity, spreading your legs and slotting himself between them.

Rubbing your thighs, his lips trail from your mouth down to your neck, kissing and biting every crevice, being careful not to miss a spot.

His hands move upward to grab at the front of your bralette, ripping it off of you and tossing it across the room, his fingers dig into the flesh under your breasts.

He dips his head down and begins to trail wet kisses to your left breast, swirling his tongue around your nipple before drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently, rolling the other bud with his finger, giving it the equal amount of attention.

You can feel the wetness pooling in your panties, you attempt to grind your lower half into his but he moves backwards a bit.

Chuckling at your actions, Gaz slides his hand into your panties and rubs his fingers between your lips, “damn. all soaked for me, eh?”

Instead of waiting for a reply, his fingers brush over your clit, applying more pressure while drawing figure eights.

You moan into his neck, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable.

Pushing two fingers inside of your creamy hole, his palm continues to grind into your clit.

He kisses your neck once more and leans in, “tell me what you want.”

You heave a sigh, “I want you to make me cum.”

Gaz tsks, slowing his ministrations on your pussy and giving you a look of mock disappointment, “that’s not good enough. Beg.”

Now, you weren’t one to beg, but this man practically had you on the verge of tears. Frowning, you give him the best doe eyes you can muster up “please Gaz, please let me cum.” You whine and grind down into his hand.

He gives in. Smirking at you, he speeds up his fingers and the grinding of his palm on your clit. Your head falls back against the mirror and your legs shake and begin to close around his hand. He was finally gonna make you cum, and you were gonna let him.

Just as you were nearing the edge, on the brink of a toe-curling orgasm, the feeling disappears and you snap your eyes open in shock.

“No.” He says plainly, pulling his hand out of your underwear and licking his fingers, closing his eyes at the taste.

“W-what? Why?”

He opens his eyes, pupils blown, he grips your neck and pushes you against the mirror roughly, you groan at this.

“Who’s the ringleader of the Red Owls?”

Of course. How couldn’t you have known? Mr. I’ve heard a lot about you has quite literally heard a lot about you. Oh well, you were caught. Might as well play around with him before you get thrown face first into the fire.

You pout at him and reangle your leg, bringing your foot to rub at his clothed cock that is still, very much hard in his trousers.“what’s it to you?”

He growls and without breaking eye contact, raises his right hand and lands a firm slap on your puffy clit.

You gasp and jolt forward, leg falling limp to the side as you try and fail to catch your breath, shuddering pathetically.

“Is it you?”

You breathlessly laugh at this, “yeah fucking right.”

“If it’s not you, then who is it?” Gaz raises a eyebrow at you, waiting for your reply expectantly.

Eyeing him up and down, you wrap your legs around his waist and bring him closer, “you’re so hot when you’re demanding, puppy.”

Gaz rolls his eyes at you. Huffing, he shuffles a little to unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down in a hurry, his hard cock slapping up against his stomach as he moves even closer to you, “stop changing the subject.”

Your obvious staring doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Pride swelling in his chest, “like what you see?”

“Very.”

His cock was so pretty. Veins running along the sides in an almost perfect zigzag pattern, tip flushed red and leaking in anticipation, and it was the perfect length. Whatever he could possibly be lacking in that category he damn sure made up for it in width. It made your mouth water.

Smiling to himself, he grabs your panties and tugs them down, rubbing his rough palm up and down your wet cunt, collecting your slick and stroking himself with it.

He lines his cock up with your hole, not before lifting it and slapping it on your clit a few times making you squeal and your thighs shake. He sinks into you, watching it slowly slide in with a moan.

Your mouth opens but no sound comes out as he begins to thrust in and out of you at an irregular pace, not even giving you time to adjust.

He grabs your knees, pulling them up and making them touch your chest, forcing him to dig deeper into your soaking cunt. “Oh- oh my god!-“ you mewl, weakly placing your hand on his abdomen, trying to slow his pace, even if it’s just for a little, but it’s no use.

Your eyes are crossing, and embarrassingly enough, drool is seeping out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin, a sight that has Gaz biting his lip to force the whimpers that threaten to slip out of his mouth back down his throat.

“Fuckkkk” he drawls out, leaning forward and reangling his hips to repeatedly hit your sweet spot. The coil in your belly begins to tighten, signaling your approaching orgasm. You clamp down on Gaz’ cock hard, you’re so close, so close to your sweet sweet release.

Gaz abruptly pulls out and cums on your stomach, moaning into the air as he strokes himself to make his orgasm last as long as possible.

You sob at the sight, fat tears descending down your cheeks at the loss of yet another orgasm. “Why won’t you let me cum?” You whine, eyes glistening. Guess who looks like a sad puppy now?

Gaz cocks his head at you, grabbing your cheeks roughly and squishing them, “why won’t I let you cum? You still haven’t given me a name, you slag.”

You let out another weak sob at his degrading tone.

“Give me a name, and you get to cum. Simple.”

You blink away your tears. You were already caught, even if you didn’t give him a name he and whoever else he was working with would still find out who was in charge, anyways.

“Aaron..” you mumble quietly.

Gaz taps your cheek, “I didn’t quite catch that. Speak up.”

“His name is Aaron Carter, but everyone just calls him Strix.”

Gaz nods his head in approval, “that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Before you can think of a reply, he easily pulls you towards him and turns you on your side; lifting your leg up and fucking into you with deep,

calculated thrusts.

The new position made him press up against your cervix. You cried out, gripping onto the vanity for some bit of leverage as he kept fucking into you.

His moans became slightly high pitched, his jaw tensing as he watched your tits bounce from his powerful thrusts. His hips continued their assault as one of his hands moved down to your cunt, pressing against your clit and rubbing it vigorously.

You instantly clamped down on his cock, relishing in the hiss he lets out at the sudden wave of pleasure. The overstimulation was driving him wild, and he was sure he was going to cum again.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and yet you couldn’t stop shivering. “Please.” You weren’t even sure what you were begging for, just that you needed something, anything, to finally push you over the edge.

“Shit.” Gaz’ voice was wobbly, a thin layer of sweat dripping down his brow, his thrusts somehow getting even faster.

Your walls began to flutter around him. He leaned his body over yours, pressing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss that was all tongue and teeth. His lips muffled your sobs of pleasure as you came hard.

He followed close behind you, pulling out just in time to cum on your pussy, covering you in his warm semen. Rubbing up against you a few more times, he breaks the kiss and leans back to admire his work.

The both of you jump slightly at a voice near the doorway.

“When I said make her come with you, this isn’t what I meant Gaz.” Price says, leaning against the door with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Gaz chuckles nervously and rubs the back of his neck, “how much of that did you see?”

“Enough.”

Price walks into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. “How about I join the party?” He asks, glancing at you and beginning to unbuckle his pants.

What the hell did you just get yourself into?

#kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 #call of duty #kyle garrick smut #gaz mw2 #modern warfare fanfiction #modern warfare smut #modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare #elliot knight #elliot knight smut #repost #reblog #jambaspice deactivated #jambaspice

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paperstarwriters · 8 months

Note

ive come kneeling at your doorstep to beg for that essay on murio and luciels parallels you mentioned 👀💦👉👈

i love loathing lucio so much so it would deal my lil hater ass so much psychic damage and i cannot wait to get rekt

(onlyifyouwanttothoofcoursetakeyourtime)(just making sure youre aware id print that shit n frame it above my bed were it to come to existence)

Hello @tetsuooooooooooo! I know you said I can take my time, ok I'm still really really sorry this took awhile, I've been kinda burnt out from classes lately, and writing a bunch of essays for that lol, but I've managed to make a somewhat coherent argument for my case here lol.

Now, to preface this:

I only really like Lucio as a character to thematically dissect and kick around occasionally for giggles. I am a far, far cry from a Lucio stan, I just find him interesting—like a bug. Honestly I don't think I'm gonna convince you he's in any way a good guy I just might make you loathe him more 😅

I haven't played Lucio's route. I'm too busy and I get too annoyed with some of his antics + the options of reactions that MC is allowed to make. I've only played the side stories and a lot of my understanding of his character is built from Muriel's route (and I know he's much more different in his own route than he is in the others') as well as hearsay from other people talking about Lucio

I know I said that I'd include Aurora's songs in my original statement but that got wayyyyyyy too messy so I'm just opting to exclude them lol. (not to mention youtube is doing a very irritatingly strange thing of deleting and then reuploading Aurora's songs??? so I don't wanna deal with the messy files :/)

With that out of the way here is my essay :)

Wordcount: 2,908

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Muriel and Lucio are both very, very caught up in how they are seen by others. While it's clearer when it comes to Lucio, it is also made clear in Muriel by the fact that Social anxiety is often caused by stress over how a person is perceived and their mental belief that they are helpless to change that perception. This causes of their self perception are also quite similar, due to their similar histories, but in the same way that there are some notable opposites between them with their struggle for their identity there is also some notable differences in their histories that arguably causes the slight difference in their struggle for their self image.

To begin with their history, Muriel and Lucio are noted to both come from the South. They come from two opposing tribes, and are both eventually chased out of their home and community by 1) a cruel person who arguably causes their struggle of identity and 2) the plague. Of course, the major difference here is that Lucio actively made decisions that would lead to him being chased out of his tribe, he was arguably aware that if it failed he'd have to leave, he just hadn't considered that it would actually fail.

Muriel on the other hand is chased out of his home at a much younger age, and he has no choice in his eviction from his home or his family. There is no action that Muriel could have done that would have allowed him to stay where he was, unlike Lucio who had a clear option that would have allowed him to stay.

Or at least would have allowed him to stay until he grew tired of his mother's attitude towards him.

I don't believe that Morga's cruel and dismissive attitude towards Lucio started when he tried to kill her, rather, I believe that she has been doing that for a long, long time. She often states that she had been "too soft" on Lucio, but I think her "softness" is the same kind we see in Muriel's route. She berates him, she threatens him, she tells him how awful and unskilled he is to everyone else and makes a show of his failures, but when she is completely and fully enraged and is about to hit Lucio, she hesitates.

Is that softness? To her perhaps. To the tribe, perhaps. But not to me, and not to Lucio.

So, despite all of the harsh words thrown his way, he decides to take action to prove her wrong. I'm willing to bet that a lot of Morga's criticisms were about how strong he was and how he was in fact not actually as strong as he could have been, not as strong as he should have been. That's why when he takes action to prove Morga wrong, he immediately snaps to killing her. There is, after all, no better way than showing your power than killing your opponent (we see this belief in Morga when she spars against Muriel and he beats her.) Of course, in hand-to-hand combat, and on fair terms, Lucio can't actually defeat his mother, so he takes to more under-handed methods in order to beat her.

When this fails, it is the first major wound on his self-image. He cannot defeat his mother. He is not strong enough to defeat his mother despite cheating.

So, he runs away.

Besides marking a wound on his self-image, this also marks Lucio's connection to others. Having been exiled from his tribe, he is disconnected from the friends who may have actually supported him somewhat, he is robbed of his connections and separated from anyone who may have actually loved and cared for him (platonically and/or romantically)

Similarly, Muriel's separation from his own family, and his eventual abandonment into the streets of Vesuvia separates him from any stable sense of love and affection as well. Because he was separated from loving parents as a child and was likely surrounded by a number of children who were abandoned because they were unwanted, or because their parents were unable to care for them, Muriel has no other answer than what the other kids give him it is the only answer he has. Further more I believe that Muriel was probably abandoned by that merchant because they were unable to keep feeding him, which he also attaches onto his real parents as to why he was abandoned in the first place.

And so Muriel believes himself to be unloved and unlovable after being separated from family, or any semblance of a family.

Returning to Lucio, he moves on from his tribe and eventually joins a military group(? I think? Idk. I'm sure there was a specific name for it but I can't remember sorry) Once again, this is an act of trying to prove to his mother and to his community that they were wrong, and when compared to the ordinary person outside of their tribe, he's actually a really good and capable fighter. Of course, however, this is inevitably cut short as he looses his arm, and is once again confronted with the fact that he is unskilled as a warrior and so he retreats from his perceived deficiency and takes a different route to getting the love and admiration he wants—politics.

Of course, as we see in Muriel and Asra's childhood tale, this inevitably puts him into direct conflict as, in order to climb the social ladder he offers to "clean up" the streets. While it's largely left up to interpretation as to whether or not the Threat of Asra's safety came first or Muriel's position as a gladiator came first, I can't help but believe that Muriel's position as a gladiator came first, as otherwise, he might've gone out and tried to check on Asra's safety. (though this is mostly a headcannon) I believe that Lucio offered Muriel a chance to have some say in who gets "cleaned up" from the streets, and for Muriel to be able to get rid of the "actually bad criminals". Regardless of whether or not this is true, the arena gives Muriel his first taste of admiration, as people cheer for and adore him, but it also tears that sense of admiration away as he eventually has to come to terms with what he is doing. Whether that sense of dread and awareness was always there or it occurred somewhere in the middle is also unknown but the outcome is the same regardless. Being known and being admired becomes tied to hurting and harming people—because it is the only trait he sees that other people admire, he sees it as his only lovable trait.

And so Lucio and Muriel begin to reflect each other—and I don't mean reflect as in they show the same image, I mean reflect as in we see a similar image, but the image is reversed (*wink wink nudge nudge*). Here Muriel sees himself as only capable of being loved for his ability to commit violence, and Lucio sees himself as being incapable of being loved because he cannot complete the amount of violence he needs to commit.

Now, I feel the need to emphasize here, despite having many people around him who Lucio may truly believe love and admire him, the people around him very likely don't actually care for him very much because they either do not know him well, or they see him as little more than a pawn in a plan, or at least someone who gives them benefits. And even if there are a number of people with genuine admiration for Lucio, it still wouldn't be enough. Admiration is never enough when you lack genuine emotional connections with others, and Lucio, clearly does.

Again, this parallels Muriel who also struggles with a lack of genuine emotional connections to others. Although he has Asra with him, it's clear that, Asra's tendency to be fickle with connections has extended to him as well, especially when Asra spends more time with MC than him, leaving Muriel feeling abandoned and alone. Considering that Asra is the only person we ever really see Muriel connect or talk to, it's no stretch to say that Asra is one of Muriel's only friends, if not their only friend period, and so with Asra disappearing on him as often as they do, Muriel is left feeling that he actually has no connections at all.

Of course once again reflecting each other, where Muriel clearly sees he lacks connections and pretends he does not, Lucio, makes unsteady transactional rather than emotional relationships and pretends that that is enough.

It is of course, not enough, because if it were, he wouldn't have treated Muriel like that, he likely wouldn't have plucked Muriel out at all. Although this is largely speculation, I believe that Lucio treated Muriel the way he did because he feels as if Muriel is the very child Morga would have wanted. He is big and strong, and although not technically skilled if Muriel were raised by Morga like Lucio was, he might've been. This is why his first reaction to seeing Muriel and Morga working together is that Muriel is Morga's replacement son. It's because that's how Lucio had been treating him. Muriel is Lucio's little avatar to live out the glory of being a fantastically skilled fighter who can beat up all of his opponents. This is also, why I believe that Lucio purposefully trained Muriel to be less skilled in fighting than he was. In Muriel's route, Lucio comments that he's always been able to beat Muriel, and while I do in fact believe that Lucio is actually a skilled fighter, despite how he is often presented and despite my arguments above—he's most often a skilled fighter in the technical sense. He knows all the movements, he knows all the strategies, he knows all the underhanded tricks. By not fighting Muriel too often, and refusing to teach him these tricks however much it may be able to help Muriel out in the arena, it allows Lucio to be able to defeat him whenever he wants to. It allows Lucio to make it seem to himself that he is better than the person his mother would have wanted as a son, which I believe to be both horrible but also sad, for both Lucio and Muriel.

With Lucio, it shows how desperate and inferior he feels with his fighting skills, constantly trying to compensate for it something we can also see that in the portrait of himself he has in his room.

For Muriel, it keeps him scared, and keeps him pinned in place despite having realized the consequences of his fighting. Something which only furthers his self-hatred when he realizes he actually could have easily left.

So yes, Muriel and Lucio are both very self conscious people, and while for Muriel his self consciousness stems from people seeing him as a monster, and him believing that he is one although he does not want to be one, Lucio is self-conscious in the fact that he is not seen as the brutal fighting warrior he was supposed to be.

These reflected aspects of each other, alongside of their self consciousness is the very thing they struggle through in their routes, the very thing that MC helps them to get through.

Lucio believes that through various paintings of himself that rearranges his past (paintings of himself as a triumphant fighter, while his mother is demure and elegant), various unfair/practically staged fights, and celebrations of himself on top of it all, he would be able to convince people that he is awesome and amazing and that he deserves to be loved. In doing all of this however, Lucio runs away from confronting the beliefs at his core and wondering if perhaps, what he understood as traits that make a person great may be incorrect—that his mother had not just been incorrect on the fact that he was a failure, but on the fact of what makes a person successful or powerful. By constantly covering up what he sees as deficits, Lucio skims over his own internal struggles entirely which makes him look foolish and annoying as he ignores what's so clearly there for others.

Meanwhile, for Muriel, he is aware of his deficits, and is unable to properly hide them without disappearing completely himself, he tries to figure out and fix all of his problems through introspection and isolation, but it is not something he can do on his own. Muriel of course, can't accept the fact that he may need help. He can't accept the fact that despite what he believes of himself, other people may actually care for him the same way he cares for them, and will actually offer help. And so, as he runs away from people and community, from friends, and possible friends alike, Muriel runs away from his own problems as well, even if he tortures himself with confronting them (I can't remember if he actually does this or if this is a fanfic trope 😅) Essentially, by constantly trying to deal with his struggles on his own, he neglects his connections to others who may help him, or at least offer support.

And then MC comes along, and because they both desperately needed that deep connection to someone else, regardless of whether it is something platonic or romantic. MC is able to leverage their relationship in order to further propel Muriel and Lucio's development into acknowledging the thing they refuse to acknowledge, and finally balance out their coping mechanisms, which, on their own isn't actually unhealthy (Lucio's really good at connecting with others; Muriel knows how to confront his inner turmoil) using that single method as their crutch for their traumas only ever hurts them more.

As Muriel progresses through his route, he grows more connected with his community and people. One meaningful moment that I don't think they give enough screen time in the game is the moment that Muriel is forced to confront people recognizing and seeing him again. He's forced to confront everyone's perception of him, their memory of him and he retreats into the mirror maze where he stares at all these reflections of himself, all reversed images of himself, but he believes them all to accurately represent himself—as if his superficial physical image is what represents himself mentally and emotionally. And then MC (and Morga 🙄) come through to him and pull him out of that panic attack (or interrupt and yank him away from properly addressing the problem in Morga's case 😤) And that's the first step to being loved. As they say, in order to let yourself be loved you have to let yourself be known, and in that first step, choosing to step forward and prioritize the lives of others over his own self image, Muriel begins to be admired by others. Genuinely admired, for traits that he likes in himself rather than traits that he hates.

Similarly for Lucio, (although I haven't played his route so this is largely based on hearsay) he's faced with problems that he Has to face on his own (or at least somewhat on his own) the main one being that he has to confront the consequences of his own actions, he has to acknowledge to himself that he isn't perfect and that he can't be perfect. It's why at the end of his route on the upright ending, he leaves Vesuvia, to take on a life of (semi)solitude to further take some time to improve his ability at introspection, while in the Reversed ending he's still talking with people, still trying to manipulate their perceptions of him (and the MC), and still trying to be a "good boy" (ie. perfect) for the MC.

Now, it may be argued that Julian can/should be included in this struggle of how others perceive him but I raise you this; that guy is the most dramatic ass dude in town and his biggest dramatic act was telling everyone about how horrible he is. He clearly has no issues with how other people see him, but he has problems with how he sees himself, which again, reflects Muriel a bit, but I'm sure most people are familiar with their (more blatant) similarities by now lol

So yea.

Muriel and Lucio are reflections of each other. At their core, they both struggle with the same problem of caring way too much about how they're seen by others, but they cope with (and thus worsen) the problem in opposite ways, so when they take steps to heal themself, they also go in opposite directions, with Lucio needing to take some time to himself to get into his own head, while Muriel needs some time away from himself to get out of his own head.

Essentially they're heading in opposite directions to reach the same conclusion: other people's opinions don't matter as much as your own opinion of yourself and the opinions of the people close to you.

Interesting parallels, no?

Of course, I believe this could've been better illustrated if Nyx Hydra didn't rush the last three routes, but alas, this is what fan fiction and fan-analysis is for lol

Anyways I don't tend to poke around the Lucio side of the fandom too much to begin with so if this has all been said and argued before forgive me for the repetition, and If I've gotten some points wrong, please feel free to correct me! I've mentioned before I haven't really played through Lucio's route so some things may be wrong.

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moonywritez6 · 4 months

Text

It's In The Way (Reupload)

Characters: Douma, Muzan, Karaku, Urogi

Reader: fem reader

Warning: harsh language, pet names, blood, fluff, NSFW mentions (Muzan, Douma), slight NSFW (Karaku)

Context: He notices a strand of hair behind the reader's ear to help her get it out of her face.

Wc: 4,751

A/n: Hello my sweets! Unfortunately, I got locked out of my old blog account, so I had to make a new one! So, chances of you having seen this before are high as it's on my old account! (I am so sad about it honestly). But I am going through all my old accounts posts and reuploading them here! I hope you can still enjoy my works!

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Muzan

You silently sat across from your boyfriend, watching as he focused solely on whatever he was working on this time in his lab. You never really said much, so Muzan never complained about you hovering over his shoulder whenever he worked on his projects. You lean forward, eyes scanning all the vials and strange potions that littered his desk. Muzan watched as your eyes sparkled with each item, your curiosity knowing no bounds. Muzan internally chuckles, loving your curious nature, finding it to be something you had managed to keep from when you lived as a human. “Y/n.” He watched as the sudden sound of his voice scared you, causing you to jump as you quickly moved away from his desk, thinking that maybe you had gotten too close.

"S-sorry, lord Muzan. Was I in the way?" You asked, giving him those pathetically sad eyes that drove him mad inside. He shook his head, giving the faintest of smiles, one that, if you weren't so observant due to your curious nature, you would have missed. "Not at all, my dear." He spoke in that rare calm voice that caused your body to relax as you gave him a tiny smile of your own, perking up in your seat as you awaited his following words. Muzan's finger twitched as he held one of his vials. He felt his entire body stiffen as he fought the urge to go and place his hand against your soft-looking cheek. With a slight cough, he cleared his throat, regaining his composure as he looked away from your form.

"I was going to ask if you could find a certain article for me in that book next to you." You looked to your left, seeing the old and worn-down book placed neatly on the desk. You hum, nodding as you carefully pick up the book, placing it in your lap like a newborn child. You knew that Muzan's work meant everything to him and that he had suffered and killed many to obtain it. "May I ask what information the article contains, Lord Muzan?" You questioned softly, not wishing to bother him with your voice. Muzan hummed, glancing over at you momentarily before mumbling what he needed. You quickly got to work as you flipped through the pages each time with a gentle touch, scared that you would damage the already old book in any way.

Muzan continued with his work, occasionally sparing you a tiny glance to see if you had found what he needed yet. When he looked at you, he saw the serious look on your face, eyes narrowed in concentration as curiosity practically poured from them with each piece of information consumed into your brain. After a moment, he stops what he is doing, seeing that you are too absorbed in the book to notice. He rests his elbow on the desk, his chin in his palm, as he silently watches his lover with piercing red eyes. 'Her eyes haven't changed.' He thought, recalling when he had first met you about fifty years ago.

________

Muzan walked down a quiet stone path through the woods, the only light being that of the moon, which reflected off his pale skin. Muzan enjoyed the quiet and peaceful night, finding it relaxing as he was constantly under immense pressure due to the demon slayers continually chasing after him and ruining his plans. He clenches his jaw; a vein pops in his head just from the thought. Suddenly, he stops as a smell wafts through the air, causing what little noise in the woods to stop, leaving him completely silent. He sniffs the air, a hum leaving his lips as he walks again, this time towards the smell.

The closer he got, the stronger the smell became. "Ah, I was wondering where the smell was coming from." He mumbled, standing before a pair of stone steps that he assumed would lead to an abandoned temple. "So it was you." His red eyes flashed to a girl slumped over on the bottom of the steps. He stood in front of her with an unamused look as he went and kicked her with his shoe, watching as she flinched slightly. "Oh? Still alive?" His tone held slight amusement as he watched the girl squirm, slowly lifting her head, eyes locking with his. He could see the dark circles under her eyes, her skin looking pale. The girl said nothing as she stared up at him, allowing her middle section to be exposed. "Ah, there it is." He hummed eyes, taking in the blood-stained fabric of your kimono.

"How pathetic for you to die in the woods by yourself." He taunted while crouching in front of the girl who remained silent. "You pathetic thing….you must be so unloved if this is how they left you." He watched as the girl flinched when he pressed his fingers into the wound, tears forming in her eyes. Muzan felt joy fill his body as he continued to mess with the injury. "Tell me…do you want to be useful for once and become my meal?" He tilted his head, looking at the girl unimpressed as he licked his finger, tasting her blood. A Shiver ran through his body at the taste, wanting to hurry and quell his dying hunger. The girl just looked at him, eyes shining with curiosity.

"Are you…not human?" She finally whispered, her voice soft and kind. It was like she didn't want to disrupt the peace of the night. Muzan looked at the girl, grabbing her roughly by the chin as he examined her. "Do I look human to you? Tell me you're not that stupid." He scoffed, brows furrowed. The girl just looked at him with an apologetic smile gracing her lips as she went and coughed harshly, blood splattering on Muzan's hand and sleeve due to his remaining grip on her. "Forgive me… I've just never met someone like you, sir…" She coughed, trying to bring a hand to her lips to wipe away the blood. Muzan stops her as he swipes the blood with his thumb, bringing it to his lips.

The girl smiles up at him, her vision appearing to get blurry. "If my death helps a creature like you survive, I don't mind… I'm curious…are there more like you?" Muzan just stared at the girl, watching and listening as she slowly asked questions about him and others like him. Her eyes, which were once void of any emotion and practically life, now lit up and oozed with curiosity. "How annoying." He sighed before standing up to look around the area. The girl stared up at him before a gentle smile graced her face as she looked up at him, blood staining her mouth, eyes beaming with curiosity. "I'm sure you're in a hurry, sir, so that I won't keep you anymore…please do as you will." You spoke with complete honesty. Muzan stared at you with an annoyed look as he watched her eyes start to close. He reached out for her, ready to consume her flesh and blood, but stopped hand flinching when he heard her last words. "You have beautiful eyes…"

After that, Muzan injected his blood into the girl waiting in the shadows to see if she would become a demon. When it worked, he appeared in front of her, watching as she looked up with, to his surprise, those same curious eyes that he found burning his soul. She looked at him before a small smile crossed her face as she kneeled before him. "Lord Muzan." She greeted. Muzan momentarily looked down at her form before turning on his heel to walk ahead. "From now on, you will be by my side. Do I make myself clear?" He mumbled with his usual tone. The girl just followed behind him in silence.

"Y/n… that's your name."

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Muzan found himself finding the memory pleasant as he returned to reality. When he looks at you, he notices a strand of hair has fallen in your line of sight, but you were too into the book that you failed to notice. Muzan says nothing as he reaches over the desk, carefully pushing the strand of hair behind your ear. You jump at the sudden contact, causing Muzan to smile slightly as he goes and cups your cheek. "You had some hair in your way, Y/n." You blushed somewhat as you obediently leaned into your Lord's touch, a slight hum falling from your lips. Muzan's jaw clenched at the adorable action, wanting to toss everything off his desk and take you for himself.

He lets out a deep breath while looking back into your curious eyes. He tilts his head, silently admiring them before the words leave his lips without processing. "I love those eyes of yours…. they're filled with so much curiosity." He whispered with that extremely rare tone of his that caused you to feel like your entire world was on fire. You place a kiss on the wrist of the hand, still cupping your cheek, feeling your lover stiffen at the sudden act. "I love your eyes as well lord Muzan… they're such a beautiful red." You confessed. Before you could react, Muzan had you pinned to his desk, his lips roughly pressed against yours, causing a small squeak to leave your lips.

He pulls away his hands, gripping your sides to the point you thought he would bruise them. You look up at your lover, eyes wide in shock, a deep blush covering your cheeks. He looks down at you, eyes feral as the veins in his neck start to pop out while he clenches his jaw, a dark smirk on his face as a tiny blush coats his cheeks. “Y/n…” He whispered, still having self-control over his desires as he went and moved a strand of hair from your face once again. You watch his eyes fill with love and lust while he brushes his thumb across your lips, lifting your chin.

"I love you...so only look at me with those eyes."

Douma

Douma sat in his seat with a bored expression as he looked down at you sitting on the floor with a book in your hands. "Y/n~ Is this really necessary? I'm so bored." The upper moon whined, causing an annoyed look to cross your face as you glared back up at him. "Lord Douma you were the one who assigned me with keeping track of all your followers' requests, wishes, needs, along with when they show up followed by when they disappear." You tapped on the book with your palm aggressively while looking at him, eye twitching. Douma just smiled as he went and ruffled your hair, causing you to get even more annoyed, but you knew better than to swat him away.

"Haha! You're such a silly girl, Y/n~ I love it when you're mad; it reminds me of a stray cat~" He teased, knowing that comparison would drive you crazy with rage. You sat there, face red with anger, gripping the book closer to your chest. "Oh, a stray cat, huh? My Lord Douma, you shouldn't speak to your girlfriend like that, should you~?" You sang in a deadly tone. Your words weren't a complete lie as a few months ago Douma had asked for you to be his pet, to which you agreed but informed him that the proper human term he should use is girlfriend so he wouldn't draw any unnecessary concern. "Oh~ feisty today, my little kitty~?" He teased even more, finding your annoyed expression amusing, his chest growing light at the sight.

"May I get back to my duties, Lord Douma?" You questioned, returning to your original seating position—Douma hummed, leaning on his hand, allowing you to continue. You picked up where you had left off, your mouth moving; however, the words weren't reaching Douma's ears. He watched your small form closely, eyes scanning every part of your body. He stares at your face, ensuring he takes in each annoyed expression that crosses your face. He loved how your brows knit together when you read a request or wish that you found to be stupid or ridiculous. He hummed, remembering when he first saw you angry and how much fun he thought it would be to mess with you.

_________

Douma sat in his room, tearing at the flesh of a female cult member. Another one sat in his room, cowering in fear as she watched her friend get eaten right in front of her. "It's rude to stare, you know~" Douma sang, looking at the girl with a giant smile, blood dripping from his chin. The girl panicked as tears ran down her face before she quickly tried to run out of the room to scream for help. Of course, Douma wasn't worried in the slightest as he let out a deep sigh, standing up to go and grab his runaway meal. When he goes to step foot out of his room, he hears the girl screaming for a familiar name. "Y/n-chan! Y/n-chan, please save me!" The girl cried, falling to her knees.

Douma stands in his doorway, watching the two girls interact. You stood there, face void of any emotions as usual, which made Douma find you boring, hating whenever you would look at him with such a dull expression. "What happened?" You asked while looking down at the girl who clung to your gown. You took note of the blood staining the white fabric of both your clothes as her blood-stained hands refused to lighten their grip. "L-Lord Douma! He-he-!" The girl stopped, her entire body freezing, when she saw Douma standing in his doorway, still covered in blood, with a smile on his face. He wasn't scared of her telling you what he was doing; it just meant you would have to die. Your eyes traveled towards Douma, who had started walking towards the two of you with a smile.

"Oh my! If it isn't Y/n-chan~!" He sang, clapping his hands together. The girl gripping your clothes started to panic as she tried to crawl away from the man you had devoted your entire life to due to your parents selling you off, leaving you with nothing. "M-Monster! Y/n-chan Douma isn't a blessing; he's a curse! He's a monster who-!" The girl's words cut off when you suddenly grabbed her by the hair, aggressively yanking her head back. Your sudden action causes Douma to stop in his tracks, eyes widening as he watches your usual blank face show the emotion of pure rage as you shake the girl's head, practically slamming it to the ground. "Who the hell do you think you are talking like that?" You hissed; eyes boring into her cowering figure as she tried to free herself from your grip. "It's Lord Douma, you lowly scum. How dare you insult him when he has graciously taken you in and given you, his time." You start dragging the girl back towards Douma, who stands still in awe before a giant smile appears on his face, finding this sudden change in behavior fun.

"Y/n-chan! Please! He'll kill me!" The girl begged as she kicked her legs aggressively, her hands digging into the dirt as she tried to escape. "If Lord Douma wants you dead, then you die. Who are you to oppose him? Do you even have anything to live for?" Our harsh words seemed to hit the girl as she became silent, her eyes once filled with fear going blank as she realized her existence means nothing. You stop in front of Douma's face, returning to being blank. "Lord Douma, please do with us as you wish. I am sure that seeing this is inconvenient for you. I only hope my flesh will suffice." You spoke as you placed a hand between your chest, giving a slight bow of your head. Douma just hummed, a giant smile still on his face as he bent down to your height, his face inches from yours.

"My~ my~ so you make a face like that, Y/n-chan? I always thought you were so boring…but now…" He grips your face between his hands, a giant smile on his face, eyes filled with excitement. "I find you to be so amusing!" He laughed, his eyes scanning yours for that rage they held only moments ago. "Be my pet, Y/n-chan~! I want you to entertain me~"

________

Douma shivers at the memory, wishing to see that same rage from that day again. He looks back down at you to see you're still talking as you read from the book, repeatedly trying to push back this one strand of hair. Douma watches the annoyed look cross your face because it constantly falls back into your view. After being entertained by your frustration, he leaned forward, carefully pulling your hair back with one hand, causing you to stop talking, your body stiffening at the sudden contact as you glanced back at him. "Did I do something wrong, Lord Douma?" Your question caused him to chuckle as he continued to play with your hair.

"Not at all~ I just noticed you struggling with it, so I thought I would be a good boyfriend and pull it back for you!" His response had you looking away with a tiny blush on your cheeks. Douma catches this, an evil glint in his eyes as he finds your reaction cute. As you finish the daily report, Douma carefully styles your hair so it won't get in the way anymore. "There we go! Why don't you take a look, Y/n-chan?" He was proud of his work as an ice shard appeared before you. You looked at your hair, a tiny smile forming as your heart went crazy thinking about your Lord's sudden gesture. Douma looked at your smile, eyes wide, before quickly picking you up and placing you on his lap facing him. "L-Lord Douma?!" You cried, surprised by his sudden action, not used to him being so affectionate.

"Y/n-chan~ you're so cute and innocent~" He cooed before roughly placing his lips on yours, causing you to whine as he bit your lip, drawing a tiny bead of blood. Douma licked the blood, letting a small moan into the kiss as he loved how you tasted. The two of you pull away from each other, Douma with a giant smile while you glared at him, embarrassed, a deep blush on your cheeks. "Lord Douma! What if someone walked in?!" You cried. He just looked at you, licking his lips as he grabbed your wrists with one hand, pulling you closer to him.

“Y/n…I want more…be a good pet and show me all your faces~"

Karaku

Karaku sat on the couch of the hideout, his eyes staring lustfully, a smirk on his face as he watched you walking around the place, cleaning anywhere you could. He loved watching you whenever you decided to clean up the home. Yes, you were initially meant to be a meal, but Karaku couldn't bring himself to eat you when you looked at him with such a cute face while you let out small sobs to keep you alive, bringing a shiver throughout his body. Ever since then, he has kept you as his plaything. "K-Karaku, do you have to watch me every time?" You shyly asked while messing with the hem of your shirt, feeling embarrassed from the constant eyes on you.

Karaku hummed, his smirk growing as he shrugged, leaning further into the couch. "Of course, I do! Your body moves so sexy when you do it!" he laughed, unashamed by his inappropriate comment. Your face turned red as you returned to cleaning, not wanting to hear any other profanities that would leave his lips. Karaku just licked his lips, finding your shy behavior arousing. You continued to clean while closing your eyes in embarrassment. 'Why do I feel like it's going to be a long night?' oh boy, were your thoughts right. The nights have been pretty chilly lately, so you took advantage of that in any way you could. However, tonight, it was hot, which caused you to get overheated and highly sweaty while you cleaned the entire hideout.

You groaned as you stood up from cleaning your clothes stuck to your body, causing you to frown in disgust as you carefully pulled the fabric, your body tensing at the feeling of the sweat dripping down your entire body. You let out a small sigh as you wipe your forehead, staring at the night sky from one of the windows. 'Tonight is so hot…' Karaku couldn't agree more as he had gone silent halfway through the night, his eyes staring daggers at your form, his body heating up as he watched your clothes stick to you, causing your curves to show and boy, was the sight enchanting while he crossed his legs feeling himself getting turned on each time you bent over. You let out another sigh as you leaned against the doorframe, your face flushed from the heat, causing Karaku to bite his lip.

"Hey, Y/n, come here." He called, getting your attention as you slowly approached him. Karaku motioned for you to sit on the floor before him, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. "Just sit or I'll make you sit on my lap." He taunted, watching as you quickly sat on your knees, not wanting to think of the embarrassing position. Karaku sits up a bit, legs still crossed, as he brings out his fan, carefully waving it towards you, creating a nice breeze. You melt at the feeling of your entire body relaxing as the cool air hits your flushed skin. Karaku smiles at this, loving your noises as he rests his chin in his other hand. "That feel good babygirl?" He asked teasingly. You blushed at the sudden pet name, quickly looking away as you became shy. "Haha, don't get shy on me, sweetie! Let me see your cute face~" He continued teasing, getting increasingly excited with your expressions and body movements. "Hm?" He hummed, noticing a piece of hair sticking to your face from the sweat. He smiles while going to remove the hairs from your delicate skin. You blush at the sudden gesture, a tiny smile forming as you look at him, cheeks still flushed.

"You must be really sweaty sweetie." He comments while still fanning you. "Y-yes, I wasn't expecting it to be this hot out tonight." You admitted while fidgeting with your fingers, refusing to make eye contact with the pleasure clone. Karaku frowned at this while tilting his head. "I'm being so nice to you, sweetie, and you don't even thank me. How rude." He pretends to pout while stopping his fan. You panic, not wanting to be rude or offend the demon in front of you, as you quickly try to think of a way to thank him. A blush crosses your cheeks as you muster up all your courage, kissing his cheek while looking at him shyly as you sit back on your knees.

"T-thank you for fanning me…and moving the strand of hair…" You whispered, trailing off from embarrassment. Karaku stared at you for a moment in shock before a sadistic grin crossed his face as he quickly went and pinned you to the floor, straddling you as he trapped you in a deep, passionate kiss. You squealed in surprise, your body squirming underneath him. Karaku groans as he feels the friction of your movements against his groin. He pulls away from the kiss, eyes filled with lust as he takes in your flushed, innocent appearance, watching as a tiny glint of lust flashes through your pure eyes. "My services aren't free Y/n…He hums, pushing another piece of hair behind your ear as he cups your cheek, leaning his face closer to yours.

"I'll have you so pretty dripping in sweat baby girl."

Urogi

You ran as fast as you could through the woods, your clothes catching on all sorts of branches, causing them to tear as you stumbled and jumped through the area. The moon was your only light source as you barely dodged trees and roots. Your breathing was heavy as you continued to maneuver your way around. Suddenly, you see a giant shadow coming from above, causing you to look back at the sky. You saw Urogi with a giant smile as he extended his talons, swooping down at you. You squealed, barely avoiding the demon as you tried to lose him again. “Y/n~! You can't escape from me!" You heard the manifestation of joy shout, his laugh echoing around you.

"Watch me, Urogi!" You yelled, a small laugh escaping your lips. This was a frequent game you and your boyfriend liked to play. A few months back, Urogi had been complaining about being bored, and how none of the other clones ever wanted to play with him, so you recommended the idea of tag. Since then, Urogi has ensured you both play tag at least once or twice a month. Of course, you never won the game, but it was Urogi's favorite, so who were you to stop him from having so much fun? You dash behind a tree, trying to catch your breath as you carefully look around. With a deep sigh, you relax, closing your eyes as you feel your chest start to burn from all the running. 'Damn demons and their damn stamina.' You mentally cursed.

You open your eyes when you hear something creaking from above. Your heart sinks as you slowly look up to see your boyfriend perched on a branch above you with a wicked grin. "You're mine!" He yelled quickly, tackling you to the ground. You squeal as the two of you go, tumbling slightly from the sudden impact. Urogi, of course, watched where he placed his talons so he wouldn't harm you. When you two came to a stop, you both laughed, filling the woods with pure joy. "I caught you, my little songbird~" Urogi sang as he went and showered you with kisses, your happy giggles music to his ears as his stomach did cartwheels from how much joy he felt with you. "Urogi! That's enough!" You cried, trying to push him away with a giant smile.

'Y/n! I'm never bored with you!" He hums while rubbing his cheek against yours. You blush while rolling your eyes at the demon. "Oh, hush." Lightly shoving him away, you go to stand up, dusting all the grass and dirt from your clothes. Urogi jumps up, a giant grin still plastered across his face. "We should start heading back. The sun will be up soon." You noted not wanting your boyfriend to disintegrate in front of you. Ugori nods in response, getting ready to take you up into the air with him before a strand of hair stuck to the corner of your lip catches his eye. Urogi says nothing as he goes and carefully pushes it away, making sure not to cut you with his talons. "Oops! I guess I tackled you too hard!" He laughs, finding your messy state adorable. You smile as you kiss his lips quickly, earning a small bird cry from the demon, who blushed while looking at you in awe. "Thank you for moving my hair, Urogi!" You cheered brightly. Urogi felt his entire body go numb as he went and wrapped you in his wings, making sure your body was as close to his as possible. “My Songbirddddddd!!!! I love you so much! You're perfect for me!" He cried while smothering you with affection.

"I wish I had normal hands so I could be less careful and shower you with more affection." He whined while nuzzling into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. You smile as you go and kiss the side of his head while hugging him. "I don't think you need normal hands, Urogi. I love you just the way you are! Talons and all!" You giggle. Urogi grits his teeth as he goes and tackles you to the ground once more, causing you to laugh. "Urogi the sun! We have to get going!" You remind him your tone is soft and warm. He hums while kissing your neck. "I could die so happy right now songbird~" He whined, feeling like his chest would burst any minute.

"Y/n…make me even more happy with your love."

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