#and the other said “don't let the old man in” with a picture of a cowboy(?) in front of the american flag. idk why this shit gets
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g1rlken · 21 hours ago
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I'm so excited you're taking requests for Rupert Campbell-Black!!
Do you think you could maybe fo #15 from your prompt list about him showing up for the reader bc they don't have anyone else?
Idk if just love that trope and I think it works with him.
If you don't feel inspired by that one no worries!
Someone in the crowd
prompt15 Rupert Campbell Black x fem!reader
word count: 5.3k+
warnings: parental neglect, mild swearing, hurt comfort, FLUFF
AN: Ahhhhhhh ANON I love you this is my fav prompt I was initially planning on the same one anyways thanks for platform ing my Rupert obsession you’re the first one
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The chronicles of the country side for a veterinary sciences PhD student included more than just animals, main reason she selected a university so far from the hustle and bustle of the city. Peculiar animals in their natural state, she came across more than just peculiar animals.
Trespassing loses its meaning for the engrossed researcher, she didn’t realise when she passed the forest to a private estate land whilst following the slow worm. The most advanced high end camera, that Rupert had only seen with those media folks and proper film production. However he assumed the girl in a camouflage jungle vest to be an intern in a tabloid firm, trying to prove herself to be ever so efficient to her superiors by sneaking in to his property for a few pictures. Too naive to realise he could sue her for all her fortune perhaps. Rather an amateur at her job perhaps, she was there to snap him yet her attention didn’t avert to him on his horse before he approached her himself, “Young lady” he cleared his throat sternly “You do realise you’re trespassing here?”
“Oh?” She looked out of her camera lens to the voice that called out her and in an instant she lost sight of the slow worm she was following. “Fuck!”
“And if you don’t delete the pictures and get off of this land right this second I will be suing you for all the jobs you don’t already have.” Rupert threatened, he truly misliked this breach of his privacy to no end. But because the girl seemed unskilled and gullible to her supposedly first job he felt he could let her get off easily.
“I’m not deleting any pictures I barely got two” she said with a heavy sigh, her eyes frantically searching for her subject within the grass again not too bothered by his threat. “And I don’t have any job as it is”
“Oh” he amused, getting off of the saddle of his horse to level with her, “are you one of those fans then? How many times do I have to tell you people-“
“What?” Her attention broke from her subjected reptile to the man this time, “a fan? I don’t even know you…”
“Oh right” he scoffed placing his hands by his hips, “surely you don’t.”
“I truly don’t. I was following my subject for today from the forest lands and I ended up here it was an honest mistake” she explained herself as she opened her camera to show him the pictures, they were all reptiles and not…him.
“You were following a snake?” He asked rather confused and somewhat intrigued as to what would bring her to this.
“It’s not a snake, it’s a is a legless lizard. Anguis Fragilis” she corrected the man, ever so casually as if it were the most common of knowledges to attain.
The man just burst into laughter letting go of the horse chain to contain it, his hand on his chest he could find the joke in the name and the scenario extremely comical. “You have got to be kidding me!”
Y/n felt a bit embarrassed as if she’d said the wrong name so she went through it in her head again and she wasn’t, wrong. It was perhaps like college again, info dumping on the wrong set of people who poke fun at peculiar passions. But the man seemed to be too old to be like those immature college kids who mock others so she was left rather confused “what is so funny?” She asked hesitantly, “it’s rather rare and native to this area we don’t come across them in the city…” she trailed off trying to fill in his boastful laughter with something to feel less uncomfortable.
“Oh is it now?” Rupert asked as his laughter subsided and he realised the girl was an enthusiast in a true fashion. He just found the name of the godforsaken reptile to have a double meaning to it, he thought she made it up but when she got awkward and explained further he realised she wasn’t joking. “My apologies, are you new here?”
“Yes Ive actually moved here for research, I’m studying veterinary sciences for PhD… ” she said still feeling a bit self conscious after he’d laughed like that.
“Anus Fragilis huh?” He repeated trying his best to suppress another set of laughter but he failed at it ever so evidently.
“Anguis…er-slow worm.” She cringed as she picked up on the joke that had him loosing his composure like that. Perhaps she judged him to act his age which he looked so fast. “It’s also called slow worm. I lost him regardless, so I’ll get going. Sorry to bother you.”
“No, no hang on a second darling” he said gripping her elbow as she attempted to leave but as she returned to face him again he left it just instantly. “Since you’re already here, allow me to indulge you in a coffee or so? It would be very disappointing if I don’t get to learn more about…” he wanted to say it, the joke. But the awkwardly offended look on her face of feeling small wasn’t worth it so he kept it to himself “slow worms and legless lizards”
“They’re the same.” She briefed him feeling his ignorance, the PhD aspirant did not seem to have time to entertain his indulgence. “Forgive me but I have to go, I’ve walked too far from my car.”
“Well then allow me to drop you?” Rupert offered with his usual charm which didn’t leave to phase a lot.
Not her perhaps, “It’s not that far” she said curtly. Packing her camera equipment in a hurry. “Thanks. And sorry for trespassing.”
Rupert watched as she hastily packed her lenses and the rolls. Just when he thought he could work on himself to not offend people on first impressions, he generally didn’t do so with ladies so perhaps this was a first. “I’m Rupert Campbell Black” He put his hand forward for a handshake, “Sports Minister.” He introduced himself.
She had both her hands full with her books and camera, which she could rearrange back in the bag to accept his handshake but she’d rather not so she just nodded shortly. “Yes, Mr. Rupert, so nice to meet you.” She said with half a smile, then paced away not even waiting for his reply.
“I suppose I’ll see you around?” He said with his usual grin but she was already pacing away back to the path she’d come from.
That is how the two first met. Not her most memorable nor pleasant interaction but surely intriguing for the minister. The next time he met her, late early evening at a cafe. It took a second to recognise her with her head down in a book but there was enough lighting cast on her against the window where she sat. “Slow worm!” He exclaimed as he approached her causing her to avert her attention from the book to him.
“You…” she trailed off however her tone didn’t match the same enthusiasm as his. “Hi.” She said as he gestured to the chair across her on her table, asking if someone was there but she shrugged and nodded “Please, go ahead” she said being polite, internally bracing herself for another awful interaction.
“I was hoping I’d run into you” he told her leaning forward on the table crossing his arms, “turns out, your little bugger is a frequent visitor of the stable sheds back at the estate.”
“That explains yeah” she nodded closing her book, the size of it gigantic and hardcover it made a small thud, “it eats slugs and snails, spiders too…”
“Wonderful aspect” Rupert complimented, under informed on the subject he didn’t know what to say. “Did you get proper observations for your research?”
“Superficially yes” she nodded, “I’ll run into more of those one of these days.”
“You can always just visit my place again…I would be honoured to help out a bright mind.” Rupert offered leaning back in the chair, unbuttoning his blazer.
“That is so kind of you, I’m very sorry for trespassing that day” she said it again, obviously not friendly enough with him to take him up on that offer.
“Well you could make up for it by telling me your name.” He shrugged as his lips formulated a smile.
“Y/n.” She told him. As the conversation progressed, learning more of him, telling him more about her research and the subjects she’d come across so far. For someone in a vastly different field he was such an attentive listener. She’d told him a lot, about the animals, her thesis, her lectures and sessions, being a TA, moving here.
“And what of your friends?” He asked her over his second cup of coffee in the same conversation because he wanted to keep it going.
“I don’t live on campus so I don’t have roommates to be friends with, then I’m a TA but everyone else is a bachelors and third year student. Had I done college here I’d have those friends…I do have friends from college back home but as of now it’s only my professors.” She informed him, very casual with it but as she formulated the picture in his head it seemed to be a rather isolating experience.
“And what do you do for fun around here?” He asked her to see if it was as isolating as he realised.
“Trespass estates.” She joked with a small giggle, but in truth she did absolutely nothing for fun because there wasn’t anything.
“Greatest hobby ever” he joked back. But as she didn’t follow up with another activity he realised that if he pried about it he’d just force her to admit she led a boring and somewhat lonely life. He wasn’t judging her, she was fresh out of college and had to move a whole place and seemed to have no friends here. Well except for him if she’ll have him. “Are you struggling?”
“Of course not. I love my work, I can easily afford rent too it’s not a problem.” She replied honestly, if only financial was all of her struggles.
“Don’t you think you’d save more if you lived on campus?” He questioned unsure of her choice to stay in a boutique flat in one of the most expensive neighbourhoods.
“My father wouldn’t allow it. He’s a bit of a tone deaf classist that way.” She admitted, rather casually.
“Allow?” He repeated, surprised. He didn’t know her precise age but by her educational status and the looks of it someone in their early twenties didn’t need their father’s permission on how to live.
“It’s just a bit complicated, he wants all of his children to take the right step that is work in our family business, his company. I tried, it’s soul draining and very unlike me” she sighed “So I just extended education.”
“To get far from him?” He perceived, perhaps not the way she saw it.
“—To explore my options. I don’t want to disappoint him when I can avoid it.”
“And is this the way to be?” He asked, his tone guarded and expression curious.
“Perhaps.” She replied, but on the inside she was so hyper aware that anywhere farther from the family business as all the way to be. She didn’t want to distanced from her father nor her family, she may not be the golden child but she wanted him to be ever so proud of her even though she didn’t walk on the road he chose for her.
“Your spirit likes the fight doesn’t it?” It was more of an observation than a question.
“I don’t indulge in self awareness that well” She replied with a bemused shrug and he just let out a low laugh that. And that was her first friendship in Rutshire. To Rupert’s likeness the cafe was another one of basil’s side quests but he visited there less frequently given the bar was his primary. Regardless, Rupert got him too. The prime customer and his newest friend, studied there most of the time because she lived close by and Rupert felt drawn to her company.
She had no other and he found her growing to be his favourite one. He fancied the conversations with her so much, in her absence basil teased him about it. This one afternoon, Rupert visited as his usual time, or perhaps y/n’s usual time which he picked up on but she wasn’t there. “The coffee can’t be that good.” Basil said with a small scoff, as he found Rupert with a disappointed expression in the girl’s absence.
“I’m just trying to reduce the alcohol intake” Rupert said nonchalantly, well aware he didn’t the caffeine he’d been consuming just for the conversations with her.
“I wasn’t talking about the coffee” Basil added with a devious grin hinting at the double meaning joke he was referring for.
“Piss off” Rupert rolled his eyes at the man with a heavy sigh of irritation sitting down at the table, rolling up his sleeves and facepalming. “This is her usual time to come and study here” he mentioned.
“Which you don’t let her do.” Basil said, the entire time indulging the poor girl in conversations and spontaneous outing plans. “She’d have to be extraordinarily brilliant to keep up with her courseworks with all the detours you put her up to.”
“She is extraordinarily brilliant.” Rupert briefed him.
“I suppose you’d know.” Basil shrugged leaning against the table where he was sat, “Does she have a boyfriend?”
Seemingly offended at the mere thought of that Rupert’s expression disgusted, “Of course not!”
“Of course not?” Basil repeated surprised with his affirm expression. “So you are sleeping with her.”
“I’m not sleeping with her.” Rupert emphasised on the word ‘not’ and it was probably the tenth time that Bas had asked him that this moment.
“Of course not” Basil humoured him mimicking his tone when he said that.
“I’m not, it isn’t like that with her.” Rupert tried to explain that to his friend who found that to be such a foreign concept. It was a very strangely unknown and unspecific feeling for Rupert himself too.
“You don’t want to sleep with her?” Bas questioned not believing nor understanding the prospect “she’s rather pretty.” besides he’d sleep with anything.
“She isn’t just pretty Bas, she’s beautiful, a bit too much even on the inside.” He paused “She is precious.” Rupert spoke with such genuine passion that basil had to lay off of the joke he was brewing.
“And what of you?” Basil asked, it was something Rupert hadn’t even questioned himself for well not yet anyways.
“What of me?” He answered the question with a question feigning innocence. Before basil could further explain himself, even though well aware that Rupert understood him. The bells of the door jingled announcing upcoming presence in the nearly empty cafe causing the men to turn at the voice.
“Hello-Hello, Gentlemen!” Y/n exclaimed in the most enthusiastic Sunday morning tone possible but it was a cloudy afternoon on a Tuesday. To Rupert she always sounded like a Sunday morning with her little giggles and all the mannerisms but today she seemed way more lifted with spirits.
“Want to bet a tenner she ran into a coyote.” Basil said as she made her way to their table sitting across Rupert whilst basil was still leaning against the table.
“I bet you a twenty its a pine marten.” Rupert said, he picked up on everything from their conversation. This week she was in search of that specific animal from her list or so, he kept track somewhat subconsciously.
“It’s neither” She said with a smile still plastered on her face as she sat her bag down to the side placing her hands on the table. “I’ve got great news, well not great but perhaps good, great to me.” She went in an adjective discourse and shook her head coming back on track “My professor submitted my thesis to this government honorary publications department and I’m getting an in-kind research grant!”
“The government is giving you money?!” Basil matched her enthusiastic tone leaning forward on the table.
“No, no it’s an in kind grant…as in-they present me with an award but the big thing is that I get policy access, lab space, government authorised datasets…” she explained further with her eyes so lit up Rupert wanted to bottle this warmth of emotions he felt in just seeing her happy like this and drink it like water.
“You are getting an award?!” Rupert said with loud earnest passion for her excelling. “Y/n! That is marvellous news!”
“You fucking genius!” Basil added further, giving her a side hug and kissing the top of her head, giving her hair a ruffle as he walked across the cafe, “this calls for a celebration!”
“Thank you” She replied with a toothy smile. Feeling very heart warmed. Then Rupert took both her hands in his, he looked just as lit up as if it was his award.
“My darling, you absolute mastermind. Your mind is a wonder, y/n I am so so proud of you!��� He said, he didn’t have to reaffirm or reassure more so because out of everyone she’d come across, Rupert had been so supportive, a subject and felt so unfamiliar yet he’d reassured and let her know it so constantly that she’d always have him to be cheering so hard for her. “You deserved this!”
“Rupert, that is so kind! Thank you, seriously” she replied with a glint in her eyes he could feel coloured by. Just about on time, basil blasted the confetti cracker he happened to have lying around. He turned the open sign to closed at the door of the cafe and returned to the table, slowly she let her hands out of Rupert’s.
“Didn’t have champagne in the cafe but this should do” Basil said as he presented their table with a small cake.
“You didn’t have to close the place” y/n said with a small giggle as she saw the cake, a sign in red jam crossing out the name ‘Einstein’ and Y/n in its place. Classic Bas.
“Oh please love, I deserve this celebration.” Bas said with a dramatic roll of his eyes, any reason to not work was reason enough.
“Right of course since he worked so hard.” Rupert joked clearly forgetting he owed the man in staying the cafe for him to keep it open just in case y/n might come in. They kept congratulating her over and over again as the trio dug into the cake.
“So when exactly is the award function?” Rupert asked, it was going to be event of the week for him more than it was for y/n.
“It’s on this Friday, I get one visitor pass and my father is flying out to attend it!” She said, ebullient. It did irk him somewhat because he’d wanted to see her receive the award but he knew how much her father’s approval meant to her so he was happy in her happiness regardless.
“That is great news, what did he say?” Rupert asked keeping his disappointment for not being able to see her at bay.
“His assistant put me through in the very second call so he must really be impressed, he asked me about the function and he sounded very positive of it.” She told them about the seemingly brief phone call.
“You have to talk to an assistant to get to your fath-“ basil was quickly interjected with a small shove on the leg from Rupert to take a turn in that observation. Rupert didn’t want it to rain her parade, “It’s so nice he’s coming all this way.”
“He’d probably stay a day or two after that you should meet him!” She added, it seemed as if she was somewhat more joyous with the fact that her father was pleased than the actual award to her name. It was a grey line.
“I would be delighted to.” Rupert said, he would be. At least for her sake despite having his internal doubts towards the man.
-
The award function was an extremely formal event, you could barely tell apart the professors from the bureaucrats. Rupert could tell the difference easily though, he simply knew the later group, almost all of them. But he wasn’t there for any of those people. Taking his seat at the round table, next to the faces he knew very well but he was way too focused on the happenings of the stage to indulge in small talk. And then there it was.
The lady of the evening. At least for him, her research dissertation was called out and he recognised it was her turn before they presented her name as well. White shirt with several pins of animal welfare and her educational institution. Simplicity and grace, ever so precious. As she received the medal and the award plate Rupert clapped perhaps the loudest, standing up even. The stage wasn’t so far but she didn’t spot him because her eyes were searching another direction and the procession was short lived before she could avert her gaze.
Finally after all the names were done, she was free from the stage back to the softly mingling crowd. “There she is!” The enthusiastic exclamation caught her attention from her lost trance.
Adhering the man in suit with flowers in his hand, surprised and radiated expression, “Rupert?!” She was baffled and so relieved she didn’t understand the later feeling. She rushed to him, their distance getting closer as he opened his arms for her.
“Congratulations, darling” he said bringing her into a tight embrace both of them so joyous, hers was rather infectious. He easily lifted her from the ground out of glee, kissing the side of her face. “You were wonderful out there!”
“When did you get here?” She asked once he put him down and she pulled away yet kept her arms entangled with him. Enough to just see his face, “also how?”
“I’m an MP you thought I wouldn’t be able to get into a government function?” He amused, surprised she did not see it coming, perhaps she wasn’t expecting him but her reaction seemed as if she would rather prefer him. “I got here an hour before yours was announced.”
“I am so glad you made it!” She told him, the effort was so heartwarming to her. He’d came to an event which wasn’t initially his, making more arrangements to even get in for her. She didn’t want to voice it because he’d always reply with such a strange concern as if being loved more than to be sustained wasn’t optional, she wasn’t used to this concern nor sentimental support.
Rupert could tell her kind, wide eyes in a sort of turmoil of something she couldn’t figure out by even herself but he didn’t pry on it, “where is your father?” He asked looking around shortly.
“Oh he…he isn’t here. He could not make it.” She said with a small shrug, that is how casual his absence was to him.
“—How come?”
“Probably his flight, I forgot to notify him about our time zones or so. If he were skipping he would’ve called prior” there was a small hope tugging at her heartstrings trying to believe this wasn’t like the other times. “He would be here anyways, would just be missing the event.”
“I suppose” he replied curtly, being presented with two choices of either being truthful with her of her father’s harsh and uncaring constitution or hold the hope she held out for the man with her. None of the two seemed befitting to him. As the event progressed she introduced him to some of her professors and people that she worked with, he did the same with the other officials that he knew of. She grew tired of the socialising and asked him if they could leave the event, she wasn’t as tired as she was growing disappointed of a man who wasn’t even in the room.
Even though Rupert and her came to the event from a different place and were going back in difference directions it was a given that they leave together. At least to him it was, she’d just informed him she felt like leaving and he stood up in an instant. He was dropping her back to her place because she didn’t driver herself to the function. The two were walking, to his car in the chilly night with his suit blazer draped over her shoulders, flowers and his hand in her hand, he carried her award with her bag for her and a light hearted conversation. Serenity which ran away once they came across a pay phone call booth. “Do you mind if I go make a call?” She asked him, he nodded but he was well aware who that call was intended for.
Rupert leant against the phone stand with the small door of it open, close to her as she pressed the numbers inserting coins. Anxiously awaiting the other line to answer she replied when a voice answered “Hello, this is me, y/n. Did dad leave yet?” She asked, he hated to see her in such distress and was afraid the conversation ought to make it worse. “What? What do you mean—the event, my award he was going to be here for…like he promised.” Rupert could only hear y/n’s side of the conversation but he could pan out the other side, which wasn’t even her father just some office assistant. “Just let me talk to him…please…two minutes perhaps?” It was difficult to watch, begging for the scraps of her father to an assistant. After a few moments the call ended and she couldn’t even stomach the courtesy of a goodbye.
As she walked out of the booth he searched for her to meet his eyes, narrate to him the happenings of the call. “His plans changed” she said but nothing further. He could tell she didn’t feel like talking so he stopped walking and also held her back from the track, pulled her into his arms. Resting his chin on top of her head as he held her, enlacing his arms around her tightly. He could definitely stay like this for rest of the night. Even life? A small voice suggested and he quickly dismissed it as he was pulled back to her, she didn’t feel relaxed in his arms even though she hugged him back and her face so steady, he felt his shirt getting sprinkled with dampness, as if in smallest portions.
“Y/n…” he trailed off pulling away to confirm if she was crying, “are you crying?” He asked as she lowered her face so he couldn’t see it but he leant in her direction to see. “Hey..hey, it’s alright” he pulled her back to him letting her weep onto his chest as he ran a hand through her hair.
“I don’t understand why I feel so bad” she said through her tears, holding onto him like she would fall apart even more if he let go. Perhaps she would.
“It is alright darling just let it out” Rupert said as he continued to sooth her in his arms, trying to provide a present, grounding support.
“He promised me…” she trailed off crying harder, all those events where her father should’ve been present but wasn’t came back to her. Fancy dress competitions at school where the chauffeur that dropped her off would have to attend the show out of pity for the child, birthdays where he would have to be bothered a multiple times to come attend cake-cutting, evidently sad over a test but he simply couldn’t be bothered to ask his daughter if she was alright. So much life spent in I-promise-you-I’ll-be-there. So much disappointment and you’d think one would learn. “I just feel stupid-I thought this time would be different.”
Rupert held her face in his hands “look at me” he said forcing her to meet his gaze. “You are not stupid for what you feel, you are not at fault for someone so detached and irresponsible towards their own child.” He spoke whilst wiping her tears, “he will forever be an incomplete, deficient man for the kind of father that he is. But you my love are beyond him and how he treats you, you’re brilliant and kind and funny and you have a heart big enough to hold a planet. You are going to go so far, your suffrage of his conditional love and inflicted anguish will heal for the better. I promise you that.”
This was a better hope than the one she was always latched onto, hoping that he would change, come around for once. But letting go and a promise for a softer tomorrow seemed so much more beautiful. “But I am so tired”
“You have been so gentle through so much…you must have been tired too. But persevering is constant and you, you always do. There is so much life within you, those around you are infected with it, I know I am.” He confessed, he hadn’t voiced it out especially not like this even to himself but she was more than a lively feeling, more than a chase or a rush for attraction. No. She was life.
Such admission made her heart flutter, she felt the drumming in her ears and it wasn’t the anxious kind. This felt like a sunrise after a good dream, but she had no words for it because her eyes spoke enough and so did his that wandered down to her lips and back to his. Reciprocating the course of gaze when he leant forward, face so close she didn’t move even by the slightest tired of awaiting him to inch to the closest extent she caught a soft grip of his shirt, lowering her gaze right when he crashed his lips onto hers. She kissed him back and it felt heavenly, as the kiss deepened he felt like he had reached there.
Smiles glued to their faces once they pulled away to catch a breath, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear he said “you are not the only one who’s won something tonight.”
“That means I’ve won twice” she said with a small giggle adding to his exaggeration that kissing her felt like a win.
“That isn’t the same.” Rupert corrected her, going in to kiss her again with a slower passion, taking his time letting the sweetness of it linger “for me this is centuries worth of wins.”
IVE SO MUCH MORE OF HIS STUFF COMING SOMEBODY SEDATE ME…next his enemies to lovers let me know if you want to be tagged
PLEASE comments are my fuel I am HUNGRY for validation please if you like this please please let me know
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pricesprincess · 2 days ago
Text
from this ask | fat fem! reader | asshole oc for story purposes
simon riley really did live up to his nickname ghost with the way he followed you from place to place and any obstacles didn't matter to him, not when it came to know if you were safe or not.
he knew your schedule like his own and after years of being together it was just natural and simon couldn't just give up on the notion that you weren't his wife anymore so that's why he calls you everyday.
it could be about the weather, if things around your apartment need to be fixed, or if any men are hitting on you at your job because the idea of you moving on makes him sick to his stomach with dreadful pain.
but the first thing he always asks is are you okay love? because he wants to know if you are doing alright, perhaps without him and it seems that you're struggling with it all as well.
so when you ask simon to crash your date when you're halfway through dinner because he keeps making odd comments that put you on edge the moment you two sat down from each other there was no way he wouldn't help you.
your date was polite at first but something in your gut was warning you to text simon a simple word. red. he knew what it would mean.
"i'll be right back, i just need to freshen up." you murmured with a fake smile as you grabbed your purse and stood up knowing that if you were to be honest he could flip out and do something crazy.
your date nodded looking you up and down with a slight lip curl. "you could've dressed better and sprayed more perfume." his words were said so nonchalantly like they couldn't hurt a person's feelings.
you couldn't get away from his faster.
once in the bathroom you leaned against the wall pulling up simon's contact, the picture was of him and the cat you had custody of, princess q-tip who you had to beg him to do it but gave in quickly.
white with blue eyes and spoiled since you weren't too sure on having kids with his job, while you would love to have a baby with him it was the practical thing to do right now.
instead of texting you called him.
hearing simon's rough voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand. "hello? everthing ollright love?" the use of your nickname had your mouth going dry knowing you only had so much time.
"i'm on a date and its in the red, if you're busy i know i can always call the guys too and one of them can save me." your words tumbled out in a rush you were nervous he didn't hear and you'd have to repeat it.
in the background you heard the television click off and simon grunt as he stood up to get dressed. "send me your location." he hung up giving you some time to prepare yourself before going back out.
when you came back your date was flirting with the waitress, his eyes undressing her as she stood there until she finally saw you and smiled awkwardly before leaving you two alone.
"don't worry about her, your rack is a lot bigger." he told you with a wink and tipped his beer back all but chugging the thing as you watched with a slack jaw, you weren't offended when insults came from people who were clearly miserable with themselves.
the moment you leaned down to grab your water cup to splash him with it you smelt him before you felt his hand on your hip giving it a squeeze as he towered over the table casting a shadow over it.
his intense gaze cut through the air like sharp daggers intimidating the man who looked up at your ex-husband who pulled on his mask for old time-sake. "she's coming home with me." simon told him.
there was no arguing from your date which only made you laugh mentally as simon guided you away from the table and prying eyes, his lips brushing against your ear. "you deserve a lot better than that."
his words were laced with a profound sense of sadness and his sentence had a double meaning. "thank you for saving me, i don't think i'm going to date for a while after all that." you murmured and let him walk you to his car and open the door as usual.
almost like you were both on autopilot.
simon listened as you told him about your date and you both laughed and joked about everything which was really what you needed and then when the porch light flicked on as simon pulled his car up into the driveway he knew he shouldn't ask but did so anyway.
"can i come in for a nightcap?" he asked turning to look at you before tugging his mask off, it was a rare sight that he never let anyone see.
without saying anything you leaned over and kissed his scarred cheek. "of course, i'll make your favorite." you told him with a grin feeling your heart ache at being so close to him again.
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th3-c0ll3ct3r · 2 days ago
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Okay I want to hear your thoughts on sapnap and mcc bc oh boy that sounds interesting
No because, genuinely there are old clips of people laughing when they bring him up because they know he's popular but they don't want to see anything bad about him. Like you can barely tell it's chuckle.
As you may know originally teams were categorised based on 2 factors. Vibes. And if they could go a long period of time without swearing or not.
In the Skizz and Imp podcast, Scott laments about how it was so hard to categorize people who could not go an extended period of time with swearing in their stream and with people who could not stop swearing.
And there is more people who are PG/ can go a long time without swearing, then non-pg people, the podcast was recorded roughly a bit before the sapnap drama with MCC but it was still bubbling.
I need you to go back and watch that podcast because even if they were clear examples you can still sense who he's talking about, because genuinely sapnap would swear so much but even non-pg people wanted to avoid playing with him. If you go back to watches old MCC wins you can hear the nervous chuckles of people when he begin to swear.
Additionally one time they were trying out a new system on MCC and a lot of people were aware of that and it came out that the math was wrong and two teams should have got first place instead of just one because of the math, and One team was willing to just relent a bit and at the end of the day walk away. But Sapnap on his own had caused such a fuss that they still had to give him a coin and had to let him compete in DodgeBolt, and how to get a crown for him post his picture saying that he won along with his team. I cannot describe to you the absolute tantrum that man went on. Over a coin. He was so disrespectful that he didn't come back for a couple mccs after.
There is a genuine reason why a collective group of people do not want him to compete in MCC.
And you're probably wondering why did he compete in the MCC recently? Because before the main deal of him being signed to kick.com he had already signed the application and had been accepted to do MCC. The same week he came out and said that he was joining kick.com and that a lot of it young viewers should join kick.com
People with begging Scott to remove him, but kick.com just gave that man 20 million and he would definitely find a suitable lawyer to take his case because he earns a substantial amount of money from MCC.
But why would he Sue over MCC? I have a longer post going through this, but I will explain it here to.
Scott couldn't say no. For alot of reasons but here are 2 off the top of my lil head
1. Him not allowing sapnap to compete in MCC after already accepting his application is illegal form of discrimination regarding someone's work. Because he would be discriminating against how he does his work and what he uses to do his work, ( a more clearer example of this would be for someone to reject another person's application because they found out that they were Binman/wasteman, explaining the other people thought it was filthy). In reality
Scott had no basis to withdraw his application and to withdraw his place because most arguments (which are true), had came from social media and it could be argued that the people on social media influence Scott to make that decision and therefore sapnap could have lost a large portion of revenue as a self-employed person that MCC and Scott would have had to repay him based on statistics.
Again I have a longer post going through the law on this but I fact checked everything, and he would genuinely have a legal basis to sue them for discrimination.
And Scott had to take all the stray bullets for that. Because in the UK you have to consent to a formal document being shared with someone else. And even though this is an application for a game it's still an application. So he couldn't share the content of the application because it's illegal here.
Also in the podcast Scott mentions him having a waiting list and then bring this up the applications and you brings up a rough idea of when they application started, and you could actually guess when the applications started From when sapnap started turning up less frequently. Meaning that he was one of the many reasons why the application was made in the first place.
2. Publicity. Sapnap brought a lot of viewers to can watch MCC and it's argued that if Dream and George were there but Sapnap was not there, the pair would not participate regardless of what team they were on because their friends. (BBH actually brings up how close their friendship is when he was defending dream against one of his many allegations and you can tell how close the friend group is. An in Sapnap's Defense of dream he literally goes on about how close they are and in the deleted vod he said wherever he goes I go).
But getting back on track, at the time without the large audience that MCC had it would have not been as sustainable as it is today. They definitely contributed to the success in the early days along with others as it will seen as a new form of Minecraft Monday.
He also raged pretty hard when in MCC 14 Scott's team won after giving hints to his teamate, to win ace race. To which half of his team didn't even finish. And they actually placed lower than top 3 in that event. Scott goes on to say about how he and other had tested it, they were giving instructions and Sapnap did actually finish.
But he was so mad that Scott team had won at a game that EVERYONE was objectively bad at that thiers a 15 minutes video of him screaming about it in Youtube.
Scott later went on to say him and many others who did finish also tested the map, and he always give hints to his team, AND SAPNAP HAD WON AN EVENT WITH SCOTT'S HELP AND USING SCOTT'S HINTS. It's only when he didn't win he had a problem with it.
Sapnap cried when he didn't win, and blame everyone about it yet shot up his ego when he did.
And admittedly he did get better as time went on but dude needs a whole ass team fr-
Are realistically you couldn't call the two of them friends they were more, a friend of a friend. And even if Scott didn't like them objectively over people like them and that's why they were there.
Sapnap but did not come back after the kick.com incident and I doubt he will.
And on that notion a lot of streamers have younger audiences ranging from children to teenagers to young adults. While kick.com is a primarily adult site, not completely adults but you're gonna see some weird things. The majority of streamers who participate in MCC, obviously are going to be put into teams. And if you were put into a team with Sapnap, who was streaming on kick.com, you might think to yourself "wow he'd fun ill check him out!" then boom pedo in your Dms.
For many streamers involved in the event he was not ideal to keep around because realistically he was endangering of a people's audiences while pumping out publicity from his own.
It was not fair to other streamers that their young audiences could we expose to an objectively talented person streaming on one of the worst sites known, and he signed this deal back when kick.com has no moderation, so imagine all the convicted sex offenders, criminals and gambling on the site, then in an attempt to get a younger demographic onto the side it paid Sapnap using the money that they gained from gambling to effectively switch over ( because, and Tubbo did a stream on this and summarized it accurately, because he had a couple conversations with this CEO and for money. Not for the audience).
Meaning that everyone is immediate circle who wanted to continue to watch his content or learn who he was through major events like MCC would download the app and then over your targeted by a lot of older people.
And actually this was the basis that allowed Scott to never bring him back but Scott could not get rid of him for the MCC because it would be legally discrimination.
There are a bunch of things too that I could say about how at the start the only people he would team with would be mostly from the dream SMP and how that directly correlates with how people described him in person, ( trying to control and dominate people), and how people like Niki were too scared to say no at the time, but it be a bit late my dude
The takeaway from this is that he was MCC Problem Child and that Scott couldn't immediately kick him out due to discrimination despite reassurance that he changed his behavior only to immediately sign to kick.com. How he'd endangered both his young audiences and other if he actually stayed. How we used to scream and yell at every one of his mistakes to the point where people didn't want to compete with him. How he would target people who faulted him within the game. And even how he practiced the game so much to the point where they had to make new maps and that if he would lose it would genuinely be down to his team and not him as a player because he had practiced so much meaning that his team felt worse after they didn't win because they knew it was their fault instead of just being happy to play the game ( like you remember when they blew up parkour warrior and replaced it with a new map because of them)
He was just realistically a mess and I'm surprised they tolerated him so long, because the amount of money they have to drop on changing things because the Dream Team had paid someone to recreate some of the maps so that they could practice, and then other people started doing that in which they would memorize a certain game practice that game and then come out on top ( an example of this would be technoblade, who memorised all materials needed for BuildMart and they had to change it and he was basically told that he couldn't do that and he was actually sorry because he didn't know because other people like we're doing it. And again with Technoblade killing people in Bingo to which in the Stream he says he didn't know that you could kill people in Bingo and once people figured it out that would be the strategy until they changed it. Philza practicing ace race maps as he had someone build an almost identical copy of the original because other people were doing it. Wil and other, trying to perfect The Glitch block technique and that's one point someone had commissioned another person to remake the map to see where it was going wrong so that they could utilize the bug instead of playing the game). All these things have in common that they were all in the same server at one point and that the dream team had started this trend but all of them stop doing it when they were told to stop doing it but the Dream Team didn't to the point where even Sands of Time had to be changed, parkour warrior, sky battle, battle box, parkour tag and TGTTOS had to be changed, and they actually sparked the "maybe we should have different maps" trend
Because it was a poorly hidden secret that they'd paid people to re-create maps so that they could practice. (but Scott giving hints is cheating he says while paying someone to remake parkour tag so that they can get a perfect run)
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dysfunctionalcreature · 5 months ago
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Kevin Day wearing this shirt a tumblr ad recommended to me (if someone wanted to draw him wearing this I would be eternally grateful)
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erinfern0 · 7 months ago
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husband simon "ghost" riley
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husband!simon who cried while reading his vows, looking around the venue to see his team cheering for the both of you. They're one of the few people invited from his side of the room, but it was all the family he had and needed.
husband!simon who feels like he waited for this moment his whole life, the moment you finally said yes, giving yourself to him fully. Wearing the fanciest piece of clothing he ever had, saying the most important words he ever did, standing right beside you was a dream come true.
husband!simon who wouldn't drink a lot during your party, just admiring the view of you dancing and being so happy for him, with him. Especially enjoys when Kyle and Johnny stumble upon you and chuckle, pushing you towards the dance floor, having the time of their lives at the wedding of their favorite couple.
husband!simon who would take secret pictures of you, especially if you fall asleep amongst some guests. Head on Price's shoulder, Kyle's lap, or tangled up with Johnny on the couch in the hallway of the venue. He'll definitely torment you with them later, especially since you didn't really have a chance to get back at him as he has a spider-like sense for cameras and quickly avoids them.
husband!simon who's the happiest man alive beside you and would do absolutely anything to make you happy too. Acts of service are his favorite way to show you his love, especially when he's back from deployment for some time. Doing most chores and bringing you hot tea every morning,
husband!simon who spends as much time with you as he can, usually at home where he can just pull you close without caring for others. Grabbing your hips while you wash the dishes or pulling your waist when you try to get out of bed are a must.
husband!simon who just can't resist you, thinking about you all the time. Being far or close doesn't matter, you're on his mind 24/7. You can sleep beside him or be a thousand kilometers away, he's still thinking about you. If he can't see your face in the morning, he'd just imagine it with a smile on his face.
husband!simon who attends therapy regularly so he can be a better version of himself for the both of you. Especially if you're planning to make your little family a bigger one.
husband!simon who suffers from sleepless nights whenever you argue. He can't just fall asleep when you've just argued, so in most cases, he occupies his mind by cleaning the entire house or filling in some missing reports.
husband!simon who gets his stuff after the argument and gets ready to sleep on the couch, only to smirk when you enter the living room and make him come back to bed. You can't sleep without him as much as he can't without you. Yeah, you may not talk, but his arm will find its' way around your waist as you fall asleep.
husband!simon's favorite way to make up after an argument is waking you up with his arms around your frame and soothing apologies spilling from his lips. He loves the way you immediately pull him closer and comply, adding your own apologies to the mix.
husband!simon who is too old to care about morning breath, if you don't mind, he'll put a thousand kisses all over your face at any time of the day, especially to wake you up.
husband!simon who brags about you to his mates and won't shut up even if they complain. That's the price they pay after begging him to get to know more about his secret little love before.
husband!simon doesn't care about the money, because let's face it —he's got tons of it and will gladly spend it on you. Buys you secret gifts that he hides around the house before deployment, so you don't miss him too much.
husband!simon leaves the room whenever you call him. Your conversations are sacred, no matter how much his team wants to say hello, it's your time. They can call you themselves if they are so interested.
husband!simon who becomes a handyman as soon as you ask for anything. Your shelf is not leveled properly, and the sink is broken? Don't worry, love, he'll take care of it.
husband!simon who watches lots of documentaries with you in your free time. Also, secretly enjoys cooking shows and even more secretly — makeover TV shows. Especially the ones where they turn alternative-looking people into some normies, and loves to complain that they rip them off all their personalities.
husband!simon will get a matching tattoo with you. Probably already has some that remind him of you.
husband!simon who becomes very conversational, something you wouldn't expect the day you two meet. If you finally let him open up, he's yapping all the time with you, just rambles about all the little things that are on his mind.
husband!simon who very much enjoys those conversations while you two have sex, makes it even more sweet and domestic in his mind. Most of the time, you two talk about plans for the day or random chores that you need to finish while he pounds into you, making you both giggle and out of breath.
husband!simon definitely changes his tone around you. When Johnny heard that for the first time, his jaw dropped at the soft way he talked to you.
husband!simon who does everything in his power to protect you. The address he doesn't share with anyone, burner phones to contact you while being deployed, highest quality security. Most of the time uses nicknames instead of your name when in public, and probably one or two guard dogs that are y'alls most-loved pets (he pretends not to see how you spoil them while he's gone).
husband!simon who takes you on nice vacations whenever he can to make up for the time you two lost while he was deployed.
husband!simon who cannot see his future without you, you're stuck with him for eternity.
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yndrgrl · 7 months ago
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your boyfriend, katsuki bakugo, loves you dearly, but you're scared you'll never be deserving of him
cute lil dabble. lowkey songfic. fem! reader. angst to comfort. fluff. established relationship. any au. overthinking! reader.
warnings: there are none :D
a/n: picture a "too sweet" by hozier girl x "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys boy relationship !
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katsuki is always characterized as hostile yet calculating, a man who knows exactly what he wants. he's destined to be the top of the food chain, everyone knows it. he's powerful man with a deadly gorgeous face, his fangirls would describe.
& in comes you. plain old you.
you honestly have no idea what katsuki sees in you. like, if you're digging deep in yourself, maybe he likes your for your dark, crude sense of humor that always seems to make him belly laugh.
it's said that he's an early bird. he's awake before you every single day, asleep & sound by 8:30-- on the weekends, he'll push it to 10:00. before you've said your first words of the day, he's already made his side of the bed, made & ate breakfast, put away the laundry, & is off to his morning run after his morning workout. his good habits he's developed early in life has benefited him in every way.
he never procrastinated on chores, his paper work is flawless, & you could learn a thing or two from his time management skills. he's always making time for spontaneous dates you wanna go on, festivals you wanna visit, & he makes sure that the pantry is stacked with your favorite snacks. any of your interests are his interests, even if he doesn't fully understand it.
when it comes to katsuki, you ought to wonder if he ever wants to experience something different from his strict, repetitive lifestyle. you sometimes feel stupid for wanting more out; you want to travel somewhere far away, you want to go out clubbing with a bunch of strangers, you want to move to the country side & live in a cottage. katsuki always reels in your dreams, encouraging you but also reminding you that you need to stay consistent to achieve them. you're jealous with how fast he can accept reality.
"babe? you listening?" katsuki questioned, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked a couple of times then nodded almost-too enthusiastically. he let out a little chuckle & stroked your cheek with his thumb. "what're you thinking about?"
"nothing, i'm sorry," you sighed with your hands in your lap. you both were on the couch, doing your own thing. he was on his phone, & you were supposed to be doing some work on your laptop, but you found yourself spacing out again.
"don't apologize. i'm just curious about what's going on in that pretty, little head of yours," he told you before he took your hand & pressed his lips against your knuckles. you thought to yourself, i'm not good enough for this man.
you debated whether or not to tell the truth. on one side, he has been your devoted boyfriend for years now, but on the other, he could just be asking out of curtesy. like, what if he actually does not care at all- "(y/n)? talk to me. i know you have something you wanna say," katsuki commented, scooting closer to you. he set the pillow that you placed your laptop on the coffee table so he could get your undivided attention. he caressed your thigh to help ground you.
you stayed silent for a moment, & he waited patiently. you swallowed, your eyes darted from his piercing red ones to the floor to his hands. finally, you said, "you're too sweet for me." he laughed & laughed, & you couldn't help but crack a smile. "what? what's so funny?" you pouted.
"sorry for laughing, princess. it's just no one ever calls me sweet. like, ever," admitted katsuki as he settled down from his fit of laughter. what he said was true though, he didn't have a problem with it. he was not sweet at all, he was rough around the edges & egotistical with the skills to back him up. he only ever thinks about himself & you. "but what makes you say that, hm?"
"well, for one, you always treat me out & take me anywhere i want. we never go where you wanna go," you pointed out, jabbing your finger in his toned chest playfully.
"that doesn't make me sweet. i have the money, & i don't fuckin' care about where we go to eat."
you chose to ignore him, rolling your eyes at him because that was his excuse every time. "two, you're literally in the prime of your life, & you choose to go to sleep at 8:30? how do you sleep so well?"
"(y/n), what is this really about?" he questioned. katsuki brushed your hair away from your face, tucking the silky strands behind your ear. "& don't lie to me, i know you."
"ugh, fineee," you groaned as you threw your head back. maybe it was for comedic effect, or to gather your thoughts & regulate the tears that started to well in your eyes. "do you think i'm like, worthy of you?"
"worthy of me?"
"yeah, do you think i'm good enough for you?" you rephrased, pulling your hands away from him to rub your upper arm. it's embarrassing to admit something, it's scary too. what if, once you point it out, he'll agree & leave you?
"'course i do! i'm the best around & i got the best fuckin' girl, why are you thinking this shit?" katsuki exclaimed, his passion that you wish you had seeping through to his tone. a moment of thick silence followed, you took a deep breath. you suck at emotions.
"you're too good for me, okay! you're so much stronger than everyone, & if that wasn't enough, you're insanely smart! i'm just... here. average at best. people praise you like the morning after an eternity of darkness. you're the rain after a heatwave. everything works out for you, & i'm just the one holding you back from even better things-"
"babe, you're not holding me back or whatever. you've never held me back," he stated like it was a fact, but you felt as though he was just saying that to calm you down. it angered you, & you were ashamed that you were angry because it wasn't even directed at him, it was directed at the fact you felt unworthy.
"no, you don't get it! i aim low because it's realistic for me, i can't afford to aim for anything else because i'm destined to fail. you, on the other hand... you have so much potential. don't you get embarrassed about having a girlfriend like me?"
"no." he answered so quickly, like it was rehearsed, like he knew what you were going to say. "i've never felt embarrassed of you ever. you're so fuckin' dense, you know that?"
you paused just to stare at him. katsuki sure had a way with comforting people. even after years of being a hero, he never learned how to traditionally comfort people. tough love, everyone would call it. but with you, he forced himself to be tender because you deserve treatment no one else gets from him.
there were so many things he wanted to say to you. don't you realize what you do for him? god, katsuki would go mad living without you now that he knows what life is like with you, his missing rib. the two of you are meant to be, you're two sides of the same coin. so what if he's as bright as the morning? you were his darling night, the very universe was visible through your eyes.
"you must be dense if you really thing you're just average. would i go for an average girl?"
"i mean-"
"no, the answer is no. you're deserving of love, my love. everything you've accomplished, everything you've overcome, you're just diminishing it because what? you think you're dumb or something? you- you..." you're the reason my world goes round, you are so talented, he was so desperate to shout these praises at you.
he was never one for romantic gestures through words. if he did, he would've been the best damn poet in the game. "i am yours."
it was such a simple sentence, yet it shook you to the core. you stared into his lively, crimson eyes. the look he gave you in return made your breath hitch; he was so deeply devoted to you, as deep as the pacific ocean.
you leaned in, capturing him in a kiss. tears rolled down your cheeks, your despair melting away. you felt like the two of you were kids again, sharing your first kiss. how could you doubt a man who so clearly, who so desperately, loves every bit of you.
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think-like-a-poet · 3 months ago
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What sbout max softlaunching his gf (reader) in the summer break, with help from her of course because he doesnt know what it is. No one knew, expect his family, yours snd maybe daniel -🍸
Thanks in advance💕💕
What is a soft launch?
Max verstappen x reader
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
@ Maxverstappen1
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Liked by Alexalbon, danielricciardo and 1.379.382 others
Maxverstappen1: Back home with my darlings.
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Redbullracing: New line up?
-User: i don't know if they can reach the padels.
-user: yuki can, they can
-user: not the yuki slander
Alexalbon: This is the kind of content that I like
User: what a cutie ( i am not talking bout the cats)
-user: well the cats are cute too, but not the point
User: who took the photos maxy
-user: probably family or friend
-user; maybe he has a gf
-user; it was me guys
user; sometimes a baby girl is a 26 year old men.
-user: amen
danielriccardo: I have some new toys for them
-maxverstappen: they have so many
-Danielricciardo: that is not what they said. They like it
-maxverstappen1: of course they do. I are cats
@ Maxverstappen1
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Liked by Charlesleclerc, redbullracing and 1.379.302 others
Maxverstappen1: Padel session
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User: Mr Verstappen, is this a soft launch?
User: Never thought i live to the day Max does a soft launch
user: THAT SHOULD BE ME
User: what you mean soft launch, this is basicly a hard launch if you ask me
Charlesleclerc: how did you blame the racket this time
-Maxverstappen1: Ha ha ha, so funny . . . . . . . . .
-user; lestappen content
-user: not much, but i take it
User: please forgive me for the words i am about to say
user: can you hit me with you racket,
user: TELL US THE NAME
-user: please
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@ Maxverstappen1
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Liked by DanielRicciardo, Christianhorner and 1.690.303 others
Maxverstappen1: Holiday with my favourite people. @ VictoriaVerstappen, @ SopieKumpen @ Yourusername
user; we have a name!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
user: Victoria, she is so beautiful
user: she is so pretty
-user: you cant see her face
-user: stalked her account
-user: god, i wish i looked like that
user: we lost him
user: noo, my boyfriend
.
@ Yourusername
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Liked by 862.792 people
Yourusername: Date night with my darling, @ Maxverstappen1
comments disabled.
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@ Daniel Ricciardo
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Liked by, Yourusername, maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1.580.937 others
Danielricciardo: As they finally told everyone. Here are some pictures I took of the lovely couple @ Maxverstappen1 and @ Yourusername. Thank you of making me feel like a third wheel.
Youruser: These are so pretty. Thanks danny
-danierriccardo: Tnks, mostly your doing.
-maxverstappen1: don't flirt with my girlfriend man
-danielriccardo: not flirting, just appreciating beauty
-maxverstappen1: i crash you of the track
-visacashapp: please don't
user: she is so pretty
user: god had favourites
Maxverstappen1: no problem, get a gf and you can be fourth wheel
user: if you look close you see me jumping of a clif.
user: she is beautifull
user: we need more pictures
-landonorris: say no more
-user: whaattaa
.
@ Lando Norris jpg
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Liked by RacerBia, yourusername and 599.573 others
Landonorrisjpg: Cleaning up the gallery. @ Youruername @ Maxverstappen1
Youruser: How did i never noticed you made these
-Landonorris"cause you kept staring at him
Maxverstappen1: maybe you are good for something
-user: hahahahaha, Pleaseee max
-landonorris: no more pictured
user: fuck romeo and juliet, i want what these bitches have
-user: same
-user same2
-user: same3
-user: same13937
user: all i need is a tall blue eyes boyfriend who looks at me like that.
-user: is it to much to ask
user: tell us your secrect yn
-yourusername: i catched him with kebab
-user; i will try, let you know how it goed
-yourusername: 👍 good luck honey.
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drgnflyteabox · 2 months ago
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something to remember you by
pairing: soap x fem reader summary: your boyfriend wants some memorabilia of you to take on his deployments. only, he wants his superior officer to take the photos. w.c: 3.7k tags/warnings: dubcon, cucking, mild degradation, oral (m + f, rough), hair pulling, un-negotiated kink, dom!soap, clothed man naked reader, teasing scent kink (m + f), one (1) pussy slap, crying, squirting, unprotected sex, some anxiety, reassurance mid-fuck, overstimulation, some aftercare, abrupt but open ending, reader has some internal shame around sex/kink, reader doesn't rlly like her bf
At first, it’s nothing. Dirty talk, suggestive texts, passing comments while he’s on his second deployment with a hand around his cock and you pretending to be into it.
"Think about it, babe," he’s panting, but it’s less sexy when you can tell he’s deepening his voice on purpose like Christian Bale Batman. "Don’t you wanna give me something to remember you by? While I’m out here fighting for you?"
Corny. So fucking corny. Your feet are kicked up on your coffee table, fuzzy-socked, face schlopped with a cooling gel mask. Quarter past 8 o’clock, and he’s trying to sell you on letting one of his army buddies fuck you and take pictures of you. The absurdity makes you almost laugh.
"…babe?" Oh, shit.
"Yeah honey, I’m here." You’d kind of feel bad, if it weren’t for the ick factor. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, he was fine, it was just that since he’d joined the army he’d inched closer and closer to picking up a mic and dictating which body counts were okay to women over podcasts. That, and he’s gotten hornier. Kinkier.
Which is fine, really. Only you don't consider yourself adventurous. Sex is like a chore, something to put you to sleep, to relax the muscles. Relationships are quid pro quo - I suck your dick, you make my parents think I’m succeeding in life, deal?
Not to mention, you've never even considered stepping outside of the idea that sex is between committed couples only, sequestered away and hidden in the closet like old clothes.
"So, are you picturing it?" Schlap schlap schlap. He must’ve added lotion. "You can say no obviously, ughnnn, but I know this guy really well. I'd, ahhh fuck, sit in the other room."
"Thanks for being so considerate," you sound dry, but you’re honestly intrigued. Life has been monotonous since graduation, the transition from study to office… rough.
You aren’t adventurous. But you’re so fucking bored.
"Can I see him first?" On the TV in front of you, muted, Matthew Macfayden confesses his love tearfully in the rain. You want to be bewitched, body and soul. To feel something.
"So you’ll do it? Oh, fuck-" Not what I said, you think. His voice goes high, reedy, trembling with his orgasm. "See how fucking hot this makes me? I’ll send a pic, give me a sec."
It’s a group photo. He’s dressed in his uniform, head shaved, standing next to a group of a dozen or so men. Outlined, at the far corner with a group of guys big enough to dwarf a good third of the rest, is a man with building biceps and a smarmy grin and a confident, wide-legged pose. Hips jutted out. Fuck, he’s hot. You can see his bulge through his pants, through the picture, under a heavy tac vest.
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"Get in, get in!" the apartment is clean for once. At least, clean without you getting sick of his clutter and playing maid. Did he do it himself to impress his friend? That makes you snort, but he doesn’t catch it, too preoccupied with his phone.
"Um, woah-" you start, taken aback. It looks like a porn set. There’s a plastic sheet on the ground in front of the couch. "I thought this was supposed to be casual?"
"It is, babe," he’s brushing you off, same as he did the few days leading up to this. You’d gone through some minor confidence and judgment crises, anxiety building like a balloon about to pop. All of which he’d brushed off.
It’s all fun and games, babe. Plus he’s done this before, he’s like a pro, showed me some videos - that was something you hadn't agreed to, just some pictures for him to take on deployments.
Still, trepidation makes you sweat, makes your thighs stick to the brown leather couch when you sit and try to sip water. Your socks crinkle the sheet.
You don’t turn when he arrives, still too nervous, knees stuck together and hands slipping on the glass from condensation when they start talking behind you. There’s too many what ifs - all reasons you’d used to avoid hookups in college, all reasons you wanted to break through your shell now.
Plus, you’re sick of hearing "did you finish?"
"This must be her," says an accented voice, gruff and maybe amused, "ye feelin' shy?"
No. You’re just nervous. Exposed. One of the only conditions you'd pushed was no cuck chair, but now you weren't sure how to feel to be left alone with him soon. This man is so big, so imposing.
"Hi," you say smartly. He looks just like his photo, only bigger. Bulging muscles and the same wide stance when he comes to stand in front of you. It’s only because you can’t stand sitting face-to-face with his crotch that you stand and hold your hand out to shake.
"And polite!" Loud. He introduces himself as Johnny, which makes your boyfriend's eyebrows raise. "So cute." he takes the liberty of bypassing your hand and grabbing your waist.
Oh fuck, he runs hot. His hands burn, even through your shirt. You feel self-conscious, plain, looking up at his probing blue eyes. They’re so intense, captivating, distracting you from the feeling of him getting closer and closer, till your tits are pressed to his.
"Hey-"
The moment breaks. Your boyfriend is looking at you both, unreadable expression on his face. Is he regretting this? Feeling emasculated, maybe? Hard to feel much sympathy when you’re the one about to get fucked.
And it was his idea.
"I’m gonna go to the bedroom," his eyes squint, flitting between the both of you before he scurries away, pants tented.
"Now that that's outta the way," Johnny grunts. "C'mere." And sits down with a grunt, pulling you to him.
You try to pivot, to sit next to him, but he's strong and coordinated so you wind up in his lap, back touching the arm of the couch and your legs slung over his, bum on one thigh.
"That's more like it, no?" there's that wolfish grin again, so close. One hand rests on your knee, possessively, while the other wraps around your shoulders and plays with your shirt. "Why don't we introduce ourselves?"
The hand on your knee moves to your face, gripping your cheeks in a grip hard enough to push your lips out into an embarrassing pout. You struggle a little, pulling at his wrist, but he doesn't budge.
He pulls his phone out, aiming the camera at your face, recording a video through a text-app. You can that it's a groupchat, assured by your boyfriend before that it was totally private, babe. This is jut between us.
"Now say hello," he puts his stubbly cheek next to yours, rubbing like a cat. "And introduce yourself."
"H'llo," you struggle through it, muffled by his grip. Your name is almost unintelligible, and your jaw starts to ache a little.
"Say, can I please suck your cock, sir?"
Your stomach tightens, right down to your pussy, which gushes a little into your panties.
"Cn'I please suck your cock, sir?" he's so fucking forward, just jumping in headfirst. The loss of control, your being told what to do, makes your clit jump. Sex has never been like this - you've never been so acquiescing.
"Of course you can, bonnie!" you're almost tossed to the floor, no gentleness as he pulls you toward him by the hair so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. He scoots to the edge of the couch, leaning back against it, and uses that strong arm to rub your face on his bulge. "Get me hard."
He puts his phone on the arm of the couch.
You flounder, hands finding his knees and trying to pull back. He doesn't let you.
"Use your mouth, kiss me," his hand finds a firmer hold on your hair as you start mouthing against him, tasting denim, smelling his musk, letting it get to your head and make you dizzy. "That's right, kitten."
His cock starts to chub under his clothes, and you almost wish you could feel it in your mouth. Oral isn't your favourite, but the way your pussy clenches around nothing and drips into your panties is making you think maybe you were wrong about yourself.
"Up, up," your face is rubbed a little raw by the time you sit up, looking at him. Waiting for instruction. "Everything off, except your panties."
You obey, stripping your shirt and bra and then your shorts. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the apartment, goosebumps dancing along your arms and your belly. Self-consciousness almost has you reaching to cover yourself, until Johnny grabs you by the shoulders and twists you just enough that you're back to facing his phone.
"Look at these," he grunts in your ear, fingers finding your nipples. Pulling them, pinching them. It's not for you, it's for the camera. You feel like an object, an accessory, secondary to getting the shot of the rough pads of his fingers teasing you into whimpers.
You've never been more turned on.
"Nice, eh?" he pulls them up and out, which hurts, but draws a line of pure electricity from your nipples to your clit. "Whatd'ye think, L.T?" the name doesn't register. Army stuff, you assume.
You're turned back around sharply again to face his actual cock. He's pulled it from his fly, thick and leaking, while you were getting undressed. It's unfair, really, nice and long and curved.
"Ask me again," a statement. A command, phone discarded.
"Please can I suck your cock, sir?" the words make your cheeks burn, your body quiver, your clit jump.
"Ye can," laughter this time, worsening your embarrassment. His hand finds your hair again, pulling you down when you're too slow to touch your lips to the head of his dick. "I'm gonnae fuck your face, alright?"
Without waiting, he lifts his hips up and thrust into your mouth. It's not as deep as it can go, but you almost gag, unprepared. The next thrust is deeper, quicker. He's letting you build up to it, letting your hands rest on his knees for balance.
Your nose touches his pubic hair, inhaling the scent of him. Any attempt at hollowing your cheeks, sucking, licking, is futile. He's so quick that the best you can do is hang on for the ride, keeping your teeth in check.
Drool builds and spills past your lips, making wet sounds compete with his frankly pornographic moaning. He's a man possessed, using you while you squeeze your eyes against overwhelmed tears.
Finally he yanks you off of him by the hair, holding you up while you splutter from the unexpected change. Your hands go to your face, trying to wipe.
"None o'that, now," he bats them away, giving you a shake when you keep trying. "Leave it." like you're a bad dog.
Strings of spit connect your swollen lips to his cock, thin and gooey, that fall to your bare chest when he sits up.
You're turned, stood up and then guided to the couch to sit. Johnny slaps your thighs to get you to open them, lifting your feet for you so that your heels rest on the edge of the couch cushions.
"Awe, look how wet she is," he holds your legs, exposing your wet panties to him and to his phone, where he takes a few pictures. Again, you wonder about the appeal of this for your boyfriend. It's hot for you. Degrading, but hot. Or maybe more hot because of the degradation.
"Oh god," you say out of shock. You've never been so fucking wet in your life, and god forbid he sees how swollen with arousal you are underneath.
"Naw, just me," Johnny says, rubbing his knuckles over your pussy through the fabric. "She all wet and frustrated?"
You don't answer, hands keeping you sat up, chest heaving. You're still a little dizzy.
Johnny licks over your panties, mouthing over them not unlike what you did for him only a few minutes before. It's nothing, really, but you're so worked up that it startles a long, drawn-out moan from you.
He continues like this, never actually making contact with where you need it, with your skin. Every one in a while he turns his head to the side and grins, taking a picture or a videoclip while you tip your head back and resist begging him to just get on with it.
His nose presses on your mound, where he drags it down to your hole and sniffs.
That's what breaks your resolve.
"Please," you whine. Your voice is rough from taking his cock in your throat.
"Please what?" he opens his mouth and puts his teeth on you, not biting, just letting you feel them. Gnawing gently.
"Please do it," you look down at him, and even though he's on his knees you know you aren't the one in control. "Please lick my cunt."
A laugh, mean and condescending. Your eyes close in shame, pussy burning for attention.
"This cunt right here?" he pulls the gusset aside, whistling. "This desperate little cunt?"
"Yes, please," you curl your toes into the couch.
Something shifts in his eyes, some unrecognizable flash. It feels like danger, like you're in over your head. Johnny takes two fingers and rubs them over your clit, slowly at first, and then quickly when he feels how slippery you are.
Somewhere, a volcano erupts and it isn't comparable to the heat or the feeling of your clit finally getting attention. It zings through you, making you squeeze your muscles, taught and trembling.
The pads of his fingers are a rough sensation on your swollen skin, the worlds best vibrator, ribbed for your pleasure. All he does is rub, up and down over your clit, quickly and until your face starts to scrunch together in orgasm, trembling hard.
Then he pulls back and slaps you so hard on your pussy you scream.
You almost come from it, shocked, legs kicking out, skin burning and clit pulsing with desperation, back bowing. You keep making sound after, a long and drawn out aaaaaahhhhh while he grins like the cat that got the cream. Takes another picture, the click of the camera loud in the face of your disappointment.
The intensity of it almost brings you to tears, looking at him with betrayal and vulnerability in your face. You feel weak all of a sudden, cored, devoured, pulled apart as soft as slow cooked meat.
Your panties fall back over your skin, a minor comfort against the sting.
"Poor girl," Johnny says with false sympathy. "Let me make it up to ye."
Then you're up again, pulled and pressed against Johnny's chest until he pulls your underwear down and rearranges you to sit on his lap over his spread legs, yours dangling on either side.
"Gonna bounce ye on my cock, alright?" you nod. "Sit on it."
You lift your hips, using his knees for balance, and he guides the head of his cock to your hole. Stops you from sitting back right away with a hand on your hip, squeezing the soft flesh there, and holding you there.
"They're kissing," he laughs. You feel it, your cunt mouthing at him like a conscious being, separate from you. "Ye think they want tae meet each other?"
"Can I?" you don't fight to keep the whine out of your voice. You want to come, you want this aching and this emptiness to end.
"Can ye what?"
"Sit on your cock, please."
"Well, since ye asked so nicely," and then he notches himself properly again, and forces you down with two hands on your waist. You shout, arching, head thrown back. "Bounce on it now, kitten. Show me how badly ye want to come."
And oh god, you do. You rock forward, shaking at the feeling of him, no technique to guide you just pure intuition, brain and cunt and body as one. Distantly, the sound of the camera registers, but it only makes you move faster.
He spreads your cheeks, exposing where you're connected, putting the camera close to the wet clench of your cunt around his cock and - oh, he's filming it. There's no click, just the wet sounds of you riding him.
"Thas'right," he murmurs lowly, maybe for show. "You wanna come?"
"Yes!" you lean back, then, sweat slicked back sticking to his shirt, forgetting where you are and why you're here. Everything narrows down to your pussy, but you feel compelled to keep your hands off your clit even though you know it would make you come quickly.
You want to listen to him, to wait for permission. The thought is searing heat through your core.
Fingers find your face, slipping into your mouth. Your lips wrap around them, sucking like you would've his cock.
His other hand lifts his phone in front of you both, snapping shots of your unfocused eyes, your tits pushed into the air, his smarmy expression. He hooks his fingers then into your cheek, pulling back like a fishhook.
"Good girl," his lips against your ear, stubble scratching the hot skin of your neck. "I'm gonna fuck you for real now, alright?"
You nod, desperately. He pushes you up and off of him, face down in the cushion. He's still clothed, for gods sake, jeans rubbing against the backs of your thighs when he drags your ass back toward him.
The mushroom head of his cock finds your cunt again, pushing in, driving you nuts. You're moaning helplessly, letting him take your boneless arms to hold them behind you.
He fucks you like a man possessed, in a short strokes, barely leaving the hot clutch of your pussy. The sounds, if they were bad before, are worse now, wet and humiliating.
Every thrust feels like he's slowly inflating a balloon inside you, like something pulling taut, like pressure about to burst.
"Fuck, wait!" you shout and turn your head. The pressure is insane, mixed up with a building orgasm, twined together. He hasn't even touched your clit, and yet you're on the precipice.
Johnny leans down, lips on your ear. He slows, but doesn't stop.
"What is it, bonnie?"
"I have to pee," you'd have mumbled it before, but the feeling is so strong you can't help but whimper and cry. "Please let me up."
"Ye aren't gonna pee," he laughs. "Trust me, just trust me." Then keeps pistoning into you.
You feel like jello, like mush, the only solid part of you is about to burst and somehow it makes you feel real anxiety, dampening your enjoyment.
"Johnny-" you whimper, emotion clogging your voice. You feel vulnerable, held down and bared.
In need of reassurance.
"You're alright," he leans back down and nuzzles your wet cheek. "Ye can let go, kitten, I've got ye."
You gasp, pulsing hard around him, the feeling back again, before you gush around his cock, a spray so intense you cry as it forces him out of you.
"Good. Fucking. Girl!" he slaps your ass once, twice, on both cheeks. Rubs your flank like a horse and then plunges back into you when you finish dripping down your legs.
This is purely selfish, him fucking you hard now, jackrabbiting his hips into yours. You hear the phone again, just barely, as your ears ring.
You're raw from coming without any touch to your clit, a weird limbo between being on-edge and oversensitive.
"Gonna give me another," he's growling now, getting impossibly faster. You actually really cry when he reaches around to twist your clit, thrashing under him, not sure if you want to leap off the couch or crawl right back into him. "Come for me!" he shouts, pulling up the hood of your clit to really get at you, rubbing rough circles around your beleaguered little nub.
The second orgasm melts your brain out of your ears, so long and drawn out that you're still shivering with the aftershocks as he pulls out of you and paints your back with his release.
You pant, arm one arm dangling over the edge of the couch while you the other covers your eyes.
Johnny rubs a hand on your thigh, light and gentle, patting your bum as he stands. You move your arm just enough to squint at him.
His jeans are soaked.
You laugh, uninhibited, delirious. He laughs with you.
"All you, darlin'!" he takes another shot of you, pulls your legs apart and takes a picture of your wet, sore hole.
"Is she good?" ah, your boyfriend. He has his own wet spot on the front of his pants.
"She's good," Johnny confirms. "Ye need to take care of her now, right?"
Something in his voice changes. A different kind of authority to the one he used on you, one reserved for soldiers. For men beneath him. At that thought, your pussy makes a valiant effort to clench.
"Yeah, yeah," you hear. Your boyfriend has his phone out, his cheeks flushed with excitement. "These are great man, thanks."
You start to sit up, still shaking, but not wanting to have him see you that way.
"Man, you weren't kidding!" he goes on. Johnny frowns and steps forward to clap him hard on the back and grab his nape.
"Run a bath, do it now. Ye got granola bars?"
"Uh, yeah. Hold on."
You're touched by his concern, and wind up soaking in warm bubbles after he leaves. You wonder about the photos, about what you look like. If your boyfriend is satisfied, if Johnny is.
If you were good.
Feels like you were, but somethings changed. Johnny found a soft spot knife-deep inside you and dug himself in, made you fly and made sure you were brought back to earth after, tenderized and then wrapped in comfort.
Beneath the water, you touch your pussy. Not to masturbate, just to feel the soft sore flesh, to remember the feeling of fullness.
Maybe, after his deployment, your boyfriend will want more pictures.
Fresh material.
Beneath the water, your finger curls into yourself and you sigh, satisfied.
495 notes · View notes
wooahaes · 4 months ago
Text
svt - whatever you say, beautiful
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pairing: non-idol!svt x gn!reader
prompt: i'm not arguing with a man who has big brown eyes. whatever you say, beautiful.
warnings: established relationship aus. food and alcohol mentions. jeonghan and reader lovingly calling each other 'ugly' like an old married couple. 96z roommates au (jun). soonyoung's terrible mayo-ketchup concoction (jun). reader gets called beautiful back (jun, soonyoung). friends -> lovers (jun, soonyoung, jihoon). bickering as a love language (minghao, seungkwan). sexual implications from a third party (chan telling seungkwan to let him know if he needs to put headphones on or leave).
daisy's notes: i wrote that vernon drabble and gave myself brainrot. also on jeonghan's: ik there's cultures that do this lol but for those unaware: pls don't take it as a serious thing haha its meant to be akin to calling someone silly or goofy. i just think it gives old married couple energy to be like 'you're a nuisance but you're my nuisance and i adore you wholeheartedly.' like seungkwan tells them: just tie the knot if they want to, because they already act like they've been married for seventy years.
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choi seungcheol
seungcheol was sprawled out in your bed, blanket securely tucked around him while he scrolled through his phone. sleepovers, at this stage in your relationship, weren't exactly uncommon... but the giddiness still hadn't worn off. the two of you didn't intend on moving in together for at least another year, both of you enjoying living on your own for right now after so, so much time of living with other people. still... that would never stop you from enjoying the sight of your beloved in your bed, ready for sleep, and winding down by checking his social media for the second or third time today.
until you saw him stop. he furrowed his brow, that handsome face completely perplexed. and you fought back a grin, because you knew exactly what was confusing him.
today the two of you decided to publicly reveal your relationship to more than just immediate family and very very close friends. seungcheol had been thrilled over it: he'd always been wanting to show you off since you started dating. but when you asked for a little time, he didn't fight: he just met you where you were. and now that everyone knows...
"what is this?"
he turned his phone to face you, giving you full view of the caption you lovingly wrote out. it sat underneath a collection of pictures, some taken by you, others by him, and one taken by one of his close friends in preparation of this special day... and, of course, it was a silly little joke.
i'm not arguing with my man and his big brown eyes. whatever you say, beautiful. ❤️
you snickered, crawling into bed next to him. "what's wrong with it?"
"nothing!" but he was pouting, and you knew what was coming next. "did you see my post?" he was already moving to pull it up, as though you hadn't read and re-read it a million times while he was in the shower.
so you decided to torment him. just a little bit. "you don't like it...?" you frowned, putting on your best 'kicked puppy' look.
"i do like it!" he was quick to try and assuage your worries. he turned over so that he could face you. "but... when we decided to tell everyone, i thought you wouldn't post a meme as the caption."
"so you hate it." you crossed your arms, pouting as hard as you could muster.
"i don't hate it! i didn't say--i didn't mean that, i just--" he looked up, watching you for longer than a few seconds. then he snorted, hand resting over his heart for a minute. "you're going to be the death of me."
with a snort, you crawled closer to him, all but dragging him up so that you could kiss him. "you know you're the normal one here."
he giggled, capturing your lips in another quick peck. "maybe i am," he said. "... i do like it, though. just warn me next time."
yoon jeonghan
joshua (hannie's coworker): [IMAGE.JPEG]
joshua (hannie's coworker): can you come get him he's bickering with seungkwan rn
joshua (hannie's coworker): (it's mostly seungkwan bickering but jeonghan is actually fighting back a little)
joshua (hannie's coworker): (it's literally over who's paying for chan's birthday dinner. cheol literally picked up the check half an hour ago right after they started.)
you: omw. also idk how seungkwan does it. i'm not arguing with a man with big brown eyes. whatever you say, beautiful.
the moment you pulled up outside the restaurant, you should have known exactly why jeonghan was grinning at you. he waved from the sidewalk, turning back to his friends to talk just a bit longer. he didn't move, which... on most days, you wouldn't care. but it was late, and you had work in the morning, and (according to joshua) they just spent the past few hours just chatting after their meal. five minutes melted into ten, and then into twenty...
and so you rolled down your window, yelling out a 'happy birthday!' to chan that finally got jeonghan's attention. another grin, and that was enough to tell you that he'd been waiting for that. he wouldn't do it for everyone, but chan? you knew their friendship was different. he hugged the guy one last time, and then made his way over to the car, climbing into the passenger seat. with a final wave to his friends, you pulled back onto the road, and started the journey home.
"so... you really think my eyes are beautiful?"
ah. that was the other reason the fucker wouldn't stop grinning at you. of course it couldn't just be one thing with jeonghan.
"you think i'm beautiful?" he watched you with this knowing smile, as though the two of you hadn't been dating for years now. as though you hadn't drunkenly confessed it before. "i'm starting to think you actually like me."
"you're just now realizing that?" you flicked on your blinker, coasting into the turn lane. "do you think i'd be living with you if i didn't?"
"you never call me beautiful to my face anymore, you know," he said, reaching for your bottle of water. without a care, he uncapped it, taking a long sip from it. "you just call me 'ugly' whenever you call me something."
that was far from true, to be fair: he was your love, your baby, your honey... and he was 'ugly' when you were particularly affectionate. "i have to keep you humble, ugly. you already know how beautiful you are."
his eyes twinkled a little as he looked at you, that fond smile telling you all you needed to know. "i know, ugly." he'd never been afraid to throw the word back at you, and you hoped that the tiny thrill it brought you never died.
no wonder seungkwan once said the two of you should go ahead and tie the knot. "you already act like it," he'd said, side-eyeing the two of you before taking a long sip of whatever coffee-flavor-of-the-day he'd picked out.
he reached over, prodding your cheek. when you glanced over, just enough to let him know you were listening, he just leaned against the center console with this handsome smile he reserved for you. "i love you."
and maybe he was a little drunk. just a little. but you let him have this one. "i love you, too, handsome."
joshua hong
"am i not worth the effort?" joshua couldn't even fight his playful grin now, his phone in his hand. "you couldn't even come up with an original post for our anniversary?"
with a roll of your eyes, you glanced back over his own post for a moment, pausing your search for movie snacks. he'd written out this long, sappy love letter to you about how he wanted to spend the rest of his life alongside you. it was sweet, and a little silly when he recounted the embarrassing story of how the two of you realized your feelings for one another (all it took was one spilled milkshake, courtesy of jeonghan), but overall a very public display of his adoration toward you. the picture-perfect, romance novel act of love from your boyfriend.
in other words: he was hamming it up so that people would gush over how he was the most adoring boyfriend, and how lucky you two were to have one another based on everything he said. in reality, he was literally eating your snacks right now. and later that night, he'd put his cold feet on you and then laugh over it.
"uh-huh." you continued searching through the cabinets after pocketing your phone. "should i have told everyone about how you somehow always manage to eat the last poptart in the box, even though you straight up told me that you keep count just so you can tease me over it?" you tossed an empty box into the bin, making a mental note to add them to the list. "or the time you literally ate all of my fries when we were on that road trip?"
"you're never gonna let me live that one down, are you?"
"didn't mention how god awful your workout clothes stink, either." you grimaced at the memory alone. "seriously, dude, how fucking hard do you go?"
"i forgot to wash them twice!" he turned around on the couch. "all because i said i thought it was cute when you mumble in your sleep and keep me up all night--"
"listen. i'm just doing damage control for you, hong," you pulled down a bag of chips, carefully rolled and clipped to keep them fresh. making your way back over, you continued, "really, you should be hiring me. i called you beautiful and mentioned those big brown bambi eyes." you threw yourself down next to him, bag crinkling as you unrolled it. you held up the first chip, an offering to him that he leaned over to take. "i think i deserve payment for it all."
but he grinned at you, settling back in. "i'll think about it. i'll get the big box of poptarts next time," he poked your side, just hard enough to get you to move off of his blanket, and then drew you right back in once he could throw it over you. "and i'll let you pick the first movie."
with a roll of your eyes, you reached for the controller. "what a gentleman."
wen junhui
your life was truly, sincerely, over. this was it. this was the big one. the big fuck-up that would kill you from embarrassment alone. if you were a sim in the sims 4, little sim jihoon would be sobbing over your body right now as the grim reaper came to take you away.
instead, he was just stiffling his laughter, patting the top of your head as you bury your face in a pillow. "it's not that bad."
"it's terrible! i was only posting that picture because we looked good!" you jerked up, staring at him. "and--and jun liked it! did he not read the caption?!"
"oh, he read it," soonyoung was doing something unholy in the kitchen, from the sounds of the ketchup bottle being opened alongside the smell of mayo. not another thing to ruin your day. "he's on his way home, by the way."
yep, this was how you died. surrounded by two of your roommates and being confronted by the guy you've had feelings for for... fuck, how long had you known him? since college? he'd been there for you after a particularly nasty breakup not long after the two of you met, and that was when your stupid heart fell for him. you'd always pushed back against it: it wasn't the right time. he was dating someone at one point. he wouldn't like you back. but the more the two of you started spending time alone, the deeper you fell.
"have you thought about just telling him how you feel?" jihoon asked, stealing your pillow and hugging it against his chest. "i know it's scary, but i don't think it'd go badly."
soonyoung looked over, condiments smeared on the outsides of his mouth as he chewed. he swallowed, wiping his face with a paper towel as he spoke, "even if he didn't like you, he'd let you down easily."
"soonyoung!" jihoon turned to face him. you rarely saw jihoon mad, but this had to be the closest.
soonyoung realized what he said. and immediately took off, shutting himself back into his room as jihoon raced to encounter him first. while he tried to jostle the door open, the yelling faded into background noise.
jun... what?
the apartment door opened after a while, wonwoo standing there with jun right behind him. without hesitating, you hopped up off of the couch, immediately excusing yourself as you went to hide in your own room. jun called after you, and you just shut the door behind you, face in your hands. this could not be happening. this wasn't happening. if soonyoung was telling the truth, and, because jihoon yelled at him, he definitely was... what now?
jun knocked on your door. everything outside of your room was silent now. if jihoon was chewing out soonyoung, you'd probably hear some of it. yet... quiet. peaceful quiet that you weren't exactly used to with this bunch.
"can we talk?" he spoke up after a moment. "i don't exactly get the caption, but... do you really think i have beautiful eyes?"
oh. he had no idea it was some meme you'd seen online that always reminded you of him. yet the gentle way he'd asked made your heart flutter all the same. you said nothing, just sitting with your back against the door.
"it's okay if you do." you could hear the sound of him moving, and slowly, it sounded as though he was sitting, too. "i... i think you have pretty eyes, too." was it possible to hear his uneasy smile in the way his voice shook just a little, his nerves so, so evident? "the others left, by the way. so we could talk. wonwoo was confused, but jihoon dragged both him and soonyoung out for a walk."
that answered one question, at least. again, you just said nothing, curling up as tight as you could. your heart hammered in your ears, and you shut your eyes. was this really happening?
"i've liked you for a long time," he said, voice just as gentle as it was before. like he, too, was scared of what this all meant. the two of you were crossing a line you never thought you'd even tread near, let alone vault over. "it's okay if you don't feel the exact same way. but... you're sweet. and i--"
you bit the bullet. you got up, opening your door to see jun turning to face you. he'd been sitting there, back against the door, talking to the air while you'd been too scared to face him. he stood up as quickly as he could, watching you carefully.
he was the one who spoke first. "hi."
"hi." you said it back, heart racing. "i think you're beautiful."
and oh-so-shyly he smiled back at you. "i... think you're beautiful, too."
maybe this would be the start of something good.
kwon soonyoung
with your eyes screwed shut, you knew that seungcheol was going to give you so, so much shit about this when you told him. knowing your luck, it was going to go horribly, and you'd probably die right here and it'd be your ghost haunting seungcheol... but that was something you could deal with.
yet the moment 'tiger kwon' popped up on your phone, you knew you couldn't avoid this forever. you'd pester soonyoung later for changing his name in your phone again. for now, you just answered the request for a video call, and you were met with those pretty eyes staring at you in the low light.
"hi." he giggled. "i don't think that text was meant for me."
astute observation, considering the first three messages before you gushed about his eyes and called him beautiful were "FUCK" and "CHEOL I CAN'T DO THIS" and then a picture of the two of you from when you grabbed dinner together earlier. you expressed your romantic frustrations in the only way you knew how: a screenshot you'd seen of someone's tweet. the same thing you'd said to seungcheol many, many times before.
"so what does that even mean?" he's grinning, and you knew that it's half-genuine. he was smart enough to get the gist of it (to put it simply: you were, as you'd been told, down bad) but you weren't sure how often soonyoung saw memes like this. he was watching your face, those cute eyes shining with the light from his phone screen, and he rolled onto his stomach. "when did you get worse at technology than me?"
was this what confessing to soonyoung would bring? a lifetime of having a cute man tease you oh-so-lovingly?
"are you alive?"
you managed to squeak out a deeply embarrassed, "yep."
he just giggled, head resting on his hand. "do you text seungcheol like that a lot?" he waited. and when you didn't answer, too embarrassed to speak, he continued on, "i think he and jihoon trade war stories, then. jihoon..." his cheeks were dusted red. "jihoon hears a lot about you."
holy fuck. your stomach was doing flips. "soonyoung?"
"this is embarrassing, isn't it?" he chuckled, eyes focusing on his screen again. "jihoon said it's some sort of joke. vernon showed it to him once. but... i think you're beautiful, too."
truly, this man would be the death of you if he kept smiling at you like that. like you were his world already, eyes shiny and cheeks red.
"i..." your mouth felt dry. "can we... maybe... a date?" something about seeing his face right now made your mind go blank.
he chuckled. "i'm free this weekend," he said, still smiling. "we'll talk tomorrow morning. okay?"
"okay." you licked your lips, just trying to come down from this high. "goodnight."
the moment he ended the call, you were texting seungcheol: LET'S FUCKING GO GOT A DATE W SOONYOUNG!!!
and in return, he sent you three words: about fucking time.
jeon wonwoo
people always warned you about marrying the love of your life. the honeymoon period was something strong, that tinted your days with sugary kisses and honeyed skies until it all dissolved when reality washed back over the two of you. yet you had been married to wonwoo for two years now, and that sweetness never seemed to melt from your lives. the honeymoon period was over, yes, but the work you put into your relationship kept things lively. arguments came and went, and you always found yourself enamored with the man who guarded your heart in the same way you guarded his.
that was why anniversaries were special. not because they were another milestone, another celebration of a year the two of you made together... but an excuse to gush about wonwoo. you kept it to two days in particular: your wedding anniversary, and his birthday, both dates set months apart. wonwoo was different than you, however: he didn't want to broadcast his feelings for the world to see. he reserved all the sweet things for words he physically wrote down for you to read, or as things he said to you outright when he was sappy enough.
and you? well... he knew your true feelings would never be one-hundred-percent out there. those were reserved for him. but if you wanted to gush about how much you loved him, then who was he to stop you?
he'd been scrolling through his instagram feed that night while brushing his teeth, only to snort when he finished reading your post. the duality of your relationship was beautiful: he'd posted a short, sweet caption for you underneath a lovely quote from a book the two of you loved. and you had gushed... and finished it off with a meme that you sent to him the moment you saw it. i'm not arguing with a man who has big brown eyes. whatever you say, beautiful. the same words you teased him with when you were in a particularly playful mood.
so when he returned to you, he just crawled into bed, pressing kisses against your face. his affectionate moods would always take you by surprise, and he was glad for that. it spiced up the relationship just a little that he was still able to surprise you after all this time.
"you're so cute," he curled up with you, pulling you into his arms. "happy anniversary. i love you."
you snorted a little. "i see you've noticed."
"should i have read it sooner?"
you waved him off, "no, no... i'm glad you didn't see it until now. check the comments when you get the chance. a bunch of your friends loved it."
he was sure that they did. they all seemed to adore the duality of the two of you more than he did. the quiet, studious wonwoo and his silly love who made him laugh more than anyone else. but he knew as well as you did: no one would love your dynamic more than the two of you did.
he was your home, just as you had become his.
lee jihoon
all jihoon wanted to do was ask if you wanted to go to dinner. he'd suggested a place, you'd suggested another, and he mentioned not wanting that kind of cuisine... only for the words to appear on his phone within the next few minutes: i'm not arguing with a man who has big brown eyes. whatever you say, beautiful.
... beautiful?
"soonyoung!" he yelled out for one of his housemates. if he wasn't here, then seungcheol would come in. yet he heard the sound of footsteps quickly approaching, soonyoung sliding against the wooden floor a little as he looked in. "read this."
so he did. he read it once, and then again before looking up. "... they're flirting with you, i think."
"that's weird, right?" jihoon looked up. "they don't like me back."
"how do you know that?" soonyoung grinned, leaning against the empty doorframe. "you don't know that. they're hitting on you. shoot your shot."
"i'm not going to--"
his phone started to ring. he looked down, wide-eyed, as he realized you started to call him. before he could debate denying the call and pretending the text never came, soonyoung bolted forward, answering it before immediately leaving his room. the little shit--
"oh my god," you said, "i'm so, so fucking sorry--mingyu's here and i was trying to look up other places to eat on my laptop, and he had the bright idea to text you that shit. i left my phone alone for one minute, and this is what happened--"
"why would he text me that?" jihoon could feel his heart begin to hammer in his chest. why would mingyu tease him like that? mingyu knew that you were off limits when it came to this kind of thing. unless...
"i--well, i--" you stammered, all sentences melting in your mouth before you finally let out a long sigh. in the background, he could hear mingyu begin to laugh. "shut up!" and then the sound of a door slamming behind you. "fucking--" you let out a sigh. "sorry. made the mistake of putting you on speaker."
"that's okay." jihoon leaned against the back of the chair. "but my question...?"
with another sigh, he could hear you settle into something. a chair, a couch--he wasn't sure. "this isn't how i wanted this to go... but... i like you. and i guess mingyu's had enough of hearing about it. it's okay if you don't feel the same, but... that's all."
quiet. neither of you moved to speak, to pitch another restaurant to go to. jihoon opened a new tab on his browser, already typing in a new search for the best places to take a first date.
"jihoon?"
no point in not taking the leap now. you'd already taken the first step: he could do the next one. "can... can tonight be our first date, then? instead of us getting dinner as friends."
quiet.
"jihoon..." your voice was soft. "i'd love that."
note to self: thank mingyu.
xu minghao
"what does this mean?" minghao looked up from his phone, where you could clearly see the post you'd made earlier. it was a combination of candids and the actual pretty pictures you'd taken of him, all captioned with a joke. he began typing something out, "we bickered about toast this morning."
"oh my god, hao--"
then your phone buzzed. you looked down, and there it was: minghao calling you out on your own damn post. when you looked up from your phone, he just had that stupid smug grin on his face. he crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as he waited for you to defend yourself.
"it's a joke. it's a meme. maybe you should learn them, old man."
he rolled his eyes. "it's a lie and i'm not standing for it. everyone knows that we argue about everything."
even before the two of you started dating, you'd bicker about the smallest things. none of it was ever serious--the two of you had only fought a handful of times in the entirety of knowing one another--but you remembered the annoyed look you would get sometimes. just go make out already had been what his friends would say. eventually, it turned into mingyu telling minghao to go ahead and give you the marriage papers already. the two of you were in it for life, weren't you?
which, ultimately, turned into you and minghao bickering about that, too. the two of you hadn't even been dating at the time, but you would both be lying if you said that conversation hadn't made the two of you figure out your feelings. you'd retorted that minghao wouldn't get along with your parents like that, leading to him actively calling them to prove that, yes, in fact, he would.
(you would simply never live down both of them going "he isn't your boyfriend? we were waiting for you to be ready to tell us," and the subsequent call where your mother chewed you out for hanging up on her right after.)
"we don't argue about everything."
minghao gave you a pointed look. "strawberry jam."
you pinched the bridge of your nose. "not this shit again. i thought we agreed that butter is--"
... fuck, he was proving his point.
"fine," you said. "we bicker a lot. doesn't mean i can't lie via meme."
he just smiled, happy to have won whatever little argument this almost turned into. "everyone knows this is our love language," he said, head resting in his hand. "but fine. you can lie through your memes."
and thus he put the two of you on equal grounds once again: a truce, in a sense. just like most of your little debates ended in.
kim mingyu
"you know you could just call me pretty if you wanted to."
your face burned at the way mingyu was giggling now. all you did was text him a meme (yes, from the other end of the couch) and wait for his response. he'd read it under his breath before bursting into giggles, so, so enamored with the way that you were. he always had been: mingyu, unlike you, wasn't shy when it came to his affection. he complimented you constantly on anything and everything, whether it be your appearance or the way you rambled to him or the way you clammed up "all cutely embarrassed" (his words, not yours) when you realized just how much you said. you told him once that you weren't the most open about your feelings or the loudest.
and he'd merely kissed your forehead and said that was okay. he was loud enough for the both of you. if loving him quietly meant that you loved him, then that was all that mattered to him.
you whined his name at him, trying to hide your face. you knew that you always would get this doe-eyed, dreamy look on your face whenever he teased you like this. you caught a glimpse of it in a mirror once when you were at a store buying furniture, and swore to yourself you'd never let him catch you like this so obviously ever again.
of course, that was moot because mingyu saw that sappy look on your face and treasured it every time... but for your own sake, you couldn't let him notice.
yet he laughed anyway, crawling over to pull your hands away from your face. "i mean it!" he squished your cheeks, "just call me pretty next time. that's what you wanted to say, right?"
you pushed his hands away from your face, just so that you could speak clearly. "i think you have pretty eyes."
his smile dropped, eyes going wide. and he slowly pulled away, face turning redder by the second as he turned from you. "you can't just say it like that! i wasn't prepared!"
you felt a little bold this time. "whatever you say, beautiful--"
the groan that mingyu let out, fully flustered by you now, only made you feel more confident in teasing him. no wonder his friends loved to pick on him... he was so cute about it.
lee seokmin
the minute you finished saying it, seokmin had burst into giggles. all because you wanted to jokingly flirt with your beloved and see his reaction. he had looked up from his phone, where he'd been idly googling to find dinner options, and then you could see those gears turning before he started laughing.
"really?" he reached over, drawing you into his arms. "so you won't argue with me tonight?" seokmin squished your cheeks to pucker your lips, planting an loud kiss against them. "all because you think i'm beautiful?"
you just fought back a laugh, reaching up to toy with the hair at the base of his neck. "whatever you want, beautiful."
another giggle burst past his lips, and he dropped one hand down, sliding it up your thigh. "do you mean it? or are you just flirting with me?" he gently squeezed your thigh, just a little. "you don't have to flirt with me like that. i'm already yours."
ever the romantic. you drew him in for another quick kiss, soflty laughing against his lips. "gotta keep you here somehow," you teased. "it's hard to compete with you when you're mister perfect."
his nose brushed against your own. "i think you keep up just fine." he paused, drumming his fingers against the outside of your thigh idly. "can i confess something?"
you watched him curiously. "huh?"
"your best friend..." his hand slid up to your hip before he loosely draped his arms around your waist. "when we got together, they messaged me to tell me you talk about my eyes a lot."
oh no. "you know you have pretty eyes--"
"like a baby seal." he giggled. "and something about having puppy dog eyes, too."
ohhh no. of course they'd rat you out. "but am i wrong?"
he just nuzzled his nose against your own for a minute, planting a tiny kiss against the tip of it. "i just like you. you're so silly, it's cute."
with a smile, you just settled against him. "i mean it, though. pick wherever you want, beautiful." his giggles only made you happier. "i'll pay."
boo seungkwan
"chan and i bicker less than we do."
seungkwan wasn't phased by your flirty word or the way you were trying to call him beautiful (my boo-tiful boo, if your silly phone contact was anything to go by). he just looked up from his phone with a flat expression, which... probably meant he saw that post somewhere for himself. the lack of originality probably also got you here.
"okay, fine, that's true," you said, rolling your eyes. "you're still beautiful, though."
"i know that," he said. "but we argue a lot over silly stuff. vernon said he thinks it's a love language."
another roll of your eyes. "seungkwan, we don't argue that much."
"don't we? remember that time the neighbors got concerned because we got a little too heated about the way one of our dramas ended?" he crossed his arms. "i still think the ending was good, but you got angry over the way it tried to incorporate greek myth and--"
"it was incorporating greek tragedy and didn't give it the sad ending!" you threw your hands up in the air. "don't promote it as being based on the myth if you aren't going to have a tragic ending!"
"it didn't have to! it was a retelling! things don't have to adhere strictly to--"
chan's door opened, and he walked out of his room. he looked at the two of you before groaning. "this fight again?"
"we're not arguing!" the two of you said together, turning to face him.
chan just rolled his eyes, making his way over to the kitchen. "sure..." then he took one look at the two of you, shaking his head. "i'm going to see if yeonjun wants to go out. don't do anything until i'm gone or have headphones on."
"we don't--"
"you do. just keep arguing or whatever," he pulled out his phone, walking back to his room.
his door shut. and the two of you just looked at each other. seungkwan rolled his eyes, flopping back down on his end of the couch.
"i hate him," he said offhandedly, no venom behind it. you knew just as well as seungkwan did that if chan was in trouble, seungkwan would be one of the first to run there. "who does he think he is? he always acts as if he knows our relationship better than we do."
you slid over closer to him, and he lifted an arm so that you could cuddle in. "he's a jerk," you said, again, no real malice behind it at all. "you should come live with me."
he rolled his eyes. "you always say that." he turned his face, kissing your temple. "like we don't have plans already."
once his lease was up. but you just looked up at him, smiling a little. "whatever you say, beautiful."
that shy smile told you all you needed to know. keep calling me sweet things, then.
chwe vernon
"uh-huh." he didn't even look up from his phone, scrolling through his youtube history. "did i send you this video?"
you frowned. "you're not even going to say anything?"
"you've used that on me before." he continued to scroll. he looked up for just a moment. "also, i'm thinkin'... maybe we could go get tacos for lunch? haven't been to that place in a while." vernon turned his attention back to his phone. "i'm down for whatever, though."
with a groan, you slumped into the couch, already googling for cheesy pick-up lines. the back-up plan, always, for when you need to tease your boyfriend. "hey, nonny? do you have a map--"
"because you're lost in my eyes," he said without missing a beat. "actually, i'm really craving tacos now. i think we could get an order to-go if you don't feel like going out."
he hated you. this had to explain everything. "do you believe in love at first sight--"
"i might," he moved over so that he was closer to you, pulling your legs into his lap. "so, were you being legit about the not arguing thing? because i might take my chance and order anyway."
with a roll of your eyes, you gave up. you weren't going to win this time around. "get your tacos, beautiful," you reached up, turning his face toward you. "i'll pay."
he snorted, bursting into giggles as he leaned over to kiss you. "you're such a dork."
you just smiled into his kiss. "but you love it."
lee chan
you loved confusing chan so, so much. all he did was ask what you wanted for dinner, and you hit him back with "whatever you want, beautiful. i'm not gonna argue with a man who has big brown eyes." thus began the confused looks as he looked at you, then his phone, unsure of how to respond to that.
"... what?"
"i said we can get whatever you want," you shrugged. "i'm not picky--"
"that's not what you said." he frowned just a little, clearly aware that you were teasing him in some way... but not quite connecting the dots quite yet. "you never call me beautiful," was what he settled on a moment later.
which was true. you often opted to call him handsome, usually with a soft laugh and a smile that showed just how endeared to him you really were. on occasion, you'd call something about him pretty--the way he styled his hair, or the makeup he wore once when mingyu roped him into being a model for him--but beautiful? as much as you thought he was (chan deserved all the complimentary words, in your humble, unbiased opinion), you'd never voiced that opinion to him directly. the closest was the time you told one of your friends that he had beautiful eyes.
he narrowed his eyes at you. "is this a joke?" for a split second, he glanced down at the phone in your hands. "... are you recording?"
"i can't call my man 'beautiful'?" you put on a fake pout, just to tease him further. "you really think i'm cruel enough to make fun of you like that?"
chan, however, knew you. he knew that you were easily swayed into pulling pranks on him. that time he introduced you to jeonghan was enough proof of that--and every subsequent trip with his friends always seemed to result in them picking out his weak spot and turning you against him, just for a simple joke. if it bothered him, he would have said something... but it did leave him fully aware that you were the kind of person to lovingly tease him.
lovingly, he told himself. he knew it was. but sometimes he wondered if you were put on this planet just to mess with him in a way he'd secretly love. if you were going to be the death of him, then at least he'd die loving you.
"okay." he made his way over, pulling up a restaurant. he showed you his screen, and immediately you focused on the fact that this place was far from cheap. "i want to go here."
"channie, we--"
"you just said you weren't going to argue," he smiled at you, leaning against you. "hm?"
with a sigh, you shook your head. "whatever you want, beautiful," you reached up. "i'll just eat ramen for the next few weeks--"
he snorted, leaning over to kiss your cheek. "just book it for our anniversary, then." he paused for a moment, just watching you with a tiny smile. "... do you really think i have beautiful eyes?"
how could you say anything other than 'yes' when he was staring at you with them?
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taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog
@actuallynarii @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunnyunny
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pomefioredove · 2 months ago
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Hiii!! Could you possibly do headcanons of overblot boys + adeuce with a s/o who likes to collect figures or like manga or something along those lines? Also I love your writing you’re awesome sauce. feel free to delete or ignore if you don’t wanna do it!! I understand :3
<3<3 ofc
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ collector! reader
type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu
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looking at... [vaguely gestures to Heartslabyul] all that, I can't imagine Riddle has any grounds to complain about knick-knacks or clutter. he literally lives in a minimalist's worst nightmare. he also gives the impression of a collector of odd trinkets. like stamps or antique tea cups. grandma vibes. probably gets you a nice display cabinet for your things
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Ace is a sixteen year old boy who balls and thinks of himself as a lady's man. and, I mean, he loves you, but you can tell what he's about to say before he even opens his mouth. weeeeeeb... then he saves up all year just to gift you that one ridiculously priced figure for your birthday. like I said, he loves you, he just has a very... defensive temperament
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
I feel like Deuce is a really good listener (or, at least, he knows how to be quiet when you're talking, unlike a certain other Heartslabyul first year), even if he doesn't quite get it. besides maybe Jack, he's the most willing to watch your favorite shows with you, read your mangas together, hear about each individual trinket you own... even if he still doesn't understand. it makes you happy <3
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Leona is more of a meh guy. "what do you want, a cookie?" is probably in his top ten favorite expressions. things to say when he doesn't care about something. and. listen. he cares about you, he does, but he's not really the type to pretend. he'll let you talk about your collection, though. as long as you're happy with him, you won't seek out Idia and become completely intolerable (his words, not mine!)
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Azul is having flashbacks to all the junk that Jade and Floyd hoard. but, hey: at least your collection isn't of broken toasters or wild mushrooms. he can respect the pride you take in your hobbies, and the care you... wait, how much does all this cost?
...yeah. okay, he understands. definitely not toasters or mushrooms. your room is practically a museum
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
[Jamil voice] "once you're done playing with your toys will you come help me clean up the lounge"
no, he doesn't get it. you haven't said how much all of this costs because you think he might have a heart attack if he saw the numbers, and you keep your belongings tidy enough for him not to stress. so he doesn't complain
(and also because he knows they mean a great deal to you)
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
[Vil voice] "once you're done playing with your toys will you clean up the lounge" lol
he's not exactly jumping for joy when you spend all your allowance on plastic merchandise and picture books. I mean, he's already had to lend you his winter coat, and there was that week you had to stay at Pomefiore because the water at Ramshackle was out... but making purchases seems to make you happy, so he begrudgingly accepts it
there are worse hobbies to have, after all. [side-eyeing Rook]
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
I don't even want to write Idia's part. I'm afraid he'll materialize in my room and start fangirling over this (rip idia shroud you would have loved x readers)
but seriously, he's been recommending you his favorite mangas and animes and games. he probably buys you authentic figures that are thousands of thaumarks on a whim 'cause you kinda like the character. very sweet. very thoughtful. when should I book your wedding. etc
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
you'd think that Malleus would be astonished? WRONG this guy lives with Lilia "hip with the kids" Vanrouge. who is not only a hoarder, but someone who most certainly has a shelf of manga and figures from his favorite games somewhere in the cavernous hole he calls a room. Malleus has probably gotten him one for his birthday (after the 5 hours it took for him to figure out how to buy things online). so like. it's no big deal to him. if you ever mention wanting new manga or figures or... anything... he will give you twice the amount of thaumarks necessary. he's like that
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musaslullaby · 2 months ago
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Busy days
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grid x fem reader
p1 p2 p3 p4
Summary: You have a week off from racing and you spend it with your favorite drivers.
Face: people on Pinterest and the driver
Warning: Most of the grid has a small weakness for you. It's a series
Masterlist
¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪
Yn.official
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Description: Busy week ahead, but we're starting with an intense gym session with @.georgerussell63
liked by charles_leclerc,Yn.official , and other 9384934802
Georgeismylife: Guys, look at the smile George gives Yn
user34: Crazy in love
f1lover: I want a special session with George too
Formula_1: The beauty of this couple
georgerussell63: We should train together more often
❤️ Like to author
Yn.official: Yes, your advice is very helpful
danielricciardo: You’re too young to go to the gym with a man
Yn.official: Dad, don't be boring and old
georgerussell63: Exactly, dad
landonorris: The sexiest picture I've ever seen
❤️ Like to author
carlossainz55: Can’t deny it, you look beautiful, mi vida ❤️ Like to author
oscarpiastri: For once, I agree with these two ❤️ Like to author
maxverstappen1: Don’t tire yourself out too much with them
charles_leclerc: I’m sure she has more fun with us than with you
maxverstappen1: Wait until the next race, and I’ll crash you into the barrier
Yn.official: Guys, stop, you know I enjoy being with all of you
f1gossip: Drama fans, grab your popcorn and chips
charles_: The guys are fighting over Yn
Hotchili: Amidst all this, I’m still a Lestappen fan ❤️ Like to author
Yn.official: Who isn't?
Yn.official
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Description: Guys, he kept his promise, and those pancakes were delicious. Gracias, Carlito
liked by Landonorris, Yn.official, and other 73672388
Ynlove: What did you put on them?
Yn.official: Maple syrup and blueberries
user2: It’s true, in an interview you said you loved blueberries
carlossainz55: It was a pleasure having you with me, cariño
❤️ Like to author
Yn.official: You need to give me Spanish lessons because I need a refresher
oscarpiastri: Yn, do you know Spanish?
Yn.official: I studied it for three years in school, but I don't remember it very well
carlossainz55: I’m always at your disposal, mi vida ❤️ Like to author
charles_leclerc: Tell me something you can't do
georgerussell63: You’re perfect, you can do everything
Yn.official: Unfortunately, I can't speak French. I just can't get the accent right, it's too complicated
charles_leclerc: I could teach you
Yn.official: Trust me, there’s no hope for me, I’m terrible at it
charles_leclerc: It would be fun, please? ❤️ Like to author
Yn.official: Alright, but if you go crazy after two seconds, it's not my fault.
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user12: Charles is lovesick
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charles_leclerc
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Description: When she said she was a disaster, she wasn’t kidding.
liked by carlossainz55, Yn.official, and other 623623762
Race: Charles' face is priceless
Formulaonelife: Those professor glasses make him look even better
Ynllife: Yn, how do you resist Charles???
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landonorris: Dude, you look like you've seen a ghost
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carlossainz55: Yn, come back to me, Spanish suits you better
Yn.official: Only if you invite me to your house in Madrid
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danielricciardo: I don't agree with these nicknames and all these visits to strangers' houses
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danielricciardo: And that’s not enough for you???
Leo_lec: No, guys, but how beautiful is the last photo
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oscarpiastri
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Description: Beach during the day and restaurant at night
liked by Yn.official, georgerussell63, and other 293932892
danielricciardo: Oscar, I’ll cut off your hands
❤️ Like to author
maxverstappen1: You just marked the day of your death
landonorris: Since when do you have the muscles to lift someone?
oscarpiastri: I didn’t even know I could do it either
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Yn.official: Still perfectly alive and walking on both legs
f1lover: YN, DO YOU NEED TO TELL US SOMETHING???
race: What happened after the restaurant???
Vroom: Spicy night?
Ynqueen: Guys, she clearly didn’t mean that
Ynmylife: Poor thing, always judged and with all eyes on her
Osc81: Instead of focusing on Yn’s private matters, let’s focus on the fact that the grid wants to kill Oscar ❤️ Like to author
op: I swear I’ll pay you if you don’t kill him
Yn.official: Confirming I need him alive
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Yn.official
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Description: I hate you for ruining my photo.
liked by Landonorris, maxverstappen1, and other 83494829
osc_lan: What are you saying, Yn? The fact that Lando is in it makes it even better
mclaren: We can confirm the photo turned out well despite the intruder ❤️ Like to author
Landonorris: McLaren is always on my side.
Yn.official: This time I forgive you.
Landonorris: You'd never stay mad at me for more than an hour, admit it.
Yn.official: 😒😒😒
Ylqueem: Oh my god, now even McLaren has fallen in love with Yn
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Lando_: Imagine Yn at McLaren
op: I think I’d go crazy
georgerussell63: If I were Lando, I’d sue you for that last picture
Landonorris: That’s exactly what I’m going to do
charles_leclerc: Wait, I’m joining too
Yn.official: Everyone is teaming up against me
maxverstappen1: Let them hope, they wouldn’t even get close to the police station
danielricciardo: For my daughter’s safety, I need to ask why ❤️ Like to author
Yn.official: Don’t worry, Dad, I got the meaning of the sentence
oscarpiastri: Are you agreeing with him?
Yn.official: They stabbed me in the back, of course I’m siding with Mad Max
maxverstappen1: After that nickname, I’m switching to the enemy’s side
Yn.official: No, don’t leave meeee
user6: The best interaction I’ve ever seen on Instagram
Laando: Everyone’s focused on YN, but no one noticed how good-looking Lando is
f1lover: That’s a given
Vroom: Yeah, but in the first photo, he’s really handsome
maxverstappen1
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Description: Calm day
liked by Yn.official, oscarpiastri, and other 84783728
Redbulllove: Max, a man of few words
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❤️ Like to author
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charles_leclerc: Now Leo is jealous
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danielricciardo: What should I do with you, Yn?
Yn.official: Nothing, just love me a lot
Ynqueen: How I love these interactions
f1lover: They should make an entire Netflix series about this
Race: They should add all of this to Drive to Survive
Vroom: I completely agree
radbullracing: We approve of the last photo, have fun
❤️ Like to author
user1: Oh no, after McLaren, now Red Bull too
maxverstappen1: There's no shortage of fun with her.
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User87: Has anyone wondered how the cat got stuck in the hole?
User1: Dude, I really don’t know.
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maxverstappen1: Like you
user32: Omg this is not max
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For_mula: Guys, I don’t know about you, but it bothers me how Yn is with every driver
user66: Honestly, it seems like she’s just playing with them
Ynlife: Maybe you’re just jealous
¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪
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wrioluvr · 5 months ago
Text
subby vampire x dom male reader pt 2 pt 1
thank u guys for liking kliff!! he's so baby. felt kinda mean and thought about a scenario where reader is like, a regular monster fucker and poor kliff finds out he hooked up with another vampire and gets super jealous teehee... but this is wholesome tho.
content: reader is kind of a player, blowjob (reader receiving), reader loves tormenting the poor old man, more plot-focused than pure smut
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★ ; 🦇🍷. . ♱
after visiting kliff at his crumbling manor a few more times, you decided that you were getting tired of making the trip out into the woods everytime, and invited him over to your house instead, an invitation he eagerly accepted. though he kept a calm composure, inwardly, his thoughts were running wild - he would finally be able to bask in a whole home full of your scent.... maybe even steal a few small trinkets he could toy with whenever he felt lonely... or... or even get a feel of your bed, where he fantasised about waking up next to you and spending the rest of his days as your faithful househusband. oh, how delightful.
"thank you ever so much for allowing me to enter your abode. i am most honoured." thanking you profusely, he elegantly sat down on your sofa, only to immediately scrunch up his face in discomfort. you stared at him, puzzled. "what's wrong? you don't like my home?"
"no, no... it's not that... it's just that... this scent is so familiar. in an unnverving way..." he mumbled, talking to himself. suddenly, a look of recognition, mixed with horror, dawned on his face. "correct me if i'm wrong, but... there's not a chance you've had another vampire over.... is there?"
"oh! i forgot you vampires have a heightened sense of smell. yeah, i hooked up with another vampire like, 3 weeks ago." you said nonchantly, like it was the most insignificant thing ever. kliff merely gaped at you, aghast at your casualness. "so... so... i'm not your first vampire relationship?" he asked meekly, almost like he was afraid of the answer.
"well, yes. i dated, hmm...." you start to list them on your fingers. "two vampires, one werewolf, one merman... oh, right, and one evil ass fairy. he was mean."
poor kliff looked like he was about to collapse, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. thankfully he was sitting down, otherwise he would have fallen over. "where on earth do you even find these creatures?"
"i get around."
"and you never thought to mention this?!"
"i mean, i didn't really think it was important..."
kliff sighed, suddenly feeling a little insecure at his complete lack of romantic experience in contrast to your many flings. "may i at least see what your past vampire suitors looked like?" he didn't want to admit it, but he was suddenly feeling very clingy, even more than usual. he had to be better than all your exes! so that you wouldn't leave him like you left them!
"sure. here you go." you pull out your phone and show him a picture, only for kliff to gasp loudly and clutch his chest even tighter. what a drama queen.
"HIM."
"you know him??"
"that little whore was going around sleeping with every man and woman in town a hundred years ago! i cannot BELIEVE he is still so promiscuous in this day and age. he even seduced you..."
"woah! language, kliff!"
kliff stops mid-ramble and clears his throat in embarassment. "my apologies. this is most uncouth of me. i do not know why i am getting so frustrated over this. the two of you are not seeing each other anymore, correct?"
"yes. you're the only one i'm seeing right now."
"and, if i may be so bold to inquire,,,, how was he like as a lover?"
"he was kinda annoying." kilff let a smirk escape his lips upon hearing this. "i knew it-" "the head was good though."
"what- what does 'head' mean?"
"he sucked my dick." you say bluntly.
"oh, good heavens."
"don't be a prude! wait... kliff, are you jealous of him?"
"i most certainly am not."
"at your big age? please be serious." you tease, amused at how possessive he suddenly got.
"do NOT make fun of me. i said i'm not." the pout adorning his face said otherwise.
kliff barely noticed it, but slowly he inched closer and closer to you, eyes scanning your neck as he frantically searched for bite marks.
"did he bite you anywhere? did it hurt? you must know, i would never even consider drinking from you, right?" he took your hand, eyes searching desperately for validation, any form of praise that indicated you thought he was the better vampire.
you rolled your eyes. "jeez, kliff. i didn't take you for the possessive type. don't worry, none of my previous vampire lovers have drunk from me."
that did little to reassure him, since he was on the same page. "then... then... i must be better at this 'head' thing!" he declares, face full of misplaced determination. you almost double over laughing.
"it's not a competition! my god, you're so unserious."
"it does not matter to me! i must be better than that lustful shame of a vampire at every aspect. especially since we are of the same species."
"okay, okay. calm down. i'll let you try."
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
"just let me know you can't breathe or whatever. i'll guide you through your first time, yeah?" kliff nods, a blush extremely prominent on his undead features as he knelt between your thighs. he quite enjoyed this... submissive position.
"also- watch the fangs." the authoritative, yet gentle tone of your voice sent shivers down his spine.
he himself could be considered a monster, but he paled in comparison to the monster that sprung out of your pants once he clumsily undid the zipper. kliff gasped, a look of pure lust and nervousness written all over his expression as your slightly erect cock hovered over his face.
"so... basically... you just put it inside your mouth, then start sucking it. easy enough, right? come on, don't tell me you've never heard of a blowjob in your entire existence."
"of course i have..... i admit, i own quite a bit of... erotic fiction." he mumbles, eyes still on your cock, cheeks growing redder by the second. "but, goodness, it's so different seeing a real phallus up close. especially one of your size."
"phallus??? just say cock."
"mhm...." he hesitates, unsure where to even begin. flustered, he looks up imploringly, silently begging for you to guide him.
you chuckle at his frozen state, completely at a loss on what to do. "so needy. i'll help you."
tenderly, you run a hand through his soft hair, applying just a little bit of power to tug his head forward, guiding him to your tip. obediently, he opened his mouth, taking the shaft inside. it was warm, his rough tongue grazing over your tip, causing you to grip his hair a little tighter. kliff let out a masochistic moan in response. slowly, he ventured further down your length, but unable to reach the base without gagging. he looked up at you with apologetic eyes, but you squeezed his shoulder to let him know he was doing well. "good job, kliff. you're a natural." spurred on by your praise, kliff found a lewd rhythm, mouth bobbing up and down in a continuous passionate attempt to make you feel good.
your small grunts of pleasure kept him going. panting, you ask, "you sure you've never done this before, kliff? you're so good." he frantically shakes his head, mouth still full of cock, as if the idea that he engaged in such intimate acts with anyone but you was horrifying. he was loyal like that. it was intoxicating, the head only vampires could provide - fangs lightly grazing your cock's sensitive areas, the slight thrill unmatched. merman head was sloppy, werewolf head was rough, but vampire head was a little dangerous. you liked that.
soon enough, you were about to cum. you warned him, patting his shoulder twice, he vigorously nodded, giving you permission to cum inside his mouth. he'd only ever been used to having blood in his mouth, so having your cum inside instead was a new experience. but he liked it. maybe a little too much, as he swallowed it so enthusiastically. you gazed upon him affectionately, finding his virgin excitement over such lewd matters endearing.
"how was i?" the breathless question hung in the air, a reminder of the atmosphere thick with your intertwined tension.
cupping his face with one hand, the other stroking his hair soothingly, you muttered the words he most wanted to hear. "you were better than him."
kliff jumps into your arms, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. "thank you. you're the absolute best." he's so content to spend the rest of his days with you. treat him with care, yeah?
>ᵥᵥ< 💘
tags: @4eaever @szapizzapanda @flyingsquids @vampmasc
omg i'm so happy with this one, one of my fav writings i've ever done so far. i felt like i characterised kliff and captured their dynamic quite well here hehehe
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bluetimeombre · 11 months ago
Text
: ̗̀➛ Call it what you want to
You're an up-coming star, staring in some hit movies like Hunger games Ballad of songbirds and snakes and now Wonka, along the Timothee Chalamet.
[i'm obsessed with my man and just need to ignore the fact he's dating someone that isn't me. anyway, you're an up-coming actress who stared in the new hunger games movie and now you're also staring in wonka, the people love you and maybe, so does a co-star of yours] not proof read. this was very fun to write so maybe i'll do more, if anyone likes it. or just for me
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
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liked by... tayrussell, joshandresrivera, tomblyth, sadiesink_, tchalamet & others
yourusername: wonka press tour starts now!
809k likes. 304k comments
user: wait, you're in wonka?!
user: I LOVE YOU!!
user: mother giving us content, as always
tchalamet: now you've posted can you come up and help me
yourusername: no
tchalamet: pls!!!
user: omg she really said no to timothee chalamet, who does she thin she is?
user: slayyyy
user: isn't wonka supposed to suck
tomblyth: from one press tour to another, i see
yourusername: girls got to earn a living
tomblyth: she doesn't let the grass grow
user: say hi to timothee for me!!!!
user: omg how is she getting all the hottest guys in hollywood rn? gurl leave some for us
wonkamovie: 😍😍
balladofsongbirdsandsnakes: 😍😍😍
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
you were flicking through comments by your friends when your phone started to ring, the familiar picture of your co-star flicking up on your phone. quickly, you dimissed yourself from your assistant and took the call. 'yes?'
'I need your help.'
'Timothee, you're old enough to zip up your own jacket,' you tease, leaning on the wall.
'I don't know what jumper to wear, what are you wearing? we'll coordinate.'
you'd opted for something of your own style. a jumper with pinks and blues and a white flowering skirt with a ring almost on every finger. this was only your second big press tour and sitting next to timothee chalamet every day for it was enough to make you nervous. so nervous you woke every morning wondering if you'd throw up. it didn't help you were also surrounded by others you'd looked up to, like olivia coleman and hugh grant. how were you supposed to keep your cool for months. even if now you were considered just as big a star.
'don't you have a stylist for this?' you ask, looking at the crew around, ready to go but waiting for him.
'there's three options and i don't know which one to go for. can't you just come up.'
you could, sure. go to timothee's hotel room and see him probably shirtless. once you'd have dreamt of it, but things were different, now you just didn't have a silly celebrity crush. now he was your co-star and very off limits.
'option two now come on, please.' quickly, you end the call and pick up your coffee, heading to the room where you'd be sat for the next eight hours answering questions with timothee.
you were there first, shaking hands with the interviewer and introducing yourself to her. you took your seat, making little chatter before timothee chalamet walked in, calm, cool and collected. completely different to your flushed and smiling expression.
you watched as he quickly said hello to everyone in the room and greeted the lady who'd be conducting the interview.
timothee turned to you, arms out wide and waiting. laughing, you put your coffee down and stood up, giving him a hug. you shared small pleasantries before he took his seat next to you, shuffling around and settling in. only then did you realise how much your jumpers looked the same, both smudges of similar colours. you blushed more as timothee watched, silently wondering what could make you so red. as if he had no idea what he did to you just by sitting down next to him.
'I have had scrub scrub stuck in my head since seeing the movie,' she- charline, said as you and timothee laugh. 'do you guys have a favourite song you got to perform?'
'I mean, pure imagination was quite a surreal experience. you know, getting to sing something that was so ... iconic, it was-it was a lot of fun. and a lot of pressure, but, in a good way,' said timothee.
'you killed it,' you assure, casually.
'thank you,' he smiled.
'i really enjoyed you've never had chocolate like this number. that was just so fun, the dancing and all,' you say, timothee nodding and agreeing.
'for a moment was fun to, i guess,' added timothee. 'we got to dance.'
you grin at the memory. 'we did.' you remembered the a million takes, timothee singing practically to you while prancing around. it was your favourite scene to shoot because it was such an easy and happy scene. you didn't have to think about it, just held timmy's hand as he twirled you around the place.
'and i know we're here to talk about wonka but i just have to say-' she gestured to you, 'congratulations on hunger games, biggest movie in the world.'
you wave her off, thanking her as timmy claps for you. 'thank you, thank you.'
'i was wondering what was your favourite song to film there on that set and how does it compare to singing on this one.'
ranting about yourself or your achievements was always hard for you. your stardom and come so quickly with hunger games and wonka, so much so you felt like you didn't deserve half of it.
'i mean, for hunger games it was all live. i sang them there and then so that's daunting in itself, um. i loved filming pure as the driven snow, just because i got to- essentially- sing it to tom. it was just him and me and the crew, like for those shots there was no extra's so that was great fun. a special moment. and singing it to him made it a whole lot easier. whereas on this movie, luckily it was all like pre-recorded so, not so daunting. didn't have to sing in front of timothee chalamet,' you say.
he listened carefully to you, seeing your smile at mentioning tom blyth, your co-star from the hunger games. he'd never met the guy, he was probably lovely- from the amount you talked about him. 'you've got a great singing voice.'
'thanks man.'
'this cast is just so insane and obviously you two got close during filming,' says charline, gesturing to the two of you.
timothee nudged you with his head, like he'd done a thousand times before knowing how much you secretly loved it. just like a horse, as had been quoted.
'who's more british, olivia or hugh?'
'hugh, easily,' you say. you loved all of hugh's movies, but you'd never say that to his face.
'you know, i'm gonna go and say you,' says timothee, turning to you.
you drop you jaw, pointing to yourself. yes, you were british, but more so than than the hugh grant seemed impossible. 'me?'
'yea, i mean, hugh grant is like a walking union jack- and i mean that in the best way possible, but you seem so much more like british. you know, wicked sense of humor and the charm and- you love london,' he pointed out.
'i do love london,' you agreed.
'did you have fun filming in england, timothee?' she asked.
they want on and on to talk about filming the movie, answering questions in depth and it was sure the two of you had great answers, listening intently together and everyone could tell. your chemistry was there, your smiles and answers together were almost so perfect it was like it was practiced and the fans ate it up!
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
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liked by... zendaya, mtv, kyliejenner, yourusername, wbpictures & others
tchamalmet: WONKA!!! coming soon
tagged: yourusername
1.1m likes, 609k comments
user: he posted! he posted!
user: we are getting FED
user: i just know this is all yourusername influence
user: not kylie liking...
user: statistics! statistics!
liked by yourusername
yourusername: bring back little timmy tim!
yourusername: out of all the pictures you chose that one
user: anyone else think her and timmy are getting too close
user: like fr she stealin my man
user: i love them!!!
user: i swear something is going on with her and tom blyth
user: she's just like us!
user: LOVE!!!!!
user: her and timmy >>> him and kylie
user: plssss, i love kylie
user: is wonka a musical
user: TIMMY I WANT TO HAVE YOUR CHILDREN!!!
user: fave bob dylan song?
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
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liked by... tomblyth, rachelzeglar, tchalamet, hunterschafer, zendaya & others
yourusername: ballad of song birds and snakes is number one movie? more like i'm the number one most grateful person out there for this chance and being trusted with my girl lucy-grey!!! thank you, thank you, thank you!!
tagged: tomblyth
1m likes 477k comments
tomblyth: lots of love my dear !
user: pls the second picture was so unncesary she just wanted to post it
user: MOTHER
user: parents are parenting
user: I LOVED THIS FILM
user: tom blyth is honestly so hot like wtf
rachelzeglar: my luv &lt;3
yourusername: omg my gf everybody!!!!
joshandresrivera: funny how you don't post a picture of me
yourusername: it's funny because i don't like you
joshandresrivera: tomblyth you gonna let her talk to me like that??
tomblyth: she's the boss
user: how is she so amazing in everything
user: wonder how she got this job? she's literally as plain as a plank
user: hi!
user: the film was insane, i'm obsessed
user: i need this film injected into my veins
user: she's so good at singing, get her on broadway!!!
tchalamet: very proud
yourusername liked tchalamet's comment
user: why would you post the second pic unless they're clearly dating
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user: pls why do i ship them so hard!!
user: lol it looks like he's just refusing to answer questions without her
user: is nobody gonna talk about how they were basically wearing the same jumpers?
user: no because i thought the exact same thing
user: someone pointed it out in an interview and timothee said it was 100% planned, they're so cute
user: doesn't he have a girlfriend?
user: isn't she with tom blyth? they look like they're together?
user: they haven't confirmed it
user: they don't need to did you see her post on instagram?! it was all just him
user: no but the way she's just constantly blushing around him
user: so would you if you were sat next to the timothee chalamet
2K notes · View notes
reeniecon · 4 months ago
Text
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- YOU'RE A GIRL??! -
Riddle roseheart, Trey clover, cater diamond, ace trappola , deuce spade.
----------------------------------------------------------
😮‍💨‼️ : fem reader, imperfect grammar
A/n: this is a remake/rewrite from my OLD OLD Fanfic in my old blog ( I hate that writing so much I want to puke)
My other fanfic
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Riddle roseheart
" [Name] I beg of you to do not ignore rule 534, you've broken that rule 2 times already... I won't be easy on you for the 3rd time " Riddle remained you gently (passive-aggressive actually)
" As I read the rule book and searched about rule 534 it writes here that a woman is an exception in this rule!! So yeah~ "
But you're not a-
...
WAIT
WHAT
WHAT DID YOU SAY???! A WOMAN CAN WHAT, HUH DOES THAT MEAN THAT YOU'RE A WOMAN?
How this is a boy's boarding school how did you get here???!!
Not only that you're a magicless student but also a woman? ( in all-boys schools)
Ah, you must have felt so uncomfortable...
Ugh, what did the magic mirror do...
After that day riddle pays closer attention to you
He wants you to be comfortable at least he can assure you that in his own dormitory
Ah did Ace and Deuce know about this already??
Are they being mean to you??
Ugh, are you okay with this???
" [Name] let me know if there is something that bothering you... Uh- I hope you can feel the most comfortable in heartslabyul with me... "
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Cater diamond
" Awww.. C'mon why did the sky choose to rain now ~ we might missed our movie! " Cater complaining
" Not only missed the movie we might also have to watch the movie drenched, look cater look how drenched we are "
This is supposed to be one of the happiest nights you and Cater have!!
You and he got a free ticket for Vil's new movie!!
The movie was literally trending EVERYWHERE ON THE INTERNET
It's really impossible to get the ticket right now!! But Vil being the awesome friend he was gifted the tickets
FOR FREE!!
And now here we are drenched in front of the mall with cater
Cool, cool so awesome!!
" This is so unfortunate isn't it but surely this would be such an unforgettable memory right [name ] " He said with the usual smile on his face " Why don't we take a picture together this would be an awesome post don't you think " He Suggested
* click* * click*
" #vilnewmovie #badday #icannotbeliveit #catty #whatshouldwedo? And lastly- " Huh.. What's that? He zoomed in on your side of the pic
Oh.
OH
HUH????
" What's wrong cater? Are you going to post it? " U asked him " Ah no, hahaha I'm going to post it later ig. Because you know uh.. The the uh THE INTERNET yeah the internet is so sloww~~ I will post it when we go back~~"
HOW COULD HE POST THE PHOTO
When your... Uh- tops? Tops holder? Shown faintly....
ARGHHHH !!!
did everyone know this already?? Are he the only one who doesn't know yet?? How how how how how
And more questions coming to cater head one hundred by one hundred
What should he do now...
He drapes his coat around you.
" Here use this you might catch a cold~ haha... Ha... Ha. Be careful okay... " He awkwardly says with that flushed face he tries to cover
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Trey clover
He knows from the start
Trey is the mom of the group, and he is a really careful man, to begin with
We will OBSERVE you even before you start to hang out with other heartslabyul members
So yep, he knows!!
How did he know you ask?
He eavesdropping on Crowley (accidentally ofc he's a good boy!!)
I felt like he would "accidentally" heard you ranting to Crowley about being the only girls there
I don't think anyone would not be surprised at this situation tbh
But he is the most sweetest guy you've ever met in NRC
I can feel his girl's dad's aura through the screen tbh
He would bake you your favorite cake, teach you how to bake things if you ask him to~
Totally the most helpful guy in the heartslabyul dormitory even in NRC!!
Please marry us Trey we want you TwT
" Hm? Pardon me [mame] I didn't quite catch you...Can you please repeat it? Ah- you want to bake together? Ofc I'll teach you okay <3 "
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Ace trappola
....
How
HOW COULD HE NOT HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THIS SOONER????
IS HE YOUR BEST FRIEND??? HUH DON'T YOU CONSIDER HIM YOUR BSF???
" ah... Now What. What is this soap opera plot... My best friend who I've known for YEARS ( you only know her at least only for 6 months you dramatic ass) is a girl??? Why can't you tell me sooner..." He rolls his eyes, not facing you at all, you cannot help but sigh at the situation " Cannot help it yk Crowley told me to keep it a secret it's for my safety too" You explained while trying to face him " Is gender really that life-changing to you ace in our friendship? " You asked him while your head hanging low
OF COURSE IT IS???
Bro, AGRHHHHH HE CANNOT WITH YOU RIGHT NOW
HE THINKS THAT HE IS RLLY GAY ALL THIS TIME
BECAUSE
OF
YOU!!
He went on an identity crisis on this
ahh... How can you do this to him...
'Did Deuce already know this too? AGRH SO ANNOYING I want to punch him... '
"No no no no you don't get it [name] uh... Your gender didn't mean anything in our friendship but it matters in our other relationship... " He says his voice cracking on the last sentence hiding his redness
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Deuce spade
----------------------------------------------------------
" No deuce we cannot go to the hot springs together, you go with ace okay"
" Huh, why not it's not fun [name] if we're not together !! " His eyes wide open smiling all over the place " YOU STUPID, ofc she cannot go with us??? " Ace interfering with the conversation
She?
Why did Ace use she?
[Name] is a boy so wh-
Ah
Ah
No way
NO WAY NO WAY
" I'M SO SORRY I DON'T KNOW [NAME] PLEASE FORGIVE ME, DID UH- DID I MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE??? in a uh jn any way??? " He bowed down his forehead and touched the cold hot spring wood. " HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING DEUCE GET UP FAST YOU'RE EMBARRASSING US " Ace Hurriedly tried to get Deuce off the floor but Deuce seemed like he was glued to it...
" I'm sorry I'm so sorry, I just make a unforgivable mistake [name] forgive me!! " Still half bowed
" Deuce!! Get up !! "
A/N: my old fanfic is batshit crazy, 0 to work with no plot, you must read the old one tbh it's really cheesy, it's either involves water and water same plot over and over again, and I really hate it tbh, I wrote that fanfic when I was in... 8th grade??? Now I'm in 12th grade kekw so cringed.
Old fanfic
A/N 2.0: sorry for the incostistent writing length for each of the characters!! I cannot take it anymore with this prompt tbh- it's kinda cute in some way but- it get me the ick everytime when I try to reference my old fic TwT
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monarchberrysblog · 22 days ago
Text
📄 — xx.emo_boy.exe (early y2k au)
now presenting…
⛓️🩷 kinktober | week three → dry humping and mutual masturbation
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🖤 emo boy! miguel o’hara x pastel! reader 🖤
🎮 summary: “it may not look like he gets bitches, but honey, that dick was eleven inches.”
🎮 content warning: peeking under the skirt, voyeurism, public sex, mutual masturbation (kinda), dry humping, and switch behavior in both parties (more submissive behavior from Miguel.)
🎮 word count: +1.5k words (something smol)
🎮 author’s notes: I originally posted this last Wednesday, but I didn’t feel satisfied with the story's ending and layout. Take this as an unofficial sorry. And if the ending feels weird, I apologize in advance as well 😖
📀 not proofread 📀
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Dedicated to @opaloharas and @miguelhugger2099, to my cuties. Thank you for the inspo and y'all deserve some mandarinas 🍊
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Regulars. The best or the worst damn thing to exist on the planet.
But for Miguel? Seeing you as a regular in Spencers' always caused a flutter in his stomach. You were a pretty little thing that starkly contrasted in the dim store. The white ribbons in your hair and the pink and purple pastels made you glow. But the kicker?
The thigh highs you always wore.
The nylon material screamed to be ripped and accessible from your plush thighs. Every time you bent over to pick out a shirt or weekly browsing of piercings, he could have sworn that he heard the souls of your thigh highs wanting to be free, but they never ripped.
They either were little bows or fishnets. But your favorites? They were black thigh-highs with big satin bows, matching with your shorts or black skirts. The nylon thigh-high made you look soft, so soft to sleep on, to bite, and to squeeze.
But the little mini-skirts only fed his perverted ego—the tiny bit of fabric barely covered your rear, which caused you to flash anyone who happened to be within your radius accidentally. It has happened so often that he practically memorized your underwear drawer and how much you frequent his job just to look for clothes or piercings.
Being the bigger man, he asks you out. (In which you accept happily after he said he would help you take a couple of pictures for your MySpace.)
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“Could you move to the right?” He mumbles, trying his best to not eye you with how you leaned on the marble headstone. “Should I arch my back?” You quip. Your fingertips graze the cold stone while you pose.
“Nah.” He dismisses, fighting back a blush on his cheeks and hoping the autumn air did him justice to blow the warmth off his cheeks. The digital camera's flash lit up the radius momentarily before the small digital device beeped an obnoxious tone.
“Damn, out of storage.” He huffs and turns the camera downwards, away from you. “Here, let me delete some old pictures.” You jumped off the marble, patting the cold stone and whispering a thank you.
You place a crystal at the foot of the grave and make your way over to Miguel.
He hands you the digital camera before looking around the flat land that is only filled with marble stone or flowers.
“Are we even supposed to be here?” He bites the question, seeing an old couple leave the graveyard, holding onto each other while shuffling away. “Yeah, graveyards used to be known as hangout spots.” You reply and push down on the tiny buttons on the digital device.
“I don't mean to sound like a pussy or whatever, but this place rubs me the wrong way.”
“Don’t worry. They mean no harm. Just respect them and don't step on their graves. I think we got enough pictures…”
He dismisses your statement with a grunt and haphazardly moves his feets towards you instead. He didn't need a heavy stomach after this.
There was no way that this was the cutesy, pastel girl at his job two days ago looking for cat plushies…
“I know it's early to call it a day, but,” You raise your brow and exhale a shaky sigh. “Wanna hang out a little while longer?” You exhaled a nervous chuckle as you fidget with the hem of your skirt, nearly ripping off the lacy frills.
His heart leaped into the back of his throat—the urge to scream a loud yell that was enough to wake up those asleep in the afterlife. “Yeah, sure. It's no big deal.” He answers with a light dismissal and shrugs.
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The dried grass's vibrant orange and red leaves provided a stunning contrast to the color of your hair. The soft earth underneath cushioned you as you lay back, and a giggle escaped your lips. Slowly, he crawled over to you, and with the utmost tenderness, he planted a soft butterfly kiss on your cupid’s bow.
The soft gesture contrasted the careless nature he bumbled about. “This is new.” You quip, reaching up to comb a loose strand of hair away from his face.
As you lean in for the next kiss, the playful smirk on your lips fades away as a surge of sweet warmth envelops you, stealing your focus and drawing you into the moment. Tilting your head slightly, you tenderly press your lips against Miguel, savoring the gentle and innocent connection.
His gentle hands glided along the curves of your body, reveling in the warmth and tenderness as your skin resisted the chill of the cemetery.
His hand hovers the swell of your breasts, itching to ravish your warmth and softness. “You can touch me.” You look up at him through your faux lashes. His fingers were taut like a cadaver. He wanted to touch and ravish you like a seafood boil on a summer day. The goose pimples on his skin trembled and seeped into his core like poison coursing through his veins. “Right.” He exhaled and moved his cramped fingers to squeeze your breast gently.
Warm and soft. He did another squeeze as if he was confirming what he felt was genuine and it wasn't one of his perverted dreams from the night before.
“Your face… are you okay?” Your question plagues the silence. “Yeah, of course. You’re just… soft.”
“Can I take this off?” His eyes gesture at the pastel-pink sweater—his fingers toy with the zipper pull.
You nod adamantly as you squirm closer to him and pull yourself closer. His fingers tremble, but he manages to pull the zipper down. The sight of your simple tank top and hardened nipples peeking through the cotton top.
“Are you sure?” He swallows, ready to back down from the close proximity. “Yeah, go ahead.” You whisper and gently guide his hands back to your figure.
His crimson pools leaked into your honey ones, the contrasting colors mellowing out to one another into one. His mouth latches onto your clothed nipple, gently licking and sucking. His sharpened canine grazed the sensitive skin, earning a shudder from you.
He pulled away, leaving a wet patch against the cotton tank top. The dark color of your areola peeked through, pleading for more attention.
A soft growl escaped before he gently pins you down on the soft patch of grass. Your hand wanders down, snaking into his dark denim. The clothes bulge against your fingertips ignites a fire deep in your core.
A soft groan escapes him. You had him wrapped around your pretty little fingers. Quite literally. He jerks his hips towards your palm, seeking friction to relieve the aching, numbing pain in his lower stomach. “Wait, hold on…” You squirm about and pull your hand away.
Your hands move quickly, removing his chunky belts and disregarding the faux leather. You yank down his jeans to free him from the restraints of his jeans. He softly groans when your fingers gently probe at his tip. The taut, moist skin seeks attention, twitching for contact. Then, your warming palm firmly grasped him and gently began to move up and down his length. It felt as if his body took a screenshot. The sensation ached slowly as his body trembled for a release.
His pleads were soft, afraid of his voice being heard from unseen presence at the flat lands around them. He adjusts himself, and moves his hand down south. The wet slit against his fingertips enables him to gently rub the pads of his fingers at the thin, wet slit on the cloth. His fingers gently pull at the gusset, and finally, his fingers probe at your clit, rubbing the nerves in tight, slow circles. The slow build up caused you to squirm about, ready to coat his fingers.
Soft pants filled the cemetery while your fingers produced more squelching noises from each other’s bodies. “Give me a moment…” You pant, letting go of him and moving your clothed cunt toward the tightening friction of his jeans.
The moist, soft sensation against the bulge softened into him. He melted and adjusted the two of you, gently settling you down onto his hardening arousal. He gently moves his hips, seeking relieving friction to his aching cock. If he could, he could almost imagine the sticky coating of your juices seeping out of your panties and coating his cock. The imagery plagued his mind like a vice as he continued with the gentle motions against your clothed pussy.
The temptation to just slide in…
The sticky fluid snaps him back to reality, effectively staining your already-soaked lacy panties and his boxers. His eyes dart away quickly, and he sits back, getting off of you. The milky fluid contrasted the dark panties, evidence that he left his heavy load on you.
He pulls you close, his exhale trembling into an uneasy vibrato. When he feels your skin tight and cold to the touch, the warmth of his palms rubs against it, creating more goosebumps in their wake.
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tag list:
@hyjionie @zaunsin @kavimoo @keiva1000
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capslocked · 1 year ago
Text
KINKVEMBER DAY: 8
[prompt: phone sex]
male reader x shin ryujin
16k words
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The phone rings one too many times, and Ryujin is in the middle of scrunching up the paper slip that Chaeryeong handed her earlier that afternoon when she hears your voice.
The sounds of her scrambling for the receiver and her head smacking against the headboard come through in pretty good quality.
That never gets old.
"Stimulating conversations," you offer smoothly, like it isn't a euphemism and instead some high-brow intellectual pursuit. "How can I help you?"
Ryujin is speechless for an unbearable five, ten seconds until she lets out the kind of low chuckle that probably sounds better than it looks. "Hi," she says, "hello, I, uh- I don't know how all of this works."
"Why don't we start with who you're looking to speak with tonight?" you ask.
Ryujin sighs. She runs a hand through her hair, looking at the messy tangle of clothes on her bedroom floor with mild resentment. She’ll take her chances, figuring a direct approach is the best route when she doesn't really know where any of the lines get drawn or who is allowed to say what and who isn't.
"Um. Okay. Who you got?"
"We have a large variety of operators to suit any taste," you explain kindly. She appreciates that. "Do you have someone specific in mind? A gender perhaps, to start?"
"Well," Ryujin starts, running her tongue along the edges of her teeth. Lia has this thing she constantly says, that there's always a thousand and one reasons not to do something, and Ryujin is the first person to make fun of her for it - but here she is, finally putting that adage to use.
"I was actually calling to, um," she exhales loudly. "A guy? I mean look - girls. Girls are great, but if you - mmm." She clears her throat. Because she knows how she wants to do this, and it's most definitely: "A man."
You wait for a second before replying, and Ryujin allows the stillness to expand over and fill out every corner of her bedroom before a bright, "Alrighty, well," comes filtering out her phone, tinny but as enticing as ever. "That would be me."
"Oh."
"Yeah," you reply, easy and unhurried. You sound exactly like the kind of person whose company people pay handsomely to be around; the professionalism is undeniable, but there's something to be said for your tone. The softness to the vowels, the almost imperceptible upward lilt to the words - Ryujin gets that, maybe.
You're pretty confident in the answer, but you ask anyway, "have you ever done anything like this?"
Ryujin opens her mouth and hesitates for a brief moment.
"Well," she muses. She's tried porn, she's tried her own fantasies, she's tried cranking up the hot water and touching herself with the head of the shower aimed somewhere she's told by other girls: it's there, free of charge. "I haven't."
"But you have a boyfriend," you state. "You have a man, who you enjoy things with?"
Ryujin laughs nervously. "It's...it's been a little while. Not recently. Sorry. I know you don't-"
"No, no, not at all, you're doing fine, it's just that you sound very attractive over the phone. Excuse the assumption."
Ryujin laughs and rakes her fingers through her fringe. She knows it's a line, but she laughs anyway. She could - if she was looking for the deranged fulfillment of it - pore through a billion comments on instagram, on twitter that call her a lot of things: gorgeous, beautiful, hot. The last comment she read before almost deleting her app entirely was someone who decided to textually imitate a dog barking to a picture Yeji had taken of her in a coffee shop. There's a novelty, she thinks, in being charmed by someone who has no idea who she is.
"You have good ears then," she says, smirking into the receiver. "So do you normally do, what, ask questions? I have no idea."
"Yeah, it helps me build a profile," you reply, "but if you had something else in mind-"
"No, please, shoot." She grabs the pillow from behind her back and flops against the mattress, staring up into the ceiling fan.
"Do you feel comfortable sharing your age with me?"
"Twenty," she answers without missing a beat, even though that isn't right. It's weirdly important to her, keeping it private, and she isn't sure why - but then you say something pleasant and complimentary about college and new experiences that she's unable to register, and you ask her for her name so quick she just blurts it out:
"Ryujin."
"Pretty."
"Fuck," Ryujin grins, immediately chewing on her knuckle to bite back a gasp. "Sorry. The name is cute or, whatever. Whatever. Sorry for the curse. God, I don't really have a filter - what about you? Do you have a name, Mr. Operator?"
"I do."
Ryujin lifts a leg up and puts it down again. She doesn't know if she should already have taken off her pajamas or if that's weird. Or if the fact that it doesn't bother her means this is more or less wholesome. She turns over onto her stomach, humming into the phone and now she doesn't know why she's thinking about your face. You could be- well, fuck, you could be anyone, but there's this gnawing compulsion to put something together.
You tell her your name and she scoffs for a second, before quieting down and returning you a, "pretty."
"Ryujin, tell me." There's probably a slightly too long pause from your end of the line before you get on with asking her, "when was your last orgasm?"
She drops the phone right in her face. It bounces off the bridge of her nose before landing in bedsheets beside her and her eyes are welling with tears while she scrambles blindly across her bed, cursing into the receiver and squirming. She pulls the phone to her ear and catches the last couple seconds of you reassuring her that it's okay, that it's completely fine if she's hung up or gone.
"Actually, I have," and she curls her fingers into a fist, "never came in my whole life."
You clear your throat to keep a less than professional sound from coming out. A quiet space she feels necessary to fill: “Not even once.”
"Really?"
"I know. And I've only recently realized that's, uh - er- a pretty un-normal thing." Ryujin makes a waving motion with her hand even though you can't see it, trailing off into silence and blushing furiously. "Sorry," she apologizes. She doesn't know what she’s apologizing for, but she does it again. "Sorry about that."
"I should be the one feeling sorry for you," you rib.
"Fucking tell me about it."
"Hey, this reminds me, would you be averse to the idea of touching yourself?"
The question stutters Ryujin in her tracks, and she doesn't even say no but a drawn-out "nngh" leaks out before she can stumble into something more intelligible. "Isn't that, like, what you're supposed to do on these calls?"
"Every call is different, Ryujin."
She chews on her lower lip, rolling it under her front teeth. You say her name like you know her, and it's throwing her for a loop. The comfort you have with the whole situation - asking her a million questions and not demanding answers, taking cues and reassurances in stride and turning everything into some sort of ploy for getting her naked. Fuck, she'll take a bit of a plunge:
"Should I be touching myself?"
"It's not my place to say."
"Okay, well that's kind of a frustrating answer."
"So you're saying you like being told what to do," you tell her, and you hear the sharp inhale in reply.
"If I knew what I liked, you think I'd be calling a sex hotline and hoping some stranger might take pity on me?"
You laugh out loud, and her response is the quickest, the cutest little, "seriously!" before she chuckles too.
"Ryujin?" you ask.
"Yeah?"
"Are you straight?"
She nearly chokes - because it's like you're able to just read her mind - and if you can do that then there's nothing you can't do, maybe. And here, excitement feels a lot like apprehension. She twists and curls in on herself, thighs rubbing together, the flat of her hand traveling across her stomach.
"I'm-"
"Because no one should have to pretend that they're interested in guys," you interrupt her and, god, for as much time as she's spent dwelling on that, she wishes it were that simple. 
It would be a hell of a lot easier if she knew why she wanted to get her face between Yeji's thighs and drag her tongue all over her clit until that prettier-than-perfect face of hers cinches up in a pleasure that comes with just the right amount of agony - or if she knew why she didn't feel anything like remorse or guilt or envy when her boyfriend came around instead of wanting, you know, to get on her knees with her mouth around his cock too -
Fuck, it's all very complicated.
"Straight," she answers. She likes cock, as much as anyone realistically can, and she knows the body on a man can get her dripping and easy in all the right ways. So, she just swallows. Says, "straight enough."
"If you were to touch yourself, right now, and someone - say, a man - were telling you exactly what to do: what would spring to mind, if anything."
"Mmm. Is this you asking me to touch myself?"
"Again. That's up to you."
Your voice is light. Very pleasant. Very male, Ryujin realizes. She gulps.
"Can you, I mean," she says, running a hand down the length of her thigh, pressing down at the hollow.
"Ryujin,” you say, letting her mull over how it sounds in your mouth. “Take a breath for me, please."
Her exhale leaves her with a heavy push and she tries not to laugh. Nervous tic. She's getting goosebumps, but she feels warmer than before.
"We could say this isn't the first time, you and me, in some very broad and abstract sense. How does that make you feel?"
"Strange." She touches her outer thighs again and arches her back. "Kind of horny," she admits. And it is odd - your words, the things you say - and maybe it's her nerves because the experience is new, and so are you, and so are her feelings, all wrapped in one.
"Do you want to do something about that?"
There's silence between you for what seems like a very long time, your breathing quiet but apparent - a signal you haven't abandoned her in some state of vulnerability. Ryujin inhales deeply. She's shaking in her fingertips. The tension has her taut and waiting, and that's funny, really, because it's what she's been doing for years. The rubbing. The touching.
Her hips rock forward gently and she answers the unasked question with a sweetly husked, "uh-huh."
"What are you wearing?"
"Ah, really?" Ryujin laughs. Her fingers pause at her waistline. "That old, bad porn trope."
"I like hearing about people's clothes, is all," you excuse yourself lightly. "Helps me get a sense of things."
"Yeah, alright. Sweats. Baggy ones." Her lips fall apart. "Shirt."
"Is that all? Nothing sexy."
"What's sexy?"
"Sexy is…"
She listens to you mull it over, listening for a ruffling or two. "For a girl with a nice body - some body - some curves," you continue, and Ryujin has to drop another finger to the hot line of her thigh, her lower belly. "You need lace. Silk. You've gotta leave the best bits a little hidden, at least for a while longer."
"Wow. You sound a hell of a lot like you'd enjoy taking someone's pants off," she half-teases. "Do you make all your calls like this? One sordid fantasy at a time, huh?"
"Something like that," you reply. And then, as if reading her mind, "are you doing anything, right now?"
"I'm touching myself," she exhales. "Are you?"
"Ryujin, not yet. Please be patient."
She makes a face even though you can't see it or taunt her. That's an unfair request - you have an unfair request.
"Just, wait," you tell her. She's drawing lazy, winding circles across her thigh. "Let me show you something, will you do that for me?"
"But, what."
"Tell me everything. All the things you're thinking. Things you want to do."
"Everything?"
"Yes."
She blinks away her initial disbelief and reaches around for her lamp to switch it off. Until it's just the hallway light peeking in through the crack between her door and the door jamb and you, a stranger who won't be seeing her face or hearing her say anything stupid. She shakes out a few more breaths, shuffles against the sheets, and glides her fingertips past her belly button.
Her hand rises up her stomach in one decisive movement, until her fingers curl beneath the bottoms of her bra, trapped in its underwire. "I'm thinking - unh - about, ah. My friend?"
You're quiet and let the silence linger, until she seems like she might not find her way; so you repeat, "Go ahead."
"And a guy she used to like, fuck, she'd show up here, drunk on, ah. A weeknight. Somewhere, fuck, around midnight. Walk past me into the kitchen where we had the - the light. God." Her hips stutter and she grits out the rest through her teeth. "In the refrigerator. Ah, yeah, a midnight snack. Always looked way too fucking good for, um, oh, for a casual booty-call."
"Does your friend have a name?"
"Yuna," she practically pants, and immediately realizes she shouldn't have said that either.
"Did you always know what was going on? Between Yuna and her-"
"Boy-toy, yes - it was so obvious, I always knew, yeah," she said, clumsily grabbing the sheets with one hand as she drifts further between the peaks. "Just - fuck - he'd be picking at, ah, something with chopsticks."
"In your kitchen?"
"My, uh, table. And I'd be working up the nerve to ask."
You sigh over the phone, "ask him what?"
"What it was, like, I knew she was only- shit." She keens high in her throat. "What it was like, fucking taking that cock of his, and bending Yuna's tight little, ah, ass over and, mm, railing her on the side of her fucking bed - and just pumping her full of cum just like that until- Jesus, she would walk around after and sometimes-"
You groan softly. This encouraging little sound.
"-fuck - sorry, I mean. Yeah, he, sometimes he'd make her walk around with his, ah, stuff inside. Down her fucking pants and, it's like, fucking disgusting, I swear-"
"And?" You breathe a heavy edged noise over the line.
Actually okay, so maybe this was more than she bargained for, maybe she bit off more than she can chew - maybe, she feels like her insides are collapsing; all the fire pooling around in her stomach and gathering into a melting sort of weightlessness.
"And it makes me feel fucking-"
"Fucking what."
"Why am I talking about this, why-"
"Talking to me? Fucking wet, Ryujin, answer the question."
She pants down at her phone and then turns her face into her forearm, rubbing and making sounds. She thinks about, oh, fucking Yuna and how she showed up to hang out once, with cum leaking down the crease of her inner thigh, smearing against her skin and down between her legs.
"Wet." She swallows. "How do I-"
"Say that you wish it was you," you tell her. "That you wanted that, to be fucked. To feel a cock inside."
Her head falls back. "That," she manages, "fucking, that."
You drawl so that the question might roll off, easy: "Is that the kind of girl you are? Told not to curse, not supposed to let anyone else play with you - you just need it, don't you? Do you need someone's cum? Just tell me."
"I think so, ah," and she stops moving her hand. "I think I'm gonna go now. This is fucking embarrassing, like. Okay, sorry."
"Don't hang up," you tell her, and the soft edge to it is one she really wants to indulge. "Don't," you repeat, a little louder.
You start talking, about the same sorts of things she's imagined herself: the sex and the sounds and what he can do to her. You build a slow and aching heat between her thighs that has her dripping through her underwear and grinding against her fingers. Telling her how she's the one that needs to be filled, needs a man who can wrap her legs around his waist, get to the deepest parts of her, the parts untouched and willing.
Ryujin gets that - she wonders, half out of it and stroking faster than she usually would be, how much of it has anything to do with who the voice is on the other end of the receiver, and how it could be what a desperate, pathetic, tired part of her has always wanted.
"Are you?" she asks, panting over the phone.
"Am I what?" you whisper back to her.
"Are you," and you hear how she inhales sharply through her nose, a desperate gasp leaving her lips on the exhale, "going to, um. Are you touching yourself right now?"
Your reply is immediate, and her eyes flutter and close the second you tell her exactly what she wants to hear:
"God, yes."
She drags her hand up the center of her body, runs her fingertips over her jaw and presses the heel of her wrist to her neck to feel her pulse slamming hard.
"I'm fucking throbbing, Ryujin; you sound gorgeous like this, like nothing I've ever heard, I'm stroking my cock just picturing you, please-"
"Tell me." She's mouthing into the center of her palm, saying the words, tasting salt and musk. "Fuck, ah," she babbles, "tell me what you would do with me."
"I'd get you on your knees," you tell her without hesitating for a beat.
"Fuck."
"I'd come up behind you and tell you not to be scared, baby. I wouldn't hurt you, I'd just touch you real gentle. Push my fingers past your tongue, slide a little down your throat."
"Uh huh," she moans, her head falling back and rolling, rocking against the mattress.
"Want you sucking on my fingers. Need your hands around my cock, or better, my balls, play with them. You're going to take those fingers - every finger I got, all five, yeah?- all ten of them," you joke, "and open up your tight cunt - like you are now, like such a good fucking girl-"
The girl fucking yelps. Just this honest sound of depravity; it's what she's paying you for. It's a silly line of bullshit, but it makes her bite hard and ache a little around her own knuckles and moan in her palm and dig her nails hard into her flesh. Her thumb fumbles across the top edge of her underwear and you pant again into her ear as if on cue, giving her a small bit of guidance that has her jolting in pleasure. She didn't know that was there, fuck, fuck-
"Like that, Ryujin. Breathe," and she does.
"Please," she whines, trying to find somewhere for her arm to settle, resting finally in her hair - setting the phone to speaker in a foolish moment of lapsed-judgment, just before it nearly clatters off the side of her bed.
Keep going - she's telling you over and over - keep going, and you’re picturing her there: eyes closed, legs spread wide, bent knees quivering and toes curling into the sheets. It doesn’t sound fake - you've heard a million of them, you've learned them in their different tones and accents and you can spot a faker a mile away. And the girl on the phone right now isn't pretending or thinking about whatever's happening somewhere else.
(You don't join in for everyone. You can't. It's an asinine consideration that you'd be rubbing your fist up and down your cock while it's sore and wanting - aching from the neglect or lack of rhythm. You have to remind yourself it's just a job, that the logistics just can't support such selflessness.
But then there's the very fucking premise.
That the girl on the other end of the line is inches from the goalposts, fingering her cunt and sighing into the throes of her first orgasm - first ever, because you did this, you brought her this far - you're the fucking culprit, and no matter how many girls, or boys-pretending-to-be-girls, how many people have gotten off with the help of your voice, your instruction, this one sets a different fucking precedent.
You're not lying when you say, "I'm rock fucking hard, Ryujin," or "there's precum all over my knuckles, baby."
Because there is, and the poor thing chokes out another desperate sound when you tell her.)
"I'm right there, ah, fuck, keep going-"
"I've got my hand around my shaft, just enough that I can fuck it, can't I? The head is getting slick - baby - and my palm is gliding nice and easy. Are you cumming, Ryujin? You better be, you better be cumming right now."
There's a heaving gasp and she calls out for you, babbling curses and "please" and "fuck" in alternating succession, with enough punctuation for you to have to let your lip slip under the hard bite of your front teeth. "Don't stop," she tells you, voice thready.
"You need this so bad."
"Yes," she gasps. "How would you-"
"How would I fuck you?" you finish her thought.
She waits a moment, sucking in shallow breaths and then replying weakly, "I really like... I like doggy."
"On your knees?"
"Yeah," she stammers, "I like when, like- ah, like, pulling my hair."
"Fuck, I love that," you say into her mewling. "Splayed out with your tits against a pillow and getting your pretty, little pussy pounded? I bet that'd feel so good, huh? Hands so rough on your hips, on your throat, squeezing your neck so you'll turn pink. Just to see you smile, I'd probably fucking let you take whatever you want."
You're met with a broken moan, a long string of syllables ending on a note that has your shoulders clenching and cock jumping in your grip.
Tense over the things you can't see: Ryujin biting down into the side of her hand, the other knocking painfully against the wooden side rail on her mattress, her thighs tightening and screaming and clamping around her wrist as she pulls weaker, wilder whimpers out of her chest each time her fingers drag across her slit and the sensitive curve of her swollen clit. She's dying, she thinks, she's going to fucking die - the in and out of her soaked pussy, through all that sticky, satiny skin, slick fingers diving in, twisting until there's nowhere for them to go.
No other recourse than to fuck in, fuck, fuck, like that, fucking god.
There's heavy silence on the line for god knows how long - well, you have to check the log. But for her, it feels like fucking forever. That was - that was it. It's so fucking mind-wracking how good it was, she can't quite wrap her brain around it. Nowhere near. She thinks she'll have a better idea after two rounds, definitely by four. She'll buy something, use the discount, go shopping - an orgasm just to make sure she's not bullshitting herself.
You clear your throat.
She moves sluggishly, away from the side and against the headboard - the heat still unbearably oppressive, her t-shirt clinging and sticking. "That," she stumbles through the afterglow.
"Do I need to apologize to you?" you ask lightly.
"What? Oh god, no - no way. No way. I just."
"Yes?"
"Like I didn't know it was this-"
"Did you just cum, Ryujin?"
She's laying there with the phone pressed to her brow. A hand palmed over her own racing pulse. The faint smell of her own cunt lingering around her face.
"I don't know," she tells you, and promptly hangs up.
-
The darkness in Ryujin's bedroom is punctuated only by the faint, hazy light streaming in from the hall, and her bedroom fan making its creaking little circles, as she waits in her post-nut-high for her breathing to normalize. Her mind is buzzing, and out of all this, she has a hell of a bill and a couple conclusions:
She's a coward and a pervert, but definitely, definitely bisexual.
Or, like. She's in some weird gray area between not liking whenever anyone buys her drinks, but also the girls at least let her dance a little close. That's a strange thing, isn't it? For how often her mouth does stupid shit - you think at least someone would figure it out for her.
But you, oh fuck. You-
She's fucking shaken up, for sure.
-
(It's a home office set-up, actually.
Your desk isn't organized; you're sure the photos on the wall are askew and the paint looks slightly worse for wear if you were to turn the lights on - which you never really do. There's an aging lamp tucked into the back corner, a bottle of scotch next to your handset that's closer to halfway empty than halfway full, and you can't stop imagining it.
Promise, This never happens.
You've got the name stuck to the roof of your mouth even though you know it's fake. Stuck with something so painfully abstract. Imagining this girl that is probably as brash and bawdy as her voice, or more exciting than either - maybe her hair is long enough to brush along her breasts. Or maybe it hangs just over her shoulders. God knows just how that would frame her features.
You can see it, really. You pump a handful of coconut oil into your palm and the details solidify so easily in your head: her pretty mouth, nose, the dimples in her cheeks - eyes glazed and sultry and gazing at you.
Smelling sweet, all the places you need, skin hot, clit swollen-
Just- fuck. Fuck.
Ryujin, huh, imagine that.
Ryujin.
And you jerk off right into the soft embrace of a tissue.)
-
A little more than a week later:
Ryujin's all wrapped up on the couch, with an arm cushioning her head and watching TV when there's a sudden commotion from the front door. Yuna - her friend, her very nice, very male friend who never shows up after midnight unless there's a promise of sex - comes bumbling into the room.
He has no regard for boundaries.
So,
Yuna starts to say, smug, from where the hallway becomes the living room, "Ryujin - look at us. Stuck on a Friday night. You gotta boyfriend or something?"
She's completely unfazed by this interaction. She's pretty sure he has his own key, so like, he should be used to it by now too.
"Kind of." She shuts off the TV to turn her attention towards the topic at hand. "Why?"
Yuna runs a hand through all her long, silky hair and gestures her cock-du-jour on over to the door of her room. "Waiting for a call, maybe." She waggles her eyebrows. "Are you any good, I mean, you never seem to..."
Annoying brat. 
Ryujin smacks the back of her neck and interrupts, "you gonna fuck him? Go ahead and fuck him, Yuna." She checks the lock. The kitchen. Gets up and tries to ignore the heat flaring behind her ears.
"We could pretend," Yuna muses, tugging the waistband of Ryujin's shorts around her fingers before she's out of arm's reach. The elastic flips back into her waist with a dull snap.
"Dumb idea. That's a dumb, dumb idea," she reasons, because she knows Yuna has no self control. None, and it's showing; the second her shoulders sag forward and her eyes dart, craving, Ryujin steps back in. "Don't be stupid."
Yuna's lips are tilted, playful. Ryujin wants to smack that look right off her face. Like she fucking deserves any kind of victory just because she found out she can fuck anyone she wants while lacking the self-awareness to somehow be contented with anyone. She's not going to call her a slut - out of a matter of principle - but god, does she fucking want to.
"Gotta get ready, is what you should do," Ryujin mumbles under her breath.
"Fine." Yuna shrugs and pecks an annoying kiss to Ryujin's temple on her way to the shower, waving a hand over her head with a casual, "If you want something, you've only got a half-hour."
Ryujin pushes her hair out of her face and does what she does best: overanalyze and overthink the situation.
Whatever. Yuna won't give it up regardless, not in any way she'd actually be able to enjoy. Her cheeks go a little redder while she pretends to not be considering it.
God, a threesome in total functional harmony however: her working her mouth on Yeji (Ryujin doesn't know why she's thinking about Yeji, but she is), Yeji working her mouth on her boyfriend, her boyfriend working his mouth on her -
That'd be something, she thinks. Like one of those Escher diagrams, but one where everyone cums at the end.
The thought makes Ryujin wet enough to squeeze her thighs together and stand up a little straighter.
Then she hears the showerhead turn on, and she wonders just why, exactly, Yuna is such a spoiled asshole.
-
Turns out,
The universe just has this habit of providing Ryujin with what she wants right alongside everything she doesn't.
She’s stretched out in her sweats, sat up at the top of her bed again and touching herself beneath the sheet in a pointless attempt to contain the mess. Fucking horny - it's honestly unbelievable - and her left hand's making lecherous, slick noises until it's absolutely gross. Until Ryujin's gasping and panting and sweating from the nape of her neck and the back of her knees.
All because Yuna's the loudest little-fucking-whore of a roommate anyone has ever heard.
She's moaning like she's getting fucking plowed into the next life. And apparently, the cock she's got in her cunt is fucking huge if those little murmuring whimpers are anything to go on. She keeps begging the guy, coy, for a kiss while she's probably folded up like a lawn chair in there, getting railed, and the fact that the boy keeps obliging is as admirable as it is kind of insulting.
"Goddamn," she thinks out loud, because the walls are paper-fucking-thin. The apartments in the area are built in an earthquake-safe way, which in reality, means they can either withstand a magnitude 6.0 and come out without any severe structural damages - or that it's so cheaply constructed the building will go down like a matchbox house before it stands a chance against a tremor of any significance.
They're easier to replace that way she’s told. And Ryujin's apartment is definitely of the latter; she can hear everything.
The skin on skin, their bodies sliding together in the slippery sheets. Her mouth smacking wet around his tongue as he bucks forward and asks her to do a hundred filthy things, asking her where it feels best - that sort of thing, which gets her wound and agitated and frustrated, and fucking horny as fuck. Ryujin's bent-inward and panting when he really gets to work - the creaks and groans, their mingled pants and the constant thudding and swaying of the headboard smacking into the wall.
She doesn't even need to put her ear to the partition like she's sixteen years old all over again, hoping to catch her old brother going at it while her mom was out. Trying to figure out this whole sex thing - what all the fuss was about.
Just the way Ryujin sighs is nothing short of despondent. Slightly pitiful.
And every tight circle she's running over clit feels so fucking good, until she realizes the room goes real quiet for a bit. The stillness - no slapping, no movement, just wet, panted-breaths and muffled speech. She nearly asks aloud what's wrong - but she hears it: Yuna's hushed but totally undeniable,
"Been so long- don't, don't- hold up," she croons in these high, sing-song little huffs. "That - uhn, ah - that's my - that's my good spot, there, keep - yes, harder!"
Ryujin slams her eyes closed, dropping down onto the mattress and wishing she'd slipped her hands into her sweats sooner. Fuck. And as Yuna's back starts banging against the wall - so rhythmic and fucking thorough - Ryujin can feel the heat curling behind the backs of her knees, radiating along her calf and reaching into the smalls of her feet. Fuck. Fuck, she doesn't even get to watch.
Right there. So good, please, so fucking good, is what Ryujin can’t not hear coming right through the drywall.
She’s three knuckles deep in her pussy, all stretched out, and she's practically drooling - "spread me, baby. Hold the, fuck, spread my lips open. See me- unh. Ah - see me? Please, do it-" - the boy groaning about it as he fucks her, and then, Yuna, needling him with a quiet, breathy, "harder, can't you?"
The answer seems to make Yuna squirm and scream.
And Ryujin's nearly rolling - rocking, fucking humping her own fingers because it's starting to ache a little, a cramping in her wrist and arm and jaw that she's trying really hard to ignore, rubbing and fingering and fucking herself closer, the heels of her feet sinking hard against the sheets, throbbing and aching around the flicks of her knuckles, harder, faster - faster -
"Fucking hell-" she seethes and stops moving all at once - because god, Yuna is un-fucking-believable.
The absolute bitch, she's doing it again: squealing and cursing and calling his name into her orgasm and just basking, it sounds like, right in it. Because she always does this, every single fucking time, she acts like it's the best feeling in the fucking world and she fucking loves everything, and that shit just - Ryujin grits her teeth and grimaces and pulls her slick fingers from her body - that just ruins it.
All that build-up and for what?
Fuck, Yuna really has the nerve to go there too. She's talking about sucking her own damn cunt or some bullshit-
Yeah, it's not fucking fair, Ryujin concedes.
Or maybe she's being punished. She could live with that, but god. The unfairness of it all. She tries, for a half a minute, to let her throbbing stop being a goddamn nuisance. But the noises coming from the other room are making her crankier, more angry, more irate - and definitely hornier than she ever really intended, even though she knows Yuna is thoroughly distracted in there.
Ryujin sits up a little straighter. Squares her shoulders, steadies herself and fishes around in her pockets with her uncoordinated, cum-coated hands until she finds her wallet, a credit card, her cell -
And there's an aching, a sore pulse of neglect between her legs; that's all too much. A quick peek down confirms that, yep, she's practically dripped right out of her shorts and even gotten a dark spot in the front of them. How great is that.
Yuna is over there, all, "thank you - ah - can you please do me a favor and fuck my mouth with your big, big, huge, fucking cock-" and this guy, he sounds so patient, telling her how he wants to do exactly that, but he wants to fill her tiny pussy up first, fuck her here, fuck her there, fuck a baby right into her. Wants to get his cum all over her face, smear her mouth and her throat and her cheeks - 
Ryujin inhales through her nose and holds, eyes falling closed in something between misery and anguish.
He's telling her, yeah, of course he'll fill up her throat - give her so much it's leaking out of her fucking nose - and Yuna sounds like she's moaning and garbling an objection to that last part - but it doesn't actually fucking matter.
"Geez," is Ryujin's quiet, little gasped-out response. He just fucking pounds her right back into place; her next orgasm. Fuck-
And there it is: the slew of moans that start back up and just keep on keeping on.
Shin Ryujin is going to lose her fucking mind.
-
Ryujin only lasts a handful more days before she calls again.
It’s another Wednesday night, if only to increase the odds that you’re working. Yeah, she could go with another guy, but another guy might not do everything you did, talking quietly and calmly - so composed while Ryujin was losing some part of her sanity to the thumb she pressed on her clit. 
No, it has to be you.
That's what Ryujin makes herself say when the operator apologizes and explains you're busy.
"Will he be working much longer? Please, I, um-"
"If you give me your number," the operator tells her, "I can add him as a preferred associate. You'll get him next time instead of going to the line."
Ryujin pauses, finger held to her chin. Will he know that? There's all this implication isn't there, that maybe he won't. Maybe you're popular - are you? It's a lot like texting someone for the very first time. And if you did - know, she means - would she be acting like a stalker? It would feel weird, probably, but no worse than some people do it already.
Oh god, this is kind of fucked up.
Maybe a little. Maybe.
Ryujin pauses, finger to her chin. Will he know that? There's all this implication, isn't there, or maybe he won't. Maybe you're popular - are you? It's a lot like texting someone you like-like for the very first time. And if you did - know, she means - would she be acting like a stalker? It would feel weird, probably, but no worse than some of things other people are undoubtedly doing with this service, Ryujin decides, and rattles off the digits so fast the operator asks for clarification.
"If your schedule doesn't open," the line says, "call back and leave a message with when."
Ryujin shrugs and says, "yeah, okay."
-
You make Ryujin sit through forty-five-fucking minutes of on-hold music - this barely audible synthetic noise that signals a connection is still there, truly a genre for no one - all before she just cuts the fucking line and lays down on the couch.
Okay.
Okay, fine.
Whatever.
-
(You are… going through the motions.
Some girl on the other line is barely holding it together; you can hear her thighs making slick noises. God. She sounds desperate, she's holding the phone all tight and saying your name. She's fucking babbling; it's not attractive, not while you're tilted back as far as your office chair will go and staring up in the ceiling.
You're bored, mostly.
"Please, please, I'm-"
"Going to cum, I know, princess." She asked you to call her that. "Mouth all open? Can't help it? Just need to lick it nice and fast?"
The answer comes all choppy: "I can't, ah, a-ah-nymore, no, I, can't, need-"
"Do you have any idea? How hard I'm fucking stroking my cock right now? Sitting right in my lap. Jerking it right for you," you say, and then she makes an embarrassingly wet noise, gasping through a choked whine, "so I'm ready to give you what you really fucking need."
"Yes," she chokes. "There - um, please, I just-"
"The biggest fucking load," you tell her. She has no idea, really, that you've got one hand on the receiver, the other just pinching the bridge of your nose - neither of which are you jerking the cum out of your cock and balls like a fucking hydrant as you’d described. What she doesn't know won't hurt her, and you keep your face turned to the side as she starts screaming. As it starts running into one noise that lasts forever - so unbearable that, this time, you consider going out to the bathroom to grab a glass of water and a handful of painkillers. "Need it deep. Let me pour it in, yeah?"
"Yes," she gasps again, heard on this distant frequency because, yes, yes, you've plugged your ear with a finger.
"That'll satisfy you. C'mon, now, princess - give it right up," you tell her, but your eyes are a little dull when her moan turns out all-gagging and twitchy and spasming through it, until finally:
"Ugh."
You wait a moment for the gasping and hitching to finish.
"Good girl," is your distant reply, followed by a polite, perfunctory, "call back anytime.")
-
Ryujin feels like she's in grade eleven again as she stares at her phone. Boys. Drama. Girls. The drama.
The overanalyzing, the wondering, the hesitating. Fuck. She wishes she knew a way to change this, because she doesn't feel particularly mature and is somehow reduced to this girl, this idiot sitting here all embarrassed and staring and moping about a thousand different calamities at once.
She's looking right at the lock screen: the wallpaper of her and Yeji and Chaeryeong out getting coffee on a random Sunday, all bundled up. Winter. Like three, four years ago, maybe.
Ryujin looks like shit, it's funny.
But Yeji -
How she can make the winter pallor look good is beyond Ryujin's understanding. It's unfair. All the things are. Her brain is back and forth and spinning, spinning like the hands on the old clock hung up on the wall in the kitchen. So stuck on what's not quite normal. Stuck on what doesn't fucking matter - who even fucking cares who the fuck she's attracted to?
She feels it between her legs.
Has been for like a month, or longer, without an outlet. Without anything to give her the hint that maybe she can get back to it - the right it.
She doesn't need to call, she tells herself. She's not some weirdo who's sitting on this for days just in the hopes that her boyfriend is having a bad week with work or whatever. It's only Wednesday, technically. Still way early. Just another few days, she reasons, another few hours - what does it matter?
Wednesday. She can feel the word settle inside of her.
Though only once her bottom lip is chewed to hell, does she pick up her phone and decide she will.
-
(You're in your bedroom this time around, finishing up your own weekday workout - on the bike, fifteen-second sprints - when your phone goes off. A simple dinging. Very unassuming.
The operator comes in with a cool, level, "line two, callback."
Then there's nothing but silence for a few beats.
You towel some of the sweat off your face. It's warm - your skin, flushed. Bouncing your phone in your palm. The same feeling that's been tugging at your throat for the past two weeks starts to flare and swell.
Not quite a hope, not quite expectation: just something close.
"Are they still there?"
The operator confirms. "Shall I put them through?")
-
Ryujin fumbles in her own rush of bravado, hands pressing against the fronts of her thighs in an unflattering, nervous little gesture as the connection clicks and picks up.
"This is him," comes your voice, a little husky and raspy from all the day-to-day talk, but even and easygoing and maybe - just maybe - something she can hang on to. Ryujin gives an acknowledging "Mmmn," like the phone call isn't causing her major inner-turmoil.
"Right, ah." You sound kind of, dare she say, nervous yourself. You clear your throat into the line and ask, "what brings you here, stranger?"
Ryujin pauses at this; the red in her ears reaches her fucking jaw. Stranger. Jesus christ, okay, okay-
She laughs. Stops immediately at how self-conscious she sounds. Clears her throat and tucks some of her hair back - settles herself into it like her life hangs in the balance. "I'm here to get my rocks off."
"It's not usually my place to say," you begin in earnest, "but if you're anything like me, and this is gonna sound completely off-the-cusp, but those two weeks really seem to build up, don't they?"
God.
She pulls her sock off her ankle. There's eczema on her heel, and it's the kind of thing she can imagine Yeji telling her to not scratch - that she's going to fuck up her skin. It's funny the stupid fucking things she can remember and all the things she forgets. Like just now, with your voice in her ear, a little unsure in a way that says you've got other, much more important things you should be doing. But you're here with her.
With Ryujin.
God. She might hate herself a little.
"Um," is how she finds her bearings. "Actually."
"It's a joke. Not that- I mean." She hears some rustling - assumes it's coming through the ear piece. There's an abrupt slamming on her side of the line and it seems like the worst kind of deja-fucking-vu. Her neighbors. She forgets it's even this late into the evening. That other people don't have to work so hard in their free-time.
"Maybe this isn't a good night," she says, not so much as thinking the words.
"What?" you ask. Then it dawns on you. "No, no. If you're there, I'm here." You clear your throat. "Besides, there's nobody I'd rather hear from than a woman so desperate she's signed onto my frequent flier's club."
She stops chewing the insides of her cheeks long enough to give you a tired, irritated sound. "Whatever."
And you nearly choke trying not to laugh.
"I don't, um-"
"What, do I have a nice voice?" You laugh quietly.
Under normal circumstances, that wry edge, the bit of try-hard-humor would have her rolling her fucking eyes clean out of their sockets. So when instead she opens her mouth and a fatal-fucked-flirty-feminine, stop, comes out, the vowel pulled long like a plea or a request - well, Ryujin's forehead drops against her bedspread in immediate regret.
You seem startled by it too, going quiet for a second.
"I-I'm-"
"Cute," you decide.
Her ears are red-hot and her cheeks have to be pinking and god, she hates this. That she's hearing this so soon, and it's making her brain hazy and soft and stuttering through, um's and yeah, well, um's. A part of her can't believe she's paying for this, and then, at the same time, she can't believe she's not actually putting cash down for more right this second.
Because it feels -
Like maybe -
Her shoulders rise. She wants this to be quick; she hates this feeling of embarrassment creeping its way in and grabbing onto her with both hands, like this weird, pseudo-affection. She's a grown fucking woman and here she is, letting all her guard down for someone she doesn't even fucking know.
You can feel the tension, hear it. Your lips purse. You try for something easy.
"Go on and give me the details, Ryujin."
Before you'd even picked up, she'd already half-undone her shirt, the flaps of the collar hanging loose with her hands gently petting her ribcage - so easily giving and pliant that there's a good portion of her, in spite of the doubt, in spite of what seems completely illogical about all this, that has her realizing maybe she wants this more than she can possibly understand.
God, she feels like a fucking fool.
"It's pretty boring."
"Not to me. I've spent the last few weeks talking to a bunch of assholes who don't appreciate what they got in the first place," you reply. She imagines you're a little playful about it. Wonders, momentarily, how good that smirk looks - if your eyebrows are lifting like you've been teasing her since day one. Fuck. 
“Your operator is a total asshole too, by the way."
"Don't say that," is Ryujin's shy reply, practically moaned out. "You sound like someone I'd absolutely fucking hate, jesus, stop that."
"Just because you don't get on with someone, doesn't mean they can't get you off."
"Smooth, or something."
"I'm taking a break, relaxing a little, enjoying an overrated TV show or whatever this is - not really minding my business," you say, but your smile is so audible it's fucking offensive. And she's - she's maybe, definitely into that. Like the fucking embarrassment in this is turning her on. Ryujin puts the tip of her finger in the waist of her shorts, experimentally, gently, this small brush and press to her sensitive lower stomach. And it's true. All she hears is her own breathing in the receiver, a bit labored over the slightest, least indecent touch. It's amazing, how much her body can want even when her head can't seem to catch up.
"What do you like?" she asks. “You’re a person, working bits and all, something’s gotta get you all worked up and flustered, no?”
"Will you believe me if I tell you this is my absolute favorite?"
"Do you always dodge the question?"
"It's just like a courtesy," you clarify, "it's not personal."
"Now I sound like a desperate pervert."
"On the contrary," is your warm, buttery reply, and it is fucking aggravating just how well this works on her. "I think there are much better things people can say about you."
God, that - the thought, the possibility of something about her that has nothing to do with how 'thick' or 'thin' her thighs are, or the silhouette of her ass in safety shorts, or how her voice makes guys want to ask if they can take her home and fuck the answers from her, or any of that; it's kind of liberating, just a tiny bit. That it can be a good thing for some reason. God.
Ryujin rubs herself. "Yeah, well."
She wants it all the same and says nothing, shifting a little until her hips tilt slightly upwards, letting her pull at the drawstring of her shorts, loosening the grip. She's already kind of feeling woozy in all the best ways, soft and feminine in how she slides her hand underneath her shorts. Over panties first, with no clear idea if you can tell and honestly, too distracted to wonder about that, if she should care or not, too caught up with her fingertips over the raised seam in her underwear - where the fabric's wet from her.
A shush comes into the line when Ryujin swallows.
The ache between her legs grows louder.
"You still there, Ryujin?"
"Of course," and then, she finds a little more reassured finality: "fuck, yeah, fuck. Please, I..."
"Ryujin," you say with all the calm and control in the world, "talk to me."
-
(So - truthfully, honestly, factually - you are a total wreck.
You're sitting there in a heap of bedsheets and a cold sweat when Ryujin finally mutters into the silence, "thanks, for that, I, uh- that felt really good, exactly what I needed," and hangs up before you can ask about her day or comment on the weather or suggest calling back tomorrow.
She is just perfect, the way she lets a small "I..." slip when she's close. Perfect, how she groans her little broken, satisfied sigh of a yes, her last, fleeting exhale just a sweet, high, barely there please, her body tensing with every little shudder and moan and pant. How the pace goes fast and then slow - like she's gotta think it out a second, her own fingers bringing her closer and closer until there's nothing but a flurry of movement and ragged breaths - an enthusiastic little mmph noise - followed by Ryujin's wet and slick little laugh that sounds like relief.
Like you did something to help, like she needed you and wanted you.
There's cum sticking all up your torso and along your wrist, the inside of your thigh - everywhere you could manage, frankly - and, shit, it's not fair, you realize:
She can find you, whenever she needs you.
And you -
You're just sitting here. Nowhere near sure she'll even call again.)
-
There's a sizable difference between being lonely and being alone, Ryujin thinks, running the cloth under the stream of the shower and then pressing it damp against her throat, wiping at the backs of her knees.
Lonely means that something's missing - it's something she feels when she catches a glance at the handsome arm reached around Chaeryeong's waist, the way she dances so close to someone she just met, or whenever she tells her that she's thinking about, maybe, probably, definitely, absolutely going home with him if her friends don't stop her from leaving. God, her smile is always so cute when he's near. When someone's calling her over for drinks - hips sashaying like she doesn't know the whole bar is staring at the creases where her thighs flare into her ass - because he gave her a look from across the room, and she's swaying from drink to drink.
Like, of course, they're fucking; it's a known, unsaid thing.
She knows it, he knows it. Chaeryeong fucking owns it.
Alone however, is just what it says on the tin.
That's something else Ryujin has yet to learn - that everyone loves differently, cares for different things. Yuna is still single after all, and she can never shake the feeling that it's simply to spite her for some perceived slight or another; Yuna can't live without company, no matter how brief or short or meaningless, so perhaps it's better she never catches on or finds anyone worth keeping around.
And Yeji?
Ryujin sighs, rakes the comb through her wet hair.
The showerhead is running hot between Ryujin's fingers, and the water coming off of her skin turns to steam instantly, filling the bathroom with a permanent cloud, stuck in flux - rising towards the ceiling. She passes her fingers under it, watches the flow, a quiet hm escaping the back of her throat - and she considers the way it feels beating against her throat and chest.
Down the concave curve of her stomach. How it burns red right over her thighs. The pressure slips and sinks low, lower - and when she puts a palm out for a little stability, her left leg can't help but buckle just so, lifting itself out and off to the side. So she stands, toes pointing against the shower floor, face first into her arm against the cool tile.
Ryujin sees where the rivulets of water have gathered above her clavicle - feels them trail down over the tightness in her breasts and between. A couple images pass through her mind at once - thoughts of fingers trailing a line back up the center of her body and a gentle tap against her chin, turning her face to some perfect all-consuming kiss - a hand squeezing at her calf, rubbing her muscles gently - Yeji smiling into the crook of her neck, the grasp on her hip, wrist flexing. Her back bowed and fingers, broad and experienced -
"Don't need you," Ryujin quietly says to nobody, which -
You're doing so well, Ryujin hears back in her imagination, you're so beautiful, you can keep this up, I know you can. I bet it feels good, doesn't it? Just let go and I'll...
Ryujin whimpers out. She can feel that line deep inside her going taut, buckling in her core, the reverberations down to her wrists and fingertips and toes. If she didn't have the wall in front of her, she knows she'd be on her knees - kneeling to the hot water pulsing around the knots of nerves right behind her clit. The pressure hitting her like the crack of a whip.
"Fuck me," she says to no one, gasping in that way you only can when no one is listening.
Yeji's smile is what's gotten her this close so many times, the smell of the ends of her hair tickling Ryujin's nose. Hell, she can't stop thinking about the way her nose crinkles or her dimples flare just when she finds Ryujin's name in her mouth.
It's not fair.
She's so close to cumming and letting whatever happens happen. The slick of her release pouring right out into the drain of the shower, washed away with the excess. So when her whole hand shifts and catches in just the right, delicious, frustrating way, Ryujin inhales so deep through the end of the sentence that, as a result, her knees wobble.
She feels like fucking crying.
It's that sweet little lilt in Yeji's voice, saying things like: "It's alright. I promise you can keep this up a little longer." And "Oh, god, baby." And, at worst, the way her voice shakes with a "come here, honey. Let me-"
Ryujin has to catch herself when her footing slips a little from under her. Then, your voice, coming in distant at first, grows louder, clearer. Into something catastrophic, right against her throat, like it knows the very inside-and-out of her, "go on. Fuck, please, cum all over me, baby - show me a face no one else gets to see."
And for the first time,
Ryujin gets herself off. Alone.
She moans and sighs out. Gasps, "there you go-" and whispers an, "ah, jesus." She manages the most silent, the least decipherable, fuck, as it leaves her mouth like a prayer. Her left knee twitches, body curling into itself, and her hand moves - fingers closing and her eyes clenched shut, a wave, cresting - she just-
Collapses.
Wanting: Yeji, sure - and she came - but the only thing she can really wrap her head around is the truth that she's so, utterly fucked.
-
"Are you sure there's no one you can bring?" Yeji asks in the middle of slapping the ever-loving shit out of a coffee maker that has, for as far as anyone can remember, never worked.
"Uh," is Ryujin's inconvenienced reaction, the tips of her fingers idly sorting through her credit card statements, which a more-sober, less-horny version of herself is a little out of sorts over. "I'm not sure there's anyone I'd want to bring."
"Uh huh," Yeji replies.
She pauses and rests the bottom edge of the coffee maker on the edge of the kitchen counter, stopping herself mid-smack - leaning away to try and give the stupid thing a once-over.
"Who the hell says it's got to be someone you wanna make babies with? Maybe it's just someone you'd think would look good beside you, smiling at the cameras with. Or."
"Or."
Yeji's lips tilt. "Or someone you wouldn't mind screwing in the bathroom."
Ryujin spins the pen in her fingers and gives Yeji a look that says back off and can you chill out already, in the sort of way it takes years to ferment - the silent understandings, the good-natured naggings, the good-fucking-luck-with-that-buddy's. Yeji knows she's getting on Ryujin's nerves. Knows that has never stopped her before.
"In my defense," Yeji clarifies, "I can count at least a hundred people that would crawl over broken glass to sleep with you and, uh-" She knocks the coffee maker off of its stand and holds it gingerly to her chest like some child, motherly. "-I don't wanna take a bullet for your unintentional chastity, Shin Ryujin."
"First of all, don’t pretend you’re doing me a favor here," she replies. "Second-"
"Can't hurt just asking, right? I could set you up, you know, someone you've never even met - no pre-burnt bridges to maneuver."
There’s a world, and Ryujin imagines it for all of a second, where she stands up and grabs hold of Yeji by her cute little ponytail - if nothing else, just to stop the way it bounces every time she steps - and maybe, she also kisses her on the mouth so hard she stumbles. Or perhaps she could pull that ribbon free of its holdings and unravel it down against Yeji's jaw. Pull a whimper, a tiny little ah that says this was inevitable. Maybe they crash onto her bed. Maybe she gets her fingers sticky with how soaked through the cotton of Yeji's shorts have gotten in those short, heated moments - what a world that would be.
"One of what's-his-name's friends? I’m assuming."
Yeji looks annoyed and proud and beautiful; all at once.
"Yes, and what's-his-name's pillow talk is exceedingly whiny about how my best friend is so incredibly standoffish and abrasive and-"
"Okay. I'll go." Anything to stop the image of Yeji with the comforter pulled up to her tits and hair splayed all over the place; red and flushed. Her lips curling with the curve of the sheets and god -
"Just for an hour?" Ryujin asks.
Yeji finally places the coffee maker back onto its stand.
"I mean, nothing much happens an hour into a birthday party," Yeji reassures. "It'll be fun."
"Uh-huh."
"Trust me."
Ryujin wonders just how far Yeji could go - if she knows that she can snap her fingers together, and Ryujin will be there: ready to do anything.
-
Ryujin is trying to go to sleep, is how she'll explain it if anyone asks. Though she prays to god no one ever will.
She tries books. And she tries scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. And there's this one guy she kinda-sorta-dated's updates: photos of a vacation to Boracay, which seems nice; his chest is a little more defined, more chiseled than when she was seventeen and kind of fumbling her way around a college boy and his stupid fucking preoccupation with who should be paying for drinks at whatever run down establishment was his pick of the night. Ryujin makes a face at the screen, pursing her lips; there's a girl in the photo - she looks too young for how her ass is falling out the one-piece. To the extent that she makes sure to send an unsolicited meme she's tagged herself in - like "here is my past and here are his balls", and gets a block and a report as a thank you.
It makes her feel good. That's what's most important.
And then, with little other distraction and a decent lack of luck, she picks up the phone.
It rings for a while before the operator comes in and says, "You're at number nine."
"What?"
"The queue. This call has you at number nine."
Ryujin slowly leans up from the pillows and squints into her bedroom.
"Huh."
"Would you still like to be connected, miss?
Ryujin thinks it over for a moment. Of course you're popular, a part of her mind comments, because you've got a voice like gravel-slung honey-gold. She's imagining eight other girls just like her, laying in their bed, panties on their ankles and thumbs covered with spit. All desperate for you. All curled up - one right after the other - with no fucking idea.
"Miss," the operator comes back with.
The line goes quiet - a few beats, but not too uncomfortable a silence. Then she gets a soft little exhale out, saying, "can I leave a callback number?"
"If you like." The operator considers the idea. "I can’t promise whether he’ll call you.”
“No, yeah.” Ryujin curls an arm under her chest and plays a finger against the swell of her breast through her night shirt. Gets lost in her own consideration. “Don't think he would anyway."
-
A new day is defined by new possibilities, or something or another you read once stitched into a frame; Something you muse over the rim of your coffee, nose-deep in the laptop at the kitchen counter top.
Last night ended a bit unexpectedly - this not considering the couple's awkward fight which took up two-thirds of the evening. Or the girlfriend-slash-fiancée of that guy, which somehow led you to wonder just how old was too old. But as you were logging your final client session of the night a ping came through the employee portal and let you know that someone had left their number with the operator in the hopes you'd call.
You swig back the rest of your coffee, roll your shoulders and shrug. Oh, there are at least a million reasons not to call a number that randomly, offhandedly arrives in the middle of the night and gets patched through a phonesex hot line under the cover of darkness.
The same number could be out there, defacing the wall of a truck stop bathroom, or inked into the skin of a squat prison convict who's got a brow like the horizon. Maybe, it belongs to that married business man that took your personal phone number as his private line and spent all the time bragging how he was going to quit his wife and make a run for it with you - just you - even though you'd rather stab him with a fork than be involved with that kind of psychopathy and are honestly just looking for that extra bump in commissions every time his wife calls to ask the exact same thing.
Your clients call. You talk.
You take the cash.
The point is: there's more fucking deviants out there than there are stars in the sky. You would know; you talk to a new handful every goddamn day.
Yet it doesn't really matter. You're gonna do it. Because you're feeling restless. Because - and it sounds insane - there's at least some probability, no matter how remote, that you will pick up that receiver and punch in a number and the line will connect with the girl who's been on your mind almost constantly for the better half of two months. That you might listen to the dial tone turn into her answering with a genuinely indifferent, "this is Ryujin," or whatever her name actually is -
You're living in a pipe dream. You're probably reaching, actually. And all you know about this woman, is, what? What does it really, factually, truly amount to, the amount you feel you've come to know about her.
You know more about how she prefers to methodically, meticulously begin, then draw out, and finally end a blowjob to someone that ain't you than you do about any detail in her life story, frankly. You're reaching, and you know it.
You pick up the phone and dial.
-
(It goes straight to voicemail, and get this: that’s her real fucking name.)
-
Yuna has the audacity to ask, as she slides into the booth, "who do you keep texting?"
Ryujin's eyebrow arches.
The younger girl nods towards where Ryujin's thumbs are practically flying over the keyboard.
"No one." Ryujin puts the phone on her lap and crosses her arms over her chest. Then the words seem to echo through the inside of her skull, so she shakes her head a little, in emphasis. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."
She's right though - and maybe that's the problem. Maybe that's why it's hard to answer.
Chaeryeong washes the shot of whisky down with a swallow of lemon-lime. Her eyes slide open to Ryujin as she wipes at her bottom lip. Then she spikes a finger into Ryujin's ribs.
"Spill."
It's a dangerous order, and she doesn't realize it at first. Chaeryeong's bad ideas have an annoying habit of flinging themselves on Ryujin, like a bomb dropped at low altitude - sudden, quick, and more than enough to shake everything up. Chaeryeong will make Ryujin go out dancing - and then she'll lose her clutch purse. Chaeryeong will remember she started the evening with a scarf - so they need to walk out a whole block or two to find it.
More importantly: Chaeryeong is not a great drunk.
So, of course she spills. She relays her findings, carefully and as deliberately as she can muster.
"Does he have a nice voice?" Chaeryeong asks.
"It's kind of deep?”
Chaeryeong snorts. Apologizes immediately.
"Not... deep. Sultry. I guess. Smooth, easy to hear." Ryujin tells the two across the table.
Yuna whistles low. "Romantic as shit."
“Fuck, I don’t know. In, like a sexy sort of way." Ryujin raises both palms in a vague gesture. She clears her throat at the two pairs of eyes staring back at her as though the words coming out of her mouth belonged to a foreign language. "Uh. Sort of raspy, or something, sometimes, like he's... on the phone a lot, and you know," Ryujin flushes, suddenly caught and wondering where all the confidence went, "yeah."
Yuna's leaning forward, chin in her palm. "I'm having a hard time believing texting is a sort of standard operating procedure."
"Well try a little harder," Ryujin snaps, eyes finding Yuna's and making herself fucking clear.
Chaeryeong has this look about her, she's trying to keep it all in, but then there's her eyes, cinched at the corners and dead-fucking-giveaways. She puts an arm against the table and points at Ryujin with an up-reaching thumb. "This is the cutest shit, like ever, and you two are texting like actual lovers instead of two, apparently rando-stranger fuck buddies, or whatever."
Yuna - for whatever reason - feels at liberty to throw gasoline on the fire. "Does that mean you think he's going to get jealous if you bring some dude along to Lia's birthday?"
Ryujin sucks in a breath; the fact that he'd never - well.
"Ryujin's in love," Yuna adds for dramatic effect, for the sake of being the worst fucking person. She can be so fucking petty. It's a side of her no one ever sees, because she's just so sweet all the time. Like right now, she's doing that smile-smirk thing that gets Chaeryeong giggling against her hand and then coughing into it a second later.
"Jesus christ," Ryujin starts gathering her jacket and purse. "He's- not- this is- God, I'm done." She slips her shoulder under the strap. "Thanks for listening to me sound like a teenager."
"Isn't that just normal for you," Yuna quips back, pulling at her straw until there's only air rushing through the bend of it. "Where are you going?"
"I can't stay here," Ryujin says as if it's obvious, as well as her point, the argument she's trying to make. "Besides, Yeji is gonna want me to get my dress and shit all sorted out."
"Don't fall in love with one of the robot voices at the cross-walk on your way home, or anything!" Yuna laughs out, giving a flippant wave goodbye.
Ryujin lets her eyes roll because sometimes, she hates her friends.
-
It still throws you for a loop whenever Ryujin pings your phone with a text that says something like:
have you jerked yourself off to exhaustion or is there one more in you for someone like me?
Or,
my roommate is getting pounded through the springs of her mattress, wanna see if you can hear it?
Or,
are you free? I really fucking need to cum. bad.
Each text is something you tuck into yourself. Save and mark and spend all your time in those long-form responses imagining how her face looked when her brain typed out the words for you. You wonder if she's sighing through her fingers or hiding her lips behind a pillow while the heat coils in the pits of her hips.
As time goes by, Ryujin slips a little more. From one text about whatever book or series she was rereading last and another about the sadism of politicians and how people are more likely to agree with what they've heard someone else say than the facts of a given subject, to texts with a few scattered thoughts to strings of sexting that has you cumming into the palm of your hand and through your sheets and in the middle of a dream in which there's no clothes and a pretty fucking filthy proposition.
"How have you been lately," you decide, and consider, briefly, the very strong likelihood this call is gonna send her right through the goddamn roof.
When Ryujin eventually finds herself able to get out: "fine," there's a tell-tale pause, then an even longer pause, that implies she'd definitely rather say anything else. Then she kind of stutters a, "pretty good. Not too bad. All that stuff, I suppose."
And not to say any part of this has felt like routine. Both of you breathing into the end of a telephone and letting your eyes clench tight while you cum all over yourself - imagining everything she told you she wanted you to do to her, how it'd all go: "fucking with my arms grappled behind my back," she'd hum, "head pushed into the bedsheets, you're smothering me, ah- I'd let you cum wherever the fuck you like, but please-" or maybe a bit simpler: "so my thighs are straddling your face?" is about the gist.
A second goes by, another, a third.
"Hang on," you end up having to tell her sometimes, "I need a fucking towel-"
"You really are, huh, jerking off with me- I get you that hot, is what you're telling me? Or is just too much imagining how you'd fuck your way right into my guts through my pretty little pussy? Ah, jesus," the cadence of her voice climbs high before ending up back where it belongs, "Jesus, fuck."
"Can you imagine," is how it'd start, "how good it'd feel? My pussy, or- anywhere, everywhere. I think you'd ruin me for anyone else - you- with how, god-"
You can hear Ryujin shift on the sheets, licking at her bottom lip. Silently cumming. Cumming for you.
"Okay."
"Okay what," Ryujin quietly says back.
The gears turning.
You press your hand into the side of your neck. "Fuck me. Now, in a second. Tell me the last fucking thing in the world you want me to be or do and-"
"Wait."
There's this half-breath. This hmm that almost trips off Ryujin's tongue. Her eyes squinting open to a new thought. You think she's about to be sly. About to surprise you with an offhand fuck yes I'd ride that face like a bus seat; that she might come back with, yes I'll put you right in the middle of the best part of me, god you'll love it, and I promise not to make you cum if you're nice enough not to let your hands wander. But.
It's funny how things are -
"I have a confession," she says, matter-of-factly.
That's not entirely unusual. You've had more of those come through your line in a year than a confessional grate might get in a lifetime. So it doesn't sound like something special to you; Ryujin and you are in this candid don't-ask-don't-tell in regards to payments and the exchange of goods and services, but here you are, still using lines and bits. Practiced.
"In the name of the father, and of the son, and-"
"Funny." Ryujin gets the hint to backtrack. "Uhm, I mean. Remember the roommate I was telling you about?"
You hum a, "maybe."
"Uh," and now the hushed voice from her throat sounds distant, suddenly out of the scope of the receiver, "can I be totally, honestly- just really, extremely honest here, are you- or?"
You stop thinking about the ebbs and flows of her voice, how it dips down then arches up a little. Because now her voice has become something that is nervous, bordering on uneasy. So you stop, take stock and hold on. You weren't expecting a voice of worry or tension, or not at least while she wasn't thrown back into her bed and rubbing furiously at the ache between her legs.
"Yeah, of course," you offer her up.
"This is so embarrassing," she's saying, and some part of you feels ready to sink - you haven't the faintest idea for what, but there is something. Your chest clenches.
You can't help the worry and reply: "Okay, um. I mean- yeah. Me too, I can admit I feel a bit- and you can, y'know, be a little-"
"I'm not straight," she says finally, with a little quiver of her voice right at the tail end.
A blink comes, another - there's nothing coming out of you and you have no idea why that should be at all difficult, so the silence grows long. A new sort of awkward; the kind that you find out isn't just the rush of cum cooling in a pair of sweat-damp underwear. No - this is embarrassment, the kind that taints you.
"What?" You exhale a strained laugh, almost too-bright. "Are you- is this some sort of-?"
"Nope, no, this is crazy, sorry." She laughs. "Sorry."
"You certainly had me fooled." You sit up straighter in your bed, resting elbows on your knees. The moon is filtering through the windowsill and bathing the room in blue - casting light all the wrong ways. Making your own heart beat just a little too fast. "Fuck, um. Can I ask a personal question?"
"Sure." Her voice sounds uncharacteristically soft.
"What are you into?" and you as soon as you ask, you're laughing - because you've heard Ryujin wax lyrical for weeks, pontificate about every manner and way she'd take a cock between her hands, lips, fingers. Every. Single. Place, she wants one in - and now you can't believe this is what you went with: "I mean, like girls?"
"It's probably safe to assume I have some, y'know- degree of- yeah."
You chuckle a bit. The stiffness in your shoulders settling out.
"I've been in love, I realize - boy, with my roommate - for a while."
It's said with a sad laugh - as if this were a little shameful. Some deep, dark secret no one could ever be privy to; some stain on her soul that might wash out only after one final scrubbing with dish detergent and the cruelest bristles. A thing that keeps her up at night -
“Not the roommate, by the way, who we listen to get fucking railed like she’s on-demand pornography every weekend. Just to be clear."
"Good, jesus, that'd be fucking something."
Ryujin sounds more cheerful when her voice comes back through the line, "right?"
You wipe the perspiration of your top lip. You laugh nervously at this girl admitting to being in love over the phone - a stranger, truly, in all ways - to some fucked up audio-fetish sex line personality. And now - the fuck's wrong with you?
"Are you mad?" she asks, and some part of you is wrung. A small string of tension twisting so hard inside your gut, you're losing touch.
"No," you let her know. "No, not at all."
And that is honest. This is honest. There's this itching little scratch all over the insides of your skin that seems intent on driving a fucking wedge. Right at the center of your chest, tearing you apart. It feels as you've lost - not an object, not a material. Not an idea, nor a concept - but a feeling, that for once, was distinctly, overwhelmingly yours, without your wanting, or permission, or comprehension.
Ryujin sighs, this elongated relief coming in. She sinks back against the headboard.
She tells you everything. How Yeji smiles, and it's like the whole fucking room has gone up in lights, just from her and her alone. How there is nothing that she'd rather spend all her days around. She talks and you sit there, silent and listening. She talks about her. Her name and everything Yeji does and everything she wants.
The more you listen, you realize it's all real; she's not confused, or mistaken, or out to play a game or convince herself of something she believes is inherently untrue. She's not frustrated, or longing. She doesn't have this stomach-rolling pit of anxiety digging a cavern at her center because she just can't go through the rest of her life, living a life like everyone else. Not ever.
Because, all you really notice is-
She loves Yeji. The quiet kind. And she's sitting there, legs curled under her ass, crying. Not sad, or frightened, or wounded, just this beautiful sort of awed: it's the kind that only someone who is too inexperienced at crying should have. Where you just-
Look away.
"I'm not taking my phone into the bath with me," is the last thing she says to you, tears flooding out in her last couple words, before you can only offer her a meek: "anytime, Ryujin, I'm here."
-
(Four, five weeks go by in the blink of an eye. A month where you figure it's best to let her text or call or make it clear she wants your voice.
She never does.)
-
Lia is taking her sweet time to apply concealer over the cut Ryujin earned herself trying to get a stupid thing off a shelf - that's how low and unreasonable her tolerance for anything mildly inconvenient is.
"That fucking hurts," Ryujin tells her, wincing.
Lia ignores her.
She keeps on dabbing at the spot on her temple with the makeup brush until there isn't any trace of bruising, or where the jagged scar of a cut ends and skin begins, not anymore. At this point, she has gotten better, has developed a kind of surgeon's eye: zeroing in and unblinking, until every inch of damage is looking like Ryujin did when she was brought into this world -
(which is not perfect, but what it ought to look like, all things considered.)
Lia holds her hands in place on either side of Ryujin's head. "Stay."
It takes less than five minutes, and during those, Yuna just offers from around the bathroom door, "Ryujin, sweetheart, you’re looking hot tonight."
There's nothing more Ryujin wants to do than set the girl straight - the girl can't not keep a chirp to herself, for once in her fucking life. Because this flimsy slip of a dress around her middle feels too tight, the air choked out of her lungs if she shifts her weight onto the wrong foot. The hem rides way too fucking high up her thighs. So, if anyone didn't want a good long look at her ass tonight, they better come up with a plan B if she has to so much as approach a staircase.
"Have I ever not," she bites.
Yuna snorts.
And luckily for Ryujin, Lia feels the same way:
"Yuna, would it kill you to find something productive to do with your time?"
Yuna opens her mouth like she has something to say (she usually does) before retreating further away, the edge of her hair disappearing around the doorway. Then Ryujin's grinning - eyes taking in how Lia glowers a bit back, silently judging the stupidity in Ryujin's expression and also, admiring how good the girl looks. "Not bad, though, really."
Lia tells her with an underhanded wave of the brush and a wink: "historically, you do always get laid on my birthday, remember?"
Ryujin jerks a little, and the scar above her eye throbs into Lia's thumb. "Thanks?"
-
The party is miserable, but it's not Lia's fault. It's not really Yeji's fault either. They tried, that's really all she can say for them - her and her permanent-plus-one whose face Ryujin wants to both claw at and kiss until it’s swollen-
What she really can't wrap her mind around, though, is the guy sitting right fucking beside her. The idiot.
"Really, I'm telling you," her date - who is about 3.5 out of five stars at best and not so much handsome or hot as he is 'okay in a pinch' - grins up at her with the smarmiest of smiles, "if you'd just have taken me up on dinner, I would've spent all our time talking about you. We’d figure out how to enjoy ourselves."
"Likely story."
This fuckwad has the absolute goddamn gall to look wounded when his arm starts circling its way around the space where her dress is suffocating her at the waist, and Ryujin starts to shimmy her way out of hot water - again. God, she thinks, god save me-
"I think," she manages with a stilted grin, "I'm going to make myself useful- drinks, no?"
When he leans forward to grab her hand, it's only so she doesn't leave.
"You're not going to ask for my order?" he presses. The only reason Ryujin hasn't knocked out a couple of his front teeth is because Lia would be the one hearing Yeji whine about cleaning up the fucking mess.
"Just scotch. Neat."
Ryujin's a natural when it comes to smiling fake; it's part of her goddamned job. "Of course," she says, like she's not absolutely loathing him.
"Try the oakier, single-barrel variety, alright," he explains, because what's hotter than a man who's an expert in alcohol and being an insufferable tool? Nothing of course. She hopes he knocks back a few too many and his liver explodes - the painless way out. If god would ever fucking allow it.
She barely manages a half-strangled laugh over the blare of the music before he finally releases her wrist. 
The absolute fucking prick.
-
Here's something Ryujin never thought she'd come to appreciate:
Being alone.
It's just her and the breeze through the open doors of the rooftop garden, which is something every bit as refreshing as it is teeth-chatteringly cold. The wind picks up in gusts and billows, until it starts nipping up the fabric around her knees, like it's any one of the drunk, stumbling guests milling about and looking for a noncommittal lay.
Her left foot slips a step outwards, the uncomfortably tall heel bouncing on the edge of her toe and tapping a tune against the brick. Ryujin slouches on the railing that encapsulates the entire terrace, arms pressed over it, hands folded one-over the other - letting the night sky caress her bare shoulders with its wind-brushed kisses. This, is okay. It's better.
Maybe not ideal, but better.
And all it really took was a few fucking moments where she isn't smiling with pursed, stressed lips; where the pressure in her jaw finally settles out enough for the knot in the back of her teeth to fall loose and for her mouth to actually feel, y'know - good.
Not forced, is what. Not fake, or not real, or whatever-
Ryujin almost fishes her phone from her clutch. Almost. Almost texts to tell you that: this fucking night, like all the others in the past month or two or year, has left her feeling particularly done for, and yeah, no, it isn't helping that she'd take whatever would be the alternative if it meant a face like yours came in handy to lean against, or your shoulder or thigh to use. Like some pillow - that's all.
And you are, like. An option. But not, she sighs out, exactly the right one.
An errant chill shudders through her and down her spine.
"Shin Ryujin."
She'd recognize the tilt of that voice anywhere; even if her ears were pounding and her head filled with static and noise, she'd be able to place Yeji at the end of the world. The truth is easy to see, if only Yeji knew where to look: the corners of Ryujin's eyes screw up tight for a second, an immeasurably long time, in order to not do what they wanted. What it would mean.
She does anyway. "I'd hug you," Ryujin throws behind her with an airy sigh, "but I know where you've been."
Yeji's jaw has set at this point; a twist is still in her lip and she lets out this dry, half-laugh, half-not sound - which is the thing that drives Ryujin a little crazy. Yeji turns her attention from the concrete ground, to Ryujin's profile, her body leaning forward, toes tipping in: "sometimes I wonder if my partner in crime can breathe without saying something incendiary."
"Nope." Ryujin offers no further response or follow-up. Instead, the quiet gush of air makes itself the center of attention and a victim of silence.
"Sorry about-"
"Don't be. Don't give it a second thought." Ryujin stretches, leaning a little over the railing. Her fingers arch before her. Her words sounding the slightest bit cold, "can't win 'em all, right?"
Yeji's eyebrows pull together. "That's not how this was supposed-"
"God, Yeji." Ryujin smiles. Yeji hates that she never knows what that means. "I'm trying, really, I am, but you know - I really, I have tried my best, so can we just lay it to rest?"
Yeji leans over the railing - the fucking moon reflecting in these lustrous pools where her eyes go darker than night - and doesn't say anything for the longest moment. Ryujin chews her tongue, and tries to look as interested in the void of stars and night clouds as possible.
"Fuck's going on with you, lately?"
Ryujin just laughs back.
"Really," and the last word dips in a groan. It's almost childishly tragic how petulantly she insists, "talk to me."
But Ryujin has nothing else to say - no witty, scathing remarks. No deadpan observations or funny asides, not even a morose comment to throw back. There are times and moments and fucking periods of her day where she'd happily chew glass if it meant that Yeji would sit there a second longer, be beside her for a while and smile, just smile at only her, once - for once.
Her only response is the worst kind of lie, this soft: "really nothing."
The moment where it slips and hangs between them, when it lingers the longest -
She could reach out, a hand on her thigh, the small of her back, if she could only reach. And Yeji, she'd listen to her, for once. She'd really, genuinely hear what Ryujin says; like she can see it, plain as day, everything there's in Ryujin's eyes, the thoughts inside her head, written on her goddamn face and across the open night air in neon:
I love you. I'm in love with you, you're too close to me.
The seconds pass. They tick, they stretch and grow thin. Yeji looks at Ryujin expectantly, and Ryujin knows. It is something like being put on the spot and called in. Something like a long, pained whimper caught somewhere in her throat.
She is very much still, unmoving, and feeling nothing at all.
Maybe she can blame the alcohol, the dark, the series of events that saw her hiding away behind a bunch of decorative trees and fighting for breath where the wind blows a little cooler. She can pretend like the stars aren't absent above her, and it doesn't hurt a goddamn bit.
“Yeji, I-” She licks at her lip, ready, willing-
Ryujin grabs at her waist with a hand. Her knuckles white around the black of the railing. And with no further fanfare, she spits it out like venom, with no small measure of shame or guilt or worry for how Yeji will take it - or worse: how she herself would react in the wake of admitting it aloud -
“I love you,” Ryujin says, and it pops out of her mouth as neatly as it had the first thousand times practicing alone in her car.
A blink, and another. The look on Yeji's face is hard and blank, as if she'd understood every syllable, but didn't hear it at all - maybe. Her gaze drops, it trails a path along the long line of Ryujin's pale neck. Of the two ways it could ever go in her head, stuck on loop for as long as she can remember, Ryujin had never considered that Yeji might turn this still and vacant. A sudden feeling, a pull or a grip, starts in the lowest part of Ryujin's guts.
"And not-," she hears her own voice falter, "like-"
Then - it's on the back of Ryujin's head and in her hair, a hand curled at the base of her skull and pulling her head a little downward and her, until their foreheads meet. And before she has a chance to walk it back - to stuff it down where it came from and seal the bottle tight - before she can clench her eyes, shake her head, and spit out anything else like the fact that there was not much that had to change, between them -
Yeji just says plainly: "Yeah, hun. Love you too."
And it's shockingly, the most painful thing - that she just squeezes her hand and pats her back like it's all they could ever be. Without even the wherewithal to reject her properly; to tell her something like "don't ever say that again, god," or "oh shit- Ryujin. Sorry. So, no," or at least to spit back with a scathing laugh: "welcome to the fucking party," like what she always does.
"Yeah." Yeji clears her throat quietly and starts retreating back from the brink - with no apparent aim but to pull away as she draws herself away from the warmth of Ryujin's space, "uh, don't forget to say hello to some of the staffers before they go home, okay?"
Ryujin is left with nothing but the air that follows Yeji's outline; left with her heart sinking into the depths of the night; left trying to make sense of the bitter sting ripping her chest in two.
Left with her own hopelessness - the pining - when Yeji walks away.
To be lonely, to be alone; neither are the same. 
And she hates knowing she is so incredibly both.
-
The worst part is she knows how it looks.
Her pace just on the verge of unsteady, the way her feet come up from the ground: Left foot, the right. The other. Back and back and forth again, faster and then slower and- fuck.
A damsel, severely distressed.
She sits down on the curb. She wants to cry, but even just the way she looks, carrying her heels and struggling with this fucking dress she wishes she'd never bothered with at all - oh, the tabloids would be sure every detail gets pinned under all the wrong lights. A breakdown would only serve to confirm all the right things; it would paint a story for anyone who cares enough to glean from her crestfallen posture and red cheeks that she is yes, a little broken, and that everyone wants to be loved and she's no different - and -
She sucks a breath. This time, when her tears fall, it's a quick, perfunctory action, no show in it.
Her palms rub her face - and she wipes, and wipes, and wipes - smearing at the foundation under her eyes before she takes a long drag of night air. Deep from her core, filling up her lungs until she can't hold anymore. Until it hurts and stings the backs of her ribs - it's enough for a single, fleeting moment. The street is mostly empty; an occasional car will speed by every now and then and it's those few and far between intervals that hurt most, that nearly shatter her: if she can barely do this, alone, how can she possibly be enough for anyone?
Ryujin’s smiling only to hold back her tears, and it fucking stings. She flicks hurriedly past the lock screen of her phone and swipes through the message stream with blurry eyes - there’s a whole host of people that want to know where the fuck she went, if she's safe, why she up and vanished the moment Yeji couldn't keep an eye on her. And well. The girl sighs.
Finds your name in her contacts and puts her thumb right beside it.
It rings exactly three times, and she hates the number. She hates how many things can be associated with that number in those seconds alone.
Four, the pause where you must have had the opportunity, but didn't decide to pick up - just leave it be. Then five - Ryujin is definitely no longer looking forward to any of this.
Six: it stops.
There's this crackle, and through the night -
"Just what brings you here, stranger?"
For an indistinct amount of time, Ryujin drifts in the whirlpool current of that question; it sinks her deeper, into the currents of your voice and the tone and what it's suggesting and demanding from her. All the things your voice is giving her permission to ask of and with and-
Until finally she answers back: "do you ever just, like, wish," a shallow pause for the hitch in her breath, "something, someone was a little more for you- or to- with you-"
The swell of a smile through the receiver; and you can't help your laugh, soft.
"Sometimes," is what you say, "that's just human, don't you think?"
She doesn't understand how something like love or life or desire should be a universal trait.
"Uh, maybe," she shrugs out, and thinks.
"It's pretty normal," you tell her.
Quiet, as if you were right in front of her.
"Look," you start, and you can hear how she sniffs her nose and swipes the pad of her hand right along the side of it, to catch anything stupid and stupid sounding leaking down to her upper lip. "You don't have to. Let's just hang out. Tell me anything."
And for once, she does.
She talks.
-
(The whole story.
From the first time Ryujin realizes the world is never going to be fair - that she shouldn't have to look at herself like she's unlovable because she's seen her friends be held as though they are - or at Yeji like she's completely unattainable or somehow, unlovable, and that someone as amazing as Yeji should have been loved from the moment she was born.
The rest comes through as fragments: the truth of her career. Yeji.
The balcony, the breeze, the bitter-fucking-disappointment.
And what came of that -
When Ryujin isn't a million and one words per minute, it feels, almost, it feels - she'd swear there was less noise in her own head: this thrumming in her brain has settled out; the walls around her and the echo coming off of them - the booming and pulsing - it's, gone.
Because even though there was an indistinct shape for where she had landed, in the aftermath, and nothing much had changed - all that did. You listen, and that alone makes it so you're both exactly where you’re supposed to be, even if this, tonight - you are unsure, if it will actually fix anything - if anything needs fixing at all.)
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