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#dont ask for part two please you have no idea how hard it was for me to get through this
makur0 · 1 year
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hi!! could i request a ritsu x fem!reader where they started dating a little bit ago and he’s been distancing himself from reader for about a week now, and she’s wondering if she did something wrong :( turns out he’s been a bit (a lot) sexually frustrated so when reader goes to confront him, he explains the situation but accidentally gets hard while explaining and reader notices and he’s like “agh don’t look at it >:(“ XD so then that leads to reader offering to help him out and ritsu’s actually just super gentle during their first time and prioritizes reader’s pleasure over his own despite his circumstances it’s so cute <3 if you could include some oral (female receiving) and just a kinda fluffy scenario overall that would be great !!
i’m so sorry if this was oddly specific AHAHA thank you and pls take care of yourself!!
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
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synopsis — you confronted your new lover, who has been distancing himself lately. out of all the answers you imagined, though, you never expected this one… [ritsu sakuma x fem! reader]
content warnings — nsfw, mdni. soft! dom! ritsu, oral (fem receiving), praise, sorta-vanilla, nipping, pussydrunk! ritsu
author’s note — yes i’m back with another ritsu what you gon’ do about it >:) [I literally DIED when i wrote this request i don’t know why but i couldn’t bring myself to do a proper buildup w/ this.] half-assed, really.
word count — 1026
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THE FLOWER IN YOUR HAND PREDICTED A GOOD RELATIONSHIP.
So why was he distancing himself from you?
Ritsu Sakuma, the sleepy third-year of Yumenosaki Academy. And your newfound boyfriend. Just like any other fan, you were over the moon when he confessed to you. Apparently his little naps on your lap wasn’t clear enough, or when he would drag you to Knights practices. But you guessed it didn’t matter now, did it? Nah, it don’t. 
But what does is the fact that he turns immediately away from you once he sees you in the hallway now.
Why on earth was he avoiding you? You two have been barely dating for, what, a week? What could you have done during that time? What you couldn’t have done?
Your worry and anxiety grew as the time without him stretched throughout the week, self-deprecating thoughts filling your head. Were you not good enough for him? Is the way you conducted yourself not fitting for his tastes? What was it that made the sleep-deprived idol hide behind a locker from your sight?
If you were somebody who really payed attention, you would notice the slight blush on his cheeks whenever he looked away from you, his gaze drifting downwards before scowling in embarrassment, or when he even slapped his hands on a friend’s mouth, flushing brightly as he smirked back at him.
Yeah, you really weren’t the problem... in that way. You didn’t realize it, though.
After being given the weekend to think over things and mentally sob over his offline status, you gathered the courage to confront him Monday morning and- well-
“Why are you avoiding me?” That simple sentence was blurted out as you finally had your hands on Ritsu, pulling on his collar to make you face him. In contrast to your demanding presence, he could really be compared to a half-asleep cat who was just caught in the act of knocking something down.
“I- uh...” He mumbled, fiddling with his blazer. “I just have been- really busy.” His blood-red eyes drifted down towards the floor, but suddenly changed direction and stared at the locker, his face red. “Yeah.”
“Ritsu, you haven’t.” You crossed your arms, a disappointed frown on your face. “Tsukasa hasn’t scheduled anything for the entire week.”
His face burned, sighing as he was caught on his act and finally glancing up to meet your eyes. 
The way you leaned your hip towards one side, your eyebrows slightly furrowed, and your small lips held in a cute pout...
God. Not now.
“Look, if you needed space in the first place I would have given it to you-”
“No!” He hissed, tugging at his jacket. “No no, it’s not that. I promise, it’s just- ah...
“It’s actually quite the opposite, I-”
You sighed, shaking your head, then much to his despair you noticed something. You noticed it.
“Ritsu,” A shocked mumble left your mouth, your ears turning pink. “Are you-?”
“Just- no no, don’t look at it...” He sighed out, frustrated, almost ripping his blazer in the process just to hide his little ‘friend’. “Give me a bit to calm down, and I’m sorry...”
And just like that, he ran off, almost awkwardly as he was forced to cover his problem, leaving you as your blush grew tenfold at the discovery.
Was that why he would avoid me?
No... but then again...
You could barely focus on your classes, drifting from reasoning to fantasy much to your embarrassment. If that was really the problem, he wouldn’t mind you offering your help, right? Then again, if it wasn’t, you would sure be in a weird position.
Sighing loudly, you dropped your head on your desk.
Relationships are too confusing.
---
“Hey, listen, I just want to say sorry about what happened-”
“If you want, I don’t mind helping you-”
You and Ritsu paused, staring at each other with slightly open mouths as you interrupted the other. At the sight of his confused look, you blushed furiously. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it that-”
“You... want to help?” Ritsu childishly echoed, tilting his head like a cat. “But [name], it isn’t your fault.”
“But as your girlfriend, I should pitch in once in a while, yes?” You almost joked, a ghost of a smile on your face. “And... I would like to do it with you~”
The male looked at you, seemingly conflicted. He didn’t want you to feel like you were obligated to help him... but then again, you were offering yourself in the way that he wanted you in. So really... he couldn’t pass an opportunity like this.
“A-alright.”
Which led you having him in between your legs, eating you out while moaning you praises. Please give him kudos for being considerate, but he was longing for this for way too long, Ritsu couldn’t bring himself to go slow. You just tasted so heavenly, so decadent. 
“R-Ritsu-!” A stuttered moan left you, curling your legs around his legs as you arched your back, your heartbeat accelerating. “Keep going- keep going!”
The male groaned out his answer, his hips bucking into the mattress as he stimulated himself. If you were in a right mindset you would have helped him, but it was his fault for making you so crazed, so drunk on the pleasure he was giving you that you couldn’t think straight.
A loud shout slipped out of your mouth, your body tensing as you came. Ritsu slowed down his movements, resorting to tiny kitten licks against your cunt as he swiped up your delicious juices.
“Hah...” You eventually slowed your breath, mindlessly wrapping your arms around Ritsu as he came in for a hug, pressing chaste kisses against your neck with lips still moist from your sex. 
“Oh, Ritsu... did you even come yourself?” You mumbled, threading your fingers in his hair. “Hon...”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” He reassured you. “It was enough for me to watch you unfold-” He broke off, face going slack as you slightly pushed his chest away, then reaching downwards.
“You helped me,” You said, cupping his hard-on as the male stifled a whine. “So let me help you now.
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samkerrworshipper · 3 months
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simce u asked for blurbs i have some ideas xxxx
leah x reader where reader gets her tongue or belly button pierced without telling leah
leah x reader where leah gets jealous of reader for having to do a media day vid with a touchy male player
awfc x reader where reader and kyra are just pranksters (cuz i loved sticker charts sm 🥹🥹🥹)
DONT FEEL PRESSURE TO DO THESE BTW! but if this helps then perfect 🥰🥰🥰
tongue twister | lw6 x reader blurb
it’s short, it’s sweet, it’s the only thing getting me out of my writers block lol
warnings: minor sexual implications and maybe some minor swearing
———————————————————————
It’s fairly normal routine for Leah to beeline straight towards you after any trip that includes her leaving for longer than 24 hours. Hell, the girl always seeks you out even after she’s gotten home after a two gotten home after a two hour training session but she’s always especially clingy after being on international camp.
It’s worsened significantly since her return from her acl injury, considering that for months she hardly had to leave your side.
So it’s no surprise that before Leah even takes her shoes off she’s rushing into your kitchen, her luggage bag long forgotten at the front door as she tumbled through the entrance hallway and into the kitchen.
You were seated at the island bench, typing away lazily at a work document to pass time.
Your eyes perked up as soon as the blonde entered the room, a big smile settling along your features at the sight of your rugged up Leah. It still gave you the chills that the woman standing in front of you, leah williamson, was all yours. She told you every single day that she was the lucky one in the relationship, but you couldn’t have disagreed more, leah was perfect, in every single way.
“Hiya love.”
Leah stays standing in the doorway, her eyes trained to you, a big smile splashed across her face.
“Hello Le.”
The woman closed the distance between the two of you, her tongue between her teeth as she approached.
“Missed you.”
It’s a statement, not meant for you to reply just a hanging reminder that these weeks that you spend apart are just as hard for you as it is her.
So you nod, flash her another smile before letting your eyes fall back to the bright screen in front of you.
Leah sits down on the seat beside you, her eyebrows furrowed.
“Honey.”
Her voice is slightly whiny, the voice Leah uses when she wants something that apparently should be obvious but you aren’t giving it to her for whatever reason.
“Yes, Leah?”
You look up from your screen briefly, taking in Leah’s needy face, her lips puckered directly towards you.
“Where’s my welcome home kiss?”
It was customary that whenever Leah came home you gave her a kiss, but this particular time you were a little bit tentative… for other reasons.
“Someone’s a bit needy.”
Leah reached over and pressed your laptop closed, removing the potential distraction.
“I always get a welcome home kiss… I’m waiting.”
You roll your eyes, it’s typical for Leah’s first priority to be a fucking kiss, it’s something that you’ve come to love, no matter what’s happening in either of your lives when she gets home, you always connect like this together.
“How was my day? Thanks for asking, it was great, went for a run, cooked up some food for you to meal plan this week, watched some shows, got a jumpstart on the gym plans for the team this week and hammered out a roster.”
Leah’s gives you a massive eye roll, her hand extending to the back of your neck, looking deep into your soul as her face hovers a couple of centimetres away from you.
“Baby, you know i love you, give me a kiss, please.”
It wasn’t like Leah to be so needy, you blamed it on the fact that you’d been ‘sick’ in her absence, which had her feeling especially guilty for leaving you.
“Why don’t you give me one?”
The challenge is enough to strike up Leah’s competitive nature, something you frequently take advantage of in all parts of your relationship.
Leah leant forward without any hesitation, her lips capturing yours and immediately melting against your skin. This was the part you were anxious about, but regardless you let her take dominance of the kiss, her bottom lip molding against your top one as she slowly synchronised the movement.
It didn’t take very long at all for Leah to get greedy, her tongue finding the notch between your bottom lip and top, gently prodding for an opening, something you awarded her with ease.
Leah tasted like peppermint gum and black coffee, a flavour that melted in your mouth. You were counting down the seconds, as Leah explored your mouth, curious as to how long it would take for her to notice.
4 seconds, 4 seconds of her tongue reaquanting itself with the roof of your mouth and then twisting and tangling itself with your own to discover what you knew she was bound to.
It felt like she was digging for treasure that you’d hidden.
The gasp that she breathed into you almost immediately was capturing a short little exhale of hot air directly into your mouth. Leah prodded at it twice more, checking, making sure before she disconnected herself from you, her eyebrows perched high on her forehead as she blinked a few times in surprise.
“Open your mouth.”
If you were in a more playful mood you probably would have said some kind of obscene joke, but you simply weren’t in the mood to mess around with Leah, especially with that glint in her eyes that was telling you so much and yet so little about how she was feeling.
So without much arguement at all, you opened your mind up wide, allowing Leah to examine her previously discovered treasure.
Leah took her time having a look, even daring to tilt your head back to get a better angle on your new bling.
Once she was finally done she let go of your chin, releasing you and taking a step back, so you could look at her fully.
“I’m assuming it wasn’t tonsillitis that you had then?”
You chuckled lightly, it was a good cover up if you did say so yourself, something completely believable and so simple.
“Do you not like it?”
Leah’s eyes almost bursted out of her skull, her head shaking profusely at you.
“God baby, no, I am so ready for you to show me all the ways that little thing can do, maybe i’ll get me nips done next time for some more fun.”
Leah gave you a flashy wink, a movement that had her rewarded with a big eye roll from you.
“She’s fully healed, how about we go test it out?”
Leah smirked massively, reaching for your hips and lifting you up in to her arms.
“I like your thinking.”
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mambalae-s · 11 months
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sugar — geto suguru x reader
wc: 4.3k
cw: ceo! geto x employee! reader; unprotected sex; office sex; semi public sex; reader is described as a black woman; she’s not explicitly called chubby but she is described as plump; creampies; oral (reader) receiving; one instance of spitting; one instance of choking; mating press; a sir kink you dont have to squint too hard to find; not at all proof read; if i’m missing anything, please let me know!
notes from author: yeah, this went an entirely different direction than what i had planned… this is an nsfw post — if you’re under 18, PLEASE do not interact with this post. i will block you.
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suguru’s certain you have no idea the kind of effect you have on him. he’s so entirely convinced that you’re oblivious to his struggle to merely contain himself with you sitting across his mahogany desk, dark stockings hugging your plump thighs and that short, a-lined skirt just barely sitting over your lap. you wear your hair like a regalia, beautiful, thinly done tresses of black braids half-tied at the back of your head where the rest flowed down each side of your body, the ends of them elegantly curling while you’d left two braids to frame both sides of your face — a style called french braids, he’d learned when he’d asked you curiously.
his mind is so far gone from words of acquisitions and business meetings that you read from your prepared document, eyes zoned in on your plump, full lips that glisten on strawberry flavoured gloss. he’s so distracted by the ‘o’s formed on your sweet voice, every sentence sinking themselves beneath his skin like drops of honey that rush through his veins and churns within his blood like a drug. he leans back into his chair, throwing his head back in unhidden frustration and releases a groan, and the sound of it snaps your attention from black printed words to look up at your ceo.
“sir?” you call him, hesitant. you cock your head to the side worriedly. “i’m sorry, is it not how you want to proceed?”
suguru shakes his head weakly, brushing his thumb over his lips. “no, no,” he assures you, “that’s not it at all. you’ve done great, in fact. it’s perfect.” he sees the way your brows furrow over your dark coloured eyes, the way your lips part on words you don’t let out, and suddenly, he feels too hot. “i’m sorry, ms. (l/n). it’s just especially hard for me to focus right now.”
“oh, i understand.” you utter, shifting to sit a little straighter in your chair. the action causes your breasts to shift beneath your low-cut blouse as you close your manilla folder. and suguru, he has to remind himself to breathe. “well, we do have some time before the board meeting if you’d rather we look over the details some other time?”
suguru hums in agreement as he stands, forcing his eyes off you and walking over to the left wall where he keeps a fine array of wines and expensive liquor. “yes, let’s do that then.” his hands reach for a bottle he knows you enjoy most out of his collection, an itallian imported masseto merlot. he reaches for two wine glasses and turns to you, offering you one to take. “how about we enjoy a drink for now?”
you rise from your seat to stand next to him, taking the cup from his hands. he wonders if you’d felt your fingers brush against his, if you’d perhaps done it intentionally to tease him. ah, but he knows you better than that — even now as you hold your cup out for him to fill, he knows that you’re far too shy to ever think of trying anything with him, your boss. you’re always the respectful and diligent worker, always and ever doing your best to meet his expectations and go beyond. he’d be lying if he tried to say he didn’t look forward to seeing you every day, or that he dreamt of doing unspeakable things to you right here inside his office. even standing this close to him, suguru feels his pants tighten at the uninhibited view he has of your plump figure, your breasts tempting him as he loses himself on your sweet scent of fresh linen and honey oats.
“is there something on your mind, sir?” unaware of the thoughts clouding his mind, you innocently flutter your eyes to peer up at him with your glossy lips pursed atop your glass. he watches you take a sip of the dark red liquid and thinks about it wetting your mouth, imagines the satisfied sigh as something far dirtier, unprofessional, and how you would sound with your legs folded against your chest. he imagines all the ways you’d cry out for him, to beg him for more until he turned you into a whiney mess.
“it’s just…” again, he clears his throat. he reaches one hand up to loosen his tie, showing off the expensive watch on his left wrist. “been a long week, that’s all.”
your lips form a sympathetic pout as you lower your glass to your chest, your forearms unconsciously squeezing your breasts together and, have mercy— how can you make the dirtiest things look so innocent? “i’m sorry, mr. geto,” you offer, “i’ll certainly try harder to make things a little easier for you… is there anything i can do for you?”
“oh, no, miss (l/n), you’ve already been such a great help to me—” he stops himself midway, his dark eyes turning thoughtful as he considers. the idea that pops into his head is an awful one, he gives himself second enough to consider. but, what is he supposed to do when you stand so close to him, eyes innocently looking up at him, your very breath hanging onto his words? here you are right in front of him, so open and willing to help him, and perhaps— no, not just. suguru’s certain you don’t mean your words in the way that he thinks, but the very sight of you, the thoughts he has of you late at night and even now, it overwhelms him and tells him to cast aside all logic and give in to viscous wanting.
suguru quietly draws a breath, sets his glass down atop his desk and bites the bullet.
“well… there is something you could do for me.” one, two, it only takes him three short steps until he’s standing right in front of you, close enough for the smell of your sweet, honey-scented oils to fully wrap around him and fill up his lungs. his figure basically shadows your much smaller frame, towering over you as your eyes nervously met his. he focuses on the way your brown lips hang open slightly, on the way your pretty eyebrows furrow over your expression. he focuses on the deep breaths you take that cause your chest to rise and swell, lets himself go on the slight squeak in your voice when you hesitantly call him.
“sir…?”
“what if, ms. (l/n),” suguru hums, reaching his hand to your own glass of wine, intentional when his fingers cover yours. “i told you that you’re what’s been distracting me all along?” like a hawk, he observes every flicker of thought that crosses your dark brown eyes. first, he watches them widen on surprise, then they waver back and forth before lowering to where he held your hand, the deep red colour of your merlot surely not what holds your attention. you’re flustered, he knows it by the way you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, but he’s not kind enough to let you hide that beautiful expression from him. slowly, as if not to scare you, he takes his fingers and holds on to your chin, tilting your head to where you had no choice but to meet his stare.
“i— i’m,” you pause, your lips trembling so deliciously, your breath ghosting against his skin like an autumn’s gentle breeze. “i’m not sure what you mean… mr, geto…”
“you aren’t?” suguru lowers his voice to a whisper. he imagines he could hear your heart thumping inside your chest, that he could feel your pulse racing underneath your skin, and he wants more of it, wants more of you. “let me show you exactly what i mean then, ms. (l/n).”
he tells himself to be gentle as he leans in, tilting your head up so that his lips meet yours finally, finally— and suguru nearly loses himself to the sensation of being swept off his feet. gods, you’re even sweeter than you’ve ever tasted inside his dreams, the living flesh and bone version of you kissing him back so softly as if you’d walked right out of his fantasies and come to find him at daylight. he can sense the hesitance behind your lips, an uncertainty weak to your own desires as you lean further into him. your hands reach for his chest and you pull away with a breathlessness, gasping as you look up at him, showing to him your worries, your fear, your mutual want.
“mr. geto, we shouldn’t do something like this here,” you whisper as if afraid your words would be heard by someone passing by. though suguru could tell that, if he pushed, you wouldn’t be able to resist. your fingers feebly grasp at his arms, bunching up the white fabric covering his biceps and, oh— you pull him closer, yet not close enough to close the gap. he looks at you and sees it then, in the way your lips pout up at him, that—
“you want this too, don’t you?”
he touches a hand to your cheek and feels heat radiating from you in waves. pulling you closer, he brings that hand to cup the back of your neck and revel in the feel of you being so close to him, your chest so soft against his as his other hand falls to squeeze your hip. gently, he tilts your head to one side to expose your neck and he lets himself be greedy, leaning to drag his nose against your bare skin, lips just slightly parted so that you could feel his warm breath ghosting against your cheek.
your knees nearly buckle beneath your weight and you have to squeeze on to his biceps even tighter, for fear that you would collapse if you don’t hold on tight. “y-yes…” you quietly gasp once he finally presses his lips to your skin. the feeling of him harshly sucking your neck is enough to cause your head to spin, for your legs to clench together at the new heat that pools in your panties. you feel him begin to press forward, and as you step back, he chases you, pushing you until the back of your thighs hit his desk. the sensation of cold wood is stark against the waves of searing heat that pours from the both of you and you stumble for a moment, accidentally knocking his pristine ceo plaque to the red carpet below.
“then,” suguru’s voice sounds slurred. his words are heavy and he sees the way they weigh you down as his fingers skillfully pull the first buttons of your blouse. he takes in the picture of you with reverence and worship as greed swirls within his gut, tightens his pants and makes him forget anything that didn’t have to do with you. with one hand, he pushes you further until you’re sitting on top of his desk and leans in once more, ever more wanting to feel your lips on his. “don’t think about anything else right now. just focus on me, yeah?”
dazed, it’s all you can do to nod ‘yes’ as he slots himself between your open legs, his hands squeezing down on your hips and pulling you forward until his bulge presses right up against your core.
it’s hard hold himself back any further, and suguru abandons his inhibitions as he hungrily slots his mouth against yours, the kiss almost universes different than the last. where before, he’d been experimental, testing the waters almost and tasting you for the first time, he now devours your very soul like a man starved of water and you, his fountain found in a scorching desert. his lips are searing as they move, and he pours so much into you that it becomes too much and it burns so deliciously, filling you until whimpers slip out from you and your hands hungrily pull apart his buttons. his nails dig into your thighs as he bites down on your bottom lip and pulls before he begins to press kisses against your cheek, trailing wet, impatient lines of spit along your jaw.
“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this,” its almost a growl when he speaks, low and dangerous as he feels himself slipping further. his teeth sink into your dark skin and he sucks, hard, relishing in the moans that you reward him with. “how badly i wanted to have you till i couldn’t sleep at night.”
“s-sir wait,” you try to call him, struggling to find your words amidst the fog clouding your brain. he’s sucking your skin so much that you fear he’ll leave marks, yet your voice seems to only urge him to leave more. “not there, people will see— ngh!”
he doesn’t pull apart when he grinds his bulge against you, letting you feel just how big and hard he’d gotten for you. each move he makes sends you reeling, the pool between your legs enough to soak you right through your stockings as he rolls his hips into yours.
“focus,” suguru reprimands you, lowly growling into your neck. “all your attention on me right now. do you understand?”
when you take too long to respond, he pushes one hand around your neck and squeezes, causing you to squeal as he pulls your head back to face him. your mouth hangs open, gasps of air struggling to make it past his hands, his spit smeared all across your lips, cheek and neck with the beginnings of purple bite marks forming on your dark skin — you’re the perfect picture of a mess, your beautiful brown eyes glazed over by lust and desire, so far gone from your normally neat and put together appearance, and it’s all because of him.
“understand?” he bleeds the word slowly, and, feeble, you respond with a desperate nod of your head, barely managing to force out a ‘yes sir..!’ through his grip around your throat. you try to squeeze your legs around his waist, wanting to pull him closer, to feel his cock pressed against you once more, for any kind of friction, but one hand swiftly pries them wide apart as his fingers snake between them. startled, you try to squeeze them close, though your body quickly loses its strength when his slender digits press up against your dampened core.
god, you’re already so fucking wet, you’re dripping enough to leave dark coloured stains atop his wooden desk. suguru marvels at the feeling of your slick practically pooling along his fingers, coating them as he rubs slow, teasing circles over your clothed pussy. “look at that,” he says breathlessly before pulling his hands away to lick at them, and the taste of your essence causes his cock to twitch against their restraints. popping his fingers out of his mouth, he shoves them past your gaping lips for you to swirl your tongue around, a groan escapes him once you begin to suck and whimper around them. “fuck, (y/n), you’re making it hard for me to control myself.”
his thumb brushes against your lip and he pulls your mouth open, dizzy when you eagerly open your mouth for him to spit into. “such a dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?” he grins as you swallow with a moan, “yeah? never dreamed i’d see you do something like this, ms. (l/n). were you thinking about something like this everytime we spoke? hm?”
a sharp ripping sound startles you, though you hardly have the chance to regain your bearings as suguru finally touches you in the place you need him the most. your pussylips are basically sopping and so, incredibly swollen, your clit so eager for him to touch you when he presses his thumb against it. “f-fuck…!” you throw your head back, hissing and biting your bottom lip to contain your cries, all while suguru marvels at seeing you unravel. you’re completely under his control like this, a pretty little doll in the palm of his hands that he could toy and play with until your mind would crumble. the revelation blazes through him like a wildfire and swirls like a ferocious torrent — more, he wants — needs — you to break even more.
“i want an answer, (y/n). how badly did you want me to fuck you all this time?”
you try to respond, though your words fall apart on a weak, wavering cry of his name as he sinks two fingers inside you, feeling them split apart your walls before pulling back out slowly. he uses his knees to keep your legs from clamping shut while his free hand slips your bra up over your chest, letting your full mounds fall freely for him to squeeze. large, brown nipples perk up under the exposure of the cold air, pointy and sensitive beneath his thumb when he pinches one and softly twists. he groans, nearly panting, your pussy clamping down around his middle and ring fingers. “you’re so fucking tight, you’re just leaking and making such a mess. must’ve been waiting for me to fuck this pretty little cunt, huh?”
“nngh, sir..!” oh, those pretty little cries you make would be the end of him. he wants more, wants you to fall apart utterly and completely until your mind would be blank and you would be nothing but a blabbering mess. he wants to feel you, taste you, to devour you whole.
swiftly, he drops down to his knees and spread your legs wide open, one on each of his shoulder for him to see your messy cunt. he’s mesmerized at the view of you, sopping and dripping as your hole squelches around nothing, greedily begging for him to take it and make it his.
above him, you’re barely able to register his movements before you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth hungrily sucking your pussy, and it catches you so off guard that you release a loud cry of his name. “suguru…!”
“shhhh. shhh, baby,” the man doesn’t stop for even a second, muttering the words right up against you and sending shockwaves through your core. desperate to keep your voice down, you clamp your hands over your mouth as you feel his tongue flicker against your swollen clit, back and forth before he begins sucking and lapping. your essence pools all over his tongue and suguru feels himself getting drunk, diving his tongue between your folds while his fingers drill in and out of your hole, filling the large office with sloppy, slurpy noises as he coaxes ever single drop he can out of you.
despite you trying, you fail to hold your voice back as the coil within your gut tightens and your vision grows spotty. his fingers repeatedly brush against that spot deep inside your cunt that makes you see stars and you can’t catch your breath. your moans turn into strangled cries as your legs clench around his head, and you can’t pay any mind to how tightly you’re squeezing him between your plump thighs as you grip his hair to pull him closer. “aah..! aghn! nnngh..! fuck, sir, i’m close…!” your hips begin to buck as you chase your end, desperate for your climax as he groans between your legs and sets a relentless pace with his tongue and hands. he focuses his mouth on your clit while his fingers stretch and fuck your cunt and you taste like honey, pouring into his mouth as he laps it all up and milks you for everything you could give him.
“cum for me, princess.” his muffled voice shoots through your core like lightening, and you feel that coil in your gut reaching its height. you’re almost there, you’re so close, you’re so fucking close— “make a mess all over daddy’s face, come on. thaaaat’s it, baby, gimme all of it… don’t hold back and fucking squirt for me.”
he curls his fingers inside you, and the coil snaps like a bullet shot right through you. your orgasm crashes into your body as every muscle inside you seizes, your cries and whimpers unrestrained and nearly deafening. tremours reck through your figure as suguru coaxes everything out of you with sweet praises, till you squirt all over his face and fingers and you collapse against his desk, sending several important documents and utensils clattering against the carpet.
“shit…!” your eyes barely register suguru’s form hastily rushing to his feet, stumbling and lightheaded, his face and shirt absolutely drenched in your cum as his fingers unbuckle his belt. you see his cock spring out from his boxers when he pulls them down, and in your fucked out daze, you admire how pretty it looks. the pink tip smacks against his toned stomach, the length of it thick and twitching as he grips your thighs and he’s so fucking big. fuck, you start to panic, but your body’s far too weak for you to move quickly, barely able to lean up against your elbows while he folds your legs up against your chest — “wait, sir, not yet, i— haaah!”
your mind blanks, your vision shoots white as his cock bullies its way into your pussy, still sensitive from him eating you out before and a cry erupts out from your chest. above you, suguru’s expression contorts and he groans loudly as he sinks deeper into your cunt. your gummy walls clench down on him as if to keep him out, squeezing him so tightly that his knees nearly give out underneath him. “aaaahh, fuck, (y/n), your pussy feels so fucking good.”
he’s too impatient to give you time to adjust, you just feel so good clamping down on him the way you do and he pounds you, fucking into you relentlessly while you writhe and cry beneath him. “fuck!! sir—!! s-slow down— ahh! haah! ‘m still— still sensitive— ngaahh!”
“sorry, princess.” he huffs, folding your legs further down into your chest and pivoting his pelvis to reach inside you deeper, deeper until he pounds your cervix and you jolt as if you’d been shocked. you have to grab the edge of the desk to keep yourself from sliding from underneath him as he relentlessly fucks into you. “your pussy jus’ feels too good, fuck. ‘s like this pretty cunt was made jus’ for my cock.”
how perfect you look folded underneath him like this, breasts bouncing and tears pooling from your eyes as your body trembles and shakes from the overstimulation. how your hair messily flails underneath you, your clothes all bunched up and your stockings shredded and your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you senselessly wail, fuck, you look so damn hot. “i know you can take it princess,” he coons, stilling his hips as he pushes all the way inside you, pinning you down when you try to squirm. “c’mon, pretty girl…” slowly, he pulls out and slams back into you — once, twice, over and over, each time your walls tightening and squeezing ravenously. “you got this. you’re doing so good for me, soooo so good. you like how my cock feels inside baby? does it feel good fucking up your pretty little pussy?”
“yes…!” with teary eyes, you look up at him, your response short of senseless and incomprehensible as you choke out a sob through your pleasure. “yes, yes, yes, yes, sir, feels so fucking good!”
“shhh, shhh, i know baby,” suguru coos down at you, grinding slow, sweet circles against your core before picking up his pace. the sudden change catches you unprepared and you shout, hands flailing to his biceps and clawing into his skin as he caged your body beneath him. “you’ve been so good for me already, aah, can you gimme one more? cum one more time for me pretty baby, jus’ one more for me.”
as if at his command, you feel that familiar tension take hold of your body as he drills into your cunt, so sudden and without warning as it crashes over you. you squeal, babbling his name over and over as your pussy creams all over his cock, your gasps drawing little air as your orgasm tears through you and leaving you breathless.
“thaaaaat’s it, shit. just like that.” he praises you through stuttering breaths, cooing at you sweetly as you come dkw. from your high. you’re positively fucked out of your mind with tears falling freely from your eyes and drool smearing your cheeks, snd the sight of you like this beneath him, the feeling of your pussy milking around his cock, it’s enough to send him over the edge.
“fuck…!”
his body twitches as his cum spurts inside your pussy, warm and thick and so, so much of it comes out, painting your insides white. your chests heaving in unison, suguru finally collapses on top of your chest, and he’s just every bit of a mess as you are. both of you are absolutely spent of every drop, endorphins coursing through your veins as the adrenaline exists your systems. your eyes seek out his to find him already staring at you with a cheeky grin, your own face flushing with embarrassment while he presses butterfly kisses against your stomach.
“d-did, um…” it’s hard to get the words out, your lungs still very much fighting for air, but you cheekily grin at the man, your boss, kneeling between your legs, and dare to allow your hands to run through his disheveled hair. “was i… able to help?”
suguru weakly chuckles, and your heart flutters a bit at the sight of crinkles forming on his nose. “you did, (y/n).” smiling, he rises to his feet and leans down to kiss you, pressing a hand down on your tummy and pushing down. he feels you writhing beneath his palm as his cum leaks out of you. “trus’ me, ‘s just what i needed.”
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© mambalae-s — rb’s + feedback are greatly appreciated!
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rrxnjun · 1 year
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blondes are done with fun ✲ h. renjun
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pairing. journalism student! renjun x journalism student! fem! reader starring. huang renjun, lee donghyuck, yoo jimin, huh yunjin genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. angst, fluff, smut warnings. alcohol consuption, swearing, renjun is a dick at the beginning, sexual content (fingering, unprotected sex) word count. 31k (31.320) a/n. awsten knight please stop making music so i can stop writing fics about your songs thanku. also this is my first smut please be gentle with it also if you're my friend please don't read the smut parts orif you do dont tell me abt it or i will literally kms
playlist. cherry red - waterparks ; fake happy - paramore ; heaven angel - the driver era ; blonde - waterparks ; disaster - conan gray ; raspberry - grouplove ; black butterflies and déjá vu - the maine ; fuck about it - waterpakrs, blackbear ; robbers - the 1975
a rumor has it that the popular couple in town broke up after years of being together. having to share your favorite seat in class with the male part of said relationship, you try to find out how to make your heartbroken project partner warm up to you— or— huang renjun goes blonde when he's sad.
✲ PART 1 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲
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“A rumor has it Huang Renjun and Huh Yunjin broke up,” is the first sentence that lands into your ears when your feet cross the imaginary border of the school premises one early morning, a cup of coffee in your hand as your best friend Jimin breaks the news to you, walking by your side into the university building.
Snapping your head around to look at her in shock and surprise at the news, eyes wide in question, you’re already invested in the love life of your classmates more than you probably should be, but due to multiple reasons that could explain it; one of them being the ordinary human curiosity– mainly created in your brain thanks to the fact that these two had dated for as long as you can remember– another reason being the gossip-oriented side of your personality– the part of it you like to explain through the fact that you’re a Journalism major and the love for gossip is just another part of your (hopefully) future occupation– and the last reason, the one that is probably the most harmless of them all (or maybe the most, depending on how you look at it) is the mere fact that while Huang Renjun had been a taken man for as long as you remember, he is also insanely attractive, and you’re just a simple woman. The idea of him being finally attainable is irking something in your brain, and even though you would feel embarrassed to admit this out loud, you can’t help but wonder what happened between those two after such a long time that made the legendary couple– iconic, even– break up. 
“What happened?” you ask, walking alongside the girl as you round the corner of the hall, in a rush to get to your morning class. The two of you slept in by accident, watching too many episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians last night to notice the clock striking well past midnight, and now the journey to school was more difficult than it already is, with your dorms situated 30 minutes away and the class starting at 8 o’clock sharp. The time is now 7:58AM and while you’re already in the building and yours and Jimin’s classes are different, they are both on the fifth floor– and with the frequency of your visits to the gym, the way up there is hard not only because of the time pinch, but also because of the shortness of your breath when you rush to walk up there in less than five minutes before you have to take the walk of shame to your desk, watched by the professor with passive aggressive eyes.
“Nobody knows,” Jimin heaves out, taking two steps at once now, “I just heard from Yizhuo that Yunjin deleted all of their Instagram posts together and she supposedly stopped wearing that necklace he got her for their anniversary. Oh and also, Renjun didn’t drop her off at school on Friday, so something must be up.”
Humming in agreement, you rush up the stairs, the halls already emptied out because all of the students are hidden in their respective classroom. You manage to keep your voice down in case anyone’s listening in on your insensitive gossip, now that your voices aren’t drowned out by any other noise. “That’s weird. They’ve been together for so long, I’m starting to lose faith in real love if they really broke up.”
“No, yeah, I know,” Jimin squints as the two of you finally reach the fifth floor, the girl checking the time on her wristwatch huffing out at the sight of already being late, “something bad must have happened, if they really broke up, because the two of them didn’t seem like they’ve had any problems, you know.”
“Definitely,” you nod, pacing along the hall as you finally reach the door to your classroom, waving your roommate off with a tight-lipped smile, still trying to catch your breath. “I’ll see you after class?”
The girl doesn’t even turn around as she agrees with you, long legs striding down the hall into the last classroom on the left, waving at you with her right hand. “See ya!”
Silently opening the door to the classroom, you notice the professor already standing at the very front of the class, turning around to look at your figure once the almost unhearable noise of the door cuts through the silence in the room. Offering her a shameful smile, you hurriedly scan the space, feeling the eyes of everyone glued to your sweaty and out of breath body, as you try to find a place to sit. Your usual seat is right at the corner of the room, at the very back– it has the window in close accessibility, so you don’t have to worry about being too hot or too cold, depending on the weather, because you regulate the freshness of the air in the classroom. The window also provides a good distraction to you once the class gets too boring to listen to, so you’d say with 100% sureness that the desk you chose to sit at the very first day of your Journalism class was the best option. 
However, when you look at the usually empty desk for two– one of the chairs, the one closer to the corridor being your handy armrest as well as a place to put your coat and bag on as you sit on the other one, the one closer to the window– you notice a man sitting at your usual place, eyes glued to the whiteboard. Feverishly scanning the classroom once again, realizing in terror that there is no other empty space for you to sit at, you sigh in annoyance as you near your usual desk, cursing the intruder in your brain for breaking the unwritten seating plan. 
Taking the bag off your shoulder, you softly land it to the ground, afraid of making any noise that would interrupt your professor’s lecture again. After sitting at the chair and trying to listen to the words coming out of your professor’s mouth, trying to see what she’s talking about, you find yourself drifting off into the mess of your thoughts, choosing to daydream about the amazing lunch you’re about to have once your classes are over for the day, your eyes knowingly moving away from the whiteboard to their place out of the window. It’s a little harder to gaze out of it in the different position– you tell yourself you’ll come earlier next week so the intruder doesn’t take away your spot again and you can go back to your usual plan of watching people walking through the campus and making up fake stories about them in your brain– when your periphery vision takes notice of the side profile of your seatmate, the curve of his nose and the slight pout of his upper lip sparking interest in you as your brain finally connects the dots.
Only slightly moving your head to the side, so your seatmate doesn’t notice you staring, you observe Huang Renjun sitting at your desk. The image in front of you (or beside you, to be precise) surprises you to an extent nothing has ever surprised you before (no, not even the birthday parties Jimin has thrown you have made this effect on you– but that’s probably because she can’t keep a secret and always spoiled the surprise), and once again, there are multiple reasons for your surprise. To list a few, you’d start with the fact that Huang Renjun almost always sat at the same desk with his girlfriend Yunjin– the desk was at the very opposite corner of the room, leaving you to occasionally observe the couple as he landed a hand onto her thigh or let her put her leg into his lap, away from the eyes of the professor– but due to the news that were broken to you just a few minutes prior, maybe this is the only reason that shouldn’t surprise you with the sight of Renjun sitting by your side. Continuing the list, you’d state the fact that the boy looks lifeless– his eyes lost their usual spark and there are dark circles adorning his lower eyelids, the sick look making you feel almost sorry for your classmate. And to finish the list, you’d state the fact that takes you by surprise the most– the one that shocks you to your core, for it’s the reason why you didn’t recognise the boy when you first sat down in the first place. His hair is now bleach blond, and while the look definitely suits him, it’s something different, something new– because for as long as you can remember, not many things changed in Renjun’s appearance over the years, and you’re not so sure if you can consider this as the side effect of his breakup, or if he really just wanted change.
Blinking at the male, as if to make sure that you’re not dreaming, you take notice of the dead strands falling into his eyes, contrasting well with the darkness of his eyes. Once again noting that you’re just a simple woman and Huang Renjun is simply put, a very attractive man, you can’t help but gaze at him with a newly found interest, everything you’ve learned about the male this morning irking you with undeniable curiosity.
The sad and embarrassing reality of it all is, though, that you’re not the only one who gets that weird feeling of someone staring at you in public sometimes, only for that feeling to be true as you turn around and see someone with their eyes burning through your skull; Huang Renjun gets them as well, it seems, as he turns his head to you with his eyebrows furrowed, as if to silently ask you why the hell you’re creepily staring at his side profile in the middle of your Journalism class. The two of you were never close, despite sharing multiple classes over the course of multiple semesters, and so being caught only made you feel more embarrassed as you sharply turn your head towards the front of the classroom– so much for being subtle and nonchalant about it, erasing all the possibility of playing it off in the process– feeling heat creeping up your neck. 
This is not how you imagined your morning to go.
Trying hard to pay attention to the class instead, in order to both learn something and also forget about the events happening only a few seconds prior, there’s no use as your brain now decided to replay the moment over and over again, making sure you never forget about it and randomly think of it in the middle of the night 5 years from now, still not moving on from the shame. In the process of trying so hard to focus, you actually do quite the opposite– as if your brain decided to turn off from the essence of humiliation instead to protect you– and before you notice it, the class is over and everyone is scattering out of the classroom with their things and bags hung over their shoulders. At least it’s finally over, you think, when a voice lands into your ear, shaking you out of it.
“We’re doing the project together,” he says, and as you turn around to face the owner of the saccharine voice to inquire him on what the actual fuck he’s even talking about, before you get the chance, the man is already out of the room, leaving you standing in full dumbfoundance.
Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to the class, after all.
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Next week, even though you arrive to class earlier than the last, it seems like your designated seat in the corner of the classroom is now your and Renjun’s designated seat in the corner of the classroom, and if you’re being totally honest, this is exactly the thing you did not expect to come up on your Junior year bingo card. Talking over the whole interaction with Jimin right when you got to dorms– alongside with the takeout you ordered in the restaurant that’s at the corner of the street– the both of you stared into your plates with a newly found sense of absolute, utter confusion. 
You also had to shamefully text one of the only classmates from your Journalism class whose number you have– Osaki Shotaro, who you had a thing with in Freshman year because you thought he was an exchange student and would go back to Japan after summer, surprising you with his smiley face in the class in your Sophomore year (and this year, once again) as you had to be reminded of making out with him at a party every time your eyes landed on the poor boy– about the assignment. The truth is, you could just ask Renjun when you got into class, but you also wanted to spare yourself the embarrassment of that action. Through your fling from Freshman year, you learned that you have to work in pairs on a magazine of some sort– and while the assignment still wasn’t clear to you, after Shotaro ended the text message with ‘i’m sorry tho, i already have a partner ://’, you didn’t have enough dignity in you to pry him for any more information.
Clearing your throat as you step inside the classroom with an encouraging slap to your bottom coming from your roommate walking along to her usual class at the end of the hall, you walk over to your seat and put your bag onto the ground, silently sitting on the chair next to the corridor– the thing that makes you the most furious about this whole thing– as you prepare for the next lecture. From what you’ve gathered, the assignment was 70% of your final grade, and you really didn’t feel like failing your most favorite subject, especially if it’s something you could see yourself doing in the future. Working on something like this with someone you’ve hardly ever spoken to was a scary feeling, though. 
The class starts as soon as the noise of footsteps fills your ears, your professor standing at the very front of the classroom announcing her arrival with a heartfelt smile on her face. Sometimes you wonder if it’s her cheery demeanor that makes you like the class so much, but then again, you’ve always been interested in the topic– her character is just a bonus.
“Hello class,” she greets, full of energy despite it only being 8 in the morning, “I decided that instead of following with the lectures today, I will leave you some space to plan out your final project for the class. It has the weight of 70% of your grade, so it’s kind of important, so make sure you plan it well and come up with something original and interesting. The contents are 25-35 pages and you have until the end of the semester to complete it, so I hope you all put in some effort!”
Nods and hums of understatement are shared along the class, the pairs turning to each other in soft murmurs as some even take out a journal to note down all the things they come up with. You think it’s not a bad idea to at least brainstorm a little, but with how awkward you feel at the moment with your project partner sitting right next to you, you don’t think you can start. And the thing is, Jimin told you you could just pick a different partner– but as you look across the filled classroom, you really don’t think working with anyone else is possible, since you don’t have many friends in this class and everyone seems to be paired up already. Huang Renjun is your only choice, and although it doesn’t fill you with relief, you wonder why he chose you, when in reality, he’s the popular one– he has many different choices to pick from. Maybe he was just too lazy to ask anyone else. Who knows.
Clearing your throat again, you avert your gaze from the front of the classroom and try to sneak a look on your seatmate. The platinum blonde hair neatly styled on his head doesn’t fail to make you shocked again, but you figure you must start to get used to it now, because you can’t keep living with the constant urge to stare at the boy just because he dyed his hair. Waiting for him to look at you or give you any sign of the fact that he’s willing to work on the project, you continue your little staring contest with his side profile– it seems like he’s in the mood to ignore you today, so you gotta bring out the big guns and actually talk to him instead.
“So… how do you want to work on this?” you mumble out, nervously bumping your knee up and down. Human interaction isn’t your favorite thing in the world, mainly because you don’t like things you’re not good at– this includes sports, but mainly volleyball, drawing, knitting and mixing drinks as well– but you’d say with full confidence that making friends and talking to new people is truly the worst thing you could ever imagine. 
You notice that your seatmate finally recognised your efforts to spark up a conversation– he rewards you with a shrug of his shoulders as he not only does not look at you, but also decides to lay on the desk instead, closing his eyes as if this was the perfect time for him to catch up on his lost sleep. “Dunno,” he says, “we have plenty of time, let’s not do this right now.”
Blinking a few times at the male, you are once again struck by lightning that is his weird attitude to things. If this was how he behaved with Yunjin, you can’t blame the girl for breaking up with him– everything about the smug look on his face and the fact that he chose to take your favorite seat in the classroom makes your blood boil with annoyance. 
“W-what?” you stutter out, still not quite believing your ears. 
The man doesn’t reply to you– it’s too much effort, it seems– only making you angrier. Why did he even choose you as his partner if he didn’t want to work on the project in the first place? You’re no stranger to procrastination and leaving work for last minute, and you’re also not really a fan of the feeling of stress creeping up your back whenever you give in to the inevitable action of procrastinating; so if it comes to a project that is quite literally 70% of your grade, you would rather not do everything the week before.
Seeing that you’re getting ignored again, you put on your brave face as you fold your hands on your chest, determined to do something about the issue at hand. “Can’t you just put in some effort, man? I’d rather not do this last minute. I know that you probably don’t give a shit, but I do care about my grades, y’know,” you get out, seeing as the man next to you finally straightens his back and looks at you sharply– as if he has any right to point you with the killing look in this dark eyes– before he squints in mock agony.
“Do you really have to be such a fucking perfectionist?” he snaps at you, taking you by surprise. 
This is not how you imagined Huang Renjun to be. Looking at him over the course of the years, more often than not, you always saw the boy with a welcoming smile on his face. Whenever he was around Yunjin, he was all sweet words and gentle touches, erupting laughter whenever he was around his friends. When you were a freshman, somewhere in the back of your brain, you even envied the circle of friends he had around him, daydreaming about fitting in with them when you were lonely at lunch break. That was before you met Jimin at volleyball practice– the extracurricular you lasted in only for a week with the intention of making some friends (at least it worked) – and moved in with her in your second semester when both of your roommates decided to drop out. The girl provided you with undeniable love and care, and while you no longer desired to fit into a circle like Huang Renjun’s, talking to him now makes you feel like a child with crushed dreams.
“I’m sorry?” is all you get out as you stare at him with shock. If you were in a better mood, you would’ve searched through your brain to find a snarky remark to bite back at the boy. It’s too early in the morning and you weren’t prepared for his attitude, though, so you only opt to stare at him as he sighs in what you presume is annoyance– or defeat– as he scatters through his backpack and takes you a notebook, opening it to the first page and clicking his pen he found somewhere in the depths of his bag so he can write with it.
Too taken aback from his sudden change of mind, you wait for him to initiate any other action. You really don’t feel like getting screamed at again, so you chose to play it safe as you watch the man scribble the words Final project at the very top of the paper, underlining it two times and circling it five, the weird ritual making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
“25 pages. We split half and half, so you can come up with whatever you want. We can do the design together and I really couldn’t give less shit about who works on the cover, so if you really want to do it, you can. Good?” he says, not once looking at you as he writes the words down on the paper. 
“Amazing,” you bite back with irony, shuffling your chair closer to the table so you can take a look at his notes, “the magazine has to have a coherent theme, though, doesn’t it? If we work on the pages by ourselves and just do whatever, as you said, it’s gonna be shit.”
You chose to accommodate yourself to the pattern of his speech– a habit you always do with new people, but in this situation, what feels the most safe. Seeing the man sigh again, twirling the ballpoint pen in between his fingers, he shrugs at your point and offers you a half-assed solution.
“We can figure that out later.”
Biting back a chuckle at his comment, it’s now your turn to sigh. Why was he being so difficult? Is it really that hard to make an effort on something important, especially when he was the one who said he wanted to work with you in the first place? Shaking your head in disbelief at his actions, you lean back in your chair and take out your own notebook, set on the decision of brainstorming as much as you can, hopefully coming out with some solid ideas you could incorporate in the magazine.
You have no idea what direction Renjun would go with. You don’t know anything about his interests or hobbies, and you surely don’t know what would inspire him or what he would want to write about. And with his new change of persona, you find him even more unreadable than he’s been in the past– and you can’t say you like the way he treats you right now. It seems like his sudden metamorphosis managed to change his brain synapses as well, because this is not the idea of Huang Renjun that you knew until now.
Chewing on the end of your pencil, you take a glimpse of your seatmate. He is messily scribbling something down onto his paper, seemingly realizing that the sooner you start working on this, the better, and with how full his paper seems to be, you wonder if this project won’t be that hard to complete after all.
“We’re doing the cover together,” you mumble out, seeing as the boy tears his eyes off his paper, glaring at you instead.
Almost expecting him to snap at you again, awaiting his suggestion that you will be the one doing all the work, you’re left with an answer that satisfies you with yet another surprise. “If you really insist…”
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“Are you really sure you want to do this right now?” Jimin asks you as you put on your shoes at the door, slinging your backpack containing not only your laptop and notebooks, but also snacks just in case you get hungry. Looking at her through the hair falling into your face that you efficiently get out of the way with a poof of breath coming out of your mouth, you chuckle at her distress. The girl’s been watching you get ready for the last 15 minutes, with her robe on and bowl of guacamole in her right palm, eating up on the tortilla chips every once in a while as she squints at you with disbelief.
“Yeah, why not?” you shrug. “If he’s initiating this, I don’t see a problem. Besides, I think that if I don’t take every chance I get, I’ll end up working on the project alone, and I really don’t like that idea.”
Humming in agreement for the first time since you told your roommate that Renjun texted you if you wanted to work on the project today, Jimin motions to the phone sitting at the entryway table next to the front door. “Well, just make sure to text me if anything goes wrong and I’ll come pick you up,” she suggests, making you giggle at her noticeable worry. 
“Okay, mum,” you shake your head in disbelief, finally slugging the backpack over your shoulder and walking out of the door of your apartment. 
The truth is, you can’t really blame Jimin for her over-protective behavior. Ever since you retold her everything that happened that one time in Journalism class, she’s been wary of Huang Renjun. You would agree with all of her arguments of how much of a dick he is when acting like that, but you also don’t really think you have to put more energy into hating him at this moment, since it won’t really help you with your assignment and you don’t have any other choice. You are stuck with a grumpy project partner and that’s how the rest of your semester will go– you just have to learn how to live with his annoying remarks and snarky comments at whatever you say. Who knows, he may be in his ‘hating all women’ era, considering the breakup and all…
You can’t say you weren’t surprised when he added you on Instagram and messaged you about the project this afternoon, though. Considering that you were always the one initiating the talks about the final assignment over the course of the last few weeks, you weren’t expecting him to finally be the one reaching out. You would be stupid to not take him up on the offer, since you don’t know if it will happen ever again– who knows, he might have accidentally smashed his head into something and get a sudden revelation that is only a one time type of situation– and that’s exactly why you responded to him almost immediately (to which you admittedly, got a bit of an ick from yourself) and agreed to meet him at 6 in his apartment.
You were pleasantly surprised to learn that his place was only a 15 minute walk away from yours when he texted you the address, and after a few more minutes of scrolling through his Instagram that was private– and therefore hidden away from your eyes until now– you set yourself on the difficult journey.
Upon arriving at the apartment building, ringing the door bell and texting him to let you in just in case, so he knows it’s you, you start to feel a bit nervous, though. The truth is, you don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into as you walk into the elevator and press the button that takes you to the fourth floor– as he texted you the moment the door to the complex opened– and you think it’s safe to imagine you could be running out of that apartment at any given moment. Maybe Jimin was right and you should’ve taken at least some self-defense tools with you. You never know these days.
Once the elevator door opens and you step outside of the small space, you get prepared to take out your phone again to text him and ask which door leads to his apartment– the right or left– when you’re surprised with the sight of Huang Renjun already waiting for you in the doorway, loose sweatpants, messy hair and all, expecting your arrival.
Clearing your throat, you tightly smile at the male. “Hello.”
“Hi,” is all he responds as he moves away from the door and disappears into the apartment, seemingly thinking you're going to follow him and get inside, no questions asked. You expected at least an invitation to his premises, even a wave of his hand would be nice, you think, but you guess you can’t really have expectations that high when it comes to men– especially if the man in question is the insufferable Huang Renjun.
Taking your shoes off at the entrance– because even though your host doesn’t have good manners, you still do– the figure of Huang Renjun suddenly appears in the doorway of one of the rooms, watching you put the sneakers into a corner that seems to be designated for footwear. Looking up at him with expecting eyes, he finally breaks the awkward silence as he takes a step inside one of the rooms, calling you to go after him.
“We can work here, I guess,” he mumbles, leading you into what you presume is a living room connected to a kitchen– the place is not that big, but you are a broke university student too, so you don’t have it in you to judge. The place is surprisingly clean and adorned with multiple plants all around the corners of the room and windowsills, the only thing out of place being some dishes at the kitchen counter, waiting to be either used or put away, since they look washed. There’s a sofa in the shape of an L in the middle of it all, a TV sitting right opposite of it on a small TV stand, and when you notice an opened laptop on the coffee table, you presume that this is your work station for the day. You half expected him to invite you to his bedroom, but you guess that you can’t really complain– this feels much less awkward anyway. 
Nodding at his words, you move to the sofa and rest your backpack against the foot of it. Taking out your laptop as well, you sit crossed-legged at the soft cushions as you watch Renjun walk over to the kitchen side of the room, opening up a cupboard and taking out two glasses, bringing them to the crowded coffee table alongside with a bottle of soda. You think this is his way of welcoming you in as your guest, but you don’t have it in yourself to thank him– he’s the one being silent all the time anyway. You won’t put effort unless he does.
The boy silently takes a seat opposite of you, but chooses the carpeted floor instead of the sofa– a sight that almost makes you chuckle in amusement when he struggles to fold his legs in the small space– sighing and bringing the laptop closer to himself, rubbing a palm across his face in presumed tiredness. 
“Did you work on the ideas for the articles?” you ask, voice low, as if you were afraid to speak first, now that you’re in his space. “If they’re too different from mine, we can make like… sections… in the magazine… or something like that. But I think it would be easier if they correlated, you know.”
Renjun hums, not giving you many words this time either. He’s always difficult to work with, but today, it irritates you twice as much– maybe because you’ve gone out of your way to meet him at his apartment, when it was all his idea to work on the project today in the first place. Sighing in disappointment, the boy takes it as a hint that you expect more of him than tired hums and silent nods, and so he opens his mouth to speak, soft voice echoing through the silent apartment.
“I did,” he says, “don’t really know what you’re going for, but I have a short list.”
Satisfied with his answer, you nod. “Can I see it?”
Shrugging, he looks around for a while, eyes searching through the place as he finally finds the paper peeking out from the bottom of the coffee table– so much for the seemingly clean space– and offers the A4 format to you, scribbles in blue ink almost unreadable as you squint onto them, bringing them closer to your face. Once your eyes finally get adjusted to his handwriting, you manage to decipher a few of the words he’s written down; some of his ideas are neatly described, yet, some of them are just a simple word that barely gives you any idea of what he truly meant to say.
The difference between more thought-out ideas like ‘Karaoke songs (history, questionnaire of favorites across the campus…)’, ‘The importance of art in education’, ‘How to really use wikipedia’ and simple words like ‘campus’, ‘festivals’ and ‘soccer(?)’ almost makes you laugh out loud, but you note that the boy actually took the time of his day to work on the project like he promised you he would the last time you spoke about it in class, so you can’t really say anything mean to him, for you truly think it would hurt his pride. Nodding as you finish reading over the list, you offer the paper back to him, noticing him watching you with eyes full of undeniable expectancy.
“Satisfied?” he asks, irony seeping through his voice. 
Rolling your eyes at him– because of course he has to be annoying about everything– you choose to not play by his rules, opting to nod instead and let the tiniest bit of irritation show only through your ironic smile as you reply to him. “Very, actually.”
Seeing as he’s satisfied with himself, you choose to continue to lead this meeting with the same energy as to this moment. You think it’s the safest choice, and it’s also what he seems to be comfortable with, so you don’t beat around the bush and speak up again. “I think it won’t be that hard to combine our lists, since our ideas aren’t that different,” you note, cringing at the suggestion that you and the man in front of you actually kind of think alike, “but I think it would be nice if we chose a few topics and wrote about them together. I bet the professor would like to see some articles written by the both of us, so it shows that we actually worked on it together, don’t you think?”
“Not really,” he mumbles under his breath, taking you off guard. See, maybe you got ahead of yourself when you thought that this afternoon might go by smoothly– you forgot for a moment that Huang Renjun enjoys the idea of being a total ass to the people around him (or you, at least) these days. Huffing at his response, you furrow your brows in disbelief.
“Why not?”
“Just… don’t wanna,” he answers shortly, shrugging in nonchalance.
The sight of him in front of you, not even sharing eye contact as he points his gaze towards his laptop, makes your blood boil. What does he even think of himself? You were starting to think that Jimin was right– you should’ve rethought this interaction over and spared yourself the trouble, because this was surely not going anywhere.
“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you were clearly the one that told me we were project partners, so I don’t know why you’re being so difficult about this-” you huff, but are instantly cut off by your partner.
“I’m being difficult?”
“Yes,” you jump in, “yes you are! And I don’t get why you even invited me over to work on this, when you clearly don’t have the slightest intention to do so in the first place!” you complete, almost ready to stand up from your place on the light-brown sofa and storm out of his apartment. 
He chuckles at your outburst, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not in the mood to work on a stupid project after arguing the whole day on the phone with my cheating ex-girlfriend,” he mutters.
The moment those words come out of his mouth, it seems like the already silent apartment gets even quieter. Staring at him in dumbfoundance, the spark that ignited the anger in you suddenly dies out as you ponder on your next actions. Because what does one do when your project partner suddenly overshares possibly one of the most traumatic and heartbreaking facts about himself so casually, in between snarky comments and a petty argument? Sure, you do feel sorry for him now– because no matter how shitty a person acts to you, nobody deserves to get cheated on– and you suddenly wonder if the whole change of atmosphere in his character isn’t the direct result of this very fact. 
You can’t tell him that you’re sorry– because frankly, you know that Huang Renjun doesn’t want your pity. He doesn’t want to hear that you feel sorry for him and what happened, because you’re not friends and you’re not close enough for you to express such feelings towards him. A question arises in the very same essence, though, making you wonder why he even chose to share this information with you in the heat of the moment in the first place, and even though you could excuse his lack of motivation to work on the project by this fact, it still doesn’t change the reality that he was the one initiating the whole thing, and suddenly, you feel confused. 
He invited you over to work on a project, even though his mood was shitty and he didn’t have the motivation to do so. One would find that ridiculous, but if you really look past the sharp eyes and the bleached mess on his head, you could see the true intention behind his actions– the poor boy just wanted a distraction. And with how empty his apartment seems to be right now– his roommate, Donghyuck (a person that Jimin shares a Finance class with, as you learned this very afternoon) is nowhere to be seen– you only bet you were the last option he had instead of wallowing himself in pity and terror. 
Jimin would argue that you’re stupid for your next actions– you would even agree, because this truly doesn’t feel like you– but still, despite going against yourself in a way, you close the laptop sitting in your lap and reach over to the soda he placed in the middle of the coffee table, pouring yourself a glass. You don’t leave his apartment like you fantasized of doing just a few minutes ago; instead, after downing the sickeningly sweet liquid, the bubbles hurting your throat, you rest your back against the sofa and watch the boy in a new light.
“Okay, let’s not work on the assignment, then,” you calmly say, “wanna watch something on Netflix instead?” you ask, seeing him staring at you with confusion in his expression.
“I don’t-”
“It’s okay if you don’t have it, I can log in with my roommate’s account. She’s probably watching Single’s Inferno right now, but I’ll text her to find something better to do instead,” you don’t let him finish his sentence– because you already know that he’d try to protest to your suggestion– shrugging in nonchalance as you reach over to the TV remote you find sandwiched between the sofa cushions.
Turning the TV on, not even sparing a glance to the grumpy-looking boy sitting on the floor opposite of you, the shuffling of clothes and socked-feet on the ground lands into your ears, a figure taking the remote out of your hand when you can’t figure out how the TV works, a low mumble full of fake offendance masking the shameful, yet clear gratitude in his voice.
You don’t miss it as you look over at him with a tight-lipped smile, though, seeing the Netflix app suddenly come up on the TV, his shoulders relaxing as he settles into the cushions of the sickeningly colored sofa. 
“Of course I have Netflix, what do you think I am, poor?” he grunts.
…and the old Renjun is back.
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Arriving at class the next week, you’re finally met with less nervousness than the last few times. After interacting with Huang Renjun more and seeing him break his stone-cold demeanor in front of you as you two watched Netflix– he even made popcorn after the second episode of Unsolved mysteries you decided to watch when you saw the show in his ‘continue watching’ list and gushed about how it’s your favorite (to which he told you that you’re weird, but he’s the one binge watching it too, so you really don’t know why you’re the problem and he's not). Thankfully he doesn’t seem as smug and insufferable as he did before. It’s not like you’re suddenly best friends or anything, but you can feel the ice between you melting with every word he sends your way that isn’t laced with irony– not that there's many of them, since Huang Renjun loves his sarcasm– but it’s progress in your book.
Walking over to your usual seat in the classroom, making your backpack fall to the ground next to your desk with a soft thud, you sit at the chair and take out your things for the class when you notice something standing in the way of your notebook and pencil case in the middle of the table. 
Furrowing your brows in confusion, you move the cup of coffee out of your way, closer to your seatmate’s side. Sighing, you mumble under your breath. “Don’t you have enough space for your things on your side of the table?”
“That’s yours,” he deadpans. Gaze switching between the cup of iced americano from the coffee shop at the corner of the campus (you know it by the plastic cup with their logo on it– it's too tacky for your liking and you even gushed about it to Jimin the day the café opened) and the blonde boy next to you, confusion doesn’t seem to leave your insides as you let out an unfocused hum, showing him that you’re still not following. 
“Do you not like coffee or something?” he hisses, seemingly annoyed at your expression. If you saw yourself in the mirror, maybe you’d understand his frustration– your brows are furrowed and there's a crease in the middle of your forehead from how hard you're racking your brain to come up with answers– but now, you’re just in utter disbelief. Maybe you are a little slow– it’s only 8 in the morning, to your defense– but you really don’t remember bringing coffee to school today. Especially not an iced americano– you don’t like the bitter taste, opting to choose a sweeter drink like a caramel macchiato or the infamous pink drink that Jimin teased you for the last time you got it. So how did this strange cup of coffee end up on your table?
Looking around the space, noticing another half-empty cup of coffee on Renjun’s side of the table, the label on the plastic the same as the cup that was waiting on your side, you finally connect the dots. “Did you get that for me?”
“Yeah,” he nods, not even looking at you as he agrees, taking another sip of his coffee instead. 
Now, you do finally know where the strange cup of coffee came from. Why did Renjun buy you coffee in the first place, though, is still a mystery to you, but you guess with how he’s avoiding your gaze, eyes glued to the white board and an uninterested expression sitting on his face, you think it’s better to not ask him any other follow-up questions. He did something nice for you, and with how your thoughts and rationalization are the only clues you can use in figuring out the reason behind it, you wonder if this was his way of apologizing for being rude to you and thanking you for hanging out with him last week.
“Thanks,” you mumble out instead, smiling at his humming figure that barely acknowledges your spoken gratitude. Taking a sip of the drink, while trying really, really hard not to scowl at the bitter taste, you shift your focus on the class instead, taking notes from time to time. Drinking the coffee as if it was a disgustingly tasting medicine your mother forced you to take when you were little– you hated the taste, but had to get through it anyway– you eventually finish your iced americano somewhere in the middle of the lecture. You feel kind of proud of your acting skills, but there’s also an annoying voice somewhere in the back of your head asking you why you even forced yourself to get through that drink anyway and why is it that you didn’t want to hurt Renjun’s feelings by refusing it in the first place. 
But like anyone in your position would, you shush that voice out of your head.
“Did you finish watching the whole season last week?” you ask instead, suddenly interested in having a conversation with him. After you told Jimin about how your weird hang-out with Renjun went, she practically scolded you for not going home right after he let out the first snarky comment out of his mouth. And maybe she’s right and the whole thing you’re trying to do– but what are you even trying to do in the first place? – makes you seem like you’re out of your mind, but at the end of the day, you did finally progress in watching the TV show after putting it on hold for multiple months because your dear roommate wouldn’t stop begging you to watch all of the seasons of Too hot to handle with you instead, so it’s a win in your book.
“I didn’t,” he replies, his voice quiet enough only for you to hear, not interrupting the rest of the class, “Hyuck, my roommate, didn’t come home until like 11pm and I got too creeped out to watch it alone after you left,” he completes, his face completely serious as he utters out the laughable words.
Chuckling at his response, you see him crack a smile from the corner of your eye. The sight is a rather pleasant one, for you think you've  forgotten how it looks in what seems like ages since the obvious breakup with his girlfriend happened, the reminder of his squinted eyes and full cheeks making you feel accomplished, in a way. “Didn’t think you were the type to get scared so easily,” you tease him.
“Not scared,” he huffs out, offended, “just creeped out. That’s different.”
“Did you wait for your roommate because you were too scared to go to sleep?” you test the waters with more teasing, your tone light and playful.
“No, I waited for him because the last time he got home late and I was asleep, he came home drunk and broke down the door to his room and we had to get it replaced,” he announces, making you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand as you almost burst out into a loud giggle. 
“You know what? Yeah. Valid.”
Your conversation falls silent after that, and it makes your spirit fall for a split second. You don’t even know why you wanted it to continue– you don’t know your seatmate, and frankly, you shouldn’t have the desire to do so in the first place. But the sudden act of service thrown your way, although the coffee was disgusting and he could’ve presented the gift to you in a different, more welcoming way, made you get your hopes up– about what exactly, though? 
Jimin always told you that desperately wanting to be everyone’s friend (despite being socially awkward and kind of nervous around new people), is one of your best and worst qualities at the same time. Best, because it means that you’re nice to people– worst, because you’re nice even to people that don’t deserve your kindness; and you also get too disappointed when people don’t share the same enthusiasm with you. Maybe some friendships are meant to keep at surface level, and if this was the type of relationship you and your project partner are about to have, you’re going to have to let go of that annoying voice in your head that keeps telling you to get deeper than that level.
“Why did you dye your hair, by the way?” you ask him nonetheless, after a few heartbeats of silence, curiosity getting the best of you. The moment this question leaves your mouth, you regret it– thinking you somehow could’ve made the boy uncomfortable, your words annoying to his ears– but instead of rolling his eyes at you or telling you to shut up, he replies instead. The reaction surprises you– he really conditioned you to think that every question of yours is going to be met with spite and tantrum, didn't he?
“Dunno,” he says, shrugging, “they say blondes have more fun, so I think it’s only natural to go blonde when you’re sad. To cancel it out, or something,” he snickers as he looks at you, realizing the implication of his words makes the whole statement kind of embarrassing, his tight-lipped smile being the proof of his internal battle not to cringe at his explanation.
You understand, humming in acknowledgment. You’re just a simple woman, after all– you very well understand the urge to change your hair after a breakup. While it is a visible proof of his mental breakdown, you guess you can’t really blame him for trying to feel like there are things that are under his control; even if it’s just the color of his hair.
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Walking along Renjun, the atmosphere is thick and a little awkward. Your bag is heavy on your back and you’re slowly starting to feel a bit of an ugly sting in your bones from it; you mourn the fact that you decided to ask Renjun to walk there with you instead of having to take the bus by yourself, too afraid of getting the address wrong and getting lost along the way. You’d love any kind of transport instead of your own two legs right now, since the walk seems to be never ending and you’re pretty certain that the backs of your feet have calluses from wearing your new shoes that you got from a clearance sale from the Nike store at the corner of the town. 
Clearing your throat, you decide to spark up a conversation. It seems like you always have to be the one to initiate things when it comes to Renjun– it’s kind of ironic, though, when you think of the fact that he was the one that made you be his project partner in the first place.“Why did you wanna do the article about the shelter? I didn’t know you were an animal person,” you hum, testing the waters with a casual question. 
Looking up at you, furrowing his brows, the man offers you an indifferent shrug. “My friend Taeyong works there and he wanted to advertise the shelter a little, so I offered to take pictures for his Facebook page in exchange for me writing the article about it,” he mumbles, “he thinks that would give the shelter more exposure too, but I doubt it. Nobody’s gonna read our fake magazine anyway, it’s just an assignment…”
Humming, you kick the rocks on the pavement, a tight-lipped smile appearing on your face. Huang Renjun must do a lot for his friends, you think. You remember him taking pictures for his friend Xiaoting once– she’s an influencer (a model, if you want) and well known around the campus. When you saw his instagram username in one of the picture descriptions one day, you were surprised at the quality of those shoots (and it also led you to stalking his instagram for a bit, but that’s not the main point of this conversation). You also remember seeing him with his friends Shotaro and Yangyang in a team when it was your school’s annual Sports day (you’d argue that you’re not high schoolers anymore and this day is useless, but your classmates seem to think otherwise) trying his best, despite not really liking sports in the first place– or so you heard and seen from how badly he did in most disciplines except from running– and if that’s not a sign of him doing everything he could just to make his friends happy, you don’t know what is. So to see him doing an article about the animal shelter Taeyong works at, despite being more of a plant person himself, you’re not as surprised as you thought you’d be. He does show affection to his friends, after all– you’re just not one of them to see that side of him often.
Walking some more, you eventually end up in front of a big building painted a light tangerine color, windows decorated with pretty curtains on full display to you. Renjun chimes in like a regular, crossing multiple halls and taking sharp turns before you’re met with the image of a taller man with dark brown hair putting small, pastel colored collars on necks of a few little creatures running around the room, despair clearly written on his face.
“No! Don’t run away, oh god-”
Chuckling at the view of yet another kitten running away from his hands, you admire the fluffy little cats crawling all around the place, your heart quickly softening at the sight of them. It’s been a while since you were around animals yourself– the dog you had back home died the summer before the semester started and you weren’t really in the mood to get a new one, since you weren’t going to be around much anyway. 
When yet another kitten escapes the man’s hold, you find yourself watching Renjun as he crouches to the floor and swiftly takes one into his hands, walking closer to the man with collars in his hands, grinning to himself. “Here you go.”
“Man, the cats hate me… where did you two get here?” he shakes his head in disbelief, putting a collar onto the small cat before he pets it on its tiny head.
“Just a minute ago,” Renjun says, “is that one Poppy?” he asks, reading the name tag dangling from the little band around its head, affection filling his words.
“Now it is. I got confused when they all started running around,” he shrugs, sighing as he looks around the room, counting the last few kittens that needed their collars. His eyes soon land on you, a welcoming smile spreading on his boxy lips. “Hey! I’m Taeyong. You must be Y/N.”
“Nice to meet you,” you smile, trying to make yourself seem as nice as possible. You don’t know what Renjun told him about you, but if they were bad things, you only hope to undeceive the man with your warm attitude. 
Renjun then puts the kitten down, and while you’d expect it to run away from him and join its siblings in the corner of the room, the creature does quite the opposite– it stays by his side and lays on the ground close to him, making even Taeyong himself gasp at the image. “Wow,” he snickers, “you should start coming here every time I need to put these on them, you’re like a cat whisperer.”
While the two of them chat, you stay a little behind, not really wanting to intrude. You take off the heavy bag and take out your camera, deciding to take a few pictures of the shelter instead, so you can say you worked on the interview with him. You think it’s expected of you, since he asked you to come along despite being absolutely fully capable of doing the interview with his friend alone, so you do your work and zoom in on the two of them talking, snapping a few quick pictures. 
After a while, you take a seat on the ground– being the infamous enjoyer of sitting on the hard surface of it, earning yourself a lot of scolding screams from your mother growing up– and fully take in the interior. The walls are the same light tangerine color as the outside ones, and there’s a little enclosure in the corner of the room that would surely make Taeyong’s job much easier if only he had used it. There are bags of cat food in the other corner of the room, and while the shelter doesn’t look very modern or fancy, you think it’s kinda homey and welcoming. You bet kids would love it here– with the colorful atmosphere and the smiley worker running around catching kittens, and after a while of taking pictures of everything your eyes land on, you find your inner child healing, little by little.
The truth is, you always wanted a cat. But you were never able to get one, because your mother hates them. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you petted strays on the street and begged her to take them home, you never won this battle– so you had to settle on a dog. And don’t get me wrong, you loved your dog, but at the end of the day, you knew you were more of a cat person anyway.
Reaching forward a little, noticing the kitten waddling your way, you think of petting it– it quickly jumps out of your reach, though, too scared of your touch, and you’re left frowning, the bubble bursts at the rejection from the small ball of fluffiness.
“Taeyong?” you hear a voice of a woman call from the door, the man swiftly turning to her with brows raised in question. “They need your help with the big dogs. They keep dragging Yeri on the leash and she’s too weak to get them to their cages.”
“Oh,” the man deadpans, scratching his neck for a bit before he turns to Renjun again, escaping the room in one swift motion, “I’ll be right back!”
The room falls silent after that, no longer having the background noise of their conversation playing as you observe the animals. You feel the atmosphere growing thicker again, and as time passes by, you find yourself taking short glances at your project partner, wondering what’s on his mind. One moment, he’s crouching down and petting the cats that come his way, the other, he is gazing out of the window with a soft frown that takes over his features like a dark shadow, and you wonder when this expression really settled into his face and made itself the default, and why is it not willing to leave. Not really knowing what to say or what to do to make the boy that’s still so out of your reach feel any better, you opt for silence, even though it does get quite heavy and thick over time– and the truth is, you don’t even know why you notice yourself feeling this way so often around him, when all he’s done was give you the cold shoulder so often and then offer you an iced americano you don’t even like in the first place.
Minutes pass and the silence slowly makes your ears ring; you desperately try to find a good solution in your brain– create a script where hanging out with Renjun is easier and less nerve-wrecking– but still, there’s nothing and you’re left with the awkwardness and hesitance. Sighing when another kitten escapes your grasp, you put your hands into your lap and give up on the task, settling on just watching them instead– there was no use in you trying to pet one when all it wanted to do was run away from you.
Watching the group of fluff jumping at each other and sleeping all around the room, your focus only shifts when there’s a kitten suddenly thrusted into your point of view, its big blue eyes staring you down making you awe. You wonder how it got there in a moment of full stupidity before you look up and see your project partner, the cat magnet himself, holding the cat up to you, waiting for you to take it into your hold and pet it. Gazing at him with mouth agape in confusion, he slowly puts the cat into your lap, petting the creature when it settles, and takes a seat opposite of you all in the span of a few seconds, the action making you smile uncontrollably.
“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” he mumbles, watching as you pet the kitten in your lap, cooing at the soft fur. There’s a hint of you that desperately wants to adopt it once you finally pet the small cat, but you know that it wouldn’t be a smart idea– animals are banned at dorms and you don’t think you’d have enough energy to take care of another living creature right now anyways.
“They are,” you hum, “I always wanted one.”
“Why didn’t you get one, then?”
“My mum doesn’t like them very much,” you mumble, pouting at the small creature in your hold, as if to apologize for the words coming out of your mouth.
He hums in acknowledgement, picking up another kitten that waddles his way, putting it up on his thigh– his body now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Watching as the animal crawls up his body and tickles him with its claws, soft laughter erupts out of him, making you smile unconsciously at the boy. 
“I’m not really into animals that much,” he says, further proving your earlier claims. See– in some ways, Renjun is easy to read. Just by looking at him, you could tell he’s not a fan of sweet beverages; you can tell he enjoys black coffee– just like the one he brought you that day– and herbal teas, perfectly matching the image of him in your head that’s surrounded by plants rather than animals, just the bit of greenery you saw around the kitchen very clearly still alive and thriving making you believe you are correct in this assumption as well. One can say a lot about a person by the way they dress, and with Renjun’s casual, yet cozy attire, you can tell he dresses for himself, choosing comfort over style, but still looking effortlessly put together at the same time. You would never strike him as someone that makes spontaneous decisions, rather being more focused on a plan, so to see him dye his hair so randomly is a sign of the fact that there’s something crumbling inside of him– a sense of security, maybe a feeling of stableness– that he tries so hard to grasp. 
“They are into you, though,” you giggle when the kitten purrs at his touch, pointing at the cross-eyed creature. 
“What can I say,” he shrugs, “I guess I’m that irresistible.”
There aren’t many opportunities for you to laugh at his jokes. Mainly because he doesn’t make many, but also because you always notice them being self-deprecating, and you don’t want to support that idea in his head. At this one, though, you send him a soft chuckle and a roll your eyes, showing how you seemingly think the idea is ridiculous and his joke is corny, but deep inside knowing that you resonate with his words.
In a moment of selfishness– an indulgence you try to mask by the fact that you came here because of the assignment and this was your job in the first place– you take your camera and snap a picture of the boy in front of you, his hands holding the small kitten up in air and snickering when he sees you pointing the lens to him in order to capture him playing with the creature. You don’t know what it is that makes your heart warm up at the image that comes up on the screen shortly after, but you figure that’s a problem of future you and there’s no use in pondering about it now.
You don’t know how many minutes pass with just the two of you playing with the kittens, but when Renjun takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, you furrow your brows before he hums. “He’s taking so much time,” he says, sighing. 
All while playing with the fuzzy small balls, you didn’t even notice the time passing by so quickly. You don’t know how much time it’s been, but you assume it could be more than 35 minutes of the two of you left alone in the room, Taeyong seemingly too overwhelmed with the shelter responsibilities.
“Maybe we should go,” he offers, catching you off guard.
“Oh,” you hum, “well, maybe. But you haven’t even done an interview with him yet,” you mumble, your hands lost in the soft fur of the kitten still laying in your lap.
“I can just send him the questions to his email. Perhaps, I’m sure you’ve taken more than enough pictures of the kittens for his Facebook page,” he snickers, shrugging, “I don’t see why we should be staying here if he’s busy, we’re only putting more work on him.”
“I- I mean…” you mumble, trailing off at the end. You don’t really wanna say goodbye to the kittens, the healing in your heart not quite done yet, when the boy next to you laughs at what you presume is your emotions showing clearly on your face.
“Unless you wanna play with them more, of course. We can stay a little longer, then.”
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The autumn season slowly fades into winter, time passing by quicker than you could even grasp. The shock and surprise of having to work on the lengthy project with Renjun morphs into a feeling of ordinarity, getting used to his mood slowly shifting from reserved and irritated to a one more pleasant, full of hesitant smiles and soft words when he notices you feeling down or disappointed with yourself, and a one more close to a brother-like teasing when he watches you arrive to his apartment to work on things. One would say you hit it off, your energies matching as you slowly get to know the boy, but still, there’s a hint of something inside of you that makes you grow nervous around him whenever he is too close to your figure, your body falling limp and your brain working on overdrive. You wonder if it’s the sheer fact of simply not being fully used to his presence; while Jimin says you’re down bad for the man. She’s wrong– or at least you’re convinced that she is– and that’s why you simply think the uncertain feeling of uneasiness that settles in your bones sometimes is the effect of the fact that you never truly know what to expect when you arrive at Renjun’s place.
Some days, when you arrive, there’s a mess waiting for you in the living room, where you usually work on the project with Renjun. There are pots and pans with dried food everywhere and your partner’s hands are foaming with washing liquid when he opens the door for you, and you giggle at the sight. Other days, the apartment is full of people you don’t know and Renjun has to throw them out with a scream saying that the group was supposed to leave two hours ago, and when you come on weekends, he lets you in wearing sweatpants and bed hair, as if he spent the whole day in his sheets. Dare you say, this is your favorite version of him– his eyes are half-lidded and he moves slowly, even his remarks aren’t as harsh as they tend to get. Jimin once argued and told you that you two don’t even need to meet that often for the sake of the project– and on a weekend as well– but you’d say it adds to the value of the magazine if you two can get opinions out of each other and review each other’s writing in real time. 
Some days, his roommate is home, and that’s when you join Renjun in his room so you two get a bit of privacy (not that you’re doing anything that requires privacy. His roommate Donghyuck is just very nosy and he keeps asking you questions you don’t have the time and energy to answer). 
Today is one of these days, with his energetic roommate roaming the halls of the apartment, but this time, you two don’t hide away in the comfort of Renjun’s small, yet very organized room. Sitting in the living room of his and Hyuck’s shared apartment, your bottom meeting the carpeted floor instead of the cushions of their couch, your laptop screen darkening when you don’t work on the device for some time and it puts itself to sleep mode. The reason for said action is your attention being somewhere completely else– on Donghyuck’s figure trailing in and out of the room, each time wearing a different outfit than before.
“What about this one, Y/N? Do I look good?” he asks, posing like a model that didn’t pass an audition in any modeling agency, their dream of flashing a smile on the title pages of Vogue fading out of their sight.
You burst out laughing at the weird combination. You don’t remember Donghyuck ever being bad at fashion from the few times you've met him before he left their apartment to attend a party or go to class– you’re quite certain that his habit to always tuck in his shirts into his skinny jeans, the stylistic choice showcasing his long legs making not one, but many girls, boys and others salivate over him. But when seeing him in a tragic combination of cowboy boots and a cow-print shirt, you can’t help but giggle.
“Hyuck, now you’re just taking the shit. That’s your Halloween costume from last year,” the boy next to you on the ground whines, running his hands through his hair in despair.
“Okay, but what if I really want to wear it?” he asks all innocent, his roommate now faking a cry in response, “besides, I was asking Y/N, so you shut your mouth.”
“I think it’s great,” you nod, wiping the corner of your eyes from the stray tears that fall off from the laughter you’ve been doing at the interaction. Your assignment was long forgotten the first moment Donghyuck decided to pay you a visit in the living room, starting with shitting on his professor for making him study on a weekend (which you argued that he could’ve started with earlier in the week, to which he glared at you and asked if he looks like a nerd), and then proceeding to do everything but study– starting with making a smoothie in the living room– while efficiently making so much noise with the mixer every time Renjun spoke up, annoying the short male– to giving you a make-shift fashion show.
“Do you want me to embarrass myself? See, I wore this to test if you were being genuine, but I see now that you’re on Renjun’s side,” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief and escaping the living room, making you burst out laughing even more as you hear the door to his room shut with a loud thud.
He’ll come back soon– you’re sure of it.
And you’re right. After Renjun manages to let out a loud noise of despair at the fact that he has to live with someone like Lee Donghyuck– not only now, he complains about it every other day, when the latter drags him to parties only for him to be the designated driver for the night and get him home safely, or how he makes him pay for dinner he orders for the both of them without asking– the other man joins you in the living room again, now dressed casually in sweatpants and a loose shirt.
“Okay, the fashion show’s over. I think I’ll go with the first outfit, just by the way, because it matches my eyes,” he says, quite seriously, to which Renjun only sighs.
“Hyuck, your eyes are brown.”
“Okay and?”
“That what you wore was– you know what, never mind…” Renjun shakes his head as he stops himself mid-sentence, making you snicker at the mental image of the outfit Donghyuck’s talking about, because frankly, Renjun is right with his frustration. The shirt his roommate wore was blue, and while it didn’t clash in the slightest, it surely didn’t match the brown depth of Donghyuck’s orbs, and that’s what makes the whole thing that much funnier.
Turning your head around to watch Renjun’s roommate moving through the kitchen area, opening up the fridge and pouring himself a glass of milk– you don’t even dare to question him anymore– you ask. “What is the occasion anyway?”
“Jisung’s birthday party,” he mumbles, taking a sip, “you know Park Jisung, right?”
“Never heard of him,” you shake your head, seeing as the man widens his eyes at you with surprise.
“No? Well, you’re gonna get to know him soon, then,” he says, shrugging.
“That sounds like a threat,” you giggle, “what do you even mean?”
To that, Donghyuck shifts his eyes to his roommate sitting next to you on the ground, shrugging. “Well, I assumed you were invited…” he says, grinning to himself.
The man next to you audibly sighs– what is the reason behind his frustration this time, you truly do not know, but with Renjun, there’s always something getting on his nerves. He has a problem with having his anger in control sometimes.
Furrowing your eyebrows at the proposition, you shake your head. “Why would I be invited to Park Jisung’s birthday party?”
“Because it’s quite the event! Park Jisung’s turning into an adult, and to that, he’s throwing a big party, which means friends of friends of friends are invited,” he says, as if it was the most matter-of-fact information you’ve ever heard, “and since you’re a friend of a friend, I’d assume you get a pass.”
Shrugging, you mutter. “Well, I wasn’t invited,” you add, not paying the whole party much thought. 
The man squints his eyes at the two of you, eyes drifting from one figure to the other, humming to himself as if he was lost in thought. “Okay, then…” he mysteriously mumbles under his breath before downing the glass and putting it into the sink, completing his visit by exiting the living room.
“Would you come back and wash your dishes after yourself?” Renjun yells into the depths of the apartment, a sneaky remark being thrown his way almost immediately.
“No, thank you!”
And after watching the interaction, you come to the conclusion that if you were living with Lee Donghyuck, you'd turn kind of crazy too. You can’t even blame Renjun anymore. Truth be told, though, you didn’t get much work done that Saturday, and you think his sheer presence might be the reason why.
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“What do you think?” you ask, turning your laptop towards Renjun, the two of you currently sitting in the library, working on your project. Originally, you had planned to go to your place– but Jimin texted you last second that she has a guy over, and Renjun said his roommate has a gathering of some sort at his apartment, so you settled on the comfort and silence your university library provides. Not a lot of people are here during this time of the year; the exam season isn’t that close yet and no one’s panicking about last-minute studying, so only a few responsible students are currently scattered across the spacious room on the second floor, working on their essays. You bet they’re humanities students– they always have the most shit to do when it comes to essays. You study Journalism, but your roommate is a Sociology major, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone write as many essays as Jimin in a single semester.
What you’re showing Renjun is an opened Microsoft Publisher document, your shared magazine shining from the blue light of the screen. Renjun sent you his copy of the pages he’s done with the animal shelter interview, and as you were looking at the columns of text and off-centered pictures, the perfectionist in you woke up and forced you to fix the tiny mistakes that didn’t escape your eye.
“It’s different,” he hums, eyebrows furrowing as he examines the two-page spread, resting his head on his hand, plopped up on his elbow, and pushing his rimmed glasses further up his nose bridge. “Did you change anything?”
“I just… played around with it a little,” you mumble, afraid of what he thinks. As far as you know, he could flip out any second and scream at you for doing his work when it was perfectly fine the way he sent it to you– at least the Huang Renjun you met a few weeks ago would certainly do that– and so you don’t think it’s that unexpected of you to be so nervous about his opinion.
“This picture wasn’t here before,” he says, pointing to one of the pictures you neatly slotted into the corner of the page– it was one of your favorites, you must admit with severe embarrassment– with Renjun holding up a baby kitten, looking at it with softened eyes. When you looked at the page spread he sent you the other day, you couldn’t believe he didn’t add that picture. Something about it being your favorite– finding yourself admiring it when you look through the pictures on your camera’s SD card– was enough to make you think it’s surely his favorite as well. It didn’t matter that it didn’t really fit the professional aura the whole spread radiates. For you, the magazine wasn’t complete without including it– think of that what you will.
“It was asymmetrical without it, so I had to add it…” you say, scratching the back of your neck. That’s a partial lie– you could make it work if you moved the pictures around a little bit, but Renjun doesn’t have to know that.
He hums, eyes scanning over the text, shrugging. “It’s nice. As long as you didn’t change the text part, I don’t mind,” he says, relief making your shoulders slouch down, not even noticing how tense you’ve become, “I actually got bored while working on this, so I get that it didn’t really look nice before. Thanks,” he completes, offering you a soft smile as he takes a sip of the black americano sitting on the desk.
“Good,” you nod, shaking off the nervousness from before, “okay.”
Scrolling through the document, moving a few things around, adding better punctuation here and there, the number of pages is still not hitting the criteria for your final grade. That’s okay– you still have a lot of time to complete the magazine and you still have plenty of ideas. To execute them is another thing, but you’re sure you’ll find a way.
“What about your interview?” Renjun suddenly asks, almost making you jump up from the surprise that is created by his voice suddenly cutting through the silence of the library.
“What about it?” you hum, looking at him. His hair is a little tousled– he’s been putting in way less work than you today, laying on the table occasionally when you don’t show him anything on your laptop for a while, acting more as your company than a help. It looks like the coffee on his table is the only thing keeping him awake, and you suddenly feel a little bad for insisting on working on the project even though your initial plans of doing it at your place fell through, because he seems to be exhausted.
“Well, I did the shelter, so you should do something too,” he says, shrugging, “or do something similar, you know… I think it would be nice to have you write about something from a reporter's perspective.”
“Oh,” you nod, “well, I dunno… I had a few ideas, but it’s…”
“Hm?” he motions for you to talk when your voice drifts out, eyes looking at you with patience and genuine interest. The change of demeanor that’s been happening with him lately slightly shocks you, but you welcome the new character in him with open arms. Still, it doesn’t mean you don’t get a little hesitant around him whenever he shows you this side of him– you don’t really know how to react, or what to expect of him anymore. It’s like walking on eggshells, but you can’t say you hate the strange anticipation.
“Well, it’s stupid, but…” you start, seeing him roll his eyes at the beginning of your proposition, “my favorite writer is doing some sort of a fan sign slash q&a thing in the local library next week. She’s coming out with a new book, and I think it would be nice to get an interview with her, but she’s probably very busy and everything, so that won’t work out.”
Looking at Renjun, feeling shy of the sudden revelation of hopes and dreams, you chew on your bottom lip in anticipation. The range of answers he could give you is truly big– he could laugh at you, tell you to go alone, or he could tell you that it’s a stupid idea, a boring one, even, or he could be supportive– the least likely response, you think. Sharing your idea with him makes you a little hesitant again, feeling a little naked in front of him, and you even avert your gaze towards your laptop and aimlessly scroll through the document to avoid his gaze, to seem more nonchalant and not at all bothered by his lack of words, when he gives you a tired hum.
“Well, you could at least do an article about the library, then. To advertise sustainability, and all… And kids these days don’t read much, so I think it’s nice to talk about it,” he says, once again folding over the table and burrowing his face in the space between his folded arms and his chest, half sitting, half laying down on the furniture, “wanna go next week? Maybe we can catch that writer of yours.”
Allowing yourself to look at him, relief once again washing over you at the acceptance, you can’t help but smile at his slurred words of affirmation. “I mean, I’m down…”
Doubting you could get the interview– not even trying to reach out to the writer, already setting yourself up for the expected failure– you make plans to visit the library the said day with Renjun anyway. You’ll get your camera and maybe get some nice shots, maybe ask around for an interview from one of the nice, old librarians instead. It’s not a bad idea, and it fits the vibe of your magazine quite nicely.
Who knows, maybe you could even get your book signed. Doesn’t hurt to try.
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You think it was safe to say that you didn’t expect to see a text message pop up on the screen of your phone one afternoon, the black letters shining darkly on the bright screen with a hesitant, yet a little hurried invitation to Park Jisung’s birthday party. The whole interaction you had about it with Renjun and Hyuck was awkward, and so to see getting an invitation for yourself the day of the said event was a shocking concept, leaving you scrambling your things from various places of your apartment and putting them into a handbag before getting dressed for the occasion. 
Quickly learning that Lee Donghyuck is a man of his word– meaning that he never lies, especially when it comes to big parties– your mouth hangs open when you arrive to the address Renjun texted you in the afternoon, the big mension-like building full of people you’ve never seen before, leaving you to acknowledge that friends of friends of friends must have been invited to fill up the whole place, since it’s not possible for poor Park Jisung to know everyone at his birthday party. The fact makes you feel less special; the invitation not really making you feel like you were wanted there, the place breaking in its seams making you internalize a thought that you were there just to fill up the blank spaces and Renjun invited you only for the sheer fact of needing a lot of people for his friend’s party. A little disappointed, yet, still kind of amazed at the size of it all, you walk out of Jimin’s car– she offered to drive you there– and hesitantly set your foot to the  grass that divides the land from the sidewalk. 
Feeling a little lost, turning your head in various directions to try to find anyone you’d know– Huang Renjun being the best alternative, since he was the one who invited you, after all– you start to feel a little out of place when no one pays you any attention and the loud music filling your ears only acts as a distraction that slowly makes you oversaturated with stimulus. Just when you go to take your phone out of your bag to call either Renjun or your roommate to come back to pick you up and drive you to the safety of your apartment, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you turn around in your tracks, a strange sense of comfort enveloping your insides when you see the short blonde peeking at you from under his carelessly styled bangs, a grin sitting on his face. “You’re here!”
“Yeah. I told you I’d come…?” you mumble, observing Renjun’s sudden enthusiasm at your arrival, letting the man drag you inside of the building. 
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel all the eyes of the guests on you. While you were a stranger to all of them, you are almost certain the popular Huang Renjun was one of the more known people of the bunch, catching attention of multiple friends of his and also friends of their friends, and suddenly, the feeling of his touch on your wrist as he drags you inside makes your skin burn, your brain almost overheating when you realize this might as well be the first time you’ve had any sort of physical contact with the male. Fixing your gaze on his back, enveloped in an oversized leather jacket, you start to wonder if he’s drunk.
“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, finally turning back to you when you arrive in the spacious kitchen. You wonder if this house is rented, or if Park Jisung’s one of the wealthy kids in the town. You truly have no knowledge on the man, and when you hesitantly look around the room, trying to sort out what alcohol they have in store– while mentally thinking of what would make you the least hammered, considering your low alcohol tolerance– you feel Renjun’s eyes glued to you, heat inevitably rising to your cheeks. “What’s that in your hand?” he asks, making you jump out of your haze.
“Oh,” you stutter, “I brought a birthday gift for Jisung,” you mumble, seeing Renjun’s glossy eyes blink at you a few times, his lips suddenly twitching up in amusement. In this moment, you think he truly must be drunk, his fingers reaching towards the gift bag in your left hand as he peeks inside, noticing the handwritten card and a box of chocolates you brought to the boy you’ve never seen before. Your project partner cracks up as he puts the bag away to the corner of the room.
“You’re too sweet for this world,” Renjun giggles as he looks back at you, making you widen your eyes in surprise at the affectionate words falling off his tongue.
“Why?”
“Nobody actually expected you to bring a gift, you know,” he says as he walks through the half-empty kitchen, eyes roaming over the solo cups filled with alcohol, “you don’t even know him. Half the people here don’t know him and I’m pretty sure half of his actual friend group didn’t give him anything.”
“Oh,” you blink, suddenly feeling stupid. “Well, I didn’t want to seem rude…” you sheepishly mumble, scratching the back of your neck in hesitance. Maybe you did go a little overboard– nobody can really blame you, though. You’re not a big party goer, and since it’s someone’s birthday, you only assumed it’s socially expected of you to bring a gift. And it’s Renjun’s friend, on top of that– one would say you wanted to give off a good impression, as his plus-one to the party, whatever that means. If you were considered that, to be exact– with the amount of people here, though, you were starting to feel a little lost in the situation.
“See, you’re too sweet,” he says, shrugging,  eyes still fixated on the kitchen counter as he seemingly searches for a specific drink. Arm motioning towards one of the red solo cups, he suddenly turns to you and offers you the contents, smiling. “He loves chocolate, though, so that gift’s gonna be his favorite. Well, if it even gets to him in this whole mess… rum and coke?” he asks, and without much thought, you eagerly take the cup from his hand, nodding.
“Thanks,” you say, tasting the alcohol on your tongue. You don’t tell him that rum and coke is your biggest enemy– not because it tastes bad, quite the opposite, actually. You enjoy the mixture too much for you to control yourself sometimes. You can only pray that you don’t get too loose tonight.
The man’s eyes stay strangely glued to your figure as you sip from the cup, and you almost open your mouth to tease him about it– or ask if there’s something on your face, either or– when there’s a chant coming out of one of the rooms outside, incoherent screams slowly forming into one recognisable word– a name, to be exact– the voices calling Park Jisung, tonight’s birthday boy. Renjun’s eyes widen at that, his body moving fast as he tugs you by your hand again, almost spilling your drink in the process, your figure suddenly standing in a living room seemingly bigger than your whole apartment, the sight in front of you making you laugh.
A tall, lanky boy is thrown up in the air by the arms of multiple men– one of which you recognise to be Hyuck– as the whole room chants Jisung's name, the sight  a little comedic in your eyes. Rose tint settles on Park Jisung's face as the whistling only gets louder, a few phones with the flash turned on pointed to his face, the moment captured in time. You wonder what the boy did in his life to get this amount of popularity, but you can only imagine that, as one would say, this could very well be a core memory for him. You only turn adult once in your life, and for some reason, the thought of Park Jisung doing so surrounded by his friends that threw him perhaps the biggest birthday party in the history of your university campus, you get a little emotional for him. Maybe Renjun was right with you being too sweet for this world– in this moment, though, you think you’re too soft instead.
After a while, the men get tired of holding up his weight and the boy slowly comes down from the high, the hollering getting more quiet as it turns into the birthday song, making you join in with the singing. The thought of being an outcast, just a random person in the crowd slowly seeps away when you feel included in the moment, worry leaving you as you watch Donghyuck– the biggest hype man of his friends, or so it seems– shake the birthday boy vigorously by his shoulders before he lets go and plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek, which leads to the two of them chasing each other around the crowded place.
Watching the whole scene unfold right in front of your eyes, you find yourself gazing at Renjun from the corner of your eye, the bright grin on his face making your heart squeeze in a weird way. He seems so happy in this moment, dragging you from room to room excitedly as if he was a regular in this place, the joy of celebrating his friend making his flushed face glow in a healthy way. You got used to seeing his face clouded in a shadow; the worried crease in between his eyebrows and the darkness under his eyes regular visitors in his expression, so to see him seep in the ugly orange lights of the luxurious house tugs at your heartstrings in a way you choose to not recognize or name. 
“Y/N!” you hear your name screamed from somewhere in the room, making you tear your eyes away from the man standing by your side. Looking at the source of the yell, you find Lee Donghyuck striding towards you with his long legs, the action almost threatening, yet, his face beams in an excited aura.
“Hyuck!”
“You came!” he yells back in the same energy as last time, although his body is now only a few steps away from you, making you giggle. You recognise his outfit to be one of the multiple he showed you back at their apartment before he started acting all silly, the memory making you laugh in fondness.
“I did!” you nod, “I got invited,” you say, voice almost sounding proud of the achievement. 
“Yeah, I know,” he says as his eyes drift from you to Renjun, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively before he earns himself a punch to the shoulder from his roommate, a sharp, over-exaggerated scowl escaping his lips at the motion. “Come meet Jisung!” he quickly switches up the topic, dragging you along with himself like a rag doll in an instance. He must be drunk; you think. 
You wonder why you keep being dragged around the house– maybe it’s a sign that you’re too weak and should probably start working out more so you can stand your ground. Nonetheless, you follow the man as you look around, as if to apologize to Renjun for leaving him, when you see the blonde following you to the small group in the corner of the living room, recognising them to be the ones holding up Jisung just a few minutes prior. 
“Jisung! This is Y/N!” Donghyuck utters out as soon as you get to the small gathering, all eyes suddenly glued to you. You wouldn’t say it made you feel comfortable or even invited– quite the opposite, to be honest– but the man that was addressed cutely turns to you, a shy smile plastered on his face when he greets you.
“Ah! Hello!”
You doubt Park Jisung even knows who you are. You doubt any of these people do– with how they’re looking at you in examination, but you still bite through it as you force a smile on your face. “Happy birthday,” you say to him, earning yourself a bright smile from the recipient.
“Thanks!” he beams. “You’re Renjun hyung’s friend, right?” he asks  in response, almost making you choke on your spit in surprise at the fact that the boy knows who you are, which leads you to believe that you were talked about in this circle before.
“Sort of,” you nod, forcing out a giggle.
“Sort of?” the annoyed voice of Huang Renjun himself fills your ears from your right, making you jump up at the proximity of him that you weren’t aware of before, the mock offense on his face making you giggle when you think of the remorse he treated you with when you first met. He looked like he never wanted to speak to you in his life, and now he’s acting offended at you not fully calling him your friend? Yes, you did that to spite him– because if you weren’t friends, you truly don’t know what you were even doing here in the first place– but you still think the whole thing is a little ironic. “You’re at our house at least once a week and we’re not friends in your eyes?” 
“Well, that’s only because I have to,” you argue, when the man only shakes his head at you in disbelief.
“Okay, you’re not allowed to eat our snacks when you come over anymore,” he says, shrugging in nonchalance. Laughing, you find yourself looking over the group you’re standing with, the discomfort slowly fading away when you engage in conversation with Renjun. You catch a few names you can’t really place to their respective faces– mainly because Jisung was the only one formally introduced to you– when you notice a girl staring at you in examination, her figure not noticed by you before. 
The longer you stare at her, the longer you start to recognise her, and before you let panic overtake you– in all honesty, you don’t even know why you’d panic at this fact– you realize it’s none other than Huh Yunjin, your friend’s ‘cheating ex-girlfriend’ looking at you with something resembling spite in her eyes, her jaw clenched and her look glazing from your outfit to your face, as if mentally scoring you on your attractiveness, judging every detail of your body, all while a tall boy hugs her to his side– whom you presume is her new boyfriend.
He looks nothing like Renjun– he is quite the opposite, if you really think about it– and even though you tear your eyes away from her figure, your brain still screams at you with arguments that you look nothing like her; even though it shouldn’t really matter. You’re not Huang Renjun’s new girlfriend– not even the object of his desire, or the new girl by his side– you’re just his project partner, a classmate he’s grown to calling a friend, but still, you can’t help but notice her radiating beauty, the outshining features on her face and the charismatic aura she radiates– the polar opposite to everything you’d describe yourself as; and the comfort you felt while talking with Renjun’s friends is suddenly swept under the carpet, long forgotten when you still feel her eyes burning through your skull, her gaze making you like an intruder, someone who’s not supposed to be here, someone who doesn’t belong. 
And to make things even worse, you suddenly feel Renjun’s hand around your waist, and when your eyes lock with his you swear you see a hint of understatement in them, something that lets you know that he’s aware of his ex girlfriend’s burning stare; his protective side kicking in, yet still making you question the matter even more.
You bet he did it to soothe you. You can even clearly read his intentions in the warm smile he sends you when he squeezes your side, hugging you closer to himself, but the more you’re aware of his burning palm on your flesh, the more uncertain you become, the less engaged in the conversation you get, and the more uncomfortable you feel under the orange lights of the living room.
“Wanna go outside? I’m pretty sure they have a karaoke machine there, if you wanna play,” you feel Renjun whisper into your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, the hint of vodka in it supporting your earlier claims and that he was at least a little tipsy after all. 
Nonetheless, you nod and find him leading you outside, not before you turn around to look at Yunjin for one last time, though, seeing clear jealousy shading her expression; making you wonder if you were invited just because she was too, and if you just fulfilled your designated role for the night.
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“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, looking at your companion as the two of you sit on the stairs outside of the university building, your bags carelessly placed at your feet. It’s getting quite dark out, the winter days still being insanely short even though it’s the middle of February and spring is slowly approaching the town. The two of you had worked on your assignment in the library before Renjun told you that he has to wait for his friends Jeno and Donghyuck to pick him up, since they are meeting up with their friends from high school, their friend group living out of town requiring the two of them to take a drive there.
“Of course not,” Renjun shakes his head, “I offered to drop you off, so why would I mind?” 
“What about your friends–”
“If they have anything against it, I’ll make sure to choke them, so don’t worry about that,” Renjun softly laughs at his own joke, trying to ease you. Still, there’s something inside of you that makes the atmosphere heavy and thick, having you crack your knuckles as you sit in silence, chewing on your bottom lip from nerves.
“What’s up? You’ve been acting weird lately,” Renjun hums, looking at you from his place on your left. 
You tried hard to mask your hesitance, especially because you think the worries inside of you are stupid, but you can’t help but feel a hint of discomfort whenever you think of Jisung’s birthday party. Sure, you had a great time– his friends were nice to you, Hyuck even dramatically sang a song at the karaoke with you when Renjun got tired, the two of you taking shots together when you were done. You danced with Renjun after, the music keeping you close, and when you got tired, he walked you home. Everything felt normal between you– except from the weird closeness and occasional touches he sent your way– but you presume that was the effect of alcohol, so you didn’t ponder on it that much.
The eyes of his ex girlfriend on you the whole evening is what made you feel a bit itsy about the situation, and even though there was no hint that would further prove your previous claims, you can’t help but think about Huh Yunjin from time to time, and that’s what makes you feel at least a bit awkward about the whole thing.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” you say, trying to play it off.
“Come on,” Renjun sighs, “tell me. Is it something I did?”
Shaking your head, you roll your eyes at his insisting. The shift in dynamic is ironical, to say the least– 4 months ago, he wouldn’t care about what was making you feel so down, he wouldn’t even care about you walking home from university alone in the darkness of the evening hours, but now, the crease between his brows almost makes him look worried about you, and you can’t say you hate it– even though in this moment, you’d rather have him not care at all.
“Okay, so I’ll just play a guessing game, then,” he scoffs, humming, lost in thought. “You’ve been weird since the party. Something happened there?” 
“No,” you disagree, tone of voice almost sounding desperate and harrowing, not really wanting him to keep asking about the reasoning behind your mood.
“Okay, so that’s a yes. Did someone make you feel uncomfortable? Do I need to beat somebody up? Oh god, was it Hyuck? That fucker said something to you, right? I’m gonna lock him out of the apartment, I swear to god–”
“It wasn’t Hyuck,” you giggle at his outrage, deciding to save his roommate’s life.
“It wasn’t?” he asks, seemingly genuinely surprised, expecting his devilish roommate to be the reason behind all the bad things in the world. “Okay, so it must have been me, no? What did I do?” 
Sighing and shaking your head in disbelief at his insistence, you grunt. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jun, can you just stop asking?” you say, the nickname rolling of your tongue automatically, without much thinking. 
There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. It does nothing to help you relax or feel better about the situation, but at least you think Renjun finally dropped the topic and won’t ask you about it again. You’d rather have the ground swallow you whole than to admit what’s been bugging you, especially when it’s Renjun himself you’re talking to about the matter.
You were, once again, wrong in your assumptions. Renjun did not drop the topic– no, he just took his sweet time to hit the nail on the head.
“Was it because of Yunjin?” 
The question opens a pit in your stomach, the embarrassment creeping out of your body and making you heat up not helping your case. Hands clammy as you shake your head and gesture, trying to prove your disagreement with the question to the best of your abilities– but only making yourself look stupid and like you’re trying too hard– your words come out weirdly high-pitched, only further proving Renjun’s point.
“No, it– it’s not that, I– I–”
Renjun scoffs at you, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Did she– did she make you feel uncomfortable? I know she’s been staring a lot the whole evening, I’m sorry about that…”
His words do a little to comfort you. You wouldn’t say you were perfectly fine with the fact that he knows that it was his ex girlfriend that’s been on your mind the past few days– because you two aren’t dating, and realistically, this shouldn’t matter to you– but his understanding eyes bearing into yours make you calm down a little when you sigh and avert your gaze, chewing on the inside of your cheek before you speak back up again.
“It’s okay,” you hum, “I– It was expected, I guess?”
Renjun hums, eyes focusing somewhere into the unknown. Picking at the skin on your cuticles, you think the conversation is over and you’ve done a good job at playing it off, half of your worries now soothed, but Renjun is a man full of surprises, it seems, when he looks at you again, licking his lips in hesitance.
“But that’s not all, is it?” he asks, but he gets no answer from you. It doesn’t matter– your silence is enough of a conformation. “Look, I didn’t… I didn’t invite you to make her jealous, or anything, if that’s what’s running through that brain of yours, okay? I didn’t even know she would be there.”
Blinking a few times at him, not expecting him to read you so well, you let out the breath you didn’t even know you’ve been holding, nodding at his reassuring words. “Oh…”
“I invited you because I thought you’d have fun… and because I kind of wanted you there. And so did Hyuck, actually, he thinks you’re his platonic soulmate, or something–” the man rambles, explaining his intentions to you, the frantic words coming out of his mouth making you giggle. Relief washes over his face at that, noticing the ease in the atmosphere, his hand gently squeezing your knee when your laughs get quiet. “Everything’s good now?”
“Yeah,” you nod, “thanks. It was silly, but– you know,” you shrug, awkwardly grinning to yourself.
“Yeah,” he sighs out, looking back in front of him, the moment of silent sincerity between the two of you having him open up to you, “it wasn’t like that. me and her… it wasn’t quite the same for a while, you know? Like, I knew it was over before it really happened, but nonetheless, I didn’t expect her to… to do what she did to end it.”
You hum, not really knowing what words you could offer him to console him. Not really wanting to ask any more questions, you wait for him to talk by himself, to assure you’re not insensitive or prying too much. You’ll let him tell you how much he wants, and you’ll silently thank him for the trust he has in you when holding up his feelings to you on a silver platter, naked and vulnerable for you to see and examine. 
“It’s like… I wanted to end it, but not with her cheating on me. That– that hurt more than the actual break up, I think. And maybe it shouldn’t matter, because I wasn’t in love with her anymore anyway, but it still… left a scar, I think,” he hums, and by the way he plays with his fingers in his lap, you can tell he didn’t expect himself to open up to you like this– maybe this is the first time he’s even sharing this with anyone, and the urge to protect him and his heart is suddenly stronger than ever before, even though it’s been somewhere there, deep inside of you, all along.
“That’s valid,” you say, “nobody deserves that to happen to them, no matter how your relationship looked at the time. You were still together, and she shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble, hoping to provide comfort to him, but also hoping your words aren’t unwelcome at this very moment.
The blonde looks at you, an appreciative smile appearing on his face. “Thanks,” he says. There’s nothing to thank you for, you think, but perhaps those are the words he needed to hear for a while now. Perhaps your sentences just mended something in him, perhaps you were the voice that finally made him admit that what he’s been feeling about the situation wasn’t stupid or irrational.
In a moment of weakness, a selfish masochism, even, you let out a prying sentence slip out of your lips– a sentence that could hurt you, have you not been prepared for the outcome. And maybe you were going too far, maybe you should’ve stayed quiet, but you can’t turn back time and the words were already spoken. “Do you ever miss her?” 
Renjun thinks for a while– a heartbeat of a second that makes you feel like you’re falling into a deep abyss– before he shakes his head. “Not really. Not her, I don’t miss her. I think that sometimes, I just miss what we had, but… that’s long gone.”
Humming indifferently, you accept his response in a quiet solace. 
You don’t know where this conversation brings you, but you bet it’s a step in some direction.
After a while, with Renjun’s head soundly resting on your shoulder when the silence gets too long, yet a comforting aura still shades the two of you sitting at the stairs, there’s a black Ford Fiesta honking at the parking lot, the two of you jumping to your feet. The boy drags you to the backseat, your bags hitting the floor of the vehicle, as Jeno looks back at you from the front, smiling at you with moon crescents in his eyes.
“Hello!”
“Hi,” you breathe out.
“Is Y/N tagging along?” Hyuck gasps from the passenger’s seat, turning towards you two, a face of a pleasant surprise written all over his face. You know what, maybe Renjun was right and you and his roommate are platonic soulmates of some sort. Or at least that’s how Lee Donghyuck’s been acting ever since the day he met you.
“I’m not,” you giggle, shaking your head in disapproval.
“Jeno, can you drop Y/N off at her apartment?” Renjun hums, and suddenly, the previous worries leave you as soon as the tall man nods and tells you to navigate him to your place. There was no reason why you’d be rejected by Renjun’s friends– for more reasons than one, you just aren’t aware of them yet.
The ride to your apartment is filled with laughter. Squinting at your project partner sitting next to you at the back of the car, you notice that he’s glowing brightly in the reflections of the lampposts shining through the windows of the car, a stolen galaxy swirling in his eyes when your eyes meet when you pay your goodbyes to the guys while getting off at your driveway a few minutes later.
And it’s quite funny. You don’t even live that far.
Clapping when your favorite writer completes the little interactive Q&A at the local library on a Monday afternoon– all throughout you didn’t have any courage to ask any questions yourself, even though you had plenty– you stand up from your place at one of the little, lanky folding chairs in the back of the room and smooth your hands over the skirt of your dress, getting the creases out. You’ve learned a lot about the author today– all from how she started writing, what inspired her to write your most favorite novel, and where she finds her inspiration for writing. You have a lot of information, yet, you still bet you could master more questions, if you were to do an interview with her– you wouldn’t even have to try as hard. 
Reading is one of your passions, it’s something that brought you to the love you have for writing, and although you didn’t stick with fiction for long, finding that the world building and creating plot and characters got boring for you after a while, you found your love for writing shining through when you type articles; making sure your headlines are captivating, that your articles are well-structured and bring something new to the table. It’s a completely different branch– some would say a less creative one– but it’s undeniable that the love for it started in you when you first started reading books, when you were little, in the quiet and comfort of your room.
Glancing back at Renjun, the boy follows you like a lost puppy (you bet it’s his first time at the library, despite him owning quite a few books himself– you noticed so while examining his room one time and found classics in his bookshelf), he offers you a soft smile, nudging you to keep walking. There’s a line forming towards the head of the room, where the writer is still sitting, numbers of passionate readers and fans of her work waiting to get their books signed. There’s a little stand in the middle of the far right wall, containing numerous books written by the person currently sitting in the same room, breathing the same air as you two, and you don’t hesitate to buy the latest one, the one you haven’t had the chance to read yet, with the intention of getting it signed.
“Which one’s your favorite?” Renjun asks, standing close to you and pointing towards the stacks of books on the stand.
“That one,” you hum, bringing his attention to the paperback cover at the very corner of the stand, watching as the man takes it into his hands and flips it over, reading through the summary. He looks like one of those Pinterest boards you’d title ‘Dark academia’ with a series of emojis that fit the ‘aesthetic’, with his plaid coat layered on top of a knitted, light brown sweater, the blonde fringe slightly falling into his eyes. 
“I’ll get this one, then,” he looks at one of the ladies behind the stand, smiling at her as he gets his wallet out.
“Don’t you want the latest one?”
“Nah,” he shrugs, smiling at the lady once again when the book is back in his hold, paid for and now in his ownership. His eyes are back at you when he offers you the explanation. “You said you liked this one, so I wanna try it. And you don’t know if the latest one is any good, so at least I’ve heard a good review on this one and don’t have to be afraid of buying a shitty book,” he snickers, making you roll your eyes at the tone of his voice, but still, there’s a little man in your brain screaming at the top of his lungs– screeching, even– at the action, the gears in your brain turning faster and faster as you let yourself indulge and overthink his words. He bought it because it’s your favorite– so he said– and in a split second of delusion, it doesn’t matter to you if it was just because he wanted to be sure the book is good, or if it was just him wanting to read your favorite book as a way of learning more about you.
“As if any of her books could be bad,” you mumble, moving slowly through the line. You’re the last ones waiting for the autograph, and while there’s still a lot of people in front of you, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at the promise of an interaction with the author.
“Well, you can never really know. Everyone has bad days.”
Snickering at his argument, you shake your head in disbelief and move a few steps forward again. You’ve taken a few photographs of the library while you were sitting and listening to the talk; a few of the author– to capture the nice memory– and some of the interior as well, showcasing the numerous shelves filled with books of different genres that the library provides. Still, you take the camera into your hands again, taking a few more– you were sure to get permission from the smiley and welcoming librarians when you arrived– trying to capture the atmosphere and the heartwarming aura of it all. A little selfishly, for your own memory, you turn to your companion and point the lens towards him, seeing as he poses with the book, acting a little silly when you take the picture, and when he breaks into an amused grin after, you take another one– a moment captured in time, his toothy laugh on full display. When you look at the picture again, your heart warms up a little at the image. Maybe you could get it printed out and add it to your memory book alongside the pictures you have from your first university parties and moving into the new apartment with Jimin– just so you have something to look back to.
Soon enough, you reach the front of the room, your bodies only a few steps away from the author. When the last guests in front of you leave, paying their goodbyes, you take a step forward with a little sigh, trying to encourage yourself and also calm down the erratic beating of your heart, ready to face the idol you’ve been looking up to since you were 11. With Renjun on your side, you put on your most picture-worthy smile, clammy hands offering the book to the writer when you reach the long table, choking on your words.
“Hello,” you greet, not really knowing what to say. You would be lying if you said you didn’t rehearse this in your brain seventy different times ever since you talked with Renjun about going to the library last week, trying to make up the perfect scenario and find the best words to use when you finally meet her, but in this very moment, the whole script flies through the window and you’re left silent and hesitant, heat rising to your cheeks when you can’t seem to find the right words to say.
“Hello,” you hear Renjun greet shortly after you, bumping into you a little with his hip when he stumbles to the table, seemingly more calm than you, trying to save the day, “my name’s Huang Renjun,” he says, and you want to kick him in his shin– because who even does that? Who tells their full name to a stranger, an author he’s never heard of before actually attending this meet and greet, acting as if he was an old friend of hers, meeting the famous writer after a long time? You almost thought he’d save you from the embarrassment and lead the way, from the way he approached her, but after hearing those words come out of his mouth, you almost go to scold him for his behavior.
To your surprise, though, the writer’s eyes widen in what seems to be realization, nodding to herself. “So you must be Y/N!” she says, looking back at you, a welcoming smile appearing on her lips. 
“I- I-” you stutter, suddenly feeling really confused. Is this a dream? Are you asleep? Or is your favorite writer suddenly a psychic too? What are you missing?
“Yeah! She’s just a little nervous right now,” he grins, taking a short look at you before he turns back to the author, “so… I take it as you haven’t changed your mind about the interview?”
“Not at all! I’m actually really happy to hear that students are taking interest in my writing and that they want to interview me,” she says, quickly signing your books on the front pages, offering them back to you, “I usually don’t give interviews just to anyone– you know, it would get a little too busy if I did that– but your passion really caught my attention.It reminds me of myself when I was your age… Just give me a few seconds, I have a phone call to make right now, but after I’m done, I’m all yours!” 
“Of course!” Renjun nods, watching as the author stands up from the table and disappears in one of the back rooms, seemingly to take care of the call. Turning back to you, still finding you dumbfounded from the interaction, he can’t help but let out an amused laugh. “Are you okay over there?”
“I- What-” you stutter, shaking your head as if to make your brain reboot, dragging your hand through your hair to get it out of your face, “how did you even manage to- she doesn’t even-” you fail to create coherent sentences, shock and surprise overshadowing your otherwise good choice of vocabulary, confusion spreading over your face like a shadow.
“I have my ways,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as if this was the easiest thing to accomplish, once again breaking into a grin when he sees your stoic face, “maybe try to smile a little? She might think you’re terrified of her if you keep frowning like that.”
“I am,” you mumble, still not quite comprehending the situation.
Rolling his eyes at you, he snickers. “Come on,” he says, “I bet you have plenty of questions for her up in that brain of yours,” he points to the middle of your forehead, shaking his head at your frozen figure.
“I do, but-” you mumble, catching yourself mid-sentence, “how did you even-” the words stream out your mouth, a puzzled expression not leaving your face.
“You can thank me later. Now focus on your job,” he says, turning you by your shoulders and pushing you a little towards the author that has now emerged out of the back room, a welcoming glint in her eye when her eyes land at the two aspiring journalists.
On that Monday afternoon, with sweaty palms and tongue-tied as you stutter out the curious questions, making an interview for your imaginary magazine, you learn that contrary to the popular demand, Huang Renjun is quite full of surprises. 
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The longer you know Renjun, the more you hang out without the purpose of working on your assignment together. Truth be told, you started working on it pretty early into the semester, and while others were now aimlessly pulling all nighters to complete the magazine, you and Renjun were pretty much done with it already by now, since you forced the man to start working on it as soon as it was possible. He didn’t say it out loud, but you can tell he was thankful for that– it would kill the both of you if you had to focus on the project now, when exam season is slowly, but surely in reach and you’ll have to start studying soon.
It was a little awkward at first– you still remember the first time you watched Netflix with him in the silence of his apartment, with his mood very apparently below zero– starting with the two of you taking breaks in between working on your assignment, talking about the latest episodes of the anime you two have, coincidentally, chosen to watch at the same time; later progressing into full on sessions of gossip with his roommate Donghyuck joining the two of you at the comfortable couch. You’d say your friendship started a little this way, with you and Renjun running to the convenience store when you ran out of snacks in the middle of your study sessions and the two of you randomly laughing at something in your Journalism class, earning yourself scolding looks from the professor. It was unexpected, but you grew familiar with the antics, flowing through the days together, filling the boring days with texts full of TikTok links and Donghyuck sending you random pictures of your project partner all zoomed in on Snapchat. You even invited Renjun over a few times, Jimin accepting the new man in the comfort of your home when she realized he’s not as bad as he used to be before, as you ate up all of your snacks this time around instead, having impromptu karaoke sessions in your room, trying to quiz each other on the lyrics of your top tracks of the last year on Spotify. 
Everything felt casual, growing more in tune with the man he was, learning his antics and all about his character. You quickly learned that when he’s feeling down, he gets a little snappy– a bad habit you made him recognise and try to eliminate, at least when you’re around. You found out that when he’s nervous, he bites his nails, and you choose to slap his palms from the proximity of his lips whenever you catch him in the act. When he’s annoyed– much like when you prevent him from the action of gnawing at his fingernails until the skin around them  bleeds– he rolls his eyes and sighs, sometimes even shakes his head at you in disapproval. He looks adorable while doing so, but to save both of you the embarrassment, you’d never tell him out loud.
And you’d even dare to say he learns about you too. He’s an observing individual, and you’d even argue that he cares about you at least a little. For one, he’s not rude towards you anymore, the way he was when you two first started talking, and also, he shows his affection towards you in the most Renjun ways possible. He’d argue that he’s not good with words, but he’s always there to affirm you with them in his true love language whenever you’re stressed or overwhelmed with responsibilities. He also remembers your favorite drinks and snacks, opting to save them for you whenever you come by his place, and even slipping some into your bag before you leave his apartment. He’s a caring individual, a big hearted man, delicate in all directions.
You believe it’s impossible not to fall for him at least a little. Not when you really know him– the way you do, from up close, in his most joyful moments and the ones where he tries to battle you away when the ghosts in his brain try to make him shelter himself away from everyone too.
But you wouldn’t tell him that. Never in a thousand years.
“I hate all this fucking snow,” you tell him instead, when you walk by his side with your groceries in hand, the tips of your fingers brittled from the cold. “Why is it even snowing in the first place, it’s the end of February, for fuck’s sake!” 
The two of you decided to go for a grocery run together, and while some would say it’s not a fun activity to do, you think you like experiencing mundane things with your close ones the most. If you enjoy someone’s company, you truly do not care what you do together– you always go pick up packages from the post with Jimin, or drive your little sibling to the store when you’re back home, even though the action itself doesn’t provide you any conventionally ‘fun’ experiences, most of these are a fond memory in your brain, because you got to spend time with someone you love. It’s the same right now– even though it’s snowing heavily and you can’t feel your feet from the cold– you went to buy groceries with Renjun when he texted you about it, realizing you could buy some things you ran out of as well, opting to walk there together.
“I thought you liked winter?” he snickers, seeing your grumpy expression. 
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you said you hated summer,” he says, matter of factly, making you giggle to mask the warmth spreading on your insides from the knowledge that he remembers the random fact you once told him when you were working on your project together.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like winter either,” you say, shrugging.
“Do you even like anything?”
“No,” you shake your head, totally serious before you burst into laughter, “kidding. I like spring,” you smile at him, eloquently, shuffling your legs along the snowed-in ground, moving closer to the campus, near to where you both live.
“I like spring too, actually.”
“Because your birthday’s in spring?” you snicker, teasing him.
“Maybe,” he admits, laughing with you. “No, but I think spring’s neat for a number of reasons. It always feels… like a new beginning, perhaps? After months of silence, you can finally hear the chirping of birds in the morning, and the sun sets later too, so the days feel longer…” he says, and you find yourself observing him, admiring the love he has for the season.
“Exactly,” you nod, pointing your gaze towards the ground when you notice that he caught you staring, embarrassment creeping up your back before you shudder from the cold, heavy snowflakes falling on top of your head, drenching your freshly washed locks and making your cheeks burn with cold. You can’t remember the last time it snowed so hard– you were in for a couple of warm winters for the last couple of years– and as much as you hate to admit it because of your noticeable aversion towards winter, you must say it looks quite magical.
“Look, I know you hate winter, but you do have windows in your flat, right?” he jokes, making you roll your eyes at the nagging you know you’re about to hear. “Maybe look out of them before you go out, so you could dress for the weather the next time.”
“Very funny,” you snicker, “I’ll let you know, it wasn’t snowing when I was getting ready.”
“Okay then, maybe start using the weather app. It’s great if you want to know how cold it really is outside, and you’re quite good with technology, so maybe you could-”
“Oh, fuck off,” you snap, but feel yourself grinning at the teasing.
The man lets out a sigh– a habit of frustration he does a lot whenever you’re around– before you feel him tugging something onto the top of your head, your ears suddenly shielded by soft fabric. Looking up at your companion in shock, you notice that the beanie that had been sitting on his head until now is covering yours instead; and although you appreciate the gesture with a giddy clench on your insides, you find yourself protesting.
“Jun! You’ll get cold,” you pout.
“Okay, but so will you, and as far as I’m concerned, I have more layers on than you right now, so you need it more than me,” he shrugs, all nonchalant, making you hesitantly smile at him and shut up, keeping the warm wool over your head. 
Next time, you’ll look at the weather app to save your heart some trouble. 
Or maybe you won’t.
Walking closer to your apartment complex, naturally accepting the fact that Renjun decided to walk you home– or just hasn’t realized he’s doing so yet– you fall into comfortable conversation, mostly consisting of you complaining and Renjun finding your tangent amusing.
“My groceries will get all wet! Fucking hell, Renjun…”
“I didn’t force you to come,” he laughs.
“Well, but you have the weather app, as opposed to me, so maybe you could’ve predicted the fact that it was going to snow soon,” you pout, shaking your head in disbelief. 
“And if I did?” 
“Then why’d you drag me out?” you huff, nearing the steps that lead up towards the front door of your building, being careful not to slip on them as you stand on the first one, towering above the man that takes his position opposite of you while you say your goodbyes. 
“Okay, next time get your groceries alone, if you’re just gonna complain the whole way,” he giggles at your fake offendance, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Snowflakes settle on the tops of his cheekbones, the rosy tint in his face taking your breath away, something in his eyes captivating you and hypnotizing you into doing things you would’ve never dared to do as you reach out towards his hair, now wet from the snow that manages to melt away on his body, brushing your hand through the locks.
“It’s gotten so long,” you muse, “the blonde’s all grown out now.”
He hums, the eye contact making you heat up despite the coldness that’s been trying to seep into your bones. “Maybe I should dye it back to black, then.”
Grinning, you shrug as your hand escapes his scalp. “Yeah,” you nod, “maybe you should.”
“It’s a plan, then,” he says before he grins, poking you in your forehead with his pointer finger as he takes a step back from you, heading towards the direction of his apartment. “I’ll text you,” he adds.
Paying your goodbyes to him, you stumble inside and reach your flat, your whole body on fire even though you’ve been freezing until now as you take off your wet shoes and tug the borrowed beanie from your head. Putting away the groceries, you wonder if there’s a significance in his decision, if the change of hair is the same as the reason why he loves spring; if new things are beginning, or if you’ve just tricked yourself into falling for him too hard.
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“You have to mix it together with this first!” Renjun whines, sitting at the edge of the bathtub as he watches you open the box dye you bought together at the drugstore a few hours ago, pointing his finger at the white pack containing the mixing solution.
“Oh,” you mumble, clammy hands flying around and trying to read the instructions instead, too worried to mess up again and accidentally burn Renjun’s hair off. After a few moments of you silently turning the big sheet of paper around in all directions, you hear your companion snicker under his breath, standing up from his position at the edge of the bathtub and mixing the dye with the solution in a little plastic container he got from under the sink himself instead.
“Let me do it,” he shakes his head, “didn’t know you were this useless.”
“If you didn’t want me here, you could’ve just said so,” you put the instruction paper down, crossing your arms on your chest as you take a step back and look at him with an offended pout, watching as he gets everything ready. His hair is sticking all over the place and the shirt he has on is stained with bleach– you suspect he wore this exact outfit a few months ago when he dyed his hair blonde– the fabric hanging loosely down his shoulders. 
“I’m perfectly capable of dying my hair on my own, if you didn’t notice,” he says, “me wanting you here is the sheer reason for your presence.”
Heart skipping a beat at the sentence, masking it off with a fakely annoyed sigh, you watch him take a seat back at the edge of the bathtub when he’s done, motioning for you to take matters into your hands and start dying his hair. “Don’t fuck it up.”
“I’ll do so just to spite you,” you argue back, taking the plastic container with the dye into your hand and standing close to Renjun, parting his hair down the middle as you get the chemical-smelling mixture into his growing locks. Focused on the task at hand, trying really hard not to get the dye all over the place, you almost get lost in the motion of playing with his hair and pay too much attention to each section, your touch gentle not to tug at his hair. It  makes you not notice the way you’re suddenly standing in between Renjun’s opened legs, your skin covered by fabrics of sweatpants touching.
His head suddenly moves, making you almost dye his whole forehead black, when he plops a gummy worm into his mouth and regains his previous position. 
“Stop moving or else it’s gonna look bad!” you scowl, frustrated with the fact that he made you lose your focus.
“Want a gummy worm?” he asks, looking up at you with an innocent smile instead– as if to make you forget all about his actions from before– and you reward him with an annoyed shake of your head that shows him disapproval which he seemingly chooses to ignore as he reaches into the pack of gummies again and holds one up to your lips, fingertips brushing against the skin of your mouth making you feel heat in your cheeks. You didn’t want a gummy worm, but with the proximity of his hand to your face and the starry gaze he offers you when you meet his eyes, you don’t hesitate to take the gummy into your mouth and chew on the candy, earning yourself a satisfied smile.
Turning towards his hair again, the last few strands left undyed waiting for your attention, the man suddenly squeezes your thigh, making you wince. “How is it going up there?”
“Good,” you choke out, suddenly hyper aware of his hand resting on the skin of your leg, as if to hold you in place, his other hand working almost on auto-pilot as he completes the symmetry and grazes your other thigh, his touch on you so gentle you could almost miss it if you didn’t pay enough attention.
“If it’s patchy, I’m blaming you and not the dye,” he teases, drumming against your leg with his fingers, each little gesture making you less and less focused on his hair and more on the way his eyelashes fan over his cheekbones from above, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from making any sound close to frustration or the sound of perhaps losing your mind. 
“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have bought the cheapest one.”
“I’m staying on budget,” he says, making you snicker.
Forcing yourself to focus back onto his hair, you finally complete your task of dying the man’s hair back to its original color. Taking a step back from him and putting the plastic container onto the sink, you start to miss the feeling of his hand on your skin; his hair slicked back by the dye makes him look oddly amusing, though, so you let a grin slip out at the sight of your companion sitting at the edge of the bathtub like a scolded child, his legs outstretched right in front of him and a pack of gummy worms once again firmly gripped in the palm of his hand.
After cleaning up the mess you’ve made on the bathroom sink, with Renjun singing to himself as he put up a timer on his phone for 20 minutes, you find yourself in his kitchen, walking around and finding a pot in which you could cook some ramen for dinner. It’s getting quite late and it’s rare that you find yourself alone in Renjun’s apartment with him, his roommate finally getting out after the dreaded exam season to celebrate, and you can’t help but find the domesticity of sharing his space with him– although this is not the first time– overtake you in a deep feeling of intimacy.
Stirring the noodles around with a fork you found in one of the drawers, listening to the low hums of Renjun singing in the bathroom as he cleans up the skin on his forehead and behind his ears with a wet cotton pad, you wonder how you managed to get used to this– how you even managed to find yourself in the presence of Huang Renjun so often, after only hearing about him from gossip around the school halls and hating his presence when you first had to work with him. It’s ironic, but you don’t hate it quite as much as you would think. 
“You’re making ramen?” he asks as he finally reaches the kitchen, big eyes full of thankfulness meeting yours when he notices you getting out some plates to transfer the meal into, since you’re close to being done.
Humming in agreement, you see him lean on the kitchen counter from the corner of your eye, a satisfied smile reaching his lips. “I should invite you over more often.”
“I’m here like twice a week, Jun,” you mumble, focused on not spilling the meal all over the place.
“Well, if it means you’ll cook all the time, you can even move in, if you want to” he jokes, making you shake your head in disbelief as you take the plates and move them to the coffee table you are so used to sitting at by now, since the boys don’t really have a dining table in their apartment, making them (and sometimes you joining) eat all the meals at the coffee table, sitting on the ground.
“And where would I sleep? On the couch? No, thank you,” you shake your head, digging into the noodles and blowing on them to make them cool faster.
“I’ll kick Hyuck out, so you can have his room,” he mumbles in between bites, following you. 
“So you just want me to be your maid, got it,” you nod.
“That’s not what I said,” he looks at you with offense, before digging into the noodles again, mumbling under his nose before taking a bite, “although you would look nice in a maid dress-”
Kicking him in the leg, seeing as he chokes up on the food from laughing, you shake your head in disbelief at his antics. You think it’s the hair dye getting to his brain, so when his timer goes off in a few minutes after you’re both done with the food, you thank god for bringing you out of your misery. 
Listening to the sound of the shower as he washes the hair dye off, you take it upon yourself to clean up the dishes. You’d feel bad for leaving a mess in his kitchen, and you also think it’s a nice thing to do. It only takes a few minutes before he’s out of the bathroom again, hair damply sitting on his forehead, his figure twirling like a ballerina– reminding you of the way you did little fashion shows for your father whenever you came home from shopping with your mum– waiting for what you have to say about his new look, although in true reality, he looks just the same as a few months ago. 
“Does it look good?”
“I can’t tell ‘cause it’s wet,” you say, squinting your eyes at the mess on his head, “go blow dry it.”
“Fuck no,” he shakes his head, protesting, “I hate blow drying my hair.”
“Why? I can’t tell if it’s patchy this way,” you say.
“My hands get tired and I get bored and I just really don’t enjoy the experience,” he simply states, and he wins– whether this was his intention or not– as you drag him back to the bathroom and get out of him where he keeps the blow dryer, plugging it in and moving to do it for him. 
There it is again– that funny feeling in your stomach as you move your hands through his hair, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as you blow dry his locks. The feeling makes you weak in your knees as you look at the boy who now has his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the motion of your fingers threading through his freshly dyed strands, and when you finally turn the device off and watch him open his eyes, looking at you half-lidded and seemingly a little tired, you once again notice his hands on your thighs as he sits at the bathtub, although now the touch is more firm, pulling you close to him. 
“Are you happy now that your hair is black?” you find yourself asking, your eyes bearing into him as you reference the dialogue you two had when he dyed his hair blonde, when you two didn’t know each other well just yet and he told you the wishful secret of wanting to have more fun as a blonde since he was sad when his hair was black. 
His smile looks a little drunk, despite the both of you being completely sober as he replies, acting as if he was getting tipsy off your proximity and gentle touch. “My hair’s black because I’m happy, not the other way around,” he mumbles, your eyes momentarily drifting to his pretty lips as he talks, their rosy plumpiness making it hard for you to unstuck your gaze from the curve of his smile and focus on other features of his face.
“Good,” you nod, your hands finding their place at his shoulders, almost going for a hug, but never really completing the action. 
“So how do I look?” he asks again, your conversation growing quiet in the intimate atmosphere, voices not wanting to interrupt the calm, yet tense harbor. 
Examining him, you find yourself once again attracted to the boy you see in front of you. He looks exactly like he did before his break-up– yet now, you’d argue and say he looks even better; healthier and more radiant, his features gentle, hair a little longer and his smile reminding you of an angel. Humming to yourself, you brush your hands through his black strands again, letting yourself indulge in your growing feelings for the man for just a second, before the moment is gone. “Really pretty,” you mumble, watching as his smile grows for a mere second before his eyes drift from yours down to your lips, making you forget how to breathe.
Your hands continue to get lost in his hair as you stare at each other for a while, silence in the bathroom making you listen in on each other’s breathing, before your brain fails you and you let yourself operate on auto-pilot, leaning down to his face, surprised to see him meet you in the middle. You kiss him as if you’ve been waiting ages to do so, your lips molding in with his in a perfect harmony, firm, yet still unmistakably gentle contact making you shiver. 
It feels like a century before you pull away, ready to face the consequences of your actions, when he captures your lips in another kiss, drunk on the action. Feeling him standing up from the edge of the bathtub and moving his hands to firmly grip your waist before he walks you backwards against the tiled wall, the coldness of it mixing with the heat spreading across your body makes you gasp into the kiss and invite his tongue into your mouth.
Your hands fall from his hair and find their way around his neck, tugging him close, while one of his gentle palms rests on your jaw, angling your face in a way that lets him take control and have you even closer, two bodies seeking each other’s presence.
“Renjun…” you gasp when his lips move away from yours, leaving kisses down your jaw, slowly reaching the delicate skin of your neck and the conjunction of your shoulder. 
He hums into your skin, a cold hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt making you wince, all of his actions making your senses hyper aware to the touch and feeling of his lips pressed against you, especially when he finds the sweet spot behind your ear and makes you squirm under him, the feeling of his smile against your skin turning you crazy.
Finding yourself tugging his face back to yours, taking back his lips, his hand travels up your side, leaving goosebumps all over your skin with the cold motions of his fingertips, you shiver under his caring, yet teasing touch. The kiss feels as if it’s one step away from heaven, letting out a satisfied sound when he softly brushes the underside of your breast.
Pressing him closer against you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his neck, you feel him hard against your thigh, neediness overtaking you as you lightly move against him, hearing him choke out a breath. “Is- is this okay?” he asks, voice not louder than a whisper before you continue with your motions, answering with your actions before using your words, breathing growing quicker with the way the friction makes you feel.
“More than okay with me,” you mumble, seemingly encouraging him as he presses you firmer against the tiled wall, helping you guide your desperate movements. Foreheads pressed against each other, breathing mixing in the silent room, you can’t seem to find it in you to stop, completely losing yourself in him and in the way he makes you feel, selfishly chasing down release from all the butterflies and electric stares he’s been sending your way.
Grunting when you press up against him in a way that sends sparks down his spine, his hand reaches up under your thigh, almost on the skin of your butt, holding up your leg to make more room and get you even closer to him, before he heaves out a sigh. “Let’s go to my room?” he asks hastily before you nod and let him plop you up against his figure with your legs entangled around his middle, escaping the cold tiles of the bathroom and walking over to the his room smelling of fresh laundry detergent and vanilla, soft sheets enveloping your body when he lightly drops you into his mattress.
A giggle escapes your lips at the contact of your body with the bed, earning yourself a playful roll of Renjun’s eyes as he leans over you, plopping himself up on one elbow above you, caging you in his embrace. Maintaining eye contact with him, blissful smiles stretching on your lips, you almost think the moment is over, but he quickly brings you back to the neediness you felt before as he leans in again, kissing you painfully slowly while his hand reaches under the hem of your shirt, letting his palm travel against your body. His actions make you shiver as his fingertips softly tickle your side, moving towards the dip of your waist, then back up across your stomach as he traces mindless shapes against your skin, occasionally letting himself travel up towards the fabric of your bra. Cupping one of your breasts into his hand, you let out a soft grunt when he squeezes the flesh softly enough to make you yearn for more.
Mirroring his actions, your hand moves under his loose shirt, hypnotized by the heat of his flesh. Enveloped in his warmth and the smell of him in his bedsheets, you let yourself roam up his abdomen, embracing the way his muscles jolt a little under your touch, before your hand settles onto his back, fingertips dancing up and down his spine.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles, making you break into a blissful smile, before his hand lazily dips down your belly, seeking approval in your eyes, “can I?” 
Nodding, afraid of seeming a little too eager– although maybe he would welcome that with open arms– you feel his fingertips messily dragging down the waistband of your sweatpants a little by little, leaving you in front of him only in your underwear, his lips swallowing your sighs when he hesitantly brushes his thumb against your clit. 
His movements get more confident as he adds more pressure, making you let out a few more muffled sounds he welcomes with a cocky smile, demeanor shifting as he presses a wet kiss against your cheek when he drags your underwear down and gets back to where he was before, but now acting more gently– as if the contact of your bare core with his fingers made him afraid you’re gonna break in his hold. Softly nudging your thighs, opening up your legs and softly tracing his pointer finger down your slit, he makes your cheeks flush from the contact and the feeling of air against your naked bottom half.
He doesn’t say much as he tests the waters, dragging his digits along your folds, examining your reaction when he circles your sensitive bud and sees you crumble under his touch. Your hands grip his pearl white sheets, not really knowing what to do to ground yourself back to reality, the man above you finally finding enough courage in him to insert one finger, then two inside of you, watching you react to his actions.
“Feels good,” escapes your lips, and truthfully, you didn’t even catch yourself saying it. It left your mouth on itself, your tone a little fragile but full of eagerness, wanting more– and seemingly understanding, he moves inside you with more reason now, hitting the right spot that makes your eyebrows crease and your breathing hitch in your throat.
“There?” he asks, as if to tease you. In any other circumstance, you’d find it in you to bark back something full of sarcasm and irony, but now, vulnerable and sensitive to his every move, you only nod eagerly and meet his eyes which are now clouded with lust, a view you’ve never experienced before, but welcome with undeniable curiosity.
Angling his fingers inside of you just the way you need them, you quickly feel yourself reaching your high, one of your hands flying to his forearm as if to let him know or warn him, somehow. Judging by his actions, he got the memo– showing his experience when he continues with the same speed and pressure, keeping still– before he slowly trips you over the edge, having you clenching around his fingers as you let moans slip out from your lips, euphoria taking over your whole body.
His figure leans into you, holding you close as your breathing comes back to normal, his lips press soft kisses to your temple. It’s almost a hint that the act is over, his actions growing more tender as opposed to the way he had you just a few moments prior, but you find yourself not wanting it to end, tugging his shirt up and earning yourself a questioning look.
“More?” you mumble, looking at him, grabby hands helping him take his shirt off. Your please sound almost like a question– they may as well be, for you don’t know if he wants this too– but he reacts to you positively when you have your eyes roaming across his bare torso, hands flying towards your own shirt, taking it off before you chastly press against him, both of you sitting at his bed, meeting him in a kiss as you settle yourself into his lap. 
In this moment, there’s nothing but him. Your head spins with his essence, your brain painfully aware of everything; of your hands holding his cheeks when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, chasing after his neck in a desperate need of leaving a mark, wanting evidence of you being there the next morning, so you could remind yourself that this wasn’t just a dream or a product of your own imagination. When you press down against his lap, dragging your naked core against his hard on, his hands grip your sides, sneaky fingers trailing up after a moment as he tugs the straps of your bra down before slipping it off completely, leaving you naked in front of him.
Lifting you by your hips and moving you back against his pillow, laying you into his sheets, he lets you drag his sweatpants down, your fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxers and gently dragging along the sensitive skin, feeling needier at the sounds of satisfaction escaping his lips. Bringing him closer with your other hand, he takes a moment to confirm with you one last time. 
“Are you sure you… want this?” he doesn’t seem to find the right words, leaving you softly laughing at his puzzled expression.
“I am,” you nod, assuring him, “I- I want you,” you mumble, still loud and clear, and he wastes no time in freeing himself of his underwear and aligning himself with your entrance.
He slowly pushes inside of you, his whole length filling you up. He leaves you some time to adjust, checking in with you with a look to your eyes, fingertips gently dragging your hair out of your face before you confirm with him that you’re okay with a soft nod, making him move and gently thrust inside of you; painfully slow at first, but reaching deep, taking in every inch of you. Pleasure builds inside of you as his thrusts become more quicker, finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl and your hands fly to his back, scratching down along his skin when he hits your spot and your eyes shut in a spell of satisfied sighs.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your lips, a sentence sweet enough to make your cheeks flush under him– yet you think the heat you feel is more than shyness from his words, but from the contact of his skin on yours, driving you absolutely crazy.
His finger gently plays with your clit, slowly, but surely tipping you over the edge. You hold back a moan, head falling to your side on his pillow, Renjun’s lips pressing kisses into the now exposed areas of your neck, still going at a steady rhythm. 
“Fuck,” you let out when he picks up at speed, the imaginary glass of pleasure in you getting fuller and fuller, making afraid of it spilling out when he keeps going, your hand flying into his hair, tugging at it in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, “I’m close.”
He hums against your neck, softly biting a bruise into your flesh. He doesn’t say much, again– his loving is quiet, only occasionally letting out needy noises out past his lips here and there, grunts slipping out when you feel just right around him. You find it hard to keep up with the silence, blissful sounds escaping you when he takes you over the edge. Your walls clench around him as he’s still thrusting into you, chasing down his climax and making the most out of yours. You swear you can see stars, the tips of your fingers starting to tingle when you get a little too overstimulated, but before you can do anything about it, he slips out of you and warmth spreads on your stomach, his body crashing next to yours.
He doesn’t say much after either. The room falls into silence, your bodies heaving with deep breaths as you try to calm down the erratic beating of your hearts. Mindlessly threading your fingers through his hair, you stare at the ceiling, his arms draped over your middle, occasionally playing with the flesh of your hip, squeezing it with his palm and dragging his fingertips across the soft skin. Looking down at him, not seeing much other than the raven locks falling into his forehead and his closed eyes, you try hard to appreciate the closeness of his body, just in case you don’t get to experience it ever again.
Feeling his nose nuzzling into your skin, you wonder if he’s happy.
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Dark, wallowing pit opens up in your stomach, the harrowing feeling you didn’t know you could recognise fills you up to your rim; your vision goes a little blurry at the sight in front of you and after a few seconds of torturing yourself by watching, you feel the bitter taste of blood on your tongue from gnawing at the gentle skin of your bottom lip too hard. That alone wakes you up from the weird transe you’ve been put in, making you turn on your heel and chime outside of the building, the iced americano in your hand thrown in the nearest trash can as you take the short way home, suddenly wanting to hide away from everyone and everything, too fragile to deal with the outer world today.
You open up the door to your apartment with a little struggle, your hand shaking not making it easy for you to put the key inside the keyhole, and when you finally get to the comfort of your little place, you’re met with Jimin’s concerned eyes waiting for you in the hall, her figure hesitantly walking over when she heard you struggle with the door.
Closing the door behind you a little too loudly, careless in your actions from how hard your heart is hammering against your ribcage, your roommate approaches you with gentle words. “What happened? Weren’t you meeting up with–”
“No,” you shake your head, cutting off her sentence before his name manages to come out of her mouth, your throat closing as you choke out the response; the soft gaze she offers you at the stern words of disapproval makes your eyes water even though you already promised yourself you wouldn’t cry over this.
“Oh, sweetie,” Jimin mumbles as her long legs make their way towards your shrunken figure, enveloping you in her arms. You let yourself be comforted, almost yearning for the slow strokes she gives your back, her long fingers threading through your hair. There aren’t many instances where you two had to hold each other in the entrance hall, too afraid of letting go before one of you breaks. You remember her breaking up with her boyfriend Jaehyun– they dated for a couple of months last year before he had to move away and a long distance relationship wasn’t something either of them was willing to put each other through– but that time, it was in the comfort of her bedroom and you watched the first season of Too hot to handle together after it was done to take her mind off things. You, however, don’t have much dating experience. Not a significant one anyway– you only dated in high school, and even though the boy you crowned your first in many things was sweet, you simply fell out of love with him after a few months and called it quits, with no tears shed and no hearts broken.
“I think I was just a rebound,” you get out in between your quiet sobs, the image of Renjun sitting at the cafeteria with Yunjin, his soft gaze offered to her as she leaned over the table and said something quietly to him before pressing a kiss to his cheek only further proving your claims.
And you guess you were the stupid one– you guess you were silly for thinking he was over his ex already, even if it’s been a couple of months since they broke up, even if he told you he didn’t miss her, but was sad to let go what they had– because the sweetness in his eyes when he looked at her hurt you more than you could’ve ever imagined, because you think you remember him looking at you like that the evening you dyed his hair black; you remember him looking at you like you hung up the stars on the sky, and you believed the gentle gaze– you believed there was something more than sex to it, you believed he felt the same feelings as the ones you’ve been harboring for the boy ever since you first hanged out at his place and watched Netflix with him to take his mind off the said girl.
Jimin doesn’t ask any questions– she knows you’ll tell her eventually, you just need comfort right now. Sniffling as you try to come down from the heartbreak you’ve caused yourself, you groggily get out a sentence that hurts to say out loud perhaps the most from the feelings freely roaming around your brain. “I don’t think it meant anything to him– I– I don’t think I meant anything to him.”
As if to torture yourself even more, the images of you two getting closer over the time flash through your brain– and you wonder if you were just lying to yourself the whole time. If his words weren’t what he made them out to be, if his gentle nature that overtook him when you were around was just him treating you as one of his friends. If he hooked up with you only because he was horny, and not because he cared for you enough to want to explore you further, deeper– if you were the only one in it for something more, if he was just keeping himself busy while trying to get over his ex.
And much like that time at the party, where he held you close and spent the whole night pretty much glued to your side, right in front of everyone’s eyes, you wonder if you just fulfilled your purpose in his life. 
“Shh,” the girl shushes you out of your self-destructive thoughts, still not getting any context on what happened, but being there for you anyway, “let’s just watch something, okay? We have the whole day off to ourselves, let’s watch this new anime I’ve been eyeing, what do you say?” she mumbles, seeing as you tiredly nod and she affectionately squishes your cheeks together, leading you towards the living room.
If you weren’t so numb right now, you’d even giggle. Jimin doesn’t watch anime– the amount of reality TV she watches is quite concerning sometimes– and her effort to aimlessly search through the internet for the first episode of an anime she randomly saw on Tiktok one day and thought would suit your watching style both amuses you and makes your heart warm just a little. Indulging in TV series is one of the only coping mechanisms either of you can ever come up with, it seems.
When the opening credits roll, you hear your phone’s notification sound pop up, your hand reaching for the device. You don’t even get an opportunity to look at who is texting you before your roommate snatches the phone out of your hand, swipes across the screen and turns it off with one swift motion, forcing you to focus on the animation going on the TV.
Sometimes, all you need is your caring roommate to take over everything. Today, more than ever, you’re more than willing to give yourself into her hands.
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After that, you do what you think anyone in your situation would (or wouldn’t do, to be precise). You don’t text Huang Renjun random things throughout the day like you used to– you no longer laugh at weird memes he finds funny with him and you no longer read his texts that are full of random complaining, mostly about his roommate Donghyuck, throughout the day. You don’t meet him to work on the project together. It’s almost done and you still have time– you are planning on just finishing it by yourself and turning it in on the day it’s due, with no contact with the male. You also don’t call him when you’re walking home alone in the late hours of the evening, scared and yearning to find comfort in his saccharine words. You don’t even look at his messages– he sent you multiple– only letting yourself to check the contact name before you swipe the notification away without giving it much thought, making yourself ignore all of his calls the moment you hear your ringtone go off. Worst of all, you don’t even attend class anymore. You’re glad for the past you that managed to attend every single class, because now, you have more than enough absences to use up before the semester ends and you go on spring break.
You do everything in your power to erase him out of your life. It takes an admirable amount of self-control, you must admit.
And sometimes, it even feels silly. It feels stupid to react so much to seeing him with his ex girlfriend, because frankly, you two weren’t dating. No amount of touches, gentle words, hang-outs after the sun sets and intimacy means that you are a couple; it didn’t matter that you opened up to him so much when neither of you confirmed to this being inclusive. The day before you dyed his hair back, you two were just good friends, after all. Sex didn’t change anything– even though you thought it would. 
And maybe that’s what’s making you feel even more angstier about the whole thing. You gave him every last ounce of yourself you had, every inch of your body, from the inside out– so now, you feel thrown away, as if you were useless.
The cold nights slowly turn into warmer evenings, birds chirping outside waking you up in the mornings even more reminding you of the man you lost somewhere along the way. Spring was the favorite season of you both, but somewhere deep inside of you, you’re starting to dread it. Maybe it’s the fact that you were yearning for a new beginning for yourself in spring; for something to be born seemingly out of nothing– but it seems like you are supposed to bloom by yourself now, and you’re finding it harder than ever. 
It’s the beginning of the second week of March. Warm sunlight makes your feet spring up from your bed in the early morning, forcing you to take a walk. You’ve gotten used to going on these, as many call it, ‘mental health walks’ lately– you read on the internet that they help your mood, and even though it’s a slow progress, you’re willing to try anything, at this point. 
You chose a fixed destination you walk to every other day. It’s on the opposite side of the campus– where the Science buildings are– and you would be lying to yourself and everyone if you said you didn’t carefully craft the journey so you wouldn’t get in contact with the man you’ve been trying to avoid for the last two and a half weeks. It’s far away from your apartment, and even further away from his. There’s no reason for him to visit those parts of the campus, and you find comfort in the fact. 
Finding a bench under a cherry blossom tree– it’s slowly starting to wilt these days– you sit in silence for a while on some days, and on others, you put in your earphones and watch the world around you go by without you moving a single finger, trying to find comfort in the fact.
Listening to the playlist you made in the crack of dawn last night– Renjun always made fun of you for the fact that you once listed ‘making Spotify playlists’ as your hobby– you fall deep inside of your thoughts. When this happens, it’s hard to control your mind and think of something positive. The only thing left for you to do is to hope and pray you don’t spiral.
Why did it even matter so much to you anyway? It was just a kiss to his cheek. It’s not like you caught them in the act…
However, still, the image of them looking so comfortable together broke your heart; because somewhere along the way, you thought he’d always feel resentment towards the girl. She broke his trust, she made him feel worthless, and it was left for you to take all those broken pieces of him and glue them back together. You didn’t realize it back then, but just the fact that you didn’t give up on him back when he was being difficult was enough for the boy to feel at least a little better again. Your nagging, yet silent acts of meeting him somewhere in the middle, even on his worst days, was a source of comfort for him. And after a while, you started noticing that– you started noticing him warming up to you every time you met, you started noticing his gratitude towards you in the little acts of service he brought with himself when he bought you snacks or texted you if you came home safely after your meetings. 
You guess that seeing Yunjin talking so freely with him, seeing her kiss his cheek with such tenderness, made you feel so deeply, easily replaceable in his life. You guess you always feel like that with everyone anyway. It’s a bad habit you find hard to break– maybe you too, just need someone to be patient with you while you heal.
“What are you listening to?” you hear a voice, tone close to honey, ask from the place next to you. It makes you jump in terror, both from recognising it so easily and from not expecting him to find you here, so far away from everything, as you look at him with surprised eyes.
You don’t know what it is that keeps you silent. Perhaps it’s surprise. Perhaps it’s pettiness. Perhaps it’s shame. 
The feeling makes you stiff in silence, everything in you refusing to respond to his sudden casualty. “Okay, I’ll just stalk your listening activity on Spotify when I come home again, then,” he shrugs, his uninhibited demeanor making you boil inside. You feel like your insides are on fire, you feel like the whole world came crashing down on you because of mere seconds of seeing him with someone that he once held so dear to his heart, making you  feel replaced and forgotten, and yet, he comes to you so easily and doesn’t even acknowledge your hurt?
“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice soulless as you turn your music off and put your tangled earphones into your jacket pocket, finally choosing to recognise his presence. 
“Talking to you,” he shrugs, “I… brought you coffee,” he smiles, showing you the Starbucks take-out cardboard holding two drinks together, one iced americano and one caramel latte, the sight making your heart warm up quite dangerously at the thought that after all this time, he got your coffee order down, he noticed you sweetening your drinks, and he remembered.
Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you scoff. “How did you know I’d be here?”
The man shrugs. “I didn’t, at first. I… I came to your apartment to talk to you, but Jimin said you weren’t home, so after a few minutes of begging her to tell me where I could find you, she gave up and sent me here.”
You guess you’ll have to have a serious talk with your roommate when you come home.
“Why… why are you here, then?” you ask, still feeling the bitter pettines on your tongue when the words escape your mouth.
“Well,” he starts, taking a deep breath in, collecting his thoughts, “at first I thought I’d give you space. I thought you didn’t want to talk with anyone and you kept ignoring my texts and calls, so I texted Jimin to ask if you were okay, and when she told me you were doing fine, I figured it had to do something with me. And then– and then I thought I’d give you some space, since you looked like you needed some, but… but I think I need to face the problem now, since it’s clearly… something big, you know…” 
It’s undeniable that Huang Renjun is quite the smart individual. His ability to instantly sense your emotions and decipher the meaning behind them never fails to catch you off guard, though.
Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you suddenly notice the nerves he tried to mask by fake casualty. He keeps chewing on his bottom lip and he’s picking at his cuticles so hard you think they’ll bleed at any minute, his frame small and hesitant as he turns away from you, afraid to meet your eyes. He looks so, so guilty, and you suddenly feel stupid for making such a big deal out of something that shouldn’t have mattered to you in the first place.
“What… What did I do to hurt you?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Because you must be hurt, if you’re avoiding me this much.”
Taking a deep breath in, you shake your head at the whole situation. He’s right, though– perhaps it’s time to finally face your problems now, so you can move on. Maybe this closure is what you need, maybe you need to hear it from him– to hear that it didn’t mean anything to him, to hear that Yunjin apologized and he’s gonna get back together with her, because somehow, your brain convinced you this was the case– to finally let him go and stop mourning something that was never there in the first place. “I–” 
Your words fail you.
“Do you… regret it?” he asks, voice so small you almost don’t hear him. 
The sentence takes you off guard. Looking at him, you can’t even bring yourself to speak, confused eyes roaming over his tense features. Opening up your mouth to ask for clarification, he mumbles again before you get a chance to speak. “Do you regret sleeping with me?”
Blinking at him a few times, a crease appearing in between your eyebrows, you shake your head. Is this really what was running through his brain? Is this why he left you alone for more than two weeks? Because suddenly, it makes sense– the way he gave you space and let you avoid him for two weeks before he came to find you in person– but again, this is not at all what was running through your brain all these days. Never once did you regret what you two did, no matter how shitty you’re feeling about it now after your brain convinced you of things that weren’t even real in the first place. “No,” you simply say.
A hint of relief washes over his face, his shoulders relaxing just the tiniest bit– it looks like this was what he’s been scared of the most; it looks like he feared he hurt you in this way. Still, he insists on talking it out once and for all. “What is it, then?”
Shameful to meet his eyes, you point your gaze towards your feet. Convincing yourself that your feelings are valid and that you were right to feel the way you do, the same way you did to him all those weeks ago at the stairs in front of the university building, you confess to your worries. “I saw you with Yunjin the other day.”
Now it’s his time to stay silent, and somehow, your brain can’t find a way to deal with not getting a response from him, so you ramble to cope. “At the cafeteria, I mean. I– I wanted to surprise you, and you said you were getting lunch alone and I was at the campus, so I thought I’d come to keep you company, but then… then I saw you with her, and you two seemed so comfortable together, so close, and then she kissed your cheek and it made me… it made me feel like… like you maybe wanted to get back together with her, or something…?”
“And really, it’s fine, if you want to do that, I guess I just… for the sake of both of us, or maybe just me, I think… I think it’s better for me to keep my distance from you, then.”
Watching as his expression shifts to one full of disbelief, you swear that what you want the most in this moment is to disappear. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me those past two weeks?” he asks.
Pressing your lips into a thin line, suddenly feeling insanely silly and unreasonable when you say all of those things out loud, you avert your gaze from him, pointing it somewhere into the distance. 
“Is this really it?” he asks again, insisting, full of disbelief. “You made me feel like you regretted having sex with me, and this is it?” he chuckles, and you don’t know if it’s because he’s looking down on you, or if he just truly finds the situation funny. 
“Look, I–” 
“Fuck, Y/N,” he gets out, looking as if every nerve and stress in his body finally let go, relief washing over his face like waterfalls, “I was so scared, and this is what’s been bugging you?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief as he runs his hands through his hair. “She came to apologize to me. Not that it mattered something to me, and not that it made any difference, but I didn’t have it in me to tell her to fuck herself, you know? That’s what you saw. She told me she wishes me well and that she hopes I find joy in someone else too. She didn’t even– she didn’t even sit with me at lunch. She went to eat with her boyfriend.”
And here it is– the inevitable notion of shame intensifies. Finally having the explanation you’ve been wanting to hear, but purposefully avoiding for two weeks; finally feeling relief in your chest, your worries escaping out like the summer wind, and even though you should be happy, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his gaze.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble.
“No, I mean– it’s just… I’m sorry too, it’s just…” he trails off, making you look at him with examining eyes, eyebrows raised in question. You don’t really know what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for leaving you space even though he was convinced that’s what you needed– had he approached you earlier, you wouldn’t have to avoid him for two weeks.
“It’s just…?”
“I find it ironic how you thought I wanted to get back together with her, when in reality… you were the one I wanted to get together with in the first place, you know?” he asks, and if you squint hard enough, you could still see hints of nervousness in his body when he asks the rhetorical question, soft eyes scanning your face when your eyes meet.
“Oh,” you hum, mouth agape in surprise.
“Yeah,” he nods, lips pressed into a thin line, “cause I like you… like, a lot, actually, so…” he mumbles, the confession reminding you of your first weeks with Renjun– tense and awkward, but with a promise of something new the more you got to know him.
“Oh,” you repeat again, your brain still not catching up to the situation.
Suddenly, the two weeks of avoidance feel even more silly. You don’t know what happened in you to cause this much distress for the both of you, but you’re filled with delight with the fact that even though you expected him to get mad at you– to call you unreasonable, maybe even a little stupid– he seems to be understanding of your emotions. He seems to accept them, willing to put up with them and everything that requires of him; he seems to be willing to find you even at the end of the world and try to get you back into his life. Because only god knows how much he appreciates your presence in it. 
“So…” he mumbles, a silent question hanging in the air, making you realize you were too caught up in your thoughts to really give him an answer.
“I… I like you too, if that… wasn’t obvious,” you snicker, shrugging as a wide smile spreads across your cheeks. The words fall a little bashfully off your tongue, the confession ringing strangely in your ears, but you don’t mind the little uncomfort the shyness in your demeanor brings you.
There are no long confessions, no deep words of love. Once again, Huang Renjun is a man of few words– he shows you his care through actions. 
He finds you when you’re avoiding him. He makes sure you get home safe. He tries hard to work with you on a project he originally wanted to avoid, only because he notices you finding interest in it, your passion slowly sparking up his. 
He keeps annoying the publicist of your favorite author for a week straight to let you make an interview with her, even though he got declined twice over an email with messages filled with bitter and annoyed words. He remembers your coffee order and he invites you to hang out with his friends to show you that you are now a part of his circle, that you are one of his close ones. He lets you make fun of him with your roommate, but doesn’t give you the same treatment he gives Donghyuck when he tries to bully him. He sends you all the cat pictures he gets from his friend Taeyong, sometimes even asking for some when he hasn’t sent you ones in too long, and he also thinks of you any time he sees the snow– because he gets reminded of the walk you two had in the midst of the snowflakes, even though you hate the cold. 
He reads your favorite book and finds pieces of you scattered all across the pages, he feels his love for you in the poetic words and metaphors hidden in the plot. He lets you dye his hair to signify that a part of his life is now over and a new one started– with you being the main actor of the subtle metamorphosis as he slowly shifts back into his old self, yet now a little wiser. 
He is a man of few words, affection coating them only sometimes, when he reassures you over a mug of hot tea in the evenings before you present your assignments in class and when you get too scared of crowded places; but somehow, the words he keeps to himself translate to you despite not being spoken.
In the beams of the warm sun, you gravitate to him like you’re two planets in the solar system, always sharing the same space. And when his smile meets yours in another kiss, you think that after all, you get the kind of new beginning you wanted in spring.
You and Huang Renjun may be the prime example that love, just like cherry blossoms, always blooms in patience. 
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heaartzforcupid · 5 days
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hii!!! omg im so scared to reauest from someone so good at writing as you!!! please dont feel the need to respond!!
can you do a female!cat!reader thats in heat and catnap helps her??? that would be so hot!!!
“Heat.”
Relationship(s): catnap x cat!reader
Warning(s): smut, heat, degradation
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You had been acting weird all week. Staying away from the kids, neglecting your duties , not talking for the most part. but you wouldn’t let catnap anywhere near you which pissed him off quite frankly. he was your partner. so what the fuck was so bad, you didn’t want him around you?
catnap had ignored this for the last couple days. just hanging around the children and going to his home, which he had been barely doing ever since you two had got together. one night, he couldn’t take it any longer. he got out of bed and headed to your home. almost immediately he was hit with a strong smell of your scent. not your natural one. the one where you were in heat. so that’s why you’ve been acting like that. why the fuck didn’t you just open your fucking mouth and tell him?
he stormed inside, a wave of pheromones hitting him in the face. he growled lowly as his animalistic instincts were getting harder and harder to suppress. first, he was angry that you didn’t come to him for help. what? did you not wanna have sex with him? did you think he couldn’t help it? or were you wanting to be a slut and wait for someone to find you this vulnerable?
He watched from the doorway. it was dark but he could see and you were too lost in your own pleasure to see him. he watched as you played with what was his. he watched as you fucked yourself with one of his themed dildos. he watched as your cunt squeezed the toy, oh so tightly. and how your hips rutted against the toy, trying to find some relief. he watched as you came, tears streamed down your face as it still wasn’t enough and you began your pace again.
“next time, open your mouth and tell me. or are you too dumb for even that?”
your heart stopped and you looked at the door. Catnap stood there, a grin on his face like the Cheshire Cat. “W—what are you doing here?” You asked, taking the toy and putting it behind your back. “oh, don’t mind me, continue.” you shook your head and looked up at him. You whimpered, pathetically as you sat up. “Please help me, master..”“see? was that so hard, Midnight?”
Catnap had put you in DoggyStyle, he knew you hated it since you couldn’t see his face. you whined as he placed his tip on your hole, pushing in slowly. agonizingly slow. you gritted your teeth as you yelled “god, master, please!” just then Catnap began to thrust his hips against you. his balls hitting the back of your thighs, making a harsh flapping sound as he fucked into you like a beast. “fuck, tell me how much of a good whore you are for me. you can do atleast that, can’t you, bitch?” “such a w—whore for you! make my cunt feel so good~!” “Damn right, I do.”
he pulled your hair and slammed against you harder as you came against his cock. he chuckled and kissed against your ear, biting and nipping. he let out a mix of a moan and whimper as his cum spilt into you, thickly. both your pheromones mixing. that scent was gonna be hard for higher ups to wash out. but you wouldn’t think of that right now<3.
A/N: request done! I know it’s abit short, I just didn’t really have any more idea or detail to say. hope you enjoyed! again, I’m not that good at details but I hope this was still up to standard.
TAGS: @2faced-fairy
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vixensbrainrotts · 2 months
Text
Committed to you - Manjiro >Mikey< Sano
(part two)
Idea/ prompt: Mikey from the last timeline who wants to propose to us but has no idea how to ask so he ask advices from draken and emma
Vixen's two cents: Hi. I know ive been gone for like 2 weeks, I dont know why but it's been hard writing lately. anyway, thanks a million to @anahryal for giving me this idea whilst I was in the pits of my writers block!!! thanks girl, I can't tell you how much this helped. anyway, REQUESTS ARE OPEN and I advise you to use them! now please enjoy my revival piece!
Mikey has thought every possible thought he could have. He had run through every possible situation, every possible outcome, every possible setting, but damnit why was this so hard? He couldn’t do it. Not for the life of him.
He had browsed millions of travel blogs, pondering about every possible spot on earth to take you for the occasion. He had woken in and out of more jewelry stores in the past month than he had ever in his entire life. He had specifically stood in corner stores, reading the wedding catalogues in the magazine section trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do.
None of it helped.
Manjiro wanted it so bad. So so very bad. Every white dress he walked by, he envisioned you in it. Every bakery shop he passed, his eyes flitted up and down the fancy display cakes, pondering whether or not it would be good enough. Any time he woke up next to you, every time he joined you in the shower, every time he watched you cook, the urge to sink to one knee overtook him.
He knew he couldn’t make it that simple though. It was too domestic for him, so little of a gesture. He wanted you to know that he loved you, that he would bring you the moon if you wanted it. He needed you to see just how much he appreciates you for sticking with him through everything, and for that he needs a grand gesture.
However it seemed that nothing he could think of was quite big enough, quite meaningful enough, quite heartfelt enough. He was at the end of his wits. For one and a half months- seven weeks he had been fighting this battle alone.
He had made some progress in that time, having picked the ring because when he picked it up he just felt that this was the one. It was a niche store, and he was initially appalled by the average price of the rings, but decided, ah what the fuck? and entered the store for mostly shits and giggles. He was greeted by an expensive looking elderly gentleman who donned a monocle and silk gloves, clearly the clerk, and clearly an expert. He had the longest, most engaging talk with the man, explaining his situation and his frustrations, to which the man nodded understandingly and told of his own story and experience with marigge.
Seven long weeks he had kept it a secret from everyone, and now he couldn’t take it anymore.
He was just about to throw the towel on this whole thing and say fuck it and give up on this whole marriage thing and just accept that he would never make it, when he remembered that he didnt have to be alone in this. Not at all matter of fact. His best friend married his sister after all. If Ken could do it with the pressure of Shinichiro, Izana AND Mikey breathing down his neck, then surely he could do it too, right?
You were out on a girls night with Hinata, Senju and Yuzuha. Emma would have tagged along normally too, but with the addition of a new-born baby, she decided that it would be best to sit out this time. Either way you were out of the house for the night, and Mikey was left to his own devices. You had left him with a kiss and a home-cooked meal (which he felt bad about leaving behind so he completely stuffed himself before coming here) before he gave Ken a quick heads up over the phone that he was coming over with a VERY important problem.
Thats how he found himself here. Standing in the Kitchen of Emma and Ken‘s flat, hands perched on the counter, looking down at the surface, face in a deep frown. „What’s goin on? What’s the problem?“ Ken asks roughly, leaned on the refrigerator as he eyed his friend. Mikey didnt really respond though.
„What problem?“ Emma‘s voice was hushed as she entered through the kitchen door, pulling the door shut behind her, probably for the sake of the baby. „I dont know.“ Ken responded, rubbing his eyebrows „Ask your brother.“ he sighed as he gestured to Mikey who was still staring down the counter.
“Mikey?!” Emma sounded confused and a little concerned as she turned to look at him, eyes flitting between her brother and her husband. “Did you know he was coming over?”
Ken nodded wordlessly. “Said he needs our help about something.” Emma’s head tilted in question but accepted the fact. “What’s up Mikey?” She asked, approaching him and joining Draken at the other side of the counter.
Mikey didn’t say anything though, instead reaching into his pocket and producing a small, black, silk-encased box. He dropped it onto the table and looked up at the couple in desperation. “How do I do it?”
Ken gasped and felt his lips tug into a smile, happy that finally, finally Mikey was wiping you up (he had told him to do so since they were teens).
Emma slapped her hands over her mouth to muffle a silent scream, beginning to voice up and down on excitement as she realized- her brother was marrying you! She thanked the gods that Mikey fell in love with you because there was no better in-law than her Soulsister.
“Ahhhhh! Oh my goodness Mikey! I’m so happy for you! Can I see? Wow! Oh my god Ken are you seeing this!? He’s proposing! Ah I’m so glad!” Mikey nodded in response and let Emma pick up the box and crack it open, revealing the beautiful white-gold wedding band, encrusted with more diamonds than she could count. Notably, one large diamond sat in the middle of the ring, flanked by two smaller diamonds on each side.
“Oh.” Emma breathed. “Ken why didn’t you ask Manjiro for help when picking my ring?” Emma sounded slightly offended as she spoke, glaring down at the ring.
“Nah nah, don’t get it twisted girl. You told me what ring you wanted, I didn’t have much picking liberty other than the price.” Ken waved his hands in dismissal, brushing off her accusations with a grin still wide on his face. He made his way over to Mikey and clapped a hand on his shoulder, congratulating him for the occasion.
“Good on you man! Finally givin it the push, hah?” Ken was smiling as he searched for Mikey’s eyes, but he didn’t look up. “What’s up with the long face? You’re about to propose dude, you should be over the moon!”
Mikey sighed and shook his head. “I’ve been trying to propose to her for months. Months Ken. I can’t do it. It’s never right.”
The couple halted their celebrations and turned to look at Mikey again, Emma putting down the dainty box as her looks turns to one of concern. “What do you mean?” She fingered at the box as she leaned across the counter.
“It’s… i don’t know. Ken made it look so easy when he proposed to you, and Pah-chin was even more mindless about it! I really want to. I really do, but every time I get close, I chicken out because I get scared or because something isn’t right, and I’m starting to think that it’s better if I just… don’t.” Mikey sighed and cradled his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the counter.
Emma and Ken shared a look, a wordless exchange of worry and empathy. "What kind of proposal were you thinking of? Big? Small? Public? Private?" Emma started, hand rubbing soothingly across her brother's back.
"Big." Mikey mumbled into his hands, remaining hunched over the counter. "Big and public. I wanna make sure that everyone knows, everyone sees, I want them all to know. want them to know how much I love her."
Emma's eyes softened and she suppressed a smile, because all in all, it was cute. She had always known her brother to be big and strong, undefeatable, and most of all unwaverable. Mikey always put up the strong front when really, he was hurt. Vulnerability wasn't something that she was used to seeing from him, which made this moment all the more special.
"Do you want to go somewhere with her?" Ken steps in and asks, an idea arising. Mikey only grunts, a noise of agreement sounding through the room. "Do you know what kind of places she likes?" Ken continues.
Mikey's head slowly raises from the position on the table and he stares forward at the refrigerator. "Europe."
Emma and Ken looked at one another again, sensing that they were getting somewhere. "Then take her on Vacation. You both have that long shared break coming up, don't you? Travel through Europe and when it feels right, ask!" Ken said.
"How do I know when it feels right, though? What if it's not the moment?" Mikey asks, still not entirely convinced. "You'll know. I promise you, you'll know. I knew too and I didn't think I had the stuff to ever get married." Ken reassures again, and this time the two share eye contact, and it takes Draken a lot not to tear up.
Draken took a moment in his mind to look at Mikey. He had stuck by his side since they were kids, through thick and thin it's always been the two if them against the world. And now as he looked at Manjiro he no longer saw the unmatchable delinquent he saw ten years ago, but rather a distinguished person with complex thoughts and emotions. He saw a man that felt, a man that cared and a man that loved in front of him, and he couldn't be prouder.
Ken nodded at Mikey, and Mikey nodded back at him. "Yeah. She'll love it! Thanks, I'll do that! Gosh I don't know what id do without you two.."
"Oh, please propose to her in front of the Eifel Tower! Or the Coliseum! Or on some romantic Bridge in Venice!" Emma swooned and held her hands over her chest, hearts in her eyes.
Mikey smiled at her and nodded again. "I'll try and film it if I can."
-
The rest of the evening was spent with the three of them checking about a thousand booking sites, mapping travel routes and destinations, and the occasional cacophony of laughter which led to a grumpy Ryuguji-baby. Manjiro couldn't wait to go with you, he thought as he sat on one of the armchairs, gently running a thumb over the silk box that sat pretty in his hand.
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lethalchiralium · 1 year
Text
All I Ask | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader
a/n: hi. PLEASE GIVE ME REQUESTS FOR THIS IM RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS AND I DONT WANT TO START THE ANGST ARC YET PLEASE
warnings: TALKING ABOUT SIMON’S TRAUMA (which includes physical abuse)
summary: Simon tells you why he feels ashamed, plus Mellie decides to be a comforting little baby.
PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST
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Simon could not get you to slow down, it was worrying him. He had taken the night to just sleep, fighting nightmares and waking up just as tired as he was when his head hit the pillow. He got up, took a shower without having to let Mellie into the bathroom to play, got dressed and made his way downstairs to find you.
The TV was on, the stupid show about those blue dogs playing that Simon secretly enjoyed, Mellie bouncing around in her little walker as you sat on the couch; Winnie’s hair between your fingers, making much prettier braids than he ever has. Though, Winnie has never complained; she said that he braids her hair ‘nicer’, whatever that meant - but it meant everything to him.
The baby in the bright yellow walker looked to him, her hand in her mouth as she smiled and began to coo at him - her free hand making grabbing signals. He smiled, walking straight to her and plucking her from the walker, settled her on his arm while both of her hands gripped his shirt. Her little head rested on his collarbone, a happy little giggle leaving her lips as he turned to his wife and oldest daughter.
Winnie shoveled fistfuls of Cheerios out of the box and into her mouth, infatuated with the blue and orange dogs while you smiled to him, radiant. He almost took a step back, in disbelief of how content you looked.
“You okay?” You spoke, looking back to Winnie’s hair. He gazed down at Mellie, her face looking at the TV too.
“Fine.” He answered, moving towards the couch to sit beside you. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before draping his free arm on the back of the couch, eyes falling on the TV. “You doin’ okay?”
“I’m more worried about you than I am me.” Your answer made him frown a bit as you looked back to Winnie’s hair.
He looked to your hair, wishing he could see you beautiful face. “You don’t need to worry ‘bout me.”
“I always worry about you.” You murmured, fingers slowing as you continued the one of two Dutch braids. He opened his mouth to say a rebuttal, but you continued, “But this is a whole different kind of worry. This is really hard, and I need to make sure that you’re going to be okay. And that I can help you in any way you need.”
“I should be saying that to you.” His baby tugged on his shirt while the hand not on Mellie settled on your closest shoulder, the girl cuddled on his chest began to coo again. He looked down to her, noticing that she wasn’t even looking at him - she was looking at you.
You turned your head to kiss the hand on your shoulder before turning back to your daughter’s hair. “Did a lot of thinking. A lot of crying.” A moment of laughter came from the TV, his eyes flickered to it. He watched the show just for a second before you began again, his eyes went back to you. “Families don’t go according to plan. When I was a kid, wanting two girls and two boys of my own and a loving husband was my plan; but then you crashed the party and you stomped all over it with the most wonderful little girl I’ve ever met.” You leaned forwards a kissed Winnie’s hair, to which she grumbled as the cereal box kept rustling with her grubby little hands digging out Cheerios. “Nothing I planned for my whole life has ever gone as planned. Adopting my daughter and hoping I’m raising her how her birth mother wants wasn’t a part of my plan. Having a surprise baby while you’re off protecting the world wasn’t a part of the plan.” He squeezed your shoulder. “We wanted another, but it just wasn’t in the cards. We drew a bad hand.”
“Wise girl.” He smiled, moving forwards to press a kiss to the back of your head. “I’ll be fine.”
“You say that.” You murmured. “I don’t want to push you, Si, but I want you to actually be okay. And it’s not an overnight decision-“
“I had a dream about my mum.”
You looked surprised. He has never told you about his dreams, even when she’s waking him from the nightmares which had him screaming.
The weight in his chest was lifted because of that dream, even if he knew she wasn’t real. His mom was dead, but he dreamt and talked to her as if she wasn’t. He couldn’t tell you what he had told his mother in his dream.
“I hope you were able to bring yourself comfort.” Your voice broke him from the memory, head still faced forwards towards Winnie. “There’s no reason to feel ashamed about missing your mom. I miss mine all the time.”
Mellie’s hand gripped what little stubble he had on his chin, he looked down at her. Her eyes that matched his, wide and warm and accompanied by her two toothed smile. His hand gently pushed back her barely their hair that looked like yours, the girl cooed.
“She’s supposed to be talking soon, right?” He mumbled, her little baby nails dug into his chin but he didn’t care. “Keep forgetting to get her to talk.”
“She will when she’s ready.”
Mellie smacked his chin, he frowned at her. She giggled back, the sleeve of her blue onesie riding up her arm.
“Say Dada.” He whispered, the baby furrowed her eyebrows. “Dada.”
“Simon Riley, don’t you be turning her on me.” Your voice held warning, but full of playfulness. He glanced to you, you still faced away. “Her first word is gonna be ‘Mama’ and there will be hell to pay if it isn’t.”
He looked back to the baby on his chest, a sudden clench of his heart made his smile drop. The little baby was looking to you now since she heard your voice.
“I didn’t want him.”
His free hand gently patted his baby’s back, she kept her eyes on her mom.
“I didn’t want our son and I don’t know why.”
There was a moment of silence, save for the TV, where neither of you said a word. He couldn’t look at you.
“Winnie, baby, can you go eat in the dining room for me?” Your voice was soft, Winnie hopped off of the couch, loudly crunching on her Cheerios as she passed by Simon - her hair in two neat little braids. He kept his gaze on his baby, watching as her little smile grew bigger as you turned to look at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your hand was gentle when it rested on his chest, Mellie’s grip disappeared from his chin, moving to your fingers. The little chunky hands grabbed your pointer finger, trying to pull it to her mouth.
His words failed him as he watched Mellie begin to chew on your finger, you were completely unfazed. How could he have told you? It would’ve only hurt you.
“You don’t have to tell me.” Your head then rested on his shoulder, his hand still patted Mellie’s back. “I don’t need to know, I’m just trying to help you.”
The tears weren’t purposeful, yet they still fell - just short of Mellie’s head. The girl looked up to him, her little eyes widened and she immediately pulled your hand from her sharp teeth. Her little baby hands then smacked themselves onto his face, directly in the way of the streaks of his tears.
“Daddy’s okay, baby.” He whispered, his other hand tried to move her hands from his face, but she let out a grunt in disapproval. “It’s alright.”
You curled your body into his side, arms wrapped around his left arm - head nestled on his shoulder. Silence fell again, his daughter staring directly into his eyes and refusing to move her hands as he silently cried. Her little fingers curled uncurled against his cheeks, little nails scuffing up his face but he didn’t care. He could stay like this forever.
Mellie blinked at him, cooing a little as the tears began to stop. Her eyes grew tired, her hands moved from his face and to his chest, keeping herself sitting up so she could stare at him. She scrunched her nose just like her sister, and without warning, slammed her head into his collarbone. He winced in pain, his only free hand coming to cradle her head.
He’d be lying if he said that he wanted time to keep moving, so he could watch his daughters grow. He just wanted to stay like this, his baby cradled on his chest and just as sassy as her older sister.
“My father,” His voice was quiet, just above a whisper. “He hated that he had boys. Hated that he had children in the first place, never once told me that he loved me. Always told me that he never wanted me.”
Your hands squeezed his arm.
“And I know I told you that I would be okay with a boy, but I don’t think I could look my own son in the face. All I’d see is me, that little boy who was so terrified of his father that he hid in the cabinets for days. The little boy who was forced to watch his father beat his mother.” He took a short breath. “I couldn’t look a carbon copy of myself in the face and act like I loved him, because he would be a reminder of how I failed my family. That I would end up like my father.”
“You’ll never be that fucking bastard.” Your voice was certain, he knew you were looking up at him but he couldn’t move his eyes from Mellie as her little face turned to look at you. “Simon, please, look at me.”
He couldn’t deny you a thing - not in this lifetime, or the next. His head turned, his face looking to you - his heart shattered. There were tears in your eyes, your hands squeezing his arm.
“You never will be like your father,” Hands gripped around his arm, you pulled his arm even further into your chest. “That girl on your chest has never been anything but love from you. Winnie has only ever been loved by you. Have you hit her?”
He stared at you. “No.”
“Would you? Has the thought ever crossed your mind?”
“No.”
“You’re already miles better than him.” Your voice grew softer, your hand moved to rest on his cheek. “And I know you’d never think of hurting me.” The tears stung his eyes, the tiredness that welled in his shoulders began to hurt as you whispered to him, “I know you’re scared of becoming him, but I doubt you ever will. You have so much love to give, Simon. From what I’ve heard, your father only had hurt to give.”
“I don’t ever want to hurt you.” His eyes fluttered closed, leaning his head forward to settle his forehead against yours. “I don’t want to hurt my girls, I just want to love all three of you.”
“That’s all I ask for.”
A little hand smacked his cheek, he opened an eye to look in the direction of Mellie. He opened both of his eyes, pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking to his baby.
“Say Mama.” He spoke, the little baby scrunched her nose again. He smiled through his tears, his eyes flickered up when he saw Winnie creep into view. Her little green bear settled in her arms, she rubbed the back of her hand into her eye. “C’mon, Winnie.”
The chestnut haired little girl instantly climbed her way onto his lap, narrowly avoiding the baby on his chest and plopping in between him and you. You instantly moved your arm around her, grabbing the blanket that was set on the arm of the couch. He helped you with his free hand, pulling the blanket to cover his family.
“I’m proud of you, Si.” You spoke, hand resting on his chest as your arm laid on Winnie’s side. His oldest daughter’s head settled just under yours, you placed a kiss on her head.
Those words made him smile, the tears falling down his face - Mellie looked back up to him after curiously watching you and him cover everyone with the blanket. He pressed a kiss to her face before leaning his head back onto the back of the couch, closing his eyes. You moved one leg over his lap, sleep began to gnaw at his head.
“Daddy.”
“Yeah, Winnie?” He answered.
“That wasn’t me.” He heard Winnie as clear as day, his head shot up to look down at Mellie, who still kept herself sitting up and looking at him - a smile on her little face. He could instantly feel your head pop up from his shoulder.
“Mama.” He said, hushed, “You say Mama, Mellie. Not Daddy.”
“Daddy.” The little baby on his chest cooed, louder this time. “Dada.”
“She said her first word.” You whispered, hand squeezing his arm. “I’m so mad at you for being first.”
“I was rooting for her to say mama too,” He whispered, his hand gently patting Mellie’s back.
“Say Mama, Mellie.” The baby looked to you as soon as you spoke, she stared at you. “She has your staring problem.”
“I know. I kind of feel bad.” He commented as he watched Winnie’s hand reach out to pet her sister’s head, the baby cooed again. Mellie looked back to Simon, her little hand reached back for his face. He pressed a kiss to her hand before letting her grab his stubble again, almost wincing as she pulled on it. “Gentle, Bug.”
“Dada.” Mellie answered, then let go of his chin - settling her head gently on his chest this time.
“I love you, Bug.” He whispered, kissing her head before moving to Winnie, placing a kiss on her head too as he said, “I love you, Duckling.”
You pressed a kiss to his cheek before he could get to you. “I love you.”
He wasn’t sure he could ever live without you.
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taglist: @sigynxlokiwifelover @lumpypoll @multitargaryen @chloeforde @blueoorchid @vir-tual @lolis-pikt @theverycelestialgemini @simpingforleoandnico
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Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.
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affection || Sam Golbach || part two
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smut, 18+, minors dni (this is for the sam girls and the sam girls ONLY. i promise ily colby)
part one is here
the finale is here
One last time.
This had to be the last time he saw you.
Sam stood outside of your apartment door, staring blankly at the hideous brown paint.
How could he have never noticed how unappealing this color was before? He shook his head, forcing himself to stay on topic.
Sam could ignore the downgrade of quality of his content. He also could blissfully ignore your steady decline in your studies, even though he knew you had big dreams of running a business one day.
What Sam couldn’t ignore, nor forget, was when he came home at dawn after a long night with you.
Sam never felt the need to hide when he came home around sunrise. Colby was never awake. Typically he was either in a deep slumber, or quietly editing in his room. The brunette usually never emerged from his bedroom during these hours, allowing Sam to slip in and out as he pleased.
The color from Sam’s face drained as he entered their house, Colby watching TV in their living room. It wasn’t the fact that Sam looked like shit that alarmed him. His blonde hair was fluffed up, courtesy of you pushing him deeper into your drenched folds. The scratches on his back were hidden by his hoodie, even though he could still feel the ghost of your nails as he rammed into you.
He awkwardly held his high top vans in his left hand, too exhausted to try to put them back on after he left your place. All of those factors were visible, sure. But what he knew would raise questions were the purple and brown marks littering his neck. Colby turned to him nonchalantly, bags hanging under his eyes. Sam calmly locked the door, trying to steer the conversation away from the obvious direction it was going.
“You good man? I never see you up this late,” Sam asked, expressing genuine concern. Colby shrugged, turning down Shameless as it played on their flat screen TV. “I’m having trouble editing our new video dude. It just doesn’t have your flare to it and it feels wrong. Y’know?” Colby said. Sam felt the guilt he obtained crawl into the front seat of his mind, waving at him mockingly. “I’ll help you after I sleep. I’m about to crash,” Sam replied. He turned towards their staircase, avoiding Colby’s gaze.
The blonde thought maybe he was in the clear, before Colby’s excited voice rang out. “Holy shit dude! I thought you were always coming in and out from late night runs,” Colby exclaimed. Sam turned hesitantly, Colby excitedly hopping over the back of their couch. Sam watched as his best friends eyes scanned over his fresh layer of hickies. “Dude I was so worried you’d never allow yourself to get laid again. But look at you! You look like a wounded deer,” Colby teased.
Sam allowed himself to stifle a laugh. “A wounded deer? What a comparison,” Sam chuckled. It was almost as if the tension had diffused, Sam beginning to shove his guilt back into the backseat of his mind where it belonged. “Who’s the lucky girl? I’m glad you’re moving on,” Colby said, playfully patting Sam’s shoulder. Sam had a hard time maintaining eye contact with Colby, his mouth running dry. A lie escaped his lips before he could stop it.
“One of the girls we met at Tara’s party a few weeks ago. Dont tell Tara though, I think she might freak if she found out.”
Sam went to raise his closed hand, wanting to knock on your door. It was one in the afternoon on a Wednesday. He was almost sure you had class, but he needed to talk to you. He needed to call this whole thing off.
He almost got caught.
His career and life long friendship with Colby was nearly shattered over some fucking hickies.
Sam could feel his heart racing, the pounding sounding like it was going to explode out of his chest.
He could feel himself beginning to panic.
The idea of telling you that it was over engulfing him.
“Sam?”
Oh your sweet voice.
All of the anxiety he had was nearly swept away by the sound of you calling his name.
Sam looked over in your direction, brown paper bags full of groceries in your hands. “Here let me help with that,” Sam said quickly, practically running over to you. He took the heavy bags from your arms, your curious eyes meeting his. “No disguise at one in the afternoon and you’re in front of my apartment when you know I have class on campus today,” You mused. You awkwardly shuffled and dug your keys out of your purse, unlocking your apartment door.
“Is something wrong?”
Sam drug his feet over to your kitchen, setting your groceries down on your marble counter. He could hear the click of the door locking behind him, his heart beginning to race again.
You both sat awkwardly on opposite ends of your gray couch, your arms crossed.
Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you, your facial expression sure to make him crumble and change his mind.
“We can’t do this anymore.”
His words stung like a million bee stings, your heart sinking in your chest.
“Well, I was guessing you were going to tell me you gave me an STD, so this seems slightly better,” You joked dryly. Sam snorted, feeling himself get emotional even through the laughter.
You tried to ignore the tears that threatened to welt up in your waterline, a weak smile spreading across your lips.
“Can I ask why?”
“It’s probably better if you don’t,”
You nodded, understanding. After all, how long could you expect this to continue?
You rose to your feet, swallowing hard.
“I’ll show you out then,” You offered. Your apartments front door was a grand total of ten feet away from the both of you, but that didn’t matter. Sam nodded, feeling his face flush red at the sight of you.
He followed behind you slowly like a wounded puppy, even though he was the one who made this decision. The two of you reached your front door, Sam towering over you as he stared down at you. “I guess this is goodbye then,” Sam mumbled. You looked up at your blonde lover, the one who had kept your bed warm all this time.
Unsurely you raised your left hand, cupping his pink cheek. His skin was warmer to the touch than usual, and you weakly smiled again. “Dont cry Sammy, you know when you cry I cry,” You say lightly. Sam swallowed hard, nodding.
You were so close, your lips so plush and pink. Sam could smell you too, the sweet vanilla scent flooding his nostrils. “You smell good,” Sam murmured, He knew he sounded like a total nerd, but he just couldn’t help himself. He brought himself closer to you, cupping your soft face in his hands. You softly gasped as he brought his lips to yours, unable to get enough of you.
His touch was soft and sweet, the faint taste of mint flooding your tongue. You pulled away slightly, Sam’s hands refusing to leave your face.
“B-but I thought we were done,” You whispered. You could feel your core throb at the feeling of his desperation, your body craving his the same way his did yours. “One last time. I promise i’ll leave you alone forever if you let me fuck you one last time,” Sam pleaded. He was practically begging you. He would sink to his knees and plead if he needed to.
Sam wanted this ingrained in his mind forever. The sound of your moans, the feeling of your soft skin. The taste of your sweet juices coating his tongue and soaking his chin. “Please,” You whispered, your own desperation overriding the feeling of grief. Your agreement was all Sam needed, instantly dropping to his knees. He pressed you against your front door, quick to make work at your skinny jeans.
You kicked off your shoes, Sam’s eagerness overriding his urge to tease you. He looked up at you, his blue eyes soaking in your face. You bit your lip, feeling his hot breath fan over your folds. “You’re so fucking hot,” Sam muttered. He spread open your folds with his index and middle finger, admiring your cunt. “And you have the prettiest pussy,” He praised. Sam licked a stripe up your cunt, relishing in hearing you groan for him.
You spread your legs a bit more, giving him complete access to your cunt. Sam snaked his hands around to your ass, gripping the flesh harshly. You raked your fingers through his hair, bucking your hips closer to his mouth. “Eager for me, huh?” Sam smirked. You sighed in frustration, attempting to push his head into your folds. “Shut up before I change my mind about this. You’re always so cocky-” You began complaining, a moan escaping your lips mind sentence as Sam began lapping at your folds.
His tongue swirled and he sucked at your clit, as if he was trying to suck your soul out through your cunt. “Sammy please,” You whined. Sam brought two fingers to your cunt, your slick coating his chin. “You’re practically dripping for me. Such a dirty slut,” Sam commented. He slowly pushed his fingers inside of you, causing you to squirm under his touch. Sam watched your mouth drop into the shape of an O as he curled his digits, knowing where your g spot was like the back of his hand.
It was then the sound of loud knocking caused you to freeze.
Sam hesitated as well, looking at you for guidance.
He couldn’t answer for you, this was your apartment.
“Who is it?” You called out. Sam didn’t remove his fingers from your aching cunt, the voice on the other side of the door one you both knew all too well.
“It’s Colby,”
Shit.
You went to squirm away from Sam’s fingers, his breath fanning over your folds as he watched your reaction carefully. “Answer him, don’t be rude,” Sam whispered. His voice was barely audible, and you were sure Colby didn’t hear him.
“Now’s not a good time Colby,” You said, your voice cracking. Sam felt your walls clench around his fingers as you said his best friends name, causing him to smirk. He nuzzled his way back into your cunt, sucking harshly on your clit as if your life depended on it.
“Look im sorry about before. I think Sam is fooling around with Kat and doesn’t want to tell me. It just makes me think that I took you for granted and that maybe we should try again,” Colby admitted. The brunette stood anxiously in front of your apartment door, wishing that he had a key so he could open it and see you.
You tugged at Sam’s roots, slightly afraid you’d accidentally yank out his hair. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to conceal the unholy noises that threatened to escape your lips.
“I-i’m not sure Colby,” You stuttered. Sam began to finger fuck you faster, as if he wanted Colby to hear you getting ruined. Sam could feel his bulge growing in his pants, the situation too lewd for him to not take advantage of.
“Look if you give me a second chance i’ll give you the world. I miss you,” Colby sighed. Sam’s teeth grazed your clit, causing you to audibly whine. You covered it up with a fake cough, your eyes widening. Colby stood on the other side of the door, dumbfounded as to why you were standing so close to your front door.
“I’m not feeling too well, give me some time to think about it. Okay?” You asked, adding an extra cough at the end of your sentence. You could feel the knot in your stomach forming, your orgasm getting closer and closer. Sam sensed it too, quickly rising to his feet. His chin and mouth were covered in your juices, his large hand flying over your lips to conceal your noises.
“Okay. You can call me anytime. Let me know if you want me to come over and make you feel better,” Colby offered.
Sam listened carefully, listening to Colby slowly walk away.
“Go on baby, cum for me. Cum all over my fingers like the dirty little whore you are for me,” Sam purred. His breath was hot against your ear, his fingers non stop fucking you. You grabbed onto his arm, your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. You moaned loudly into his hand, his name coming off of your lips like a mantra. “There we go. That’s a good girl,” Sam praised. He left soft kisses on your ear, moving his hand away.
“T-that was so dangerous. But so hot,” You admitted, blushing madly. It was one thing to have a fantasy, it was another one to play it out in real life. Sam smirked down at you, bringing his lips to yours. He kissed you roughly, as if he was trying to absorb you.
Your hands rushed down to his belt, shakily unbuckling it. “Relax, I got it,” Sam murmured. He shoved his jeans down to his ankles, his boxers right along with them. “As much as i’d love to use your pretty mouth, I just wanna feel you one last time,” Sam admitted. He guided his cock, his tip rubbing up and down your slick folds. “Do you wanna move to the couch?” You whispered, Sam’s face an inch away from yours.
“Jump,” Sam ordered. You did as instructed, your legs wrapping around Sam’s waist. He pushed your back fully against your front door, your arms wrapping around him for support. A devilish smirk crossed his lips as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. You gasped as your body adjusted to him, his girth always stretching you out. “Nah. I wanna give your neighbors one last show,” Sam said. He pushed himself in further, quietly groaning as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder.
“I want anyone walking by to know that i’m the only one who can make you feel this good,” Sam explained, nibbling at your ear.
You felt him bottom out, your walls adjusting to his size. Sam’s hand slithered up to your neck, pressing down on your sensitive pressure points.
“I want everyone to know that nobody else is ever going to make you feel this good again,” Sam told you sternly. His blue eyes watched yours intently, your walls involuntarily squeezing him. Sam slowly bucked his hips, causing an unholy moan to escape your lips.
His grip on your throat tightened, causing you to gasp.
“You’re a filthy whore. You know that? You don’t think I can feel you squeezing me? All because I ruined you?” Sam mocked. He began to pick up the pace, snapping his hips into yours. He loosened his grip on your throat, your lungs gasping for air. Assertively he pressed your neck against the door, slamming into you. His cock was abusive and rough, his thrust no where near loving or caring.
Sam Golbach fucked you like a slut, and you loved every second of it.
“I can’t believe I ruined you. I ruined you for everyone else. Even yourself. You understand? No one will ever be able to make you feel as good as I do,” Sam grunted. Your moans were incoherent babbles of his name and curses, the words repeating themselves like mantras.
You were like Sam’s personal brand of ecstasy, his body addicting yours. All of the guilt and withdrawals went away, his body now focused on chasing his high. Your breast bounced as Sam fucked you against your front door, the knot in your stomach tightening before you could even process it.
You were lost in the pleasure, Sam quickly bringing you back to reality. He grabbed your face harshly, causing your lips to pucker out like a fish.
“Do you understand? I own this cunt, no matter what happens,” Sam barked. You began slurring a response, gripping onto his shoulders for support.
“I understand,” You managed to say, barely hanging on. Through out Sam’s degrading, his hips never faltered or stuttered. “Who owns you? Say my name,” Sam growled. He was going feral, getting off on the fact that even though this was the last time, he would own you.
Even if he never got the pleasure of touching you again, you would always think of him in the dead of night. When your cunt was aching of desire, you would think of him. Only him.
“You do Sam. You own me. I’m yours,” You panted. Sam released your face, gripping your waist with both hands now. His fingers always grabbed you the exact same way, the bruises he left on you never fully fading as he replaced them with new ones. “Fuck. I’m gonna miss this sweet cunt. I can feel you getting close for me. You gonna cum on my cock one last time?” Sam asked. He was barely holding on himself, his lips beginning to prod and suck at your neck.
You whined as he sucked on your sweet spot, your body shaking. You felt like you were on fire, euphoria clouding over you. “Fuck i’m cumming, fuck Sam,” You cried. Your walls tightened around Sam, causing him to throw his head back. Light hickies covered your neck, one last piece of evidence that you were his. “Such a tight cunt. Fuck i’m going to breed you,” Sam grunted. You clung onto Sam for dear life as his thrust continued.
“Hold on for me baby, I’m almost there. You’re such a good girl for me,” Sam praised. The words fell off of his lips effortlessly, like this wasn’t the last time he planned on seeing you. You pulled him in for a rough kiss, the two of your guys teeth almost clashing together. Your soft lips and the faint taste of the bubblegum flavored gum you always chewed sent him over the edge.
He moaned into your mouth, his warm cum painting your inner walls. He rested his head on your shoulder, trying to return back to planet Earth as he came down from his high.
Sam was never one to neglect after care, even at the expense of getting caught. But this time, it just didn’t seem right. Sam slowly slipped out of you, setting your shaking body down on the floor. He reached down and pulled up his jeans and boxers, before quickly working at fixing his belt. “No aftercare?” You questioned. Your eyebrows were furrowed as the blonde avoided your gaze.
“It doesn’t feel right. I’m sorry. This is for the best,” Sam said quickly. He ensured he had all of his belongings before going to unlock the door. You stepped out of his way, concealing your exposed lower half behind the door. Sam walked out of the open door, unsure of what to say. You could feel his cum drip down your upper thigh, your face flushing with embarrassment. This wasn’t right. Not having Sam wasn’t right.
“Sam? Sam! Don’t do this. I love you,” You confessed. Sam froze for a moment, the sun hitting his face. He considered turning around, his back turned to you. He knew he couldn’t face you on fully, causing him to glance over his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Was all he uttered before walking away.
The pain in his chest was demanding for him to turn around. To acknowledge the pain written across your face or the sound of your front door slowly shutting.
But if he wanted things to go back to the way they were, before he had met you, he could never tell you the truth.
Not now.
Not ever.
(I promise there will be a part three with a happy ending i’m locked in. love, tara)
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certainduckanchor · 3 months
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PITIFUL part 1
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pairings: gojo x reader
genre: angst
Disclaimer: Read at your own risk.
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Gojo hate the fact that he's married already. He don't want to be tied with someone at the age of 28. He has so many plans for himself. He wants to be free. But here you are acting so sweet, kind, and timid in front of him, which is he hates the most. Why would you ever agree to be married to him? Is it because he came from prestigious clan? You want his money?
He don't even know you, where you from, or even your name, he don't give a damn. It was his parents and elders idea, practically thinking that it would be best if the strongest sorcerer get married and has heirs.
" why are you here? " he asked you look irritated. Everyday he always asked you that question. Thinking why are you living together.
" because im you wife." you said softly. You heard him took a deep breath. You didn't bother to look at him because you know he hates you. Every single thing about you hates him, well you can't blame. The strongest sorcerer suddenly get married to someone like you. Someone who is far from his status.
" wife my ass! Are you really that stupid and pathetic?" he mocked. Trying to make you mad.
Everyday is like this since you two got married. It was so sudden that no one knew. It was a simple wedding celebration just you and Gojo's clan.
He also made it clear that no one should know that you're married together. Even in school, he specifically told you to stay away from him and you agree. You respect his decision, after all your life is meaningless anyway. You don't want to burden him.
" call me what you want, Satoru. But I don't need to answer you." you simply said not bothering to look at him.
He grabbed your arm which made you look at him. He looks dangerous. He's blue eyes is piercing through your body. It made you shiver.
" what do you want woman?! My money? My body? You want heirs?! Tell me and I'll fuck you right here and now!"
" let me go." you whispered. You don't want to start a fight with him.
" what did you say?!"
" let me go Satoru..." you warned.
" what if I don't? What can you do? You're nothing but a weak woman, pathetic, stupid, bit--"
You slapped him so hard. His eyes widened in disbelief, what you did boils him.
" I-i'm sorry, I-i didn't mea--" you tried to touch his face.
" how fucking dare you!" he grabbed your arm. You cried in pain. It's like he'll break your arm.
" S-satoru please.. l-let me go. It hurts. Please! Please! Just let me go. I'll do anything you want!" your begging. You tried to calm him down. Suddenly he stop, grinning at you. This is what he likes, he likes you to beg for him. He wants you to realized that marrying him is a wrong decision.
" get out of this house. I don't want to see your face." you nod and he leaves. If this is what he wants, I'll give it to him.
You packed your things. Wondering where you will stay the night. Hotel? it's expensive. You dont have much money, even if Gojo is your husband you never touch what's his. So you're only living in your salary. You decided to stay the night in your dorm.
Just a little. You just have to endure everything in this life.
- ff -
" yn-sama. you're late. " the maid bowed at you. She gives you a robe.
You look at the door infront of you. You thought you will finally escape from them after marrying the person they trully want but you can't. You're so sick of them, but whenever Gojo sees you you can't help but feel bad for him. You really don't want this to happened - to ruin his life.
You entered the hell, this was hell from you ever since you're young.
" yn we've been waiting for you." it was your mother. You bowed to them.
" I'm sorry.. there was something i nee--"
" i don't give a damn. So how's your married life with the strongest sorcerer?" she asked.
Every month, every last friday of the month. You were told to report from them about what it's like to live with the strongest sorcerer.
" it was great mother. he's so powerful and a kind person." you lied, still bowing to them. You feel sick, every month you have to make an excuse just to please them.
" that's good to hear. how about heirs? are you pregnant now?" your father asked.
This is their plan, to get you married from the strongest sorcerer, have his money and give birth to him. It was all their selfish desire.
" no father.. Satoru is so busy being a sorcerer and clan leader." you bite your lower lip.
" what?! you're married for 5 months already still no child?" he looks at you angry. Cursing you because for him it's your fault. You mother who was sitting beside him looks angry too.
" why don't you seduce him! Use your fucking mind! We want heirs now!" he shouts at you.
You silently clenched your fist. You're tired from this. Tired from your life. Tired from everything. You just want to die.
" I'll do my best next time father." you whispered.
" you better be or else you know what will happen to you!"
Suddenly the door opened, it was the maids. You know the drill what will happen next. They will beat the shit out of you at the basement.
You let them drag you, you didn't bother to squirm. Hoping this will be the last, hoping you will not survive from this. No one will really cares if you died here, even your husband who dispise you the most.
They lock you up for 2 hours. Whipping and beating your body. You didn't make a sound nor cried. You felt numb, growing up from these beatings made you strong enough not to cry.
After beating the shit out of you. You just dress like nothing happened. Still wondering why you didn't died today. You were used to this.
Is this the purpose of my life? I just wanted to be happy. But why is this happening? Why do I have to endure everything? Is it too much to ask?
When you arrive at your dorm. You locked yourself crying. Everything hurts. You're tired from everything. Maybe it's better if you killed yourself now. That's it. You'll end this suffering.
You stared at the mirror. Smiling at your reflection. Reminiscing your childhood trauma until Gojo Satoru entered your useless life. Gojo was right. Who wants to gets married to a woman like me? A woman who looks stupid and pathetic. A woman who's weaker than him. I'm just a bug in his life, a woman who ruined his life.
You drive yourself to your shared apartment. Satoru was there, for sure. Today you will end ties with him. You're finally giving him the freedom he deserves.
When you arrived at your apartment, you heard a moan coming from your bedroom. Not a surprise anymore.
" Satoru..." you called. His eyes widened and he immediately cover his body together with the woman he's fucking.
" what the hell! why are you here?" he angrily said.
" I'm sorry.. " you started. " Sorry for ruining your life. Sorry because I agreed to marry you. You're right, I'm just a pathetic and stupid woman. I don't hate you actually. Thank you and sorry for everything. "
He was stunned. This is so sudden. The woman in your bed looks confuse too.
" I'm cutting everything we had. Don't worry I'm still keeping your secrets. I wish you a happy life. You deserve so much. " you smiled for the last time. You bowed at him leaving him in the bedroom stunned. He can't believe you did that.
You genuinely smiled to him. Gojo Satoru swears that this is the first time you smiled at him.
You went back to your dorm happily.
Later that night..
They found your body in your dorm, lifeless, full of scars, bruise and wounds. The sound of their cries echoes through the hallway of Jujutsu High. Their beloved teacher yn is gone.
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No proofreading.
P.S. thank youuu @kawaiivillainess98 for suggesting a title ❤️
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alj0saray · 1 month
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hi, hello, welcome!
First of all, I love your works like this much: 🫸(to the moon and back)🫷and congrats for 2,5k followers. May I please ask for Valentines event - a whole alphabet with Leona? I know it's a lot, however the thirst I feel for this man atm is becoming unbearable.
Wishing you a wonderful day, sending lots of love <3
omg thank you so much!!! wishing a wonderful day to you too💙💙 also its understandable your thirst i mean, isn't leona sexy... Even I simp for him lmao don't tell vil though
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ೃ⁀➷ TW/CW: SMUT, Bad English, 18+ (MINORS/AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DON’T INTERACT), GN Reader, Ruts/Heats, Sadism, Somnophilia (obv consensual), Morning sex, Semi-Public sex, Bite&Hickeys, Breeding Kink, Pregnancy, let me know if I need to add more TW/Tags ♡ My blog contains dark content, be careful when interacting/following! Please if you like my work don't forget to reblog/interact with me♡ Minors, ageless, blank blogs, and silent readers will get blocked if interact with me. 
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⤠ Jing Yuan + Entire Alphabet ⤟ TWST Masterlist & Valentine Event ⤠ Rook Hunt + Entire Alphabet ⤟ 
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A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)
Oh please don’t really expect anything from. Maybe an arm around your body as he gets closer to you as he is falling asleep, if you ask hes willing to cuddle with you however. Hes just falling asleep too easily lmao 
B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)
Leona favorite body part on himself would probably be either his chest or arms, taking pride in how good he looks and how strong he is to be able to pick you up to fuck you standing. On you he also very much likes your chest but also your ass, always having a hand on it as a possessive way 
C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)
I talk about it here also by the way, but Leona adores cumming deep inside of you, on your face or on your ass. He just loves making a mess out of you in any way possible, whatever being you are so full of his cum that leaks out or not 
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D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)
He thinks of the idea of getting you pregnant (if there is a possibility of you getting pregnant) and it makes him hard. The idea of actually getting you pregnant, is not only a breeding kink that thinks of filling you up without getting you pregnant. But maybe it's just his animal instincts kicking in 
E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)
Yes, Leona is no longer a virgin so he knows what he is doing but i dont think he is that knowledgeable about sex and what he likes and doesnt like. He had a few experiences before you, nothing too extreme or anything like that 
F= Favorite position
Oh there are plenty he likes; being it either with you on over him (cowgirl reserved and not), or with him over you like doggy, mating press, stuff like that. Missionary can be somewhat boring to him but its also on the table 
G= Goofy (how serious are they)
Not really goofy, he can take a joke or two but dont overdo it or it would honestly ruin his mood. Its more so he gets annoyed if you keep joking or trying to make the ruin lighter, and would probably stop right there 
H= Hair (grooming habits)
Due to his laziness Leona doesnt really keep track of his grooming habits (even if he has all that gorgeous hair on his head), so expect a lot of hair. If you keep complaining about he might get it shorter, but nothing too crazy 
I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)
Very rough and dirty, not really romantic at all. Like no romanticism whatsoever. Not even during celebrations like anniversaries or something like that, because he won’t. He takes where he can without care, hard and deep, and makes it as dirty as possible  
J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)
Twice or thrice per week. Usually. Of course that depends whether or not hes in a rut (but we will talk about it later), but usually its either twice or thrice per week since hes so very needy but sometimes hes just too lazy to do it and asks you 
K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)
Sadism, Somnophilia (obv consensual), Morning sex, Semi-Public sex, Bite&Hickeys, Breeding Kink 
L= Location (where they like to get it on)
Everywhere. Its not like his room is particularly “private” so he doesnt really care about having sex with you in more public sex, nor is he worried about someone seeing you both being intimate. He is jealous, that for sure, but he also likes to show off to make sure people know who you belong to 
M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)
When you wear something too pretty for others to see, when you act too bratty for your own good and try to win him over, as if he going to lose over that, and when you act all good, pretty, and innocent around him. 
N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)
Threesomes i fear. He is jealous and possessive (even out of yandere), too much for its own good that he can’t bear the thought of sharing you with another, being a man or a woman. Its a big no to him. 
O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)
Hes very stinging about giving oral, unfortunately, as he prefers when you give him oral. And he likes when you deepthroat him, going as far as possible until you gag around him and he chuckles. But when he does give you oral is pretty good, at knowing where to suck or where to lick, but be careful cause he bites  
P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)
He’s fast and deep. So incredibly fast. He wants you to feel for sure that you feel sore the next day and can last for at least one hour, having no problems with going another round right after 
Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)
Leona likes quickies, he likes taking you fast and deep and whenever he pleases with little to no care about where you two are or who might see or if its illegal to have sex there. He doesnt care so much should you, why so much care? Just have some fun and trust him! 
R= Risk (do they like to try new things)
Like I would say “sni”. Yes and no. Depends on what it is most importantly. A new position? Sure, thats fun. A sex toy? Yeah nah. No toys. Other than that you can suggest anything and hes willing to at least try some of it, most of the time 
S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)
Oh oh please. Not only he is a beastman, a lion, but hes also athletic. He can lasts for hours without problems, keep going after round after round- maybe up to four or five, and maybe letting you take some time to take something to drink or to relax for a couple of minutes. Maybe. If he feels nice enough 
T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)
Not exactly a big fan of toys, no. Doesnt really like them cause he somewhat feels jealous about them weirder enough, like he thinks he isn't good enough to pleasure you without them and so he tries to show it off. Hes fine with a bullet vibe though, or a vibrator, as only a way to tease you and edge you while you beg to fuck him 
U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)
Leona doesnt shut up. He is always teasing someway, liking to give you something and then immediately take it away. Like he would start touching you in a more sexual manner, just before stopping before things get good. He will call you names in your ear as he leaves you desperate with a vibrator deep inside of you 
V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)
Not exactly loud nor does he moan, it's more so grunts on his part and also not a lot. He tends to get louder when he is about to cum and his grunts start to become almost moany, until he lets out a soft, a bit louder, moan. 
W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)
As I said in my nsfw hcs, im of the idea that all beastman go into rut/heat. So. Leona goes into a rut. And he gets so needy, so moany, so whiny- he almost begs for you to fuck him, key word almost. Leona just needs you so badly and he needs you now. 
X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)
I talked about it here! 
Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)
Very high. He is always ready to go, especially if you are horny. He can go multiple times a day or a week, you probably fuck a lot during a normal week if not considering his time during a rut. You will probably feel sore for an entire week 
Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)
He doesn't fall asleep immediately but it's swift, it takes him less than five minutes to completely fall asleep while he keeps you closer to him as he starts to snore slightly. He can stay up for a while if you want to stay awake he can, but not for a long time though lmao 
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This work belongs to @/alj0saray, do not repost, translate, copy, rewrite or share on tiktok without my permission. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged♡
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dckweed · 5 months
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Sooo glad you posted a second part of the Jakex best friend baby story. A huuuge hug for you =) so in a matter of fact I squealed a bit as I read that you're accepting requests for this story. So I would have an idea, maybe you like it, if not I'm still going to read EVERYTHING you write =)
I'm thinking of reader is feeling off for days, like feeling dizzy and stressed out. The nausea is also taking a toll on her. One evening at the Hard Deck with the whole squad a woman is approaching Jake... Unfortunately it's his ex girlfriend. She immediately flirts with him and making the reader really uncomfortable. Jake tries to get rid of his bitchy ex by showing off reader and introducing her to his ex. She's already sporting a small bump, which his ex notices. Later reader goes to the bathroom, not feeling so hot, but Jake's ex follows her and corners her at the bathroom insulting reader for being a slut, being pregnant and stealing Jake, absolutely stressing the pregnant woman out. After her harassment she leaves the bathroom leaving reader alone. The whole situation worsens her feeling sick and she collapses in one of the stalls.
Just need some huuuge whump and Jake and the Daggers being protective. Maybe you can use some of my ideas.
P.S.: it's so brave that you share your personal story here with us. You're a strong young woman. I belive in you!
hiii thank you for sending this in! absolutely love the idea! and thank you so much, i feel like eating disorders and the struggles that come with them aren't something thats spoken of enough and i really would like to bring awareness by sharing my own story :) so, if anyone has any questions about that, feel free to send them in ! I'm here to advocate and be a voice..if you think you have one or know someone who does and dont know how or where to get help, i got you, if you're wondering how to cope with symptoms, i got you!
in the meantime however, i give you my comfort loves, jake and babygirl! please feel free to send in any requests, comments or thoughts that you may have for this particular series ! and in lieu of halloween, this is officially halloween themed.
p.s. how are we doing today? are we hydrated? have we had a snack or two? this is your reminder to go do both if you haven't already! also does someone want to possibly make a boodboard for jake and babygirl?? full credit would go to you in every post if i use it !
warnings: elusions to sex and actual soft sex mentioned and described as well as cockwarming briefly mentioned, pregnancy, fainting, hospitals, grown adults bullying essentially
the babygirl series part three, part two here
BABYGIRL, the playlist
INSECURITIES. jake 'hangman' seresin
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Your breathing was even as you layed on your back, one of your legs caught between his. The NAVY tshirt you were wearing (his navy tshirt) rode up to rest just beneath your glorious breasts with your arms raised up, one tucked under the pillow next to your head, the other laid across his chest, your tummy on full display. You had been with him for just over a month now, having extended your two week vacation indefinitely. He knew you two would have to fly home sometime soon, to pack up the things in your apartment and eventually make your way over to your families ranch's to let them know what was going on, but he didn't want to think about that, not now when had what felt like all the time in the world to admire you.
Your stomach rose and fell with every breath and almost instinctively he finds his hand resting there, thumb rubbing gently back and forth over the small but slowly growing more prominent baby bump you were beginning to sport. You had been shy about him doing that, and he knew that it was because in the back of your mind, that little baby growing in you hadn't come from him, but if you asked him, that little girl in there was his, even without the Seresin blood. He hadn't ran away or called you names when you had told him, infact, it had only drawn him to you more. You were his, and so was the little miracle you were growing and he wasn't afraid to admit it either. Hell, he had gone that night to the Hard Deck, a dopey grin on his face as he walked in with your hand in his and had announced it to the entire bar, happily telling his friends and Penny about the bun in your proverbial oven. He couldn't help but smile at the memory.
You shift after another moment, a small groan coming from your throat as you turn towards him, head pressed against his chest now. He presses a content kiss to the top of your messy hair adjusting you so that his arm was under you now, holding you against him. The bedroom was still dark but sunlight was slowly starting to seep through the small slit in the curtains, lighting up a small patch of the floor and the bed. He wondered if he should get up and open the window for you, maybe brew a pot of the decaf coffee he'd immediately switched you to when he found out about the baby.
He's about to decide against the thoughts, not wanting to wake you, not when you were sleeping so soundly after having a rough week of being sick and uncomfortable, you beat him to it though, your soft whine reaching his ears. "Mornin' babygirl.." He says, southern accent more prominent in his gruff morning voice. A smile spreads across his lips, as easy as butter glides across toasts as you lift your head up slowly, sleepy eyes meeting his before planting a long and slow good morning kiss on him. "You were sleeping so good, i didn't want to wake you up.."
You hum, trying to gather your sleepy wits about you, even though it had only been a month, jake was usually the only thing you noticed in the mornings, his warmth and love completely enveloping you, the only thing your mind could register besides the nausea usually rolling in your tummy, so it took you a moment to fully wake up.
After a few minutes of snuggling into your boyfriend, his hand rubbing your belly almost soothingly, you decide that you don't feel queasy enough to run to the bathroom right away (a godsend, really) and you shift yourself so that you're sitting atop of him, legs on either side of his hips, comforter slouched around your legs.
He looks up at you with an amused smile, large hands gliding up your thighs to land on your hips, just underneath of the baggy tshirt you'd stolen from him. "Somethin' i can help you with?" He asks, sleepy southern drawl sending shockwaves through your body as the hands on your hips grind you down against him, you were still bare from the night before, the two of you having stayed up late together just making love to each other.
You were insatiable when it came to him, maybe it was years of pent up sexual tension, maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was just that you guys were so perfect for each other that you literally could not get enough of one another, whatever it was though, neither of you was complaining. You had never been more satisfied from just one single touch before, had never been left craving more of the person you were with until you had been with Jake.
"Have time for a proper good morning, fly boy?" You ask teasingly, already lifting the hem of your shirt to toss it onto the floor, which was where most of your clothes had been finding their home these days when it came to the bedroom.
"Keep it on for me, babygirl, want you to wear it while i watch you ride me," You hadn't even noticed that one of his hands had already been between your bodies, but he was sliding his cock out of his boxers and gliding you down onto it as he spoke, a sigh of pleasure already leaving your lips before you're even sunk down fully onto him. "Feel so good babygirl," He groans, already pussy drunk off of you.
His fingers grip tighter onto your hips as you ride him lazily, hips moving back and forth in a languid but pleasurable pace, his hips bucking up into yours softly. "Jake," You whine, hands planted on his hard chest, fingers curled into the coarse hairs that scattered there, he grunts in response as he thrusts up into you, his massive hands pulling you down to meet his cock with each one. "so full baby, feels so good jakey.." Your words only fueled his ego, his eyebrows furrowing as he pumps up into you, you were both still overly sensitive from the night before and he knew that he wasn't going to last long, and neither were you judging by the way your nails dug into the skin of his chest.
Jake furrows his brows deeper, watching your face contort with pleasure as he continues to slowly fuck up into your overly sensitive body, his own toes curling into the mattress as he tries to stave off his own orgasm, a feat proving much harder than he had originally thought with the noises that escaped you and the way your pussy felt clamping around him right then.. "..so pretty, babygirl, always so fucking pretty for me.." He grunts out, feeling the way you clench down on him, hearing the whine come from your throat as you cum, your thighs shaking on either side of him. "..that's it baby, thats it.." He says, not too far behind you. He cums as your body sags against his, his hands on your ass the only thing holding you steady as you bury your head in his neck, leaving small kisses along the top of his collar bone.
"..Do you have to go to work, baby?" You ask, lifting your head up to look at him, the pout that he had never been able to say no to adorning your lips.
You can't help but smirk a little as your boyfriend throws his head back with a groan, one of his hands snaking its way up your back. "Babygirl, i would give anything to stay home with you attached to me like this all day long," his voice is thick, that accent ever so present as he tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear. "but i gotta go to work, we're running flight trainings today.." Though they were a permanent mission squad within the TOP GUN training academy, they weren't always training for missions and today was one of those days where they got to run flights with the newer admissions who all thought they were the shit. Otherwise known as, Jake Seresin Gets To Show Off day.
You groan and drop your head to his chest, listening to him chuckle at you before he kisses the top of your head. "Fine, shower with me?" You lift your head up, a playful waggle to your eyebrows that he just can't say no to.
"I think that can be arranged." He says with a smile, his arms wrapping around your ass to hold you as he swiftly stands up with you, making you squeal in surprise as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging to him in fear of falling. Your ass meets the cold counter of the bathroom sink as he sets you down on it, peppering your face with kisses as he flips the light switch, making you giggle and smile that beautiful smile he loved so much. "Don't move."
"Yes Sir!" You chuckle, watching as he opens the shower door and steps in, turning it on. "Make sure its hot baby!" You instruct, practically feeling his eyes roll into the back of his head despite doing as you said.
"I will never understand you and the volcanic level of hot water you bathe in, how do you even have skin left?" He asks, voice serious as he walks over to you, stepping between your legs as he reaches behind you to turn the faucet on with one hand while the other reaches above your head, grabbing the bottle he'd seen you use every morning since you'd been with him.
"It's relaxing!" You argue, voice raising an octave as you try not to laugh at him when he suddenly splashes your face with cold water. "Excuse me for not liking to take an ice plunge every time i step into the shower," You cackle, causing him to start laughing as he brings his hands to your cheeks, gently rubbing them with your favorite facial cleanser. You hadn't even noticed him put it on his fingers, but it felt like he was massaging your face and it felt damn good. "You spoil me, you know?" You hum, relaxing into his touch, eyes closing. He could have lulled you back to sleep like that if he wanted to.
Jake grunts in disagreement. "I don't spoil you nearly enough, babygirl." He states, completely believing it. He wouldn't tell you but he was already planning how to ask you to marry him, he didn't need to wait a year, or even until the baby was born, he knew you were the one for him and he just couldn't wait to spoil you even more once you were his wife, and spoil the hell out of the little hellions you guys would have together.
After a minute he grabs a soft wash cloth from the drawer by the sink and wets it only a little, gently wiping the cleanser off of your face for you. The action of the thing was just so freaking sweet, and so fucking Jake that you didn't have the heart to tell him that you weren't supposed to wipe away the cleanser like that. It doesn't take long before the shower has steamed up the whole bathroom and he's helping you off of the counter before leading you into the shower, letting you step under the water first after he helps you slip his navy tshirt over your head.
You hum as the water hits you, your body relaxing as you feel his thumbs kneading the skin at the base of your neck, the spot where you tend to hold all of your tension. You lean back into him and just let the water wash over you, enjoying the closeness with him.
The pleasantness of the morning only lasts for a couple of hours, not too long after Jake leaves for work (with a kiss to your cheek and a smack to your ass) the intense feeling of nausea and a pounding headache that had been plaguing you with it for the past two weeks came crawling back, you thought you had been rid of it finally when you woke up feeling perfect this morning, but of course it was too good to be true. You're hunched over the toilet for hours, the breakfast Jake had been kind enough to make you crawling its way out of your stomach.
"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" You ask your stomach after a nasty bout of vomiting, and as if in answer, your stomach lurches unpleasantly, though you manage not to spew everywhere this time.
You seem to be fine for the rest of the day, though your head pounds and you sit in darkness until about the time that Jake gets off work, knowing he was going to be home and excited to head straight to the hard deck with the crew for Penny's Halloween party. You had been excited too, had even planned out your costume with him but god you hadn't felt this bad before, this was the most intense day of morning sickness that you'd had the entire time you'd been pregnant. You were tempted to call it off, send him on his own, but you knew he wouldn't go. He would stay by your side and take care of you, and you didn't want that, not when he had been so excited to show you off tonight.
Despite your better judgement you start getting yourself ready around the time you know he's getting ready to leave base, you know your timing is right because you get a 'be home soon babygirl' text from him a few minutes into your endeavor. You smile at your phone for a second, wondering how you got so damn lucky to be able to be in love with your best fucking friend in the whole world..
You're in the middle of painting your small but ever present swollen baby belly with safe, brown paint, standing in the full body mirror as you do it. You're trying to make it look as much like a bun as possible, which isn't as easy as it seems when you can't physically detach your stomach and lay it flat on a table to look at and paint like you could literally anything else. You hear the front door open, and his voice carry's through it's usual greeting. "In the bedroom!" You holler back. You hear something thump onto the floor (his duffle, probably filled with his sweaty khaki uniform and underclothes) and his boots thud down the hallway.
"Hey, Babyg-" You turn to face him as soon as you peek him and his dark green flight suit in the doorway, showing off the bun you were working so hard on. Thankfully, focusing so hard on something else had pushed your nausea and headache to the back of your mind, the least of your worries as you locked eyes with your grinning boyfriend. "That looks so good Babygirl! Look at you and our little girl all dressed up for Halloween.." He steps into the room, his smile lighting his face as he brings his lips to yours, before he can even kiss you though your nose scrunches up at the smell of him, sweaty and smelling like airplane fuel and oil.
You know it's coming before your stomach even lurches and you shove him away from you so hard he lands on the bed, a shocked noise escaping him as you rush into the bathroom, sliding in front of the toilet just in the nick of time. Somewhere in the back of your mind you hear Jake rush into the bathroom behind you, crouching down with you to rub your back. You manage to wave him away as you heave and he seems to get the hint, taking a step back.
"You smell." You groan when you're sure you've finished, trying to find the strength to stand up and rinse your mouth out. Jake makes an offended noise in the back of his throat, but you shoot him a glare that tells him you're serious and it seems to shut him up.
"Right," He says, clapping his hands together as you finally stand up. "i'll shower, you finish getting ready if you feel like you're able to go..if not, we'll stay home and watch 90 day Fiancé or something.." He wouldn't admit it to you, but your reality show addiction had become one of his new favorite hobbies and he would be more than happy to spend the night in bed with you binging. Who needed a Halloween party anyway? "How many times have you done that today?"
"I'll be fine to go, that's the first time that's happened all day." You lie, sidling up next to him to rinse out your mouth, trying desperately not to breathe through your nose so you don't repeat the emptying of your already empty stomach for the tenth time today. You meet his eyes in the mirror, he's looking at you like he doesn't believe you. "Really baby," You smile, turning around to face him. You look up at the handsome man before you, trying your hardest not to breathe in his scent. "I'll be okay, just take a shower and wash all the airplane gunk off of you before it happens again."
He gives you a long look, green eyes searching your face for any sign that he shouldn't let you go tonight and just make you stay home instead, he really couldn't have cared either way about the damn halloween party, now that he had you, you were the only thing that he ever cared to spend his time with. "Okay," He concedes, ruffling your hair with his ginormous hand. You roll your eyes at the action, but your body relaxes despite feeling horrible about the lie. "I'll be out in a few minutes."
You pushed through the next hour or so, finishing your costume while Jake showered and got himself ready, eagerly talking about how the two of you were going to kick Phoenix and Bob's asses in the costume contest that Penny was hosting tonight, and how he was so excited to show you and the belly off and as you checked yourself out in the mirror, you were once again reminded of just how lucky you were to have Jake to love you and the little miracle growing inside of you.
You pushed through Jake cooking himself a quick snack, you even made it through the drive to the bar like a champ, driving his big ass truck all the way there while he lay in the back seat because he refused to take his costume off until after the contest.
You had been at the bar for a couple of hours, mingling with Bob and Phoenix for the most part, who looked adorable in their Buzz and Woody costumes, when you took a turn for the worse. You and the rest of the squad had gotten to the bar quite early to help Penny finish setting up and as it started filling up with other people from base and some of the new TOP GUN students you and Jake had somehow gotten separated and after a while of talking with Phoenix about doing a shopping trip and lunch date on her next day off you started to look around for him.
Jake was at the pool table, high fiving Bradley as he sunk a ball into one of the pockets, very obviously wining the game of pool he had been roped into with the new recruits. You cant help the smile that lights your face when he catches your eye, sending you a signature Jake Seresin smirk and a wink of his eye. You giggle to yourself, your heart feeling full of nothing but love and happiness when it came to him.
"God, you guys are so in love its honestly sickening.." Natasha mutters, rolling her eyes with a playful smile on her face as she sips her whiskey on the rocks. You cackle in laughter, pushing her shoulder gently as you leave her side and make your way over to Jake, you'd had enough of being away from his side for one night.
A couple of people move in front of you as you're walking, and you have to stop and say hello to Maverick, who had arrived stylishly late to the party. "You're glowing!" He had said, giving you a kiss on your cheek. He was honestly in complete awe of you and the affect that you had on Hangman, he had done a complete 360 since you'd gotten together and he couldn't thank you enough for it because he wasn't sure how to handle it some days.
You chat with him for a few moments before making your way to Jake, except when he comes back into your view this time there's someone else with him. A tall bottle blonde in a risqué nurses costume that was honestly probably lingerie, she had fishnet stockings on and mile high platform stripper heels.
She was the kind of girl that had always caught his attention before you.
She was the kind of girl you had always been underlyingly jealous of.
And that jealously came rearing its ugly head. Fists clenched to your sides you walked over to your boyfriend with a purpose, not even catching their conversation before you wrapped your arms around his always so toned and tight bicep that was sticking out of the arm hole of the costume he had spent time making himself.
"Hey Babygirl," He says immediately, turning his head to plant a big fat kiss on your lips, you could practically feel his body relaxing at your touch and that seemed to cause you jealousy to ease, knowing that he was being held hostage in the conversation. "Jessa, this is my Babygirl.." The woman in front of you looked at you with narrowed eyes and then looked down at your costumes, her eyes roaming from your painted pregnant belly to his oven costume and and then back again, it seemed like it took a moment for all of the wheels to turn but they finally clicked into place.
"We dated for a while, not that long ago..just wanted to come over and say hello." She says. "I had heard you were settled down but i didn't think it could possibly be true.." Her eyes never leave his as she speaks, batting her eyelashes at him as if trying to entice him.
Jake raises his beer bottle to his lips, glancing down to you as if he wasn't quite sure what to say. "Well, I hate to break it to you but..its true.." You grind out, your queasy stomach returning as you catch a whiff of her strong perfume. "I'll be right back baby.."
You barely make it to the ladies room all the way across the bar before it spews out of you. You're hunched over the toilet for a good few minutes heaving and queasing and so focused on yourself that you don't hear bathroom door squeak open again, or the stripper heels smacking against the tiled floor that Penny thankfully kept in pristine cleanliness.
You don't notice the other presence in the bathroom until you've stood up and turned around, headed to wash your hands and try to wash the small bit of vomit off of your black shirt. You stop in your tracks immediately when you spot her, arms crossed over her outrageously exposed breasts as she stands with her hip popped, as if she were looking for a fight.
"I always knew he liked easier girls, but i never thought he liked actual whores." She states, eyeing your pregnant belly with clear disdain. "I'm not stupid, i can do basic math. He stopped calling me almost two months ago, way too soon for you to be thus far pregnant with his baby."
"..excuse me?" You utter, mouth watery again as you fought of what you hoped was just nerves and not another round of throwing up..you didn't think you could go 12 rounds today and still make it through the party.
The woman cackles damn near evilly. "The way Jake always spoke about his babygirl I thought she was this pure angel. Turns out she's a fucking whore." She shakes her head, eyeing once more. "You're not his type either, he really must fucking pity you if he's fucking you like this, the poor thing.."
You can't think of anything to say, you could barely hold your head up with how suddenly dizzy you were. As she turns to leave the bathroom, the door swinging open, the vomit spews out of you like lava spewed out of Pompeii and as you sink to the floor, trying to keep your own head up, too dizzy to see straight or use your voice or even think, you couldn't help but to remember the words that she had said..that he must have pittied you..that wasn't true..right?
Natasha noticed Jessa come out of the bathroom that she had seen you go into earlier, and maybe it was just because she was slightly paranoid but she felt like she needed to poke her head in and check on you, especially after she sauntered right back up to Jake and ran her hand down his bicep after you had very clearly made it known that she needed to back off.
"Keep an eye on Jessa," She says to Bob, catching her Wizzo's attention as she slipped off of her bar stool. "I'm gonna go check on Babygirl.." Everyone had taken to calling you by Jake's nickname for you, it was practically your God given name by this point.
"On it." Bob says, taking his Shirley Temple with him as he strides from the bar top to the pool table.
Natasha pushes people out of her way, the wings of her Buzz costume doing all of the work for her as she makes her way to the restrooms, pushing the door opening and entering sideways. She hears your moan before she sees you slumped in a pool of your own throw up, your skin paler than the flourescent lighting in the small bathroom and a small sheen of sweat on your forehead. "Holy sit.." She says, crumbling down next to you, taking your head in her hands. "Babygirl? You awake?" A slight moan is the only response. "Fuck...fuck.."
She doesn't leave your side, but she thanks God for having long legs because she's able to catch the door stopper just right with her foot and open it far enough for her voice to carry. "JAKE! BOB! SOMEBODY HELP!" You moan again, your head thumping to her chest. Her voice must be loud enough because there's a drawn out silence before a scattering of feet pounding against the hardwood flooring of the Hard Deck. "Call 911!"
Jake's heart drops into his stomach as soon as he sees you, his eyes widening. "What happened?" He doesn't bother to care about the emotional crack in his voice as he drops to his knees, Bob and Rooster right behind him in the door way. "Nat, what the fuck happened?"
"I don't know, she was like this when I came in - Jessa had just come out!" She says panicking because she had never once seen Jacob Seresin look so scared and vulnerable before. "She keeps moaning and she's sweaty..Jake what if it's the baby?"
He squeezed his eyes closed, he couldn't bare to think of it, he couldn't bare to think of how sad and broken you would be..he couldn't even begin to think of how to pick up those broken pieces if that were the case, so he didn't think about it. He focused on Bob's voice behind him, on the phone with the 911 operator.
"...17 weeks pregnant, semi conscious.." Bob spoke to the person on the other end, Jake had told them all this morning how far along you were, forcefully showing everyone the pregnancy tracking app on his phone screen. Bob had remembered because of how excited Jake had been.
Jake looked at you, your head in Natasha's lap and then glanced back at Bradley who's eyes were wide with fear, an exact mimic of his own facial expression he was sure. He remembered suddenly that Natasha had said that someone had been in here before she found you..Jessa.
He was on his feet before he had even finished having the thought, shoving past Bradley who had the wherewithal to dutifully follow him as he stalked down the hallway and into the main area of the bar.
"Jessa!" He thundered, the bar going silent. She wasn't hard to find, she was one of the few girls dressed like a hooker. "What the fuck did you do? Huh?" He asks, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.
"Jake, back off man-" Bradley's hand is on his shoulder pulling him back. Jessa scoffs at both of them and rolls her eyes turning around.
"Not my fault the skanky trash can't handle the thing growing inside of her." She says to her group of friends, causing them to start cackling.
She was lucky that Nat hadn't heard her, and that he didn't go crawling back to the bathroom to send her out here to do what he knew she would have because just then flashing lights shined through the front windows of the bar. Paramedics had arrived.
"Oh now that's just fucking dramatic!" She groans to her friends as Jake walks away, causing him to turn back around to start yelling at her once more. Bradley spins him back towards the door though and he runs outside to rush them in.
When you come to you're scared out of your mind, the last thing you remember were the words Jessa had said echoing in your mouth. Your heart starts to race and you hear a monitor start to go off, there were things attached to your stomach and your arms and all of a sudden his hands were on your shoulder, weary eyes looking into yours.
"..jake? what happened?" You ask, your heart already starting to calm down and you realize that the monitor that was going off was attached to you.
"You were dehydrated, you passed out.." Jake says, pressing a kiss to your temple as one hand goes to rest on your stomach, right next to the fetal monitors. "Your OB says that it's from throwing up so much, says that you weren't getting in as much as you were getting out.." You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the pillow, kicking yourself for letting it get that bad. "Why didn't you tell me it was that bad babygirl? You scared me shitless..you scared all of us..Nat found you laying in your own vomit..she came with me, wouldn't even go home to change..she's off hounding your doctor for more information.."
You process his words, hating yourself for putting your friend in that situation, for ruining the halloween party. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. "Is the baby okay?" Your lip quivers and tears begin to stream down your face. "Jake im so sorry baby, I thought I could tough it out, I didn't want you to worry.."
Jake sighs, kissing your forehead as he wipes the tears from your eyes, letting you know that the baby was okay, and that you would be okay too. That he was going to take care of you always, and his words washed over you completely, emptying your head of whatever doubt Jessa had temporarily placed in it.
taglist:
@bellaireland1981 @sky0401 @memoriesat30 @bat-luna-cat @memeorydotcom @mamachasesmayhem @kmc1989 @justherebecausesafarisucks @mrowphine @djs8891
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sentoooo · 2 months
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ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀʙᴇᴛ || ᴋᴜɴɢ ʟᴀᴏ [18+]
he's actually so pathetic & stupid i love him. i dont see much kung lao stuff ANYWHERE, cmon man LOOK AT HIMMM he's so babygirl, he's my schnookums, if you will.
cw: NSFW, amab, little bit of body worship, little bit of praise, small small mention of blowjobs, give this boy more love man, not proofread MINORS DNI
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Kung Lao is actually really sweet! There's nothing he won't do for you. Maybe at the start of the relationship, he lacks a little in his aftercare game. But once you two have been together for a while, he understands your needs. He's always made it a habit of staying up until your fast asleep in his arms, he worries a little. He's very on top of things though, he will be as hands on- or off- as you'd like. And if you're game for shower sex, shit, he's game too. He will always hold you particularly close, though. It's something he learned, he's kind of afraid of losing you! So, he takes any and every moment to hold you. Especially during the afterglow.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
He's particularly proud of his hands, mainly because they show off how hard he's worked. They tell a tale of progress, of his mistakes, and of what he's learned. He also loves how they look on your body, roaming, evoking such sweet sounds from you. And, how big they are compared to yours. It really does make him feel like he's your protector. Not that you need protection. On you, he loves your thighs, and your back. He loves how strong and detailed your back is, decorated in scars, and just how much it shows off your strength. He loves running his hands up and down your back, tracing your spine, making you shiver. And your thighs. God, your thighs. He loves thigh jobs, he loves grabbing them, he loves cumming on them. He loves anything to do with your thighs.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Kung Lao prefers to cum inside. Less mess, yes, but he's also quite prideful about it. It makes him feel like you're really his, something that he still can't believe. He loves to fuck his cum back up into you, too. But he will always clean you up afterwards. And if you want him to cum outside? Then it will always, always be on your thighs. As previously mentioned, he loves them. And he loves seeing it on your thighs, especially. But fair warning: when he cums, he cums hard.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
The fantasies he has about you, god. Those are the one things that can make him cum when he can't have you. He imagines you, all tied up, just waiting to be used by him. And each time he imagines it, he sees himself doing something different. Sometimes it's just fucking you pretty, sometimes it's using toys til you can't even say his name, and the list goes on. He's too afraid to ask, though.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He's had like two hook-ups, but never much of a relationship. I mean, he gets no bitches. So, when he meets you, he's got a rough idea of what happens. But, he does need direction. After your first and second time, he gets in the swing of things. Now, he knows exactly how to please you. He also understands your tells, way too well.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Reverse Cowboy, probably. Like I said, he loves your back. He also loves having you on top, while he still gets to control the speed and pace. He loves getting to run his hands down your back at any given moment, making you moan even more. He also loves getting to fuck up into you, either when he deems that you are riding him too slow, or he just wants to surprise you. But, sometimes, Kung Lao likes being even closer to you. In these cases, he prefers the cat variant of missionary, or concubine. He just needs to be closer to you sometimes, he's afraid that reverse cowboy isn't enough, or that it leaves much for wanting. He wants to make sure his boy feels loved enough, and he won't forsake it.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He's a mix of both. He'll crack a few jokes, and talk, but he'll also whisper everything he loves about you, tell you how good you make him feel, and just show you the full extent of his love for you.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He keeps himself shaven, everywhere. There are some faint traces of pubic hair, but that's about as far as it goes.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Fuck. Kung Lao is beyond intimate. Just cause he hasn't had much experience before you doesn't mean anything. He speaks from the heart. Everything he says is true, everything he does is done in sheer love. He makes sure you know exactly how much he loves and appreciates you, from his words and his actions.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He jacks off fairly often. About once a day, at least before he met you. Now he jacks off about 3 times a week, and that's if he doesn't have you, or if you don't feel like engaging in sex.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Although I don't think it's a kink, he's really into thigh jobs. He loves fucking your soft, warm thighs, reaching around your waist and jacking you off, as well. As much as he hates making your thighs all messy, it always pays off for him. He also loves the fact that you get off on it, even when he decides to be an asshole and not jack you off. Tells you to figure it out yourself. Cause he wants to see you pleasure yourself, too.
He's also into nipple play. He loves toying with you, kissing, sucking, licking, and just rubbing your nipples. It always such a sweet reaction from you, especially when your riding him.
The idea of him or you being blindfolded has also ended up in the bedroom. He loves that he feels more sensitive because of it. When you glide your hands down his body, appreciate his muscles more. And when he gets to hear your breath hitch because he touched just the right spot.
Kung Lao also fucking loves lingere. He loves when you wear any sort of lingere for him, and it always makes him impatient when he knows your wearing lingere under your casual clothes. He just wants to get his hands on you and ravage you. All pretty and spread out for him, waiting for him. Fuck, don't tease him like that.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
He prefers the privacy of his own room, where he can do what he wants and not care about prying eyes. It makes the moment feel more intimate, especially because everything he does is for you. He loves knowing that he's got you all to himself, and that you two can be as loud as you want.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Kung Lao looooves it when you kiss him. Normally, he thinks it'd take him something more to turn him on. But sometimes, you just kiss him with such passion and longing, that he wants to drop everything and carry you off to the bedroom. He also loves it when you play with his hair, how sometimes you trace down to his neck. That's where he's sensitive, and god, do you know it. Even just gently brushing against his neck gets a moan from him.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He hates liars, and he hates people who play hard to get. It's not that he's looking for something easy, it's that he needs you to be direct. If you want him, then say so. He has no need for you to say no, when you are so obviously flirting with him.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He prefers receiving, though he doesn't mind giving. He gets off on seeing you try and choke him down, it's something that he's kind of proud of. But hey, if you ask for a blowjob, he won't mind giving you one. Anything that'll give you pleasure, really.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He defaults to slow & sensual, especially if you two have been together for a while. And you don't mind it. It may take slower to reach the climax, but he makes every second worth it. He loves taking the time to explore your body, as if you two haven't done this countless times. He really does love being gentle with you.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Kung Lao doesn't like quickies. He'll do them on occasion, but will never make a habit of it. He loves your body, it'd be a shame to not appreciate it in full. But if he hasn't been able to fuck you in at least a month, and you suggest a quickie, he's down.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
He's flexible, but he stops at anything too intense, especially if it involves hurting you or fucking you in a public place. Certain things he's down to try, especially if it seems like it'll get you going.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He's game to go all night. As long as you are. Just say the word, and he'll fuck you until dawn, he'll make every round last twice as long as the previous one. You're in dangerous territory.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Absolutely. A cock-ring or two, some vibrators, and a stroker. Not that he needs it anymore. He's got you. Unless you want to use it. And if you have toys? All the better. He loves incorporating them into sex, especially using his remote controlled stroker on you, and fucking you from behind.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He's probably one of the most fairest out of the roster. He just can't bring himself to listen to you pout and beg. He won't ever let you beg- either. He knows what you want and what you need, and he's going to give you his all.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Kung Lao's LOUD. All 'cause of you. He likes you to know exactly how he's feeling in the moment, how grateful he is for you. He'll moan and grunt and groan, and whisper sweet nothings in your ear while fucking you senseless. He knows no ones listening but you, and that's what makes it so intimate to him.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
I know this is meant to be NSFW, but if he's been with you for long enough, he's got marriage on his mind. He loves the idea of a silver ring decorating your hand, something that properly says your all his, and he's all yours. You're someone he'd love to call his husband.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
He's bigger than average, he just didn't know how to use it before he met you. He's a grower, for sure. 6.4" in length when hard, 1.6" wide. Circumsized.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Kung Lao's sex drive is malleable, he's as horny as you are, really. So if you've got a high sex drive, he can meet your requirements. If not, he's fine waiting til your ready and need him. He'll still jack off occasionally, though.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He will never fall asleep until you have. As said in A, he's up with you. If you want to go a couple rounds in the shower, then he's still got the energy. If you just want to get cleaned up and go to sleep, then he doesn't mind at all.
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Pregnant boy-toy part 2/3
cw: mpreg, sex, controlling language, speed pregnancy
we sat and spoke for a few hours about the baby but i couldnt take my mind off how fucking sexy he was, i dont know if its the hormones but his physique and just everything was sending me wild, luckily my mountain belly was hiding my rock-hard cock in my sweatpants. the same couldnt be said for him… his massive member was clearly solid in his tight jock strap, he moved on to the couch next to me and my cock and cunt only twitched for him more.
his massive hands rested on my belly that dwarfed the tanned, veined beauties on the end of his wrists, his right hand slipped my tight vest up over my mountain-belly letting every inch of its tight skin breathe meanwhile his left hand glided up and down my thigh as my cock twitched and my cunt pulsed for him. suddenly i looked at myself and realised how much id changed, normally no man could drive me crazy enough to want him this much but its true- i needed him. i needed to please him. a whimper of a moan slipped out my lips followed by his gruff voice saying “good boy” to sooth me, those goddamn words that pissed me off to no-end only months ago are now ruling me those two words nearly made me cum on the spot when he say this though he wasn’t impressed
“tut tut, no slut of mine cums before i allow it” he bellowed as he pinched my sensitive swollen nipple causing me to moan again and drizzle a little milk for the first time “s-s-sorry” i whimpered in hopes hed allow me to cum, “sorry *what*” he said assertively “sorry d-d-daddy” i mutter half ashamed at how far id fallen for this God-like man and half so turned on it was starting to hurt my cock, “what a good little slut” he grinned as he pulled me up by my back and escorted me upstairs…
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i lost count of how many times he came on my stomach of mass proportion but i was still not allowed. and i loved it. to think only jours ago i would have scoffed and rolled my eyes over being used like a machine but this is what i needed this whole time, i needed this man to control me. i assumed after i was finally allowed to cum i would leave and later plan the babies up-bringing but my daddy had different plans…
after another few hours of not cuming daddy finally let me and it exploded all over my belly-base as my cunt twitched and throbbed while his cock was being pulled out, i felt his spawn and his cum sloshing around inside me, i was full. maximum capacity. i didnt think my belly could get bigger when i arrived but it clearly has, i cant even sit up and i know daddy will only punish me if i ask for help so instead i ask permission to fall asleep, he grants me it before he gets me to suck him off one last time, i must obey.
after a great night sleep i expected to wake up to a slightly deflated belly as i assumed the cum would have been absorbed or whatever but no… my belly was EVEN bigger again my skin was so tight it looked nearly see through i looked about 18 months pregnant!! “WHAT THE FUCK!!” i screamed “shut it slut!” daddy shouted back twisting my pecs that had also swollen more over night, this pain added to the sight and feel of my belly immediately made my cock and cunt stand at attention ready for anything daddy wants me to do “p-p-please explain daddy” i beg trying not to make it obvious im ready for him whenever he wants me, “ you see,” he growls “my cum isnt like any other, i can get you pregnant no matter how far along you already are, and my spawn tend to grow bigger than the average” he puts his hand assertively on my globe of a stomach “normally my sluts come to me only a few months in so i have more time to utilise their breed-able bodies but you where naughty, you came to me late. so for this, i must teach you a lesson”
authors note:
thank you so much for the love on part one! i hope you enjoy this part too i have a rough plan for maybe one more part so unless i get an amazing idea there will probably be one more part to this series!
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melonsharks · 7 months
Note
Tell us everything about the parent trap au immediately please please please
to give u an insanely quick rundown with a wip art i have:
aziraphale as elizabeth. wedding dress designer under his pen name A.Z. Fell. (hes an artist as confirmed in s2 and the whole "drawing on napkins" thing elizabeth would do appeals to me immensely)
crowley as nick. owns a vineyard. I NEED HIM TO OWN A VINEYARD SO BAD. shoutout to Old Vines on ao3 for changing me in a fundamental way. he makes wines and he tends to the vines and he is so passionate about it to an abusurdist degree. he yells at his vines when they arent growing right. you already knowwww.
when they meet for the first time, they don’t meet on a boat like in the movie, they actually meet at a wedding party :J crowley was a wine collector, just starting out. he loved offering aziraphale samplings of his most vintage collection out of impulse. (he likes seeing the way aziraphale savors them) (he’s besotted) Wants to own his own vineyard one day. aziraphale, on the other hand, has dreams of becoming a fashion designer of sorts, always drawing ideas on any scraps of paper he can find. his designs are very old fashioned, but thats like… part of the appeal. his work very much reflects who he is, and the people who flock to it understand that.
they enter this kind of… whirlwind relationship, they get married, and then eventually adopt two golden haired blue eyed baby boys. twins. :J warlock and adam.
they break things off because aziraphale leaves... alluding to their recent breakup in season two, the reason he left was because "we both clearly had very different ideas on where our lives were going. so. i packed up and left." (parallel s2 divorce 😋 they don’t know how to talk to each other) (aziraphale throws a book at his head after this argument, like the hairdryer in the movie LOL. it was pride and prejudice. crowley still has it.)
aziraphale leaves with adam. warlock is left with crowley. crowley eventually leaves London because he finds he cant stand being anywhere near Aziraphale (hes just irresistible in that way), and he goes to California where he finally fulfills his dream of owning a vineyard. a nice one on Napa, Northern California.
Aziraphale’s wedding dresses become more and more well known, Adam grows well-adjusted. Same kid you know from the show and book, natural born leader, a good head on his shoulders. (Aziraphale has no idea why Adam is like that, but he is so proud)
Crowley’s vineyard (The Garden Of Eden) grows and grows… Warlock is spoiled rotten, but he does love actually working at the vineyard with Crowley to and he and Crowley have a really good relationship…
Eventually the kids go to a summer camp together in London (i dont know if they . do this in the UK, but suspend your disbelief if you will) Adam meets The Them there, then meets Warlock after a nutty fencing thing, they kind of hate each other at first and the rest is history :J
side characters UM. LOL. idk……. i mean i kind of know but not really? theres just so many possibilities that make the rounds in my head. chessy could be anathema OR nina (ive had people suggest eric too?) and martin could be newt OR maggie (ive also had people suggest muriel????) gestures vaguely.
as for meredith…….erm…………🤷‍♂️ ive had everything under the sun suggested to me and i still……have no idea. LOL. gabriel, lucifer, shaX, FURFUR, THE WIFE FROM THE NON-SPOILER SPOILERS. I DONT KNOW. IT ALL FEELS WRONG. its hard to come up with this role in particular when these gay bitches literally only have eyes for each other. always. forever. u know. i think lucy is like. the classic answer. but idfk.
ask me about . more things if u want. this is consuming my every thought.
anyways the cover im working on for. for something:
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the-s1lly-corner · 1 month
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I am losing it over Sir Pentious and I cannot HOLD THE URGE TO REQUEST FOR HIM anymore. May I please have the silly little snake man meeting an angel reader (she/her) in Heaven with whom he shares one (1) braincell? They are just two idiots in love who are far too shy to confess their feelings for each other. Basically the "Everyone knows they are in love but them" trope. I would appreciate tooth-rotting fluff toward the end. Thank you 🙏🏻🩷
Redeemed!Pentious x Angel!Reader
But they're both idiots in love
Combining this with another similar request hope you and the other requestor dont mind !
Written on mobile
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You were the one assigned to helping him readjust to heaven! Congratulations, you also have a roommate until he can get his own place! He kind of follows you around like a lost puppy because you're kind of the only guide.. and friend.. he has..!
He tries way too hard to make things for you easier when it should be the other way around. He makes sure your home is spotless and more than his share of the chores are done. You dont even have to lift a finger as long as hes around
Over time you both to develop feelings. But you're both so.. oblivious..
Imagine hes looking at you with these wide starry eyes as you talk about a location. It doesnt matter how beautiful his surroundings are, hes absolutely enraptured by your own beauty.
He picks flowers for you, but he ends up just saying they're to brighten up the house instead of being solely for you. He tries to make you your favorite snacks, he does seem to be good at baking and decoration..! He makes you small trinkets to make life a little easier.
Meanwhile he doesnt notice the rosy look you get on your face or how you seem to linger around him when you two need to part. How you try to spend even another minute with him.
Actually it would take an outside party for at least one of you to catch onto the others feelings.. I like the idea that Emily sometimes checks on the two of you to see how everything is going... she is.. not subtle in asking you if you have a crush on the newcomer..
How you proceed is fully up to you, but it might be best to make the first move as pentious may not do it on his own; unless there's something pushing him to act
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frank1nsaint · 2 months
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Franklin Part 3
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Warnings: Use of curse words and N-word
“Why you been dodging me?” Franklin asks you as soon as you open the door to your house 
You step out “I have no idea what you’re talking about” 
“Oh so those pages and calls to your phone?” he points towards the inside of your house “They didn't happen?” 
You shrug “I don't know maybe you dialed the wrong number” you had no plan to explain to him why you hoped he would just take the hint and let you be, it had been 3 weeks since your first date
He throws his hands up “Come on Y/N what happened? We were just good not too long ago I was gonna take you on another date’n shit” 
“I don’t think we would be good for each other Franklin” 
“Why you say that? we just talked about you not sabotaging” he points between both of you “this” 
“Im not” 
He leans in “You are” he argues 
“Franklin we aren’t good for each other just accept that” you state matter of factly before you turn to go in
He grabs your arm gently “Nah you owe me an explanation” 
“I don’t!” you answer defiantly snatching your arm away
“Yes the fuck you do. I’m puttin’ my best foot forward and you fuckin’ it up on purpose cuz of what? you fucking scared of the shit I do? Aint nobody gon touch you Y/N they dont touch Wanda  and her dope head ass what make you think they gon fuck withchu?”
You sigh “Franklin” 
“Nah fuck that Y/N” 
“You really wanna know?”
He nods “Yes I do, enlighten me” 
You pause “I can’t trust you Franklin”  
His face holds a confused look “What are you even...?” 
“After our date, some of your henchmen came up to me. Guess what they said to me?”
Franklin held his breath he feels his heart beat start to increase. You start to mock the mannerisms and voice of the men “shit I heard you and my boy Saint had a date last night” He shrugs “So i told them we went on a date big deal”  praying that's where the story ends 
You continue “Men I lost my $200 and my boy came up on a smooth couple grand” you pause and look at him “ha-ha my man Saint he a G tho” you return to a normal voice “then he proceeds to tell me that there was a bet between you and your fucking crew, you got two grand if i actually went on a date with you?” you scoff “if you were that hard up for money Saint all you had to do was ask I could have given you that and we wouldn’t be having this conversation” 
“Y/N let me explain” this was not as it seemed 
“Not even 24 hours passed after our date and I’m hearing you went rounding up your niggas so they could pay you!" you paused "And OH! if I fucked you it would have been an additional $3000”  you say sarcastically
“Y/N” he calls
You start mocking another guy “My girl Y/N, my sunshiiinneee yo yo yo shit if i had known all i had to do was ask you all proper and shit you would be my girl now. May I take you to dinner Y/N, miss congeniality” you tilt your head “they said you looked pretty in that green dress last night wish it was me instead of that nigga!” 
“Who approached you?” he asked with a deep scowl on his face.  
“I’ll give you that Saint. You played me good. You played a good game” you begin to walk away 
“Hold up, hold up, hold up,  who came up to you?” He asked again You return his mug “I’m not telling you Franklin! It doesn’t matter anyway you up 1 grand right?” 
“Y/N listen I will explain later but who told you that? They are a liability to my shit!” 
You shrug “what that got to do with me?” 
“Tell me their fuckin’ names Y/N!” he demands
You sigh “you betted on me” 
“Y/N” 
In a soft tone you say “$2000 for the date, additional $3000 if we fucked, had people follow us, Big Saint, The Man, The Myth, The Legend show you lil niggas how its done” you pause “right?...... Saint?” 
He looks up and runs his hand down his face feeling like his heart was going to explode word for word you quote what he had that night (“show you lil niggas how its done”) “Y/N please just tell me who told you that and I will explain everything” he begs 
“If you wanted the money all you had to do was ask Franklin” 
“Y/N, I don’t care about the money” “But you still made sure to collect, right?” you pause “Then you got the nerve to get annoyed at the fact that I was sabotaging the date!”  you scoff in disbelief and begin to walk into your house 
Franklin grabs your arm “Y/N listen!”
“Don’t Franklin!”  you warn removing yourself from his grip 
He blocks the door with his body “Y/N This aint a fucking game who approached you?! I need to know!” 
You shook your head, you look him in the eye “I’m not gonna tell you Saint” 
He tilted his head and pauses with an offended tone he says “Don’t call me that, I'm not Saint to you it’s either Franklin or any other fucking thing else but I’m not Saint to you!” 
You go to say something else but decide not “Fucking Asshole!” you mutter looking down at your sweater pulling small knots that had formed
He released a deep sigh “Fine I’ll take that but you need to tell me who approached you.” he moves his head trying to get you to look up at him. You remain silent. “Tell me Y/N” 
You shake your head “I’m not gonna tell you Franklin”
“WHY?!” he pauses to gather himself “You know how serious this shit is?” “SO YOU CAN GO KILL THEM?!” “OH MY GOD AINT NOBODY THINKIN’ ABOUT KILLING THEM NIGGAS!” he looks around  and moves closer to you  “keep your fucking voice down!” he whispers harshly You scoff “It’s all good Saint” Almost immediately he sizes you up and with gritted teeth he says “What the fuck did I just say?”  
You feel shiver run down, it shocked you so much that you instinctively jump move away slightly, but you hold your ground still glaring at him before you step away and snicker and nod a few of times with tears in your eyes 
With instant regrets he breaks his stance and takes a step back to show that his anger isn't’ aimed at you. “Just tell me” he says in a significantly softer tone 
“I’m not gonna tell you Franklin, I don’t want their deaths on me because you decided to be an asshole all over $5000?” 
He steps towards “Y/N please”
You step away with your hand up “It’s all good Franklin, I hope you put that $1000 to good use” a tear drops from your eyes “Y/N” “No hard feelings really Franklin, but you know this can’t work ever, doesn’t matter your explanation.” another tear from your right eye begins to roll down “wish you the best in your business stay safe out there” 
“Y/N! No no no no please please please!” he begs gently grabbing your hand trying to stop you but also making sure to not scare you away 
You pull your hand away “Goodnight Franklin” you speak before closing the door. 
He looks at the door for a moment before turning and walking away towards his car. He turns on the car and begins to drive away “FFFUUUCCCKKKK!” he screams feeling the rage course through him as he speeds on the freeway
Franklin walks in and slams the door causing Jerome to jump up from his seat gun drawn “MOTHAFUCKA I ALMOST SHOT YOU WHAT THE HELL WRONG WITCHU?!” 
They hear footsteps before Louie is stand ny the door “JEROME? WHO THE FUCK IS THAT? FRANKLIN!?” she comments frantically looking around for the threat “Not now” he grits out
“NIGGA WHO YOU THINK YOU TALKIN’ TO?!  WALKIN’ UP IN MY HOUSE SLAMMIN’ MY SHIT. I'll FUCK YOU UP!” Jerome bellows 
The phone rings and Franklin picks up “Hello?! meet me at Jerome house, now nigga, YES NOW! Bring Sean witchu!”
“WHAT THE HELL GOING ON FRANKLIN WHAT HAPPENED?” Louie asks “THEM LITTLE MOTHAFUCKAS DONE WENT AND TOLD Y/N ABOUT THE BET!” “WHAT? WHAT BET?” Louie asks
Jerome looks at Franklin like he has three heads “NIGGA WHAT??? YOU MAD OVER THAT STUPID ASS BET?” Franklin took major offence to Jeromes accusations, tilting his head to the side “You laughing but if I can't trust them to not tell a bitch about a stupid ass bet I can’t trust them in my shit!! They gone blow up our spot and fuck up our shit.” he points to his head  “You not thinking Unc” Jerome paused and realised the gravity of the situation 
“What is this bet? And what it got to do with that lil girl?” Louie asked as she looked between the two 
Jerome gently waved her away “I’ll explain it to you later baby just let us be” 
Louie scoffed “Shit mothafucka walkin’ in here slamming doors”
“Louie” Franklin commented 
“Nigga fuck you!”  
Franklin squared up Louie “AYE! AYE! AYE! WE DON'T NEED ALL THAT NOW!” 
Franklin huffed and turned to continue his pace 
In 10 minutes Leon and Sean arrived
“Nigga what happened” Leon asked gun already out 
“We got some rat ass mothafuckas in our crew look how they got Franklin!”  Jerome pokes fun at him “Nigga pacing around and shit over a bitch!” he jokes 
“UNC!”  Franklin warns
“What... happened?” Sean asked confused 
“Y/N told me that niggas from our crew approached her telling her about the bet”
“Soooo...” Leon looked at Franklin confused 
“So?” Franklin returned the expression “You niggas not thinking?” he paused “I GOTTA DO ALL THE THINKIN’ AROUND HERE??!!” 
“We don’t” Sean speaks trying to rationalise their confusion 
“If they running to tell her about a bet, a bet made between everyone in that room, what makes you think they not blowing up our spot?”
The men looked between each other the reality finally setting in for everyone that they could be completely exposed for anything at any moment. 
“Our competitors, our opps, our product,  our recipe, our schedule, our plug, our money, our peoples” Franklin states 
“We got it Nephew” Jerome comments wanting him to not continue hating the feeling of being vulnerable 
Franklin chuckled and looked around at them and in a whisper he sneers “and you niggas think I’m mad over a bitch when I got some snake ass mothafuckas in my crew??!! I GOT BIGGER PROBLEMS NIGGA!!” “My bad” Sean says throwing his hands up 
“FFFUUUCK! Round all them niggas up now” 
Leon puts his hand up “Now hold on its 2am we ain't bout to be meeting without cops spotting us”
“SHIT!”
“Look lets come up with a solution to figure out who them niggas are we start rounding people up they might start snitching even more” Leon strategizes 
Franklin nodded in agreeance “We gonna act like shit aint happen and take them niggas out one by one!” 
Jerome nods “Yea I like that plan!” 
Franklin sighs and sits down releasing the tension in his body
“We got a plan nephew unless you got something better?”
“No I don't.” 
Its silent for awhile with the 3 men (Jerome, Sean, Leon) talking to each other catching up on what they heard or whats going with their product
“Nigga what wrong withchu we have a solution” 
Franklin waves him off “Not now Unc,I’m trying to figure out how to fix this shit with Y/N” 
“Oh shit,” Leon comments forgetting that you were involved 
“Yea nigga, Y/N! they told Y/N!” 
“HA-HA you losing your mind over this girl boy! Now you know niggas talk worse than bitches sometimes. Gossipping mothafuckas”
“NOT NOW UNC” Leon shrugs “just go get another bitch, she aint the only fine girl that we know”
Franklin shot him an incredulous look “I don't want another bitch Leon I want that one!” 
“She not special her stuck up ass I bet if you called Tasha now she’ll literally hop the fuck out her bed and come fuck you” Leon wasn’t really a big fan of you, he thought that you acted too good
“I dont want Tasha, I want Y/N and that thing was a fucking mistake i told you that” “Hell no don’t call that crazy girl up here! Her bat shit ass bout got herself killed trying to sneak in my damn house talking about she just wanna see Frankie”  Louie comments 
Jerome chortles “BOY YOU HAD THAT GIRL GOING CRAZY BOUT LOST HER FUCKIN’ MIND. DICK HAD HER STUCK NEPHEW!!” he blares out a laugh 
Leon, Sean, and Louie join in on the laugh
Franklin ran his hands down his face “We gotta find them or this shit is not gonna last. If they can go run and tell Y/N what else are they doing? Product been going missing lets start there whoever them mothafuckas are they fuckin’ dead!” he grumbled. 
Authors Note: Feedback is much appreciated. Please reblog, comment, and like just don't plagiarize
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