#deleted like five asks along these lines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miclipse · 5 months ago

Text

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ princess & the fish.

pairing: rafayel x fem! reader

synopsis: rafayel’s dream of turning into a human had miraculously come true! but things didn't turn out like he had expected…

word count: 3.7k

cw: afab! reader, rafayel is a fish (literally, but he turns into a human), reader is a princess, nicknames used (princess, your highness), rafayel struggling to walk with legs, rafayel hates toes, very slight and brief abysswalker! rafayel reference (just one line), reader finds rafayel half-naked in her room, fluff

dt: everyone that wanted fishy rafayel (aka fifi) to turn into a human + the person in my asks asking if i was continuing this.

note: reupload because apparently my post didn’t show up in the tags :( but unfortunately that means the ask got deleted as well, sorry anon :(

likes reblogs & comments appreciated! <3

this all had to be a dream, right?

…actually, no. this was most definitely a nightmare, if anything.

because why else would rafayel be standing naked in your bedroom, the fishtank he once called his home now nothing but shattered glass scattered across your study table?

there was no logical explanation for this, rafayel thought to himself while struggling to manoeuvre around your room with his new pair of human appendages.

he spent at least ten minutes stumbling over his toes while trying to make his way to your bathroom door.

…seriously, why did humans even have a need for toes? and ten of them, at that!

when rafayel had finally, finally made it to the bathroom entrance, he spent another five minutes figuring out the mechanism behind how to open it.

turns out, the grand secret behind it was that he had to push the door, not pull.

once in the bathroom, rafayel was tempted to fill up your bathtub with water and just jump in for a swim, but he figured seeing a naked man with a towel wrapped around his waist would be a little less intense for you than having to see a fully naked stranger swimming around in your tub.

thus, rafayel opted to grab a spare towel from the cabinet just under the sink, carelessly tying it around his waist to hide his indecency before you came back from your royal duties.

rafayel spent yet another ten minutes trying to walk out of your bathroom (he nearly slipped at least twice but he refuses to talk about it) and towards the nearest furniture he could sit on without it breaking due to his new physique.

looking around your bedroom to ensure that there were no maids around to witness this phenomenon, rafayel plopped himself on the edge of your soft mattress.

resting his head on his fist, his eyebrows furrowed in the process.

this was not how he imagined things to go at all.

in all honesty, rafayel was pretty satisfied living life as your pet fish. though there were many pros and cons that came along with his new domestic life, he wouldn't have wished for things to be any different than how it was.

of course, there were times when rafayel would ponder to himself how life would be for him if he were to turn into a human and be able to properly talk with you.

but out of all the exaggerated and cliche scenarios rafayel had fantasized about during his free time (which was whenever you were not around), being naked with only a fluffy white towel tied around his waist as he dreadfully waited for you to return was definitely not one of them.

well, it probably was. but it was not at the top of his list, that was for sure.

but here came the real question—

how did he even turn into a human? there was no logical or scientific reason behind how all of this was possible. rafayel had never heard others talk about stories of fishes turning into humans either.

well, unless you included ariel from that little mermaid movie. but ariel was a mermaid, so it really was not exactly the same as rafayel’s current predicament.

and besides, rafayel didn’t think he knew or angered any shady sea witches back when he lived in the waters.

there was nothing he could really do at the moment. as much as rafayel wanted to sneak to the royal library to dig out some sacred books in order to do some research about his condition, he dared not imagine the consequences he would have to face if anyone caught him sneaking out of the princess’s private chambers with only a skimpy bath towel covering him from waist-down.

just the image of him getting beheaded by the royal guards was enough to convince rafayel not to leave your private chambers, knowing it was the safest place for him to be in right now.

so his only option now was to wait for his princess to return to her chambers so that he could try to explain the situation to you in hopes that your naive little brain could understand and help him out.

he was your beloved fish afterall, so surely you would find a way to help him, right?

an ear-piercing scream echoed loudly through the room.

rafayel's eyes snapped open in panic and immediate dread, sitting up from the bed frantically only to be met with a big white thing smacking his face.

as he made a clumsy attempt to back away from the bed and nearly tripping over his newly grown toes (human toes be damned), rafayel’s eyes wandered to the big white thing that was thrown at him.

it was your polar bear plushie, he noted.

rafayel then turned to look at the door, only to see you standing there looking like a frightened kitten, now holding a thick, hard-cover book ready to launch at him once more.

it was only then rafayel realised that he had accidentally fallen asleep in your bed while waiting for you to come back.

this was not good. not good at all.

“who… who are you?!” you shrieked out, preparing yourself to throw the book in his face within the next five seconds if he didn't respond.

“me? i’m…” without even realizing it, rafayel darted his eyes to look at your study table as he fell silent, his lips pursing together.

you gave him a look of skepticism before slowly following his gaze. the man watched as you let out a horrified gasp when you saw that your fishtank was nothing but shattered glass on the table.

“fifi!”

running to your study table, you stared at what once used to be fifi's home for the past three months, now nothing but broken shards scattered all across the table.

“you! what have you done to my fifi?”

rafayel backed up into the corner of the room when you pointed an accusatory finger at him, feeling very wronged by your assumption.

what, did you think he ate your fish or something?

“woah!”

to prevent his nose from breaking tonight, rafayel quickly moved his head to the side to narrowly dodge the book in your hands that came flying towards his face.

that was a close one.

“let's use words, shall we?”

before you had a chance to frantically look around your bedroom for a new deadly weapon to fling at rafayel's handsome face, he had to think of something believable, and fast.

“i’m asking you one last time, where. is. my. fish?”

your eyes narrowed and your eyebrows furrowed as you glared at rafayel as an attempt to threaten him.

rafayel doesn't really have the heart to tell you that your glare was nothing more than a little fly trying to square up to a frog.

not the best comparison, but you get it.

“well, if you're looking for fifi, i’m right here.” rafayel responded as nonchalantly as he could, desperately trying to hold back his laughter.

you shot him an incredulous look, obviously doubtful with his claim of being your pet fish. rafayel felt absolutely scrutinized under your gaze while you looked at him up and down.

“do you think i’m five?”

“well, given how you spend your nights talking to a fish like it's your newfound soulmate, i wouldn't doubt it.”

man, rafayel wished he could describe how proud he felt when he saw your jaw slacken and you gawk at him with wide eyes.

it felt so good finally being able to talk back to you, and in a way that you understood him too. rafayel picks this over ‘glub! glub! glub!’ anyday.

you looked around the room cautiously, before your eyes landed back on rafayel.

no one really knew that you spent your nights telling your baby fishy little bedtime stories.

…not unless this man in your room was fifi himself. it was a secret solely kept between you and fifi.

…still, it wouldn't hurt to double check, right?

“oh yeah? tell me something about fifi then.” you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest. you still felt doubtful over this whole situation. “anything at all.”

i mean, it wasn't everyday that you got to see your fish turn into a grown man (that was also naked, you observed), now a head taller than you.

rafayel smirked at your demand. oh boy, where should he start? he had many, many juicy secrets that he could spill to you. ones that he knew were only shared between you and your beloved fishy (him) in these very four walls.

but he was determined to embarrass the hell out of you, so he was thinking what exactly was the most embarrassing moment you've ever told him.

maybe he should start with that one time you started weeping your eyes out in front of his tank because you thought he was sick and about to die since he wasn't eating the kibbles you poured into his tank? (you were overfeeding him).

or perhaps that one time you told him you accidentally broke your mom's jewellery box while trying on her earrings and blamed it all on the maid instead?

oh. he couldn't forget the countless amounts of times you fell asleep sprawled over the study table, your hair looking as neat as a bird’s nest, drool escaping from the corner of your lips and dripping onto the sleeve of your nightgown as you snored the night away.

but the most memorable one of them all was…

“...remember that time when you tried to cut a piece of strawberry cake and dump it into my tank?” rafayel questioned, a smirk appearing on his lips as his eyebrow quirked upwards, anticipating the kind of reaction you’d give.

the way your eyes widened in horror and the tips of your ears started to tint in a dark red hue was enough for rafayel to conclude that he had won this round.

“only fifi would know that…” you mumbled out in utter disbelief. was this man standing in front of you really your pet fish of three months?

“exactly.” rafayel puffed out his chest proudly at your words. “but if you’re not convinced, i can tell you about that time when you tried to bring my fishtank to your bed so you could hug me to sleep—”

oh. not that. you desperately cut rafayel off mid-sentence.

“stop! stop, stop!” your face felt hot, as if you just ran a whole marathon with no breaks in between.

there was an awkward and tense silence lingering in the air, with you looking at your pet fish dead in the eyes.

“s.. so it really is you, fifi…” you managed to mutter out, albeit still in disbelief that your pet fish was now a grown man a head taller than you.

rafayel doesn’t have it in him to break the devastating piece of news to you that his name was actually ‘rafayel’ before you came along.

“affirmative.” fifi— or, rafayel, nodded his head without a beat of hesitation.

you both then proceeded to awkwardly stare at each other without a word, waiting for each other to break the tense silence.

eventually, rafayel was the one that broke the silence.

“so…” he sheepishly rubbed the nape of his neck, feeling like a fish out of the water (literally and figuratively). “has the shock died down yet?” he asked, hoping you were calm enough to have a proper conversation with him.

you blinked and glanced back at the broken fish tank a couple of times to make sure that rafayel was not some kind of crazy hallucination stemming from your lack of sleep recently.

“well, not really.”

“good enough for me.” rafayel casually bent down and picked up the weapons you used for your assassination attempt (your books and polar bear plushie), making his way to your study table to put the books back where they belong.

“i know you probably have a lot of questions, your highness,” rafayel’s gentle voice filled the room’s silence once again. “but i, too, don’t have the answers to them. i hope your highness can forgive me.”

he briefly glanced at you from his peripheral vision, a faint and apologetic smile ghosting his lips while he slotted the books back into the shelf.

you were still standing in the middle of the room, your eyes following rafayel’s figure while he was putting back your books. you still had the dumbfounded and surprised look from this whole ordeal.

when rafayel caught sight of you meekly nodding your head in silent agreement to his words, he took it as a sign to continue speaking.

“since you’re free tomorrow, how about your highness help a fishy out to find a way to turn me back?” he asked with a chuckle, making a final stop to your bed and gently placing your polar bear down by the pillows, now reunited with the rest of your fuzzy friends.

“how’d you know i’m—”

oh, that’s right. you told fifi at the start of this week that you had tomorrow to yourself. the realisation that you spent your nights practically telling this man (in his fish form) the a to z’s about your life started to settle in, coupled with embarrassment.

“oh.. right..” the corners of your lips twitched into an uncomfortable smile, trying to keep your cool despite the absurd situation unfolding before your very eyes.

“also, do you mind if i borrow a hoodie of yours or something? walking around with only a skimpy towel around my waist is a little uncomfortable.”

“ack!”

before you could protest, rafayel strutted towards your wardrobe and began rummaging through it like a stray mouse in search of a slab of cheese.

attempting to recollect your composure, you stammered out a remark in hopes to gain back some sort of control.

“h..hey! is this how you act in someone else’s bedchamber?”

rafayel halted his scavenger hunt for a brief moment.

“… i’ll remember for next time.”

…and he’s back to digging through your wardrobe for one of your oversized hoodies.

in the end, rafayel settled with one of your gray hoodies coupled with a pair of sweatpants he miraculously could fit in.

“what’s this?”

a look of confusion washed over his face as the fish stepped out of your bathroom, finally properly clothed.

his eyes were glued to the unfamiliar scene before him. a thick woven quilt was spread across the carpeted floor not far away from your bedframe, accompanied by two pillows and a neatly folded but thin blanket sitting on top of it.

“your new bed for the night.”

your response was as casual as inviting a friend over for a sleepover.

you gave his new bed a few soft pats, a gesture to coax him over, before making your way back to your own cozy haven.

“since you don’t fit in a fish tank anymore, i figured we have to come up with an alternative.”

rafayel watched as you tucked yourself into bed and fluffed up your pillows, getting ready to drift to dreamscape anytime from this point forward.

“yeah, well what if your maids see me?” his voice was full of skepticism as he approached his new bed, lifting up the blanket to fit into the warm cocoon.

“then i can tell them that you’re fifi.”

one of rafayel’s eyebrows quirked up in doubt and a hint of amusement.

“and will they buy it?”

“no.”

“…”

well, that was reassuring.

rafayel’s head was resting against the pillows now, completely unimpressed with your response while also trying to get used to sleeping outside of the water.

“well, but that’s something we’ll both deal with tomorrow.” you laughed nervously, leaning back against the plush pillows and turning your body so that you were laying on your side; facing rafayel with a faint smile ghosting your lips.

staring into your eyes like this made rafayel’s heart swell in an odd way. he didn’t know exactly how to put it to words, but the atmosphere of your bedroom felt dangerously intimate right now.

in fact, way too intimate for an owner and her pet fish to be having.

rafayel was no fool— he could tell how you seemed to be holding back more now that he had taken the form of a human. how the gaze you directed towards him still held a hint of love and affection amidst all of your other mixed emotions. you looked at him as if nothing had changed between the two of you, like he was still that tiny fish you had brought back home (kidnapped) three months ago.

“yeah… we should get some rest. we’ll be ransacking our brains a lot tomorrow.” rafayel agreed with a nod of his head, breaking eye contact first by turning his head to look up at the ceiling, trying to get rid of the dangerously growing intimacy dancing between the two of you.

his arm slid beneath his head to get into a more comfortable position for himself, still in disbelief that he was actually a human now.

he tried. keyword, tried to ignore the lingering feeling of not being able to bury his little fishy body in his favourite coral reef to fall asleep, and instead having to settle with sleeping on the cold hard ground with a paper-thin blanket that barely reached to the tip of his toes.

but in the end, the thought still greatly bothered him.

“tell me a bedtime story.”

…the words flew out of his mouth before rafayel could even comprehend what he was saying.

“i beg your pardon?” your expression morphed into one of astonishment.

“what? don’t you always go on and on about your day in front of my fishtank?” rafayel scoffed, turning his head back to face you. he had been kept awake against his will, forced to listen to your endless ramblings ever since you first kidnapped him.

he had grown so accustomed to your excited life updates that it was part of his daily routine now. rafayel always relied on your storytelling to help him get sleepy and prepare for bedtime, and he definitely wasn’t going to let this routine stop tonight just because he had grown a pair of legs out of thin air.

“… how about you tell me a bedtime story this time, fifi?”

your soft voice almost made rafayel wonder if he misheard what you had just said.

“hah, me? as if i have any tales that would fascinate you.” rafayel was quick to dismiss the idea of telling you a story.

one, bedtime storytelling was your thing. it always has been, and it always will be. as a fish, rafayel was habituated to just listening. i mean, he was a fish, there wasn’t much he could say to you in the first place. asking him for a sudden role reversal to play as the storyteller was beyond his expertise and comfort zone.

and two, his life out in the seas wasn’t as interesting or fascinating as whatever you were expecting.

or in other words, rafayel had no stories to tell in the first place.

“oh come on, i’m sure there’s some interesting stories about your life before you started living here.” you continued to persuade him further, trying to give him a metaphorical nudge to get him to open up.

rafayel really couldn’t resist when you talked to him in that soft and persuasive tone. you might as well grow a pair of fins and live in the ocean as a siren with how easily you allured him to obey your words.

“fine, fine, let me think of something,” the fish grumbled, his eyebrows furrowing together as he dug through his memories for anything worth mentioning to you.

entertaining a princess was hard work— rafayel was finally starting to understand the pressure of being in the presence of a princess like yourself. it was like there was an invisible expectation for him to uphold. one that was unspoken, but still anticipated in a way.

“does me being chased by an octopus sound entertaining enough for you, your highness?”

the way your smile grew, and your eyes held a hint of curiosity made rafayel let out a breath he didn’t even realise he had been holding.

so that was how he began telling you about the instance where he was chased by an octopus back when he was still adventuring around in the stray waters.

rafayel’s storytelling skills wasn’t top tiered as compared to yours. his story began awkward, his tone unnatural. this was not his forte, so he was basically a fish out of the water (once again, literally and figuratively).

however, the sounds of your soft giggles, hums of acknowledgement and occasional small nods of your head served to be the main catalyst for him to improve as the story progressed.

by the time the story reached its climax, he sounded more confident and sure of himself. he also was more natural when speaking and somehow, without even realising it, managed to lull you to dreamscape.

“...seriously? just as i was at the good part too.” rafayel muttered, feigning mild irritation when he saw that your eyes were closed, facial features relaxed, along with your breathing deep and slow.

rafayel let out a defeated sigh, lightly shaking his head before he turned his head to face back towards the ceiling again.

he finally understood how you always managed to fall asleep so quickly after telling him about your day— talking in such an excessive manner was… tiring. and now, he was feeling the growing fatigue about to consume him too.

he briefly snuck a glance at your sleeping form through his peripheral vision, the corners of his lips gently tugging upwards into a smile.

rafayel’s mind was tired, but his heart was filled to the brim with nothing but affection. affection that you had been showering him with for the past three months.

“no matter what form i take, you’ll still love me just the same, huh?”

he wasn't expecting an answer. he didn't need your verbal response to confirm his thoughts in the first place. the facts were as clear as day before his very eyes.

his vision was getting blurry, his breathing slowing down and his eyes feeling heavier with each blink.

rafayel vaguely remembered letting out one final whisper before everything fell to the darkness.

“…at least now i can finally tell you that i love you too, princess.”

438 notes · View notes

capslocked · 1 year ago

Text

KINKVEMBER DAY: 8

[prompt: phone sex]

male reader x shin ryujin

16k words

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.)

#ryujin smut #itzy smut #itzy ryujin smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

1K notes · View notes

pedropascalsx · 11 months ago

Text

A Long Awaited Reward. {Dave York x F! Reader!}

Rating: Explicit.

Word Count: 15.8k

Warnings: Unhappy marriage, known infidelity, ?slightly forced hand, mention of car crash (no injuries), oral sex (m&f receiving), P in V sex, loss of virginity, fingering, cock warming, some feelings, derogatory language, aftercare.

Comments: Dave has been cleaning up after his wife for too long, and you tempt him with a proposition that he can’t resist.

Co-written with @absurdthirst ❤️

Gif by me: @pedropascalsx!

Carol York is perfect. She has the perfect family, the perfect house, the perfect car and her most prized possession; her perfect husband.

Everything about Carol York is perfect… or so it seems.

The truth is Carol York has her demons, skeletons that are piled up in her closet, haunting the rows of designer shoes and racks of glamorous gowns that seldom get to see the light of day.

But to anyone you may ask, they would likely describe Carol York as a perfectionist, kind, generous, charitable and all around the perfect housewife; but you knew otherwise.

You spotted her the moment she waltz into the hotel bar, clutching her designer purse in one hand and her phone in the other. She was with her usual group of friends, all equally as loud and pretentious.

Sitting quietly in the corner and picking at the rest of the food on your plate you rolled your eyes as her group of friends laughed so loudly it made the glassware shake, really you had no real reason to dislike her but you couldn’t help it. The whole stepford wives persona that they all exude simply leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

You think back to the first time you had met her about ten years ago, still in your teens and still in high school, she had loudly made a comment about how boys never notice the plain, boring ones while looking you up and down. Everyone had laughed along with her, even your mom, who then spent the next few weeks trying to talk you into buying a new wardrobe but you weren’t interested.

You left the bar before she did that night, sneaking out without her noticing you and pulling into your driveway about five minutes before you heard her speeding around the corner. Her brand new Mercedes squealing as she drove straight into Mr. Perkins’ Chevy. You opened your door to check on her but before you could step out, you saw Dave running towards her. She stumbled out of the car giggling as she admired the damage she caused, clearly enjoying the look of annoyance on her husband's face.

You couldn’t make out their conversation but you could tell he was furious, shaking his head as he pulled out his phone and made a brief phone call. Slowly, you started to close the door, not wanting them to see that you had witnessed everything and once the door was gently pushed shut you made your way to bed.

You woke up the next morning to a commotion outside your bedroom window, neighbours all lining up to get a look at the damage that had been caused by the selfish driver that had left no note and that’s when you saw her... Standing next to Mr Perkins shaking her head and pretending to be just as outraged as he was.

Over the next few days you had considered sending an anonymous note, or anonymously contacting the police but ultimately decided to keep quiet, despite the guilt that kept you from sleeping at night. It wasn’t your business and you weren’t about to go to war with the Yorks.

Carol could make your life hell. But Dave… Dave seemed like he’d be capable of so much more.

Dave growls as he rewatches the tape from a few days earlier, making sure that he hadn’t missed anything from that night. One of their neighbours had caught the whole thing on their RING doorbell camera but thankfully Dave was able to have Resnick hack into their accounts and delete all the footage and make it look like the camera had unfortunately stopped working a few hours before the accident.

It was only as he was about to delete the last trace of evidence from that evening he noticed it. Your door barely in the frame, opening a few inches and closing just as he got off the phone to Ari - who had managed to get the exact model Mercedes Carol owned and replace it with the damaged one before daylight began to fall across the neighbourhood.

“Shit.” He hisses as he slams his hand against his desk. Your parents were out of town on their cruise, so he knew that the person who witnessed his wifes reckless behaviour had to have been you. He ponders for a second why you hadn’t said anything yet and wonders if it’s worth just letting things sit… but decides that paying you a visit is the best course of action.

He slides his phone into his pocket and makes his way downstairs to his wife and kids… hating the way her face is buried into her phone as the girls watched Tangled for the 10,000th time this month.

“We need to talk, honey,” he says with a smile, as not to concern the girls. “Now.”

“Sure,” she says with a roll of her eyes, before following him into her ‘crafts’ room.

The second she waltzes in the room, he closes the door and swings around to face her with a look of fury on his face, “You had a fucking witness,” he scowls, “And she saw the whole fucking thing.”

“What?” Carol says in utter disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

With venom dripping from every word he tells her everything that he could make out from the video. How it was clear that you saw everything and how they had to pay you a visit and make sure that you keep your pretty little mouth shut and not ruin their comfortable little life in the unsuspecting suburbs.

The doorbell makes you jump, not expecting anyone and planning on having a quiet night in front of the TV with leftover chinese food and netflix, you groan as you pull yourself up and off your sofa.

“Evening,” a raspy voice growls at you, as the door swings open, “I think we need to have a little chat.”

Dave pushes past you and Carol enters right behind him as you step back in shock. Every single thing about Dave York is entirely intoxicating, his scent, his voice and the fact he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on doesn’t help either. Even in the comfort of your own house, you’re being commanded by him and following him into your kitchen.

“Can I get you both a drink?” You ask after a few uncomfortable minutes, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your hands shake.

“No. Enough drinking.” Dave cuts his eyes towards Carol, annoyed that he’s in this position. If it weren’t for the fact that the bitch knows what he does, would threaten to tell everyone, he wouldn’t bother fixing this mess she got herself into. “Sit down.” He orders, kicking the chair opposite him out from under the table.

“Yes, sir,” you say with a gulp, unsure why you addressed him with such authority. “How can I help you?” You ask meekly.

“Have fun the other night?” Dave’s eyes are flat, emotionless as he leans in to stare into your own. Using the intimidation that comes so easily to him.

“Wha-what do you mean?” You stutter, your body almost frozen in fear as you look over at him.

“Going out.” He doesn’t expand on that, wanting you to spill what you know without him giving you anything more.

“I went out for a meal with a few friends from my book club on Tuesday at The Charlton Hotel.” You say quietly, managing to rip your eyes from his for a few seconds before he’s commanding them back with a sharp tut.

“And?” He demands harshly. “What else happened?”

“I think you know.” Is all you say, your voice small and barely higher than a whisper. You glance over at Carol who has a smug look plastered on her face as she watches her husband clean up her mess yet again.

“Say it.” He growls, slapping his hand down on the table, making you jump. He hates this, hates having to fucking clean up yet another one of her messes, but he has his girls to think about.

“I heard Carol drive into Rodney’s car, and saw you start to hide the evidence.” Tears start to stream down your face, as you realize just how much danger you may be in.

Good. Now that you’ve admitted what you’ve seen, he can make sure you keep it quiet. Dave reaches out and captures your jaw in his hand. Leaning in threateningly, he grunts. “But you aren’t going to say anything, are you?”

The yelp you make as his hand harshly squeezes your jaw makes Carol squeal with laughter, but you block it out, concentrating on forcing out a small ‘no, sir’ as your tears begin to fall even harder, and your sobs grow louder.

He watches you for a moment. Not particularly enjoying the tears or the distress in your eyes, but he can’t risk his wife being arrested. “Good.” His tone softens slightly and his thumb brushes the bone of your jaw slightly. “Always knew you were smart.”

You nod your head to acknowledge that he just spoke to you, his fingertips are still gently brushing against your jaw as you stare into his eyes. “I promise I won’t say a thing.”

“You promise huh?” Dave snorts, admiring how innocent you are. “I think I’m gonna need a little more reassurance than that.”

“I’ll sign an NDA,” you stutter, “I’ll do anything.” Carol's cruel laughter makes you shudder, but it just makes Dave rub your chin a little harder.

“No, I don’t think that will work.” He doesn’t know how he should keep you quiet, just that you need to stay that way. “Maybe I should just make the problem go away.” He threatens.

You start to shake your head and pull away, the fear evident in your eyes, “No… no… what does that even mean?”

“What do you think that it means?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.

“Getting rid of me,” you say almost silently, the tone of your voice softer than a whisper.

“I don’t want to do that.” He admits. “So what is going to keep your pretty little mouth shut for the rest of your life?”

“I’ll sign whatever you want,” you say again, not really sure what he means.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I need something on you. Something you don’t want to get out.” He decides, smirking slightly.

“Like what?” You say, with a look of confusion plastered on your face.

“I’ll take pictures of you.” He decides, figuring you are - if not a virgin, close to it. You would be mortified if naked pictures of you were released to your family. “And if you breathe a word, I send them to every family member you have.”

“What?” Carol scoffs out from behind him. “I’ll take them. You are not seeing her naked.”

You remain silent as you listen to them go back and forth, unsure what to say, wanting to refuse but fear keeping your lips firmly closed.

“I told you I would handle this.” Dave hisses. “So shut up while I handle it.”

“Handle it then,” she growls back at him, “But I will handle taking any photos.” She stares at you with a look of disgust on her face as she shakes her head. “Plus I doubt she’s ever had a man as attractive as you see her naked before and I don’t want the desperate little slut trying to tempt you.”

“She’s a virgin.” Dave grunts, even though he doesn’t know that for certain. “Only slut in this room is you.”

“I-I don’t think that’s necessary,” you start to say, voice trembling as you try to find some confidence, they’re right but you don’t want to admit it to them, “I won’t say anything and let’s be honest… even if I did no one would believe me.”

“Aw bless her,” Carol mocks looking over at Dave, “Don’t worry honey, we know someone like you couldn’t handle someone like my Dave. And he’s not available anyway.”

Dave shakes his head, holding his hand up to silence his wife. “Then tell me what will keep you quiet.” He demands, his dark eyes on you.

You look over at Carol and see the cruel smirk on her face and the words just fall from your mouth and float heavily in the air.

“You. I want one night with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Carol bellows at you from across the table, “How dare you!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dave snaps, whipping his head around and glaring at Carol until she sits back. While she’s smug towards you, she’s also just slightly afraid of him. When he’s satisfied that she will be quiet, he turns back towards you. “What did you say?”

You concentrate on him, refusing to look back over at her despite her yelling. “I want a night with you.” You squirm in your seat under his stare, the expression on his face neutral as he watches you.

“A night for what?” He demands, wanting to hear you say it out loud. Carol huffs and grumbles under her breath beside him but he ignores her as he watches you.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say as quietly as you can. Your fingernails digging into your thighs to stop yourself shivering with anxiety.

“She wouldn’t know what to do with you,” Carol taunts cruelly. Furious at what she’s hearing.

“Neither did you.” Dave snorts, looking over at his wife and giving you a moment since you look like you are about to pass out. The idea has merit and his cock twitches when he thinks about ruining you.

“Maybe before we do anything you can take that picture,” you say, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Before, during, and after I’m done with you.” He corrects.

“You’re speaking like you’re going along with this madness,” Carol spits at Dave.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Dave asks, smirking slightly. “How many people have you fucked over the last eight years?”

You watch as she incoherently mutters something in response under her breath. Still squirming in your seat as you think about Dave’s hands roaming over your body.

“You thought I didn’t know?” Dave scoffs, chuckling under his breath. “Sweetheart, I know exactly how many dicks you’ve taken, how many times you’ve taken them. Why shouldn’t I wreck our pretty little neighbor to save your skin?”

“So is this happening?” Your timid voice asks, as they take a break from going at each other's throats.

“No,” Carol screeches back, “Dave is going to pull out his checkbook and write you a pretty little cheque and you’re going to keep your mouth quiet or I'm going to inform every woman in this neighbourhood what a nasty little whore you are.”

“No you won’t.” Dave growls at Carol. “You can have all the dick you want but I cant fuck her?” He snorts. “Go wait at the house.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She growls at him, before looking you up and down one more time. “You really think you can handle a night with him, sweetheart? He’ll be bored senseless within the first ten minutes.”

“We’ll see,” you say quietly, “Maybe I'll surprise us both.”

“Go to the fucking house, Carol.” Dave hisses. “Or shut your fucking mouth. You’re the reason this is even fucking happening.” He’ll blame her, making sure she won’t try to blame you. “If you hadn’t fucked up, she wouldn’t be in a position to ask for sex.”

Your eyes remain focusing on him as she spews some colourful language in your direction before storming out the kitchen and out of the house.

“Now.” Dark, amused eyes turn towards you. He has to admire the gumption of your demand. “What makes you think that fucking me will keep that mouth of yours shut?” He asks. “Just having my cock in it?”

“You can take the photos,” you say, with a shrug, “I know the hell she’d cause for me and my family if I was to ever say a single word.”

“Why do you want me to fuck you?” He asks seriously. Wanting to know your reasoning behind this.

“She’s getting what she wants, my silence. Figured I’d ask for something that I’ve always wanted… You.” With a shaky breath, you reach your arm out to touch him, “Everyone wants you. You can’t pretend that women don’t throw themselves at you.”

“Everyone doesn’t want me.” Dave shakes his head. Some women might be attracted to him, but he also scares some off. “But if you want me, I have to ask what’s wrong with you?” He smirks.

“Read too many filthy stories,” you say with a giggle, “I don’t know. Lonely I guess.”

“I’m not the easiest to take.” He warns you. “And I like to fuck hard.”

A gasp escapes you at the way he’s speaking to you, but you can’t ignore the way your body reacts to him. “One night. I’m yours to do as you please with.”

Sitting back, he rocks his jaw as he contemplates it. “Are you on birth control?” He demands.

“No,” you admit, “But I can show you that I’m clean. I’ve nev- I can get Plan B and you can watch me take it… That’s if you don’t want to use a condom.”

“I’m not going to use a condom.” Dave decides. “And I’m going to fill two out of your three holes with my cum.” He smirks. “I’ll let you guess which two.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, clearly nervous but excited too. “When? Do I need to do anything to prepare?”

He snorts and reminds himself that you are innocent. “Show up when I call you.” He tells you, standing up and towering over you. “And forget what you saw Tuesday.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, standing up and studying his face for a few seconds. “I saw nothing.”

“Good girl.” He turns around and starts striding to the door, aware that his wife would be spoiling for a fight and he wants to get it over with before the girls come home from their Nana’s house. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” you say softly, watching as he leaves.

It’s a quick walk back to his house, sighing heavily before he opens the door and steps inside.

You immediately throw yourself back down onto the sofa and question whether any of that really happened and you really asked to have sex with Dave York.

“Are you fucking serious?” Carol screeches as she watches Dave stride into the kitchen. “Are you actually considering fucking that little whore?”

Dave pins her with a hot glare. “What do you suggest, Carol?” He hisses. “I’ve got to clean up your mess, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean you get to make a mess with her,” she yells. “You’re not doing it, you can keep up the pretense and then force her to sign an NDA.”

“I’m done with your shit.” He huffs, striding over and grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking bitch, and this is your fucking mess!”

“Temper temper, Dave, we both know who’ll end up with the girls if this goes sour.” She says with a smirk, before stepping back and walking towards the cupboard with the wine glasses. “If you fuck her, i’ll take you for everything you’ve got.”

“I’ve got evidence, Carol.” Dave warns you. “Photos, texts, recorded conversations of you cheating.”

“Bullshit,” she says with a cruel laugh, before skulking upstairs with a bottle of wine tucked under her arm.

Dave growls, slapping a coffee mug to the side and wondering what the fuck is going on. Unable to believe that things have gotten so twisted.

A few days have passed since you saw Dave and Carol at your house and you’ve heard nothing. You figure that he changed his mind, and have decided to put the whole thing behind you and move on with the hopes that Carol doesn’t attempt to take revenge over your suggestion.

Laying down in front of the TV the sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table makes you jump.

‘Tomorrow night’ He sends you a text. ‘’Come over at 8. I’ll be taking you to a hotel.’

‘Is there anything I need to bring’’ You type back immediately, excitement swirling around in your tummy.

‘Your cunt.’ Dave snorts to himself as he hits send.

‘I’ll double check I’ve got it before I leave.’ You send back with a giggle. You decide that you’ll get up early and pop to the mall and buy something special for the occasion.

Dave hums at your smart ass reply, ignoring the way Carol huffs and puffs across from him. She’s pissed but she can just stay mad for all he cares.

You settle on an early night and sleep comes easily to you. You should feel guilty, but you don’t. It’s one night in exchange for keeping a secret for the rest of your life.

Between his wife’s cold shoulder last night and her quiet sullen expression this morning, Dave has had time to muse over what he will do. To contemplate it, rejecting several thoughts, he decides that he will just decide in the moment based of how you respond to him. He’s not a monster, he isn’t going to do things you don’t like, but you chose him. Your silence is worth getting some satisfaction.

The morning flies by and after a very expensive trip to the mall you find yourself clock watching, fighting the nerves and anxiety that are bubbling in your tummy. Wondering if you’re really going to go through with this.

Dave watches as you come and go from your house, working from home and he wonders where you’ve gone. He knows he could quickly find out, but half the fun is the wondering.

After a long soak in the bath and dressing in the new white lingerie you picked up that morning, you pull on your sundress and pack a few things for the hotel. Not convinced you’ll be sleeping but you pack some pajamas anyway, before slowly making your way to the York residence just before 8.

“I can’t believe you are going to do this.” Carol hisses as Dave picks up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Feel free to call the police department and confess to a hit and run while drinking.” Dave snorts, opening the door and looking back at his wife.

You see him at his door, and you shiver with anticipation. You pick up your pace a little until you’re waiting patiently next to his car.

“Get in.” He tells you as he unlocks the door.

“Yes sir,” you say with a shy smile, before climbing in.

Dave hums, taking his bag into the back seat before he climbs behind the wheel.

“So, how are you?” You ask after a few minutes of driving in silence. Clearly nervous and wondering if he can tell.

“Surprised that you are here.” Dave tells you. “Honestly.”

A small giggle slips through your lips and you see his brow raise in response and you’re almost certain his lips began to curl upwards before falling back into their natural state of neutrality. “I’m not… I thought you weren’t ever going to text me though.”

“Why is that?” He looks at you at the stop sign at the end of the road.

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug, “I guess I figured you already knew I have no intentions of saying anything.”

“I figured that out the second your chin trembled in my hand.” Dave chuckles and sends you a small smirk before he turns to the right and starts driving towards the hotel he had booked.

“Mhmm,” you say, before nervously biting on your bottom lip. “You definitely had me in the palm of your hand.”

“Gotta say I’m surprised you came out and just said that you wanted me to fuck you to keep silent.” He snorts. “Thought Carol was going to stroke out.”

“Yeah, I still can’t believe I said it either.” You admit. “I can’t believe she didn’t punch me.”

“Fuck her.” He rolls his eyes. “She deserves it for being a fucking cunt who acts like she’s got a get out of jail free card for everything.”

“Well then I guess it’s time you got a reward for being such an attentive husband.” You reach over and gently squeeze his knee before letting your hand fall back into your lap.

“Are you a virgin?” Dave asks, wanting to know if it was true. He had said you were, but he didn’t know for sure.

“Is it a problem for you if I am?” You ask quietly. A little nervous about his answer, but figuring that he already knows anyway.

“No.” Dave shakes his head and his cock is throbbing at the thought. “I will just not ram my cock into you. I don’t want you to hate fucking.” He snorts.

“I won’t mind,” you say with another giggle, “I should admit that I’ve thought about it… Thought about you.”

“What have you thought about?” He asks, wanting to know how deep this little crush goes.

You moan as his hand grips onto your thigh, “Dirty thoughts. There was this story I read where the Dad sold his daughter to a crime boss to pay off his debts…”

“Yeah?” He chuckles.” Was I the crime boss? Taking the innocent girl and ruining her?”

“Yes.” Your hand comes down on top of his and gently moves it higher. “Took her virginity and became addicted to her pussy.”

“Hmmmm and you think I’ll become addicted to yours?” He muses.

“Maybe.” You inch his hand up just enough that his fingertips can brush the lace material of your bright white panties, wondering how he’ll react to the wet patch in the center.

“It would have to be pretty good.” He warns you. “Besides, why would you want a man who will cheat on his wife?”

“I don’t think you would do it if she hadn’t pushed you this far,” you say with a shrug, gently letting go of his hand.

“That upset you.” He doesn’t ask, says it as a fact as he turns into the hotel parking lot. He didn’t choose a seedy motel, the nice, modern chain hotel will provide little luxuries and complete privacy.

You don’t say anything, you simply offer a small smile before appreciating the fact he’d clearly put thought into where you were going. “I’m not a silly little girl,” you say as he pulls into a spot, “I don’t expect you to fall in love with me or for anything to come from this, Dave. I know this just for one night.”

“And yet, you’re wearing sexy lingerie.” His hand slides back between your thighs to press against your wet clit.

“I thought you’d like it,” you admit, before moaning his name softly.

“What color is it?” He asks before he chuckles. “White. Right?”

You nod your head, feeling slightly embarrassed at how predictable you are. His demeanour is slightly sharper than before, and you can’t help but ask, “Do you not want to do this?”

“I am trying to figure out if you really want to do this.” Dave tells you seriously.

“I do.”

“Good.” He growls and pulls his hand away. “If you regret it, there’s not a fucking thing I can do after I’m buried deep in your little pussy.”

“I won’t regret it,” you say softly, before cupping his face, “I promise.” In that moment you can’t help but wonder when the last time someone was gentle with him, his body seems to immediately stiffen as your fingertips rub gentle circles into his cheeks.

Dave nods, trying not to pull away from your fingers but they feel too good against his skin. Foreign to a man who spends so much time in darkness.

“Shall we go in?” You ask with a genuine smile, “We don’t have to rush into anything.”

“I’ve already checked in.” He tells you, holding up his phone. “Digital key.”

“Perfect.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your overnight bag and step out the car, waiting for Dave to lead the way.

You are an eager thing, he has to give you that. He claims his own bag and walks around the car, placing his hand on your lower back and guiding you towards the doors.

You love the way his hand feels on you, and wonder how he's planning on taking things tonight. "I think tonight is going to be a good night," you say with a smile as he leads you to the elevators.

"Have you eaten, or were you too nervous?" He asks once you are in the elevator and the doors are closed. The button for the eighth floor is pressed and he looks over at where you are standing close to him.

"I had lunch but nothing else," you tell him, resisting the urge to thread your fingers with his.

"Do you want to eat after?" He won't feed you before. Shooting you a grin, he shrugs. "If you eat now, you might throw up."

"Sounds good," you say with a smile. "I'm never one to turn down food."

"We'll order room service." He decides.

"Perfect." The elevator arrives on your floor and he gestures for you to step out first and you wait patiently for him to lead you to your room.

Dave pulls out his phone, opening the app and walking towards the room so he can open it with the digital key.

You step into the room and admire how nice it is, the king bed in the centre of the room looks nice and inviting. He stands in the doorway and watches you as you look around, "How do you want to do this?" You ask as you spin on your heel to talk to him.

He has to admire how eager you seem to be. Smirking slightly, he lets the door clothes and then flips the lock behind him. "You tell me, sweetheart." He chuckles. "This was your demand. How do you want my cock."

"However you're willing to give it to me," you say, watching as he slowly walks towards you.

"I think I want you to strip for me." He tells you as he brushes past you to sit down in a chair that he pulls next to the bed. Arching a brow at you when he settles down.

"Yes, sir," you say, before unbuttoning your jacket and placing it on the bed. "I've never done this before." You take a few small steps until you're in front of his chair and wait for him to tell you to start.

"Take your time." He tells you. "Do it slowly."

You nod and flash him a small smile before slowly reaching behind to unzip your sundress. Letting the straps slowly fall off your shoulders as the billowy material starts to fall down your body, revealing the brand new lingerie set you had bought earlier that day.

"So innocent." He murmurs, taking in the white lace and yet there is something so dirty about you. You pushed for this, knowing he's married. You want him, however you can have him. "Hmmmm stay just like that." He tells you as he reaches for his belt.

"I got this just for you," you tell him, as your fingertips trail against the soft material. "Do you like it?"

"It's pretty." He coos, smirking as your fingers trail over your body. Something you've obviously done a time or two because you aren't shy about it. "Why don't you come open my pants for me, Princess."

"Yes sir." Walking towards him, you bite your lip in anticipation, and slowly sink down onto your knees in front of him. Your fingers hover for a few seconds before finding the button and popping it open.

Dave watches you, under hooded eyes as you bite and lick your bottom lip. Your fingers fumbling slightly as you drag his zipper down. "Take your time."

You nod your head and wait for him to lift his hips, so you drag down his pants. "What do you want me to do first?"

"What do you want to do?" He asks. "I want you to suck my cock."

"I can do that," you say, as you pull down his pants and boxers in one clean sweep. The sweetest oooooh he's ever heard comes out of you as you see his cock for the first time. Thick, long, rock hard with the tip weeping.

Dave watches you, enjoying the way your eyes widen and you unconsciously lick your lips. Innocent. At least you are innocent enough to fake it. He covers your hand with his and slowly starts to move your hand along his shaft.

"It's so thick," you say, as he helps you increase the pace, "Is it going to fit?"

"It's gonna fit. It'll be a tight little squeeze around my cock." He grunts, twitching in your hand.

"Yeah?" You ask before squeezing him a little tighter, and loving the groan he gifts you in response. "My little pussy is going to fit around this gorgeous cock like a glove."

You might be a virgin, but you've obviously touched a cock before. He grunts, wondering what little boy you touched and how quickly he came. "You are going to scream before you leave this suite."

"Yes, but only your name," you say with a little giggle. "Tell me how good your cock feels in my hand, sir."

"Sir?" His brow arches up and he chuckles. "Do you have a little bit of an authority kink?" He asks, figuring that you would be attracted to him if that was the case. He's been told he has a commanding presence.

"I don't know," you admit with a shrug, still stroking his cock. "I guess I just like the idea of you in charge."

"Open your mouth." He reaches out and grasps your chin. "Taste my cock."

Your mouth falls open immediately, tongue dipping out to lip the head. You've never sucked cock before but you've watched a lot of videos and read a lot of smut, so you remember not to take too much at once and to swallow around him.

"G-good." He grunts as your tongue flutters over the tip and your lips wrap around him. "How do I taste?"

You pull off him with a loud pop, "First cock I've ever sucked, and I already know that no other will compare… Delicious."

He grunts, and his cock twitches in your hand. "Good. Suck it some more." He orders roughly.

You take the base of him in your hand again and wrap your lips around the head, hollowing your cheeks before bobbing up and down slowly, feeling your arousal drip down your thighs as he groans in pleasure.

Dave lets you work at your own pace, slowly exploring him and getting comfortable with his size. You are probably soaking through your panties as you kneel in front of him. "Do you like that? Sucking my cock."

Not wanting to stop, you simply look up at him through your lashes and nod. You take him a little deeper and moan at the stretch, eyes filling with water as fat tears threaten to stain your cheeks.

He can't take his eyes off of you, eyes watering and about to spill down. He wants to see it. He rocks his hips up and pushes his cock deeper into your mouth and grunting when you gag.

You splutter around him, tears now streaming down your face as he grunts something filthy at you. It's overwhelming but you want more, the need to be at his mercy growing stronger as your panties get wetter.

"Slide back." Dave orders with a growl, suddenly wanting to be on his feet over you. "Now."

You obey his command immediately, letting him fall out of your mouth before sliding back and waiting patiently for your next order.

"Open your mouth, stick out your tongue." He stands, his pants shuffling as he moves forward, stroking his cock that is covered with your saliva. "I'm gonna fuck your throat, pretty girl."

You swallow hard at his words and the filthy smirk that spreads across his face tells you that he heard it. You place your hands in your lap and open your mouth, making eye contact as you stick out your tongue.

He smirks at how quickly you follow his order. How eagerly you obey him. "Good girl." He grunts, slapping his cock onto your tongue and then rocking his hips forward to thrust into your mouth.

One of your hands comes up and rests gently on his thigh as he starts to fuck into your mouth, you focus on hollowing you cheeks and swallowing around him. You gag around him as he starts to pick up his pace and you think he likes this, you think he likes seeing your innocent face overwhelmed by his thick cock.

Dave works up a quick pace, moving his hand to the back of your head and pressing you harder onto his cock. Starting to really fuck your mouth to see how much you will drool and choke on him.

The noises you make are filthy, your fingernails dig into his thighs as you gasp for breath, after a few moments you push your head back and pull off him with a loud gasp. Still connected to him with a line of saliva.

"Good girl." He pulls his hips back and he leans down, opening his own mouth and spitting, wanting you to swallow his spit.

"Delicious." You rise up so you're standing toe to toe with him, and you decide to make a move. Wrapping your arms around his neck, and pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips.

"Why do I like every other man is just going to be a disappointment when compared to you?"

"Because they are." He chuckles, sliding his hands down and squeezing your ass. "Now, stretch out on the bed and watch while I get more comfortable."

"Yes sir." Climbing onto the bed, you make yourself comfortable. Letting your fingertips trail down your body as you watch him.

Dave isn't wearing a button down shirt, so he doesn't get to show you how slowly he can undress. But he is making you wait as he slides his shirt up over his head.

"You're so sexy," you whisper, as he starts to shred his clothing.

He chuckles, flattered by your praise because he knows he's not in as good of shape as he used to be. No need when you aren't in the military anymore. He kicks off his shoes and strips off the pants that are already around his ankles.

"What do you want to do to me first?" You ask, as you push yourself up onto your elbows and admire the view.

"Undo your top." He grunts as he starts moving towards the bed. "Want to see your tits."

You reach around and undo your bra, letting the straps fall off your shoulders before pulling it off.

"Fuck." He hisses, imagining biting and sucking on the sweet little nipples you've exposed. "I'll enjoy cumming on them." He tells you. "Turn over, your ass up in the air and your face down on the bed."

You do as he commands, ignoring the way your cheeks burn a little. Waiting patiently to see what he's going to do next.

Kneeling on the bed behind you, he reaches out to caress your ass, enjoying the sight of your panties stretched over your ass. Swatting your cheek, one then the other sharply with his palm. "Fucking dirty."

"You going to keep these panties?" You ask as you lift your face off the pillow. "Something special for you to remember this night."

"Might." He hums. "Might just tie you up with them." He threatens lightly, knowing that he won't.

"You can do anything you want." You say as he softly massages your ass. "Are you taking me like this first?"

"No." He's not going to take you like this. His fingers curl under the waist of your panties and he starts to drag them down.

"Ohhh," you moan as he exposes your dripping wet core. "Dave."

"Nothing to moan about yet." He huffs, lowering himself down to eye level with your cunt. "Yet." Lunging forward, he spreads your cheeks and dives into your cunt from behind.

"Ohhh fuck," you yelp, his tongue beginning the most delicious assault on your cunt. "Don't stop."

He grunts, not bothering to pull away to tell you he has no intention of stopping. Making sure his tongue curls filthily. Licking you from clit to puckered hole.

"Daaaave," you scream, as he starts lapping against your clit, your thighs begin to shake as he pushes you towards paradise.

He actually enjoys eating pussy. Never minding it when his wife wanted until it began to be a one sided thing where she would make excuse after excuse not to suck his dick. So he had stopped doing it. Now, he is ravenous, licking through your folds and greedy to hear your moans.

"How do I taste?" you ask, mimicking his own questions from moments before.

He grunts, flicking his tongue against your clit and slapping your thigh. Enjoying your cheekiness as he works his jaw, wanting you to scream.

"Tell me," you beg, as he starts sucking your clit, pulling you closer and closer to that edge.

"Like Christmas." He grunts, pulling his lips away for a moment before he slides his tongue back up to your quivering entrance to tongue fuck you.

The noise that you make is indescribable, filthy yet so innocent as he starts to thrust his tongue in and out of you. Your finger finds your throbbing clit and you start to rub slow circles into it as he takes you apart with his tongue.

Dave's hand smacks yours, pulling it away. You aren't going to cum from anything you do to your body if you are in bed with him. You wanted him, you're going to get him.

You yelp as he slaps away your hand and he growls into your core. "Dave, please," you beg, over and over, not sure what you're pleading for but needing more.

Instead of chastising you, he gives you what you need. Sliding his tongue out of your dripping, quivering cunt, he moves back down to your clit and pushes two thick fingers inside you to replace his tongue.

The stretch from his fingers makes you sink your teeth into your lip, his are so much thicker than yours and it's almost too much. His tongue laps at you like he's a starved man, and it isn't long before your arms are threatening to give way and your thighs are shaking from the pleasure ripping its way through your body, and you're unable to speak even a single word as pleasure overwhelms you.

Dave hums against your clit, providing that slight vibration against your bundle of nerves as he sucks again. Not able to see your face, he's feeling and hearing your reaction and it's something beautiful and satisfying.

"I think I'm gonn-oohhh," you gasp before cumming hard on his tongue and around his fingers. Squeezing them so tightly it swear you hear him groan. "Fuck."

He isn't greedy right now. He doesn't pull his fingers back and immediately move. Working you through it with slow pumps of his fingers and flicks of his tongue.

"All other men are officially ruined," you breathe out with a giggle, coming down from your high and loving the unexpected soft attention from him as you do so.

He chuckles as he pulls away, straightening and curling his fingers slightly before he pulls them out of your cunt and dragging you up off the bed to offer them to you to taste.

You wonder if he heard you wince as he removed his fingers, not used to the thickness of him. A smile spreads across your face before you take his fingers in your mouth, sucking gently before pulling off with a pop. "I read a story once, where she tasted them mixed together... Can we try that later?"

He hums, smirking slightly as his other hand cups your breast. "You are a curious little slut." He teases, not meaning it negatively. He likes that you are curious. That you want to try all your desires. Pre-cum from his cock smears across your lower back.

"I plan on making the most of my one night with you," you admit, before turning around to face him.

"Interesting." He smirks and squeezes your ass. "Now, do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, please." You reply excitedly, "Fuck me, sir."

It's not exactly gentle, the way he pushes you down onto the bed, although he makes sure you are comfortable before he follows. Sliding between your quickly spreading thighs, his hips are cradled by yours and he lays his throbbing cock against your mound as he slowly gives you his weight, letting you feel him spread over you.

"Dave," you moan, as he throbs against your clit. Nerves dancing around in your tummy as you get ready to take your first ever cock, "Please."

"Please what?" He teases again, brushing his lips against yours while he rocks his hips playfully. "You want something, you have to tell me."

"Kiss me," it's not what you were begging for, but the way his lips brushed against yours, has you needing more.

He knows that wasn't what you meant to say, but he chuckles. Giving into your pretty begging, he kisses you and slides his tongue along your lips.

You can't help but moan against his lips, before opening yours and letting his tongue gain entry. Your hand finds its way into his hair and you press him closer, the kiss becoming more frantic as you do so.

He doesn't rush you. Making out like he's not aching to sink into your virgin walls and claim you. His tongue caresses yours and he groans into your mouth.

Your spare hand trails down his back, your fingernails lightly digging in and leaving small scratches and marks wherever they can. "Fuck me, Dave," you beg softly against his lips, before resuming your kiss.

Pulling his hips back slightly, Dave moves his cock with his hand, rubbing it up and down your folds before he presses against your entrance. "With pleasure."

You take a deep breath, ready for him to shove his cock into you, but he's much slower than you're anticipating. Pushing in inch by inch and letting you adjust to the width of him.

Even if his hand was forced, he's not going to make this any harsher than it needs to be. Slowly rocking his hips as he fills you. Keeping his lips on yours as he gathers you closely.

It makes you hiss as he stretches you open, your fingernails digging a little harsher into his skin until he fills you to the hilt.

"Not a virgin anymore." He murmurs against your lips, making sure that he doesn't move while you get used to the feeling of him inside you.

"Thank you," you reply, "You feel so big, Dave."

"I am big." He hums, not boasting but he's got a good sized cock.

"And you’re all mine tonight," you say with a giggle, "You can move. I want you to feel good."

Making a sound of agreement, Dave starts to move Grinding deeper before pulling his hips back to start a slow and steady rhythm. While he wants to wreck you, there is time for that later. He needs you to get used to his cock and enjoy the ride.

You're surprised at how quickly the pleasure drowns out the ache of pain. "Feels so good," you murmur as he slightly increases his pace, searching for that spot inside of you. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

He rolls his hips down, rewarded when you squeal and your walls clench down around his cock. "There it is." He groans with a grin on his face as he makes sure to hit against that spot again and again with every thrust.

You swear that you can see stars as he notches against a part of you that you've never been able to reach. Your walls greedily suction around him as he pulls out your pleasure with ease. "Tell me how I feel," you beg, needing to hear how good you're making him feel.

"Tightest little cock sleeve I've ever been in." He groans, being purposefully filthy and moaning in your ear. "So goddamn hot and tight around me." He hisses when you clench down around him in response to his filthy words. "Gonna fuck you all night, just leave you on my cock."

"Please," you gasp out at his words, camping down around him as he notches against paradise. "Fill me up, make this pussy yours."

"Gonna." He grits out, clenching his teeth together and snarling when you wrap your legs around his waist. His next thrust is harsher than he meant, unable to hold back as he surges forward and fills you with his cock.

You cry out as he snaps his hips, and he immediately covers your mouth with his. Gripping onto to you as he rocks his hips, fucking into that spot whilst possessively claiming your lips.

He keeps his thrusts sharper, enjoying the way that you respond and clench around him. Loving how your nails scratch down his back and mark him up for Carol to see. He groans into your mouth and reaches down to hitch your leg higher on his hip, wanting to get even deeper.

You feel yourself teetering on the edge, seconds away from falling over. The sound of him grunting your name sends you flying, white hot pleasure ripping through you as you scream his name, your cunt clamps down hard around his throbbing cock before flooding around him.

He hadn't expected you to cum so quickly but he groans, rocking you through it with the same pace that had worked you up to your orgasm. Watching as you thrash under him and feeling the small catch in his throat when you whimper his name after screaming it.

"Fuck," you choke out, as he continues to chase his high. Your pussy still fluttering around his throbbing cock as you come down from your high. "You're incredible," you murmur against his lips, "So fucking incredible."

"You're incredible." He grunts, knowing that you want reassurance that you are good. "Gonna make me cum if I'm not careful."

"I want you to cum," you say, bumping your nose against his,

"Fuck, I want to feel you dripping from me.

You are filthy and he loves that. Twitching inside you as he chuckles. "Then you'll drip me while I recover." He promises, quickening his pace to one that he wanted to fuck you at.

He punches the air from your lungs as he chases his high, fucking you into the mattress as you bite down onto his shoulders uncaring about the marks you'll leave. You want to tell him that he feels better than you imagined, how all the books and videos on Bellessa House didn't prepare you for just how incredible it all feels.

Dave's hands run down your thighs, pulling them up more as he snaps his hips down, fucking furiously into you.Wanting to fuck away the traitorous thoughts in his head. He grunts. "Fuck. Shit-you- tight."

The pace is dizzying, the pleasure accompanied by a little twang of pain making your head spin. Opening your eyes you concentrate on his face, his pupils blown wide with lust as he grunts over and over, his pace getting a little sloppier with every thrust as he nears his high.

He feels his body starting to tighten. Balls pulling up against his body and he hisses out a curse as his hips stutter. "Fuck." Thrusting twice more, he grinds his cock deep and moans your name as he paints your walls with hot spurts of cum, emptying himself into you.

You moan louder with every spurt of cum that he fills you up with, never wanting to lose this feeling of being caught beneath him. "That was incredible," you murmur after a few moments of panting and catching breaths. "Thank you."

He hums and looks down at you with a small smirk. "You're welcomed?" He asks. "Maybe I should be thanking you."

"No," you say with a little shake of your head, "That was perfect. Better than I had ever imagined. How are you feeling?" You ask as he hooks your leg around his hip and lays down next to you, keeping his cock nestled inside.

He snorts, rolling his eyes at your question. "I just took your virginity." He reminds you. "I should be asking you how you feel." You shrug slightly and he sighs. "Surprisingly good for being the first time l've cheated on my wife." He tells you.

"Do you regret it?" You ask, stroking his face and trying to ignore the way it stung a little as he rolled his eyes at you. "Are you happy you came?"

"I don't regret it." He promises, leaning into your touch. "And I am happy that I came. Pun completely intended." He jokes.

"Good," you say with a smile, your fingertips rubbing the softest circles into his face. "I'm really happy that you came, I see how stressed you've been... And I just feel the need to take some of that away from you."

"You see that I'm stressed?" His brow furrows in surprise, sure that he had carried the stress well. At least Carol had not asked about it in a long time.

"You carry it on your shoulders," you say, before pressing a light kiss to the tip of his nose. "And in your eyes."

"Why would you care?" He seriously doesn't understand why you would want to ease his stress.

You immediately notice the change in him, and you worry you've overstepped. "You just work so hard... I'm sorry."

"No." Dave reaches for your hand when you pull it back, keeping it on his face. "I don't mean it like that." He explains. "I just don't know why you would care about me."

"Why not? You work so hard to look after your family." You resume drawing the little circles on his face with your fingertips, "I'm not saying I didn't want to do this for selfish reasons, but really I just wanted to give you some relief."

It's quite possibly the most touching thing that someone has done for him in a long time. Despite the headache he got from Carol, he feels relaxed. He hums and rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. "Then you need to keep relieving me tonight." He grunts, eyes closed and a hint of a smile on his face.

"However you need," you say with a giggle, before bending over and recapturing his lips with a bruising kiss.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly, wanting to make sure that he hadn't hurt you.

"I'm really fucking good," you say, before nudging your nose against his. "Better than I have been in a long time."

"Good." He accepts that, sighing softly as he wonders what the fuck will happen now. He's enjoying being here with you. Liking how you are soft and sweet with him.

"Do you wanna order room service, baby?" You ask, loving the way he pulls you even closer. "See if I can make you cum again before it arrives?"

"What do you want to eat?" He asks. "Might be harder for you to make me cum the second time around."

"I'm up for a challenge, and mhmmm... breakfast sounds good."

"Are you one that can eat breakfast anytime?" He asks with a chuckle, thinking of all the times Alice demands pancakes for dinner.

"I could eat you anytime," you giggle, "But yes. IHOP is my idea of a romantic date."

He snorts and shakes his head. "So I shouldn't tell you that I make better pancakes, hmmm?"

"Not unless you're planning on making me some," you murmur against his lips, "Order food, baby."

"You have to move off me." He reminds you in a teasing tone as he squeezes your hips.

"Hurry," you say, before moving off him and shooting him an exaggerated pout. "Extra maple syrup."

The menu is by the phone on the desk across from the bed.

Striding over to it nude, Dave is very aware of your eyes on him as he picks up the receiver and connects to the kitchen to place the order.

Your eyes roam up and down his body, taking in every delicious inch. He's gorgeous. Broad and begging to be touched... tasted.

He orders you pancakes, extra maple syrup with eggs and a mimosa. A steak for himself, with eggs and toast to keep with the breakfast theme. Turning back towards you as he finishes up the order. "Anything else?"

"Just you," you say with a smirk.

Rolling his eyes, he pulls the phone back up to his mouth.

"That's it. Thanks." Hanging up, he watches you watch him for a moment, finding the fascination in your eyes slightly thrilling.

"Come here," you tell him softly.

He could resist, probably should reestablish the power dynamic but he finds that he doesn't want to. Humming quietly, he walks towards you, keeping his eyes on you.

"Kiss me, Dave York, and then tell me what you want me to do to you."

You are an intoxicating mixture of submissive and demanding, making it hard to judge what will come out of your mouth. "If you want me to fuck you again, you better suck my cock."

The moment he's laying down, you're crawling down the bed and positioning yourself between his legs. He's half hard and you feel your core get wetter at the thought of him hardening in your mouth. "With pleasure."

Eagerly, you take his cock into your mouth, making him groan before you pull off of him. He grunts, but is satisfied when you lick up the length of him. "Fuck. Greedy little thing, aren't you?" He huffs happily.

You hum happily around his length, gently sucking his cock and loving how it feels as he gets harder and harder in your mouth.

Dave reaches down, his hand smoothing over your hand and around to your jaw. Feeling it open and work as you bob up and down on his cock. "Does it turn you on?"

You nod yes, too greedy to pull off to speak. This is the only night you get him and you refuse to let a moment go to waste. You hollow your cheeks like you've seen in porn and moan in pleasure around him.

"Less suction." He urges you, smirking down at your wide eyes.

"Don't suck my soul out. I don't have one."

You pull off him and shake your head, "Yes you do. No one loves their kids the way you love those girls without a soul, Dave."

"They are my kids." He tells you. "Of course I love them."

"You have a soul, Dave," you say again softly, before taking him back in your mouth. He's fully hard and you're on a race against the clock to get him to cum again before food arrives. You swallow over and over as you take him as deep as you can, trying hard not to gag as you start bobbing up and down.

He watches, groaning when he's bucking his hips up slightly.

"Good girl." He moans your name quietly, feeling his body responding to your eager mouth.

You gently stroke the parts of him you can't fit into your mouth, wanting him to flood your mouth with his cum, needing to make this moment just about him. You double down on your efforts while remaining conscious that you've only done this once before earlier this evening. The groans he rewards you with spurring you on as his hips start to rock in and out of your greedy little mouth.

"Do you want me to cum in your mouth?" Dave grunts, wondering if you want him to fill your pussy again or mouth this time.

The smile that spreads across your face even with your mouth stuffed full of his cock makes him chuckle. You gently nod, not wanting to hurt him, still bobbing up and down. The ache between your legs growing stronger and stronger with every passing second.

His groan of your name is strained, nearly unheard as it's forced from his throat with all the air in his lungs. His body tensing up and his balls pulling tight against his body for the second time tonight.

You hum in delight as he starts to spill down your throat, one of his hands holding your head still as he rocks his hips.

The salty tang of him is addictive and you hope it's not the only time time he'll finish in your mouth tonight. You swallow as much as you can, feeling some slip from the corner of your lips and he fills you up. Each one of his thrusts coming with a raspy groan of pleasure.

You gently pull off him as he hisses from the overstimulation, making eye contact, you gather up the cum that's dripping down your chin and neck and bring it up to your lips, being sure to swallow every drop. "You taste delicious, Mr York."

The knock at the door interrupts you both and Dave springs up. Reaching for his boxers as he looks back at you. "Get under the covers."

"Yes sir," you say with a little giggle, loving how possessive he is.

Dave opens the door, sure that it's not Carol coming to scream at you, he had not let her know where he was taking you. The waiter nods and he backs up to allow him to bring the tray in. "On the table is fine." He tells him, looking at where you're peeking out over the covers.

You avoid eye contact with the waiter, focusing on watching Dave. Your eyes scanning his broad shoulders and feeling yourself grow more desperate to feel him again. You whisper a soft 'thank you' to the waiter as he puts the tray down and makes his way back towards the door.

Only after the lock is flipped again does Dave start to chuckle. "That man wanted to see you so bad, I thought he was going to strain his eyes."

You whip off the covers and raise an eyebrow, "Do you wanna call him back?" You tease as he shakes his head.

"Think I'll keep you to myself." He decides, motioning you over. "Come eat. Don't get dressed."

"Please do," you say as you slide off the bed and stroll over to him. Unashamed of your nakedness in front of him, because you feel so at ease. "I'm starved."

"Good." He winks and starts to pull the covers off the dishes. "If you spill syrup on yourself, I'll just lick it off you."

"Sounds like you're trying to make me spill it." You take a mouthful of the soft fluffy pancakes and moan in delight,

"Second best thing I've tasted this evening."

"What's the first?" He asks, smirking slightly and finding your flirty, playful humor to be far more enjoyable than he had thought you would be. You always seemed so nervous around him.

"I think you know," you say, before reaching over and stealing a fry from his plate. "How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly good." Dave tells you, smirking slightly and pushing his plate towards you. "I don't like being forced to do something, so I had thought I would resent tonight. But I have enjoyed myself."

"Did you really feel forced?" You ask, feeling your face drop.

"I wouldn't have said shit, I can't believe I even suggested it;

I think it was because she was being so mean."

"No." He shakes his head, wishing he hadn't said anything to you. Not liking the way your face has fallen and you look upset. "I don't feel forced. You gave me the excuse to touch you."

"Good," you say quietly, biting down on your bottom lip to stop it from quivering. "I-uh, you know you can leave if you want to? I'll sign anything, I’ll do anything, but I think you already know that I'd never do anything that you could get implicated in and get you in trouble."

"I'm not leaving." Dave assures you. "I think we are past signing anything, don't you?"

"Yes," you reply, a small smile briefly lifting your lips upwards, before you dig back into your food.

"Good." He smirks slightly as he watches you eat. You've got a good appetite.

"What do you want to do after this?" You ask, between bites of pancakes. "I could make you cum again. With my hand this time?"

"You are the one who should tell me how this is going to go." He reminds you. "You are the one without the experience. What do you want to do?"

"I want to ride you."

"Then finish your dinner and I'Il let you climb on top."

"You'll tell me what to do?" You ask, a little embarrassed. "I mean I've seen it in porn, but I want you to feel good."

Dave snorts, nearly choking on his drink and looks over at you to see if you are being serious. "Sweetheart, if your pussy is around my dick, I feel good."

"That's it?" You ask, all wide eyed and hopeful. Gently placing the fork down onto your plate.

He nods, watching you preen under the praise. "You could sit on my cock while you eat and I would be happy."

"Right now, sir?" Your voice softly begs, as you stare into those dark brown eyes.

You continuously surprise him. He pushes back from the table and lifts his hips to take off his boxers. "Come sit."

You push your plate across the table before standing up and stepping towards him. "Yes sir." Grateful that you're still slick enough for him to slide in, you slowly lower yourself as he guides his cock towards your entrance. "Fuck. How do you feel thicker like this?"

The angle is better but he's too busy groaning your name to tell you that. Gripping your hips and closing his eyes in bliss.

"Feel good baby?" You ask, with a giggle. Feeling his thighs tighten beneath you as you clench around him.

"Feels good." Dave breathes out. "How does it feel for you?"

He asks, sliding his hands up to explore your body shamelessly as you sit on his throbbing cock.

"Incredible." Shamelessly you lean your head back and rest it on his shoulder, loving the way his hands feel on you.

"I think we are doing a good job of making the most of this one night," you say before grinding down on him. Clenching as tight as you can around him.

He hisses, jaw clenching at how good it feels. How tight you are gripping him. "Gonna make sure you remember this." He grunts.

"Fuck," you groan, as you rock your hips. His grip on you getting tighter as you rest your head back on his shoulder. "I know you are."

His hand possessively comes back around the front of your waist and holds you tight. Fusing you to him as he snaps his hips hard and fast to see your reaction in his sudden change of pace. Loving the innocent yet filthy moan of his name that he steals from your throat.

Dave digs his fingers into your waist, wanting to leave tender marks for you to remember him by. Bruises that you can press and remember how he had held you, fucked you. "Another moan." He demands, driving his hips up again. "More."

You give into his demand so easily, letting the room fill with the sounds of your pleasure. You push down and meet each thrust of his hips with your own, feeling pleasure course through your body, making your eyes roll back and your clit throb.

This has been to get back at Carol, to give you what you want to shut you up, but right now, this is for him. Watching you start to cum is his own personal little pleasure.

Knowing that he is making your eyes roll back is a thrill.

"Dave," you mumble softly, feeling the coil inside of you threaten to snap and throw you over that edge as he fucks up into you. "Please." You start to beg over and over as it starts to feel all too much but not enough at once.

He hums, continuing to rock up into you at a harsh pace.

Wondering what you are asking him. For him to cum, for him to make you cum again. He hisses out your name and drags you down for a kiss.

His lips are possessive and rough but you love it. His hand grips your jaw as he kisses you hard while continuing to grind his hips.

You murmur his name softly against his plush lips, before interlacing your fingers with his and bringing his hand up to your breast. "Make me yours."

He follows your lead, groping your breast and tangling his tongue against yours again. Taking control and wrapping his other arm around you and lifting you up onto the table, scattering the dishes.

"Tell me what you need," you murmur against his lips, as he tightens the grip he has on you and as you wrap legs around his waist.

Dave shoots to his feet, crowding over you. "Let me-" he grabs your thighs and pulls them up onto your waist. "Hang on."

"Yes sir," you say with a little giggle. "What are we doing?"

You watch his face, as he stares down at you, clearly enjoying the view. The urge to reach up and gently brush his cheek becomes overwhelming but you figure that may be overstepping a line, so you wait patiently for him to make his next move.

He stares for a few moments, rolling his jaw a few times before letting himself go."Tight little pussy," he growls quietly, before cupping your cunt and swiftly moving his hand up to your chest. "Perfect tits." He squeezes your breast roughly for a few moments and quickly let's go so he can grip your trembling jaw.

"Enthusiastic little mouth, you're being absolutely perfect for me... aren't you? Are you trying to make it difficult for me? Make it impossible to keep you for just one night?" You blink up at him, all doe eyed and innocent, staying completely still and silent as his hands roam your body.

Mumbling filth and praises and reminding you that no else has ever touched you how he's touching you right now, no one else has ever buried themselves deep in your perfect cunt and tasted your cum.

"I was furious," Dave admits after a few moments of silence, with a shake of his head. “Another careless mess she left me to clear up. But fuck, this time I might thank her when I get home." He tucks his thumb underneath your jaw and tilts your head up a little, before smashing his lips against yours. The kiss is quick, but it's consuming, the kind that makes you curl your toes and gasp for air... the kind that leaves your body begging for more. "I don't think I've felt this relaxed in years, or this happy."

"Dave," you breathe out and he immediately shushes you and presses another kiss to your lips.

"Will you let me show you how thankful I am, baby girl?"

"Yes," you breathe out, the easiest question you've ever had to answer.

You're still comfortably perched on the table, and he takes his seat in front of you again before he spreads your legs and places them over his shoulders.

The view has his cock twitching. Your pretty little pussy glistening with both of your arousal, his cum still slowly dripping from you. The heat of his breath coats your cunt and it sends the most delicious shiver down your spine as he teases what's to come.

"Should I lick this pretty little clit?" He murmurs against your thigh before gently sinking his teeth into it, "Or should I shove my tongue into that pretty little asshole? Watch you squirm as I eat your ass?"

He watches the way your chest starts to heave up and down, loving the innocence sketched across your face. "I'm going to lick your clit, and have you cum on my face and then you're going to taste yourself from my lips." He decides out loud, but not before gently biting your thigh again.

Your innocence is so appealing. Your enthusiasm for him is intoxicating. Dave hasn't felt this good about sex in years, since Alice was born. Definitely not as eager to eat Carol out as he is you.

Every flick of his tongue is calculated, he's taking his time, wanting to watch you come undone slowly and not wanting to rush this. He can tell you're eager for more, and you'll get it, but right now every swipe of his tongue is designed to make you beg for more. He needs to hear it, and the louder you'll be for him, the more he'll give to you.

There's something completely thrilling about taking someone's pleasure and making it his own. Controlling it.

Controlling you through it. It's just as satisfying as pulling a trigger, in some ways more so, because the people he fucks know him.

A soft whimper of his name stumbles from your lips as he methodically licks at your clit, loving every tremble of your thighs and shaky exhale he's pulling from you. "P-please," you beg quietly and wantonly as he picks up his pace a little bit.

Your fingers gently weave through his hair, pulling him closer to you as he flicks and sucks at your clit, groaning in pleasure as you moan his name.

There's something innocent about your face as he works you up. Even as dirty as it is, you still look innocent. Making him more determined to pull you apart.

You can feel that little coil inside of you threatening to snap, as your thighs start to shake uncontrollably. The sound of his groans paired with the expert flick of his tongue making you see stars and moan his name so sweetly.

He growls into your core, as your fingers twist in his hair as everything starts to go dark. Your eyes rolling back into your head as you teeter over that delicious edge.

"Cum," he growls, lips still attached to your clit and you can't deny him. Your thighs tighten around his head as your thrown so deliciously over that edge, your back arching as you press his head closer to your pussy.

Dave groans, changing from sucking on your clit to lapping delicately at your folds. Tasting the sweetness that pours from you as you shake.

You weakly call out his name as your orgasm continues to course throughout you. His mouth is still working its magic, as you tremble beneath him, and your fingers start rubbing soft circles into the back of his head.

"You. Are. Amazing." You say, before erupting in a fit of giggles, fingers gripping on to the edge of the table to steady yourself. "Is it my turn to take care of you?"

He doesn't answer, instead he does exactly what he said he was going to do and presses his lips to yours, letting you taste your arousal straight from his lips. Keeping your mouth pressed to his as he explores your mouth enthusiastically, loving the way he can pull those sweet little moans from you with just his kiss.

"Finish eating baby girl," he says with a wink, "The night is still young and I've not had my fill of you just yet."

You pull yourself up from the table, and take a seat next to his, smiling at the way he immediately pulls your chair closer and you both eat your dessert in a comfortable silence.

"Dave... Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he grunts back, squeezing your thigh slightly.

"Why do you put up with it? I understand you have the girls but everyone knows they worship the ground you walk on." You say with a shaky breath, scared of overstepping a line.

"Baby, you deserve to have someone waiting at home that'll treat you right. That'll show you just how grateful they are for you. How much they love you."

Dave frowns slightly, punching his brow together and he wonders why you care so much, although it's nice that you do. "Carol- she knows the darkest parts of me." He tells you. "Things that would give you nightmares and run away screaming."

"You know the darkest parts of her," you counter back.

"You're clearly working overtime to clear them up. So she can't use dark secrets against you in court." Your hand finds his and you lace your fingers with his, "You waltz into my house and insinuated that you could get rid of every trace of me, Dave, and here I am.. Am I running right now?"

You make a good point and Dave slowly shakes his head. “Why?” He asks quietly. “I’m married, I’m a killer. You should be running. You shouldn’t have given me your virginity.”

“I have no regrets,” you say with a shrug, noticing the change in him. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

“Don’t say that about yourself.” He huffs. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

You move closer to him, and place your hands on his chest. “And there’s nothing wrong with you, Dave.”

He stares at you for a moment and contemplates your point. “And you think I should leave Carol.” He is talking out loud. “I would get less time with my kids and she’d be a bitch about things.”

“You deserve to be happy, and you don’t need to worry about not seeing the girls. Anyone would happily stand up and testify that you’re an incredible father, Dave.” you say with a smile. “And whatever happens, no matter how tough it gets, you can always call me. Anytime you need to talk… or if you need a little stress relief… maybe I could find a way to help with that?”

Dave arches a brow at your suggestion, basically an invitation to continue this if he wanted. “Yeah?” The smug smirk returns. “Liked it that much, huh?” You are far from a slut, but the idea of making you *his* slut is broadly appealing.

“Dave,” you say, before biting down on your lip for a few seconds and then letting go, “I fucking loved it. The things I want you to do to me… I’d let you do anything. You are intoxicating.”

He looks at you for a moment and then chuckles. “You might just be worth it.” He muses, reaching out and cupping your cheek. Patting it lightly and then gripping your chin. His phone starts to buzz in his pants pocket on the floor and he shakes his head when your eyes slide over there to the pile. “Just leave it. Let her stew.” He decides. “She’ll fuck up.” The prediction is an easy one. “She always does.”

“I’d really like you to fuck me again, Mr. York,” you say with a giggle ignoring the buzzing as he instructed, your chin still comfortably nestled in his hand. “Do you think you’ve got another round in you?” You tease as you gently squeeze his cock, loving the way he hisses in response.

“You’re gonna be a brat.” Dave growls. “I can tell. You fuck a girl one time and now she’s addicted.” He’s teasing, known that he’s going to fuck you again as soon as he gets hard. As long as you aren’t sore.

“Are you surprised?” You tease back, “How could I not have gotten addicted, baby? You are delicious. And yes. I’ll be brat if I have to be.” You press your lips to his and gently bite down on his bottom lip. “The things I’m going to beg you to do to me.”

“Like what?” He wants to know how dirty you are, what you want. “What would you beg me to do to you? Darkest little secret.”

You feel your cheeks burn as he stares at you, ready to hear all the filthy thoughts you’ve had about him. “You could tie me up,” you say quietly, “Keep me tied up until you’ve used me for as long as you want. Cover me in your cum.”

“*Nasty*.” He smirks and gives a small chuckle. “I think you would like that, wouldn’t you?” It’s interesting that you would have such filthy dreams when you were just so innocent. His cock twitches and he watches your eyes fall to his groin.

“I want you to use me for your own pleasure,” you say, as you gently rub his cock. “However you want.”

He groans quietly and starts to harden under your touch. “You sore?”

“A little,” you admit, “But nothing I can’t handle.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He admits quietly and sincerely. He’s a dick, and an asshole, but he’s not a sadist.

“I’ll tell you if you need to stop,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want you.”

“Get on your knees.” He orders. “Show me your cunt.”

“I love how filthy you are,” you giggle, before obeying his command.

"I'm a dirty guy." He admits, reaching out and spreading your cheeks to see all of you.

"And all mine for the night." You say, moaning gently as his fingertips drag through your folds.

The phone buzzes again and he doesn't pay it any attention as he starts to push his fingers inside you. Curling them up to press deep.

You moan his name, nuzzling your face in his neck as he works magic with his fingers. "God. I might not let you leave."

He smirks because he hasn't told you to turn around, but you couldn't resist getting close to him again. "I might not go."

"Seems like i'm not the only one who's got addicted," you tease, between breathy moans.

"Hard to resist when you are so easy." He snorts. "When you're giving it away, why wouldn't I take it?"

"Easy?" You say, pushing his arm away. "Maybe I won't give it away if that's what you think."

"Hey, I was teasing." He frowns, but he drops his hand when you push him away.

"Make it up to me," you say, a smile spreading across your face to let him know you were teasing.

He huffs and shoots you a halfhearted glare. "You're not funny." He grumbles.

"You're sexy when you're grumpy." You say, grabbing his hand and leading it back towards your cunt.

"Brat." He huffs, but his fingers still find their way back inside you. Perhaps pushing a little harder than necessary, but you moan anyway.

"Your brat," you breathe out, as he starts pumping his fingers and finding that magic spot with ease. "Make me cum and then give me your cock."

"How about I give you my cock and make you cum on it?" He challenges, continuing to finger you roughly and he reaches out with his other hand to slap your ass.

"That sounds perfect," you say with a grin, "Do you like knowing that you're the only man to have ever touched me like this?"

"Fuckin' love it." He admits with a low growl.

"The only man I'd let touch me like this," you admit quietly

He doesn't say anything, but he hears you. His touch turns more possessive, commanding on your body as he works you up.

"I'm close," you choke out, as the delicious coil inside of you threatens to snap. "I would let you do anything to me, Dave. Anything.”

“Then cum for me.” Dave orders, slapping your ass again as you clench down on his fingers.

“Yes sir,” you say, before rocking your hips a little, chasing his fingers and your high. Feeling your pussy possessively pull his fingers back in as your walls flutter around them. “Tell me I'm yours.” You beg, wanting to hear him claim you.

“You’re mine.” He groans. “I marked you, claimed you. Mine.”

“All yours, Dave,” you whimper as your orgasm begins to overwhelm you. “Yours.” You cum hard, a steady stream of arousal coating his hand and wrist as you whisper his name before falling forward onto his chest. Your arms wrap around him, holding him gently as your breaths grow less rapid, your clit still pulsating and your cunt dripping as you come down from your high. It's surprising how comfortable you are with him, feeling nothing but content with him seeing you at your most vulnerable. He had said not long before that you should have never given him your virginity, but you disagree and in this moment you know you could never regret a single moment of any of being with him.

"How do you want me?" You ask quietly, cupping your hands around his jaw.

Dave pulls back slightly as he considers your question. His dark eyes narrowing slightly as he starts to realize that you might have done him a very large favor by demanding to spend a night with him. He had grown complacent, used to dealing with Carol's shit. Living in an honestly unhappy marriage because of the girls and because he knows that she would make his life hell. "Permanently." He decides.

"Sounds like you got addicted to this pussy after all," you say with a giggle, before pressing a kiss to his lips.

"It's a good pussy." He snorts, smirking against your lips.

"You wanna sleep? Or do you wanna fuck me again?" You ask, as he wraps his arms around you just a little tighter.

"Sleep," he says, before placing a quick kiss on your lips. "If you're good, I'll wake you up with my cock." He smirks when you whimper and settles down with you in his arms. "Sleep, baby."

"Goodnight, Dave," you mumble softly before falling into the deepest and most comfortable sleep you've had in ages. Feeling warmer and safer than you ever have, nestled up in his arms.

The justification for the way that he rolls you over in your sleep and spreads your legs is simple. The night isn't over.

Neither one of you have left the room and the sun still isn't quite yet peeked over the horizon. Allowing him to fully reason why there's nothing wrong with lining up and pushing inside your tight cunt slowly to watch your eyes start to move under their lids as you start to break free from sleep.

"D-Dave," you stutter incoherently, as he presses against something devastating inside of you. Still fighting sleep as he begins to overwhelm every single one of your senses.

He chuckles mockingly. "You wanted me to wake you up with my cock." His hips slap forward to punctuate his words.

Words refuse to form in your throat, as you let out a stream of pleasured moans and whimpers of his name. He finds that spot with such ease that it knocks the air out of your lungs, you feel your pussy flutter around him as you try to pull him towards you for a kiss.

You're so soft, so warm. Pulling him closer and Dave grunts before he presses his lips to yours. He had woken up harder than a rock and had almost resisted the urge to touch you again, but then your words came back to him. Realizing that you were right.

"Good morning, baby," you say with a giggle, before letting your hand run up and down his spine. Loving the way he starts kissing you between thrusts.

He doesn't answer you, just slides his tongue into your mouth as he pounds into you. Increasing the pace as you wake up.

"Fuck," you garble, as he works you into the mattress. Fucking you harder with each thrust, pulling the filthiest sounds from you as that coil inside of you threatens to snap.

"You gonna cum?" Dave demands through his teeth, breathless from his efforts. "Cream all - fuck - over my cock?"

"Yes!” You call out, your fingernails digging into his warm skin as everything goes dark. Your body starts to convulse beneath him as pleasure pumps throughout you. You hear him telling you to take it all as he keeps the same delicious pace throughout your high.

Dave's never been one to lose himself in sex, but he's completely lost. Unable to think of anything but the clutch of your cunt and your sweet moans. His hips driving forward to hear more.

"Cum," you gasp, as his movements become a little sloppier, moaning as you're still coming down from your high. "Fill me up."

Dave hisses against your lips, fingers digging into your shoulders and he feels his pace falter. "Fuck."

"You feel so good," you murmur against his lips.

Another thrust before he's grunting, pushing deep and moaning your name against your lips as he floods your cunt with ropes of cum. Feeling more relaxed than ever before when he's done and slumping down into your arms.

"You good?" You giggle, as you wrap your arms around him.

"Great." Dave sighs as he tucks his head into your shoulder for a moment more. "Just great."

You glance over at the clock and see it's still early, and decide to hold him a little tighter, letting you both fall into another sleep. Not ready for when he'll pull himself away later that morning.

Dave had fallen asleep inside you. When he wakes up again, he can't believe that he actually fell asleep inside you.

Pulling away slowly so he can slip out of the bed and shower, frowning slightly as he thinks about the night and the entire situation while he cleans up.

You wake to the sound of the shower, feeling a twinge of disappointment he snuck out of bed without waking you.

You stay glued to the spot, nestled up comfortably and listen to the sound of the water. The urge to join him grows stronger but you don't act on it, figuring he would have invited you to shower with him it that's what he had wanted.

You wonder if you should start gathering up your things, but you don't, instead you pull the pillow he had slept on closer to you and snuggle into it. Inhaling his scent and letting yourself enjoy the memories from the night before.

Dave showers methodically, like he would if he were coming back from an op. Stripping his skin down to leave no trace of evidence on it, although the same cannot be said this time about his heart or mind. Stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist, he's already made the decision that he had been thinking about. Opening the door to find you wrapped around his pillow and smirking as he leans against the frame.

"Good morning," you say quietly, as you look over at him.

Admiring how good he looks as droplets of water drip down his chest.

"How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly pretty good." Dave admits, looking a little confounded by that. "I normally never sleep well, but I slept through until I was getting up to take a shower."

"Good," you say with a small smile, not letting up on snuggling the pillow. "I guess I should shower now as well. Before we go back to our regular lives."

Dave shrugs slightly but you don't see it. "Think you might be tipping off the police who caused the damage." He comments.

"No. I promised," you say, panic rising in your voice, "You don't trust me?"

He watches you shoot up off the pillow, your eyes frantic.

"Fine." He shrugs again. "Guess I'll tip them off, then."

"What are you talking about, Dave?" You say, as you pick his shirt up and pull it on, before rounding the bed towards him.

"Decided I'm not going to let Carol keep getting away with shit." He had thought about it in the shower and decided it was the right thing to do.

You place one hand on his chest and the other on his cheek, studying his face for a few seconds before realizing that he's officially done with cleaning up messes that aren't his own. "I can do it. I can talk to them. Request it's anonymous, you don’t need to be the one making the report."

"Good." Dave nods. "The car hasn't been fixed yet, they should be able to get all the evidence they need off it."

You gently rub your thumb back and forth against his cheek before nodding, "Whatever you want me to say, I'll do it. I'll help however I can."

"Just tell the truth." He smirks at you. "But leave out the part where you fucked her husband."

"That's my favourite party of the story though," you say with a giggle, before pressing a kiss to his lips. "Guess I'll have to keep it to myself."

"You can tell me later on, once the dust has settled." Dave snorts. "There's plenty of evidence of other misdeeds that will be found."

"Sounds like you'll have a lot of stress that you'll somehow need to work out, Mr. York."

He snorts, smirking at you and tilts his head. "Stressful job, stressful life, about to be a single parent." He chuckles.

"Hope your little pussy is ready to be pounded every night while I work out that 'stress'.”

"Ready and wanting." You say before smashing your lips against his and wrapping your arms around him. "Anytime you need me."

[3 months later]

A smile stretches across your face as he crawls up from the bottom of the bed, his cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs as he pushes yours open.

With a possessive growl and he calls you his before slipping inside of you in one fluid motion, capturing your lips as he fills you to the hilt.

It had been a new start for you both, and you couldn't be happier that you started it together, with the girls.

Who'd have thought that witnessing that little wreck would have been the best thing that had ever happened to you?

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal characters #Dave York #David York #Dave York x you #Dave York x Reader #Dave York x F! Reader #dave york x female reader #Dave York x OFC #Dave York Smut #Dave York Imagine #Dave York x original female character #Dave York x Yn #The Equalizer 2 #The Equalizer fanfiction #My fanfiction #my fanfic #i love dave york yall #absurdthirst

420 notes · View notes

atzloverr · 2 months ago

Note

HAHAHAHAHHA im fine dont worry, i had a tumor on my breast which turns out to be benign so im okay now! i had surgery to take it out thats why i was warded.

oH speaking of being warded, i was imagining about how seonghwa would be dead worried when his s/o got warded lol. could i please request just a lil fluff on how seonghwa insisted on taking care of you even go as far as sleeping at the hospital and you were worried he would be uncomfortable so you ask him to climb on the hospital bed with you. ohhhhhh imagine kissing him and giggling trying to be quiet cause youre afraid the nurses gonna be mad if they saw him on your bed jsksksks

Oh my god a TUMOR???? I really hope you’re really okay and that everything will be well for you in the future, and thank you for your requests, it’s really appreciated!!! I’m sorry this has taken me forever to post, like I mentioned in another post, I already wrote this but it all got deleted, so I had to rewrite it… Hope you enjoy anyways!!!

You had never seen such a panicked look on your boyfriend’s face before. You knew that he was coming when you heard the loud sounds of his feet scrambling towards your room. Although you knew he would be worried, you never expected this type of reaction.

When your doctor made the call to him, you saw the way his eyes widened before he tried to reassure Seonghwa that you were in fact alright, and that this wasn’t life threatening. He was interrupted multiple times, and you could hear Seonghwa’s panicked voice leave the doctor’s phone from across the room.

“Yes… Yes, she’s in room five but—“ the doctor spoke, but he stopped to look at his screen. You eyed him in confusion from your position in the bed. “Seems like he hung up,” he smiled at you. You raised an eyebrow.

“I bet he’s on his way now, with the way he was going,” the doctor smiled. You returned a weak grin before he made his leave and reminded you once again to ‘press the red button if you need anything’.

After your test results came back, you had gotten a call from your doctor, urging you to come to the hospital. You only sighed when he informed you that you needed to stay for a few days.

“It’s for your own good, Y/n. We need to make sure everything is under control before you can return home,” he informed, a sympathetic look coating his features. You didn’t like being away from home, but didn’t want to risk anything happening to you.

Now, you found yourself nearly suffocated by Seonghwa’s tight grip, his concerned voice speaking inaudible words into your hair. You laughed, telling him to get off of you.

“Oh, I’m sorry did- did I hurt you?” he asked, backing away from you immediately. You couldn’t help but smirk at his worry.

“I’m fine Seonghwa, we both know that,” you tried, reaching out your hand for him to grab. He took it immediately, sitting down on a stool next to your bed. “If you were really fine, you wouldn’t be here,” he pouted.

For the next ten minutes, Seonghwa bombarded you with questions. Things along the lines of, how are you feeling? Do you need anything? What did the doctors say? kept flowing out of his mouth.

“Please, listen to me,” you smiled, snapping his attention towards you. You moved your hands to cup his face, wiping away the lone tear that had left his eye. “I’m alright. They just need to check up on me for a few days, then everything will go back to normal.”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, but he eventually nuzzled into your hands in defeat. “Okay… But that doesn’t mean I can’t be worried about you,” he pouted, making you want to kiss his beautiful lips in an instant. You nodded before pulling his face towards you slightly.

“Won’t you give me a kiss?” you said, looking into his glossy eyes. In a matter of seconds, his lips pressed against yours in affection, hands caressing the back of your head gently.

“My poor baby,” he cooed after your lips disconnected. You giggled, teasingly pushing him away. “Stop that.” Seonghwa’s lips pecked yours once again. “In your dreams.”

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

“Please, Hwa I- I assure you, I’m fine,” you tried, but judging from Seonghwa’s expression, he wasn’t going to back down.

“Nope, I’m staying,” he insisted, crossing his arms in a childish manner.

”You’ve already done more than enough for me today, and besides—“ you took his hand in yours. “—where are you supposed to sleep?”

Seonghwa’s eyes traveled around the room, looking for a solution. His gaze found yours again.

“There’s a chair, isn’t there? That works for me!” he said, trying to put on a stoic expression. You responded with a mere sigh and a small pout on your lip.

“Please, just let me be here for you.” He took your hand in his once again, his slender fingers caressing your hand, warming it slightly. Your gaze traveled lower as you gave in with a deep sigh.

You barely even noticed him leaning in until his lips were pressed against yours in a deep kiss, his fingers still intertwined with yours. You returned the kiss and caressed his soft hair with your free hand. He let out a low moan as your fingernails dragged through his scalp.

He pouted when your lips disconnected, the worried look on his face reminding you of a mother worrying over her child. You smiled at his furrowed eyebrows and his big, twinkling eyes staring right into yours.

Night eventually came, the sun setting outside of your window before the nurse came into your room for the last time, giving Seonghwa a smile of approval as she watched his form, still sitting on that same chair right next to your bed. When you went to go brush your teeth, Seonghwa had insisted that he needed to come with you, making sure that nothing would happen to you. You didn’t even have the energy to fight him over it, and instead just let him fuss if it made him feel better.

Now you found yourself in the same bed you had spent the entire day in, your eyelids drooping even with your lack of activity for the past hours.

You glanced over at Seonghwa, the only thing illuminating his handsome features being the dim lighting from the hospital corridor. You felt guilty over having him sit on that hard chair, while you did try to convince him to go home for the night, you felt so spoiled.

“Seonghwa,” you called out, causing him to stand up immediately, his eyes growing wide at your sudden call. “Yes, what’s wrong? Do you need anything—“

You suddenly grabbed his hand, pulling him down towards you, making him gasp in surprise. He landed on top of you on the bed, his hands on either side of your head as his wide-eyed expression meeting your smug grin.

“Oh my god, Y/n, what are you doing? I could’ve hurt you and—“

You shut him up by pulling his face down and giving him a deep kiss. You kept kissing him, and as you felt him soften into the kiss you guided him to lie down next to you on the bed. He couldn’t help but comply, his weight making the bed slump slightly as he lay down next to you. It was a tight fit, that you had to admit, but you couldn’t have cared less right now, craving the warmth of his presence. You pulled away from him, looking into his still surprised eyes.

“Won’t you lie here with me?” you asked, giving him a look you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. He glanced towards the door, lowering his tone slightly. “But what about the nurses? What if they’ll be angry with me—“

“Then I’ll be angry with them. I’ll just tell them I couldn’t sleep or something,” you deadpanned. A moment of silence followed your statement, until Seonghwa’s expression finally softened, his face becoming calm after having that worried look for the entire day it seemed.

He let himself relax in the bed, and even in the dim lighting, you could see a small smile form on his face, immediately making you feel better. He pulled you into his embrace, gently holding his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest.

The smell of his cologne mixed with the subtle scent of your laundry detergent reminded you of home, filling you up with feelings of comfort. It was nice to finally not feel the hospital smell.

Feeling yourself getting more and more tired, you lifted your head to give Seonghwa what you had imagined to be a good night kiss, but when your lips met his soft ones, you felt yourself struggling to disconnect yourself from him.

The kiss evolved into something more intimate, more lustful. You felt yourself starting to subconsciously climb on top of him, your lips never leaving his in your heated session. Seonghwa suddenly pulled away, making you blink in confusion.

“Y/n, we shouldn’t do this here- now, it’s not—“ His eyes kept darting towards the door, a blush clearly coating his cheeks.

“Why not?” you asked innocently, a smirk soon finding your lips. “Scared the nurses will hear us, huh?” you teased.

You gave him a puzzled look when he carefully moved you back to your old position, on your side, facing him.

“I know you’re exhausted, I can see it on the way your eyes are barely even opened,” he smiled, arms wrapping around you once again. “I think you need to sleep, darling.”

You couldn’t even protest, already feeling yourself dozing off as he started rubbing your back in that soothing motion he knew you loved.

“Good night, sweetie,” he said before plastering a kiss to your forehead, and you couldn’t even find the energy to answer him, merely seconds from falling asleep in his warm and comfortable arms.

masterlist

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fic #seonghwa #ateez imagines #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x y/n #ateez fluff #seonghwa fluff #ateez imagine #answered asks #request

136 notes · View notes

mieeaahhh · 9 months ago

Text

All for the game headcannons (so so so many)

(might delete because I’m embarrassed)

-Aaron and Andrew hang out at least once a week because bee said they should give it a try and then once they graduate and live separately they call once a week instead.

-Aaron has a slightly stronger southern accent than the rest of the foxes and they like ‘mock’ him by repeating what he says sometimes. (idk if that makes sense and I’m not American so idek if he’d have a southern accent I just saw other people saying the foxes would😰)

-the foxes usually go to Aaron if Abby isn’t around when they have like a small ache in their arm or something along those lines.

-on Valentine’s Day since Eric lives so far away and Seth is yk 💀 the foxes do small things to try make nicky and Alison’s day better. Matt and Dan invite them to tag along their plans sometimes, Andrew and Neil leave them extra ice-cream in the freezer, Renee makes gets Allison flowers and sometimes takes Allison on a walk if she’s up to it, Aaron and katelyn let Nicky watch movies with them sometimes, and they also just hang out with each other and somewhat ‘bond’ about being by themselves on Valentine’s Day 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

-Aaron had piercings before meeting Andrew without his mum’s permission which obviously made her absolutely furious, so then Andrew had gotten them as well because he knew she hated them. (And he thinks they’re cool)

-the twins share a lot of their shoes. Like they’re is only one pair and it’s neither Andrews or Aarons🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

-Neil named sir and king because when he suggested that Andrew should name them, Andrew just said something lazy like “cat one and cat two”.

-Katelyn’s personality is like Nicky’s and Renee’s combined. Also I like to think that Aaron is an absolute MESS around Katelyn and the foxes do NOT leave him alone about it.

-Randy is like one of those mums that’ll ask you to invite people you are barely friends with over for tea and she started doing it with Matt about Aaron. (I like to think that Aaron and Matt end up becoming really good friends)

-Aaron doesn’t like sleeping by himself and will sometimes awkwardly ask whoever he’s with if he can sleep in their bed with them (only if he trust them like A LOT and is obviously like close with them??) and most of the foxes are aware he does this but never bring it up as they all do things that are a little childish to make themselves feel better(safe)

He’s slept In Nicky’s, Andrews and obviously Katelyn’s bed the most.

-Matt always gives people those double high-fives after good games (like this🙌) and one time turned towards Andrew for one without thinking and then put them down with a quiet apology while Andrew stared at him. Andrew silently set his hand out for Matt to give him a high five and he hesitantly did.

-there is a photo of Seth (that Allison picked) on the foxes photo wall with a metal plate thing next to it that has his name, exy position and t-shirt number.

-they take a ‘team photo’ every year for the photo wall and it’s probably the most awkward looking photo in the world.

-Katelyn is an accessory girly🤞 she constantly has hair clips and jewellery and whatever else on and when she gets sick/annoyed if having a hair clip in around Aaron she will wordlessly clip it somewhere onto him. His jumper, his hair, his bag, his shoe etc etc and a lot of the times he doesn’t even notice.

-Katelyn has videos of Aaron singing his absolute heart out while drunk and she reminds him of it whenever he’s being difficult

-a lot of the foxes sing while drunk so it often leads to a mini concert when they drink together

-Wymack has a mug signed by all the foxes that he uses every day because they got it for him on Father’s Day as a joke (Kevin’s name is the biggest)

-the twins have both been caught standing on countertops soooo many times trying to reach stuff but nobody is brave enough to mention it.

-Andrew helps dye Renee’s hair and Renee helps paint Andrews nails.

-Aaron’s septum is ALWAYS squint and it drives Katelyn mad so she always just fixes it for him and he just kinda stares at her in confusion because he honestly forgets he has piercings sometimes.

-jeans new hobby is drawing (I saw Nora say he picks up a new hobby and I’m hoping, wishing and praying it’s art related)

-Jeremy has a habit of doing this 🤙 all the time in photos.

-Kevin and Wymack start going out for lunch once a week after the books take place.

-Andrew fiddles with his piercings and picks his nail varnish when he’s bored/anxious.

-Aaron’s glasses are bent slightly from always falling asleep on them at his desk

-Neil is the only fox who isn’t afraid of spiders so he’s the designated spider remover whenever they see one.

-Neil likes holding Andrews face a lot and sometimes Neil will squish his cheeks slightly too annoy him.

-we all know Andrew has a resting bored face but I think Aaron has the worst case of rbf knows to man bro. Like he will look at Matt or something and Matt will feel the need to apologise.

-Dan, Allison and Renee invite Katelyn for girls nights and slumber parties because they know it annoys Aaron and they actually just really like her.

-Aaron likes the smiths

-Kevin has dimples

-Aaron and Andrew have freckles on their nose, Neil has freckles all over and Jeremy has freckles on his cheeks

-Aaron apologises whenever he cries (trauma response??) and when he lived with Andrew and Nicky they’d always try tell him that he has nothing to apologise for which made him cry even harder

-Neil wears caps and Andrew hates it so whenever Neil wears them Andrew flicks them off his head

-Katelyn is the tallest out of Neil, Andrew and Aaron

-Dan always sends the photos she takes to the person in said photo so that they have a copy of it as-well as it being on the wall.

-Dan and Matt have soooo many matching clothes it’s ridiculous

-Andrew has smoker lungs💔

(he coughs so much it’s concerning sometimes)

And his voice is like raspier than Aarons is

-whenever the twins say something or do something at the same time they just automatically say something like “shut up” or “stop” as if the other did it on purpose.

-the twins always sit weirdly because if they don’t they’re feet will go numb from not being able to reach the floor.

-Dan made a group chat for the foxes that barely ever ended up getting used but after everyone graduates and goes on with their own lives it ends up getting used a lot more for calling/FaceTimes each other

-Nicky sometimes tags along in the twins weekly hang outs/calls

-after that big sleepover the foxes had after getting Neil back they start doing things like that regularly. Having sleepovers, trips, movie nights, baking, board games/game nights, etc because they do start realising that maybe they do care about each other more than they say they do and it should be shown towards one another a lot more or it could be too late🤷‍♀️

Sorry bro there is so much and I can’t think of any more right now 💀

#you’ll never guess who my favourite character is #all for the game #aftg #renee walker #allison reynolds #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #neil josten #dan wilds #matt boyd #nicky hemmick #seth gordon #kevin day #coach wymack #headcanon #HELP #IM SCARED #this is cringe bro pls don’t bully me

230 notes · View notes

modelbus · 11 months ago

Note

MODEL HELP-

i just typed a long ass message and it all deleted itself-

question, do you think you want to do another part on cut chaos? No pressure ofc, but I’d be cool! (I have a bunch of ideas for it I’ll send seperate (maybe) feel free to ignore them but like free crappy inspo man)

Request: Y/N is a part of SBI but they aren’t treated that great by the fandom or really the rest of the group. Its not like SBI MEANS to disregard the ‘hate’ towards Y/N like its nothing but they tend to dismiss or just ignore it, of course, they are still really close and care about Y/N, it still just hurts a little that they ignore it. But where the creators don’t realise they’re neglecting their friends emotions, the fans? They are fully aware they constantly joke about Y/N being the worst member of SBI. They are fully aware they also always ‘joke’ about forgetting Y/N exists. They are fully aware that despite Y/N being in as many if not more ‘SBI’ streams or videos than the other creators, they act as if they’re not actually a part of SBI. They are fully aware many of them aren’t joking when they say Y/N is not a member of SBI, or when they say they wish Y/N would stop showing up to streams. They are fully aware that the main ‘joke’ people think of when they think SBI is something along the lines of; “Whos Y/N?” or “Y/N is SO the middle child of the SBI, we all forget them!” or “Y/N? Ohhh you mean the one that’s annoying but its not funny!” .. When the SBI are streaming bedwars 2v2v2’s with a random viewer each game and that viewer happens to end up on Y/N’s team (and be an asshole) they, of course, decide to complain that out of every member they could be teamed with, they got the worst member of SBI! (Even though Y/N and techno practice pvp together regularly and the only person in SBI Y/N can’t kill is techno) While Y/N does what they always do and laughs it off with a SICK comeback (despite how much it hurts when they realise they expected that kind of reaction to being teamed with them), the rest of the SBI seems to snap as though that was their final straw (starting with tommy yelling ‘THATS BULLSHIT’ or smth) and all collectively go on a rant about how shitty most(?) fans treat Y/N, to Y/N’s surprise most of all of the fives chats are agreeing..? Y/N starts to realise maybe they aren’t as hated as they thought.. and maybe, just maybe, they are a lot more loved then they realised.

MODEL I’M SO SORRY MY REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS SO LONG-

Its funny how I’m not motivated to write actual fics but I can write 800 word requests-

LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK!!!

✨🌌🌙 Annon-

I’d love to write more for Cut Chaos! My writing has been all over the place lately because I’ve been really busy (school stuff :/) but I do enjoy writing for that (not-so) little series

Pairing: Gn!Reader X CC!SBI (Tommy, Techno, Phil, Wilbur)

Found Fury

You aren’t unfamiliar with the term unwanted. If anything, you’ve burrowed yourself a home in the word, splitting it in two. Accepted yourself for what you are.

Quite honestly, if there was a record for ‘most hated SBI member’ it’d go to you. Actually, it wouldn’t, considering how most people don’t even see you as a member of SBI. The forgettable middle child, adrift alone.

There wasn’t much you could do except accept it.

Bothering the others with it was unfathomable. Besides, they’ve surely seen some hint of it. They aren’t quite that blind, even if Wilbur and Techno do wear glasses. And, seeing as how they haven’t said a word… maybe it’s best if you didn’t nag about it.

It’s not that you’re partial to the so-called ‘suffering in silence,’ because you really aren’t. But you’re uniquely acquainted with brushing things off, pretending that your friends’ continued silence doesn’t sting and that being excluded from the group isn’t heart-wrenching. In the end, who really cares what strangers online think?

You can ignore the messages in your inboxes. The emails to your professional email asking if you’re really a part of SBI. All the replies to all your posts. Every fucking comment on every video you’re in.

Sometimes, it piles around you so high that you can’t see past it. Words strung together to form sentences that rephrase ‘Who even are you’ a thousand times. Or the more creative, ‘How do you manage to be unfunny AND annoying’ mixed with a side of scorn. It’s worse when it trends on Twitter after a stream, but who are you to complain?

After all, you’re just lucky to be following SBI around according to Twitter. Blessed to be in their fucking presence.

For the most part, you just hire more mods. And they’re pretty strict with bans, so your chat tends to err on the positive side. Everyone else’s? Well, let’s just say there’s a reason you don’t have their chats open.

Today is no exception.

Bedwars with viewers, everyone being randomly set into 2v2v2. Tommy’s idea, although he’s lost every round that Techno wasn’t on his team. That was mostly due to you sneak attacking him while he targeted Techno, but still.

“POTATOMAN!” Tommy shouts, practically bursting your eardrums. “YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE!”

“Christ, mate.” Phil laughs.

“…my ears…” Techno mourns quietly, making both you and Wilbur laugh.

“We’re getting in! We’re getting in!” Tommy says excitedly, and everyone spawns into their teams.

Your heart sinks when you realize you’re with the viewer on white team. Their character, a potato in a suit, stares at you as you walk backward to collect iron and gold from the generator.

You’ve been lucky up until this far, always getting placed with one of the others. Logically, you knew you’d eventually be placed with the random, but part of you still hoped. Still dared to relax into the game.

Potatoman’s character stands there for a few minutes, and you buy wool with your iron.

“Funnel me the gold, Tommy.” Techno says calmly.

“No! Fuck off! This is my gold!”

“You’re just going to walk off the edge with it!”

“No I won’t! When have I ever?!”

“Last game.” Wilbur inputs.

“Wha— I was pushed! That’s different!”

A message pops up in game chat, and your eyes flick to it for a moment, too busy with building a bed defense. When you realize it isn’t Tommy’s death message (it would’ve been really funny, let’s be honest), you do a double take to read it.

<Potatoman> My luck omg

Your eyebrows raise. For a split second, you dare to hope that the viewer is a fan of yours. That they want to be on a team with you. Hope is a dangerous thing; it just makes things worse when it dies.

<Potatoman> Stuck with the worst member <Potatoman> Not even a member fr lmaooo

Ah. And there it is.

Seeing the messages doesn't hurt; it's the fact that you knew to expect it right from the start.

That's not to say you're even the worst member, because in PvP you're a God. Hell, you and Techno train it all the time for fun! Even Tommy cheers when he gets teamed with you in PvP games like this. Being teamed with you for Bedwars was a pretty good thing, in theory.

Always in theory.

Because somehow, someway, you're never liked enough. Never enough for the viewers in general, even. Too annoying, too loud, too imperfect, too showy, too quiet, too anything. And you know to expect that feedback rather than to expect any semblance of compliments.

"At least the so-called 'worst member' didn't walk off the edge, unlike someone on my team." You quip, targeting your words at the viewer.

"Heh?" Techno asks.

"Oh, uh, nothing-"

"Look in chat." Wilbur interrupts.

There's a pause, then:

"THAT'S BULLSHIT!" Tommy screams into his mic. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

"I'm agreeing with the kid here." Techno sighs.

"Actually, we really should talk about how the fans have been online. It's not even a recent thing." Phil says, his calm a stark contrast to Tommy.

"I've seen it a lot too. Let's be clear; everyone here is part of the Sleepy Bois. I made it, I make the rules." Wilbur declares.

"You did not make it!" Tommy protests, but Wilbur doesn't stop for him.

"To make it clear, we won't tolerate any hate of anyone in this group, especially not to the extent that we've been seeing recently."

Your eyes glance over at your chat, already stunned, only to have your jaw slacken when you see that your chat is spamming hearts and "YESYESYES."

"Guys, you don't have to... do this." You try.

"I'm pretty sure we do." Techno deadpans, and you can practically imagine the optifine zoom on his character's face he's probably doing/

"The fans treat you like shit, and we're all tired of it." Wilbur agrees. "It's stupid."

"They're all internet assholes." Tommy chimes in, this time at a reasonable volume.

"So from here on out, anyone who says mean shit to you gets banned. From all of our chats." Your eyes go wide at Phil's words, and you quickly pull up his and Tommy's streams to see what their chats are saying.

But... that can't be right. The outpouring of agreement can't be right. The fans all hate you, you know this. There's no way they're agreeing with Phil, Tommy, Techno, and Wil.

So you open Wilbur's chat, then pull up a YouTube tab for Techno's stream too.

Agreement floods every chat, and for just a moment you can't breathe. You were the supposed forgotten middle child, the one nobody cares to stand up for. But that was wrong, wasn't it?

You are part of the Sleepy Bois, and you're just as deserving as everyone else. Of the fans, of the support, of being able to open chat and not see overwhelming hate.

Of being loved.

#dsmp #mcyt #mcyt imagine #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #philza x reader #technoblade #philza #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois fanfic #sleepy bois inc x reader

210 notes · View notes

ultimate-shipper-trash-blog · 27 days ago

Text

This insane steddie au ft. Chrissy because I LOVE season 3 steddie aus and I will eat them all up istg

Yes this was deleted and I had to rewrite it.

Damn. Another strike out.

He had been on a roll, he'd gotten three girls phone numbers and his hair hasn't moved an inch.

The last couple of hours however, have been humiliating.

Eddie's cackles still haunt him along with the squeak of the marker on the white board.

"You suck Harrington!"

"Yeah, yeah, just...go back to work you're not even supposed to cover the front."

He'd worked with Eddie for a month now. He still hasn't gotten a chance to have a decent conversation with him. Management decided someone like Eddie was better kept behind the counter, not visible to the public. This didn't leave a lot of time for Steve to start a game of twenty questions.

Steve is leaning on his palm, elbow on the counter. He's bored and keeping blowing a piece of hair out of his eye. He catches a glimmer blonde in the corner of his eye and quickly stands.

He makes direct eye contact with Chrissy Cunningham standing nervously in front of him, wringing her hands together.

This was gonna be easy.

"Hi Steve," she waves.

He narrows his eyes at her flirtatiously.

"Hi Chrissy. Here for something specific?"

He folds his arms across his chest in a way he knows shows off his muscles.

"It's, a- kind of complicated."

"Really?" He leans a little over the counter. "Anything I can help you with?"

Chrissy freezes up immediately.

Shit.

She looks nauseous.

"Is Eddie here?"

"Is Eddie- what."

The man himself push Steve to the side. He puts his head in his palm and his elbow on the counter.

"Hi sweetheart," he purrs.

Chrissy giggles.

"Hi Eddie."

"What can I do for you? Here for help with your little bird?"

"Eddie!" Chrissy punches Eddie's shoulder and gives Steve a side eye.

Eddie turns and glares at Steve.

"Excuse us your majesty but this is a private matter."

Steve can't even bring up that they're the ones that are taking up the public space. He's in too much shock. He heads to the backroom but sticks his head out just watching them.

He can't believe it! Chrissy Cunningham asking for Eddie?! His Eddie?! His...platonic coworker Eddie?!

What does she like about him? It's gotta be the hair. His dark curly hair that you could wrap your fingers in. Oh! His long guitarist fingers. Probably lined with callouses that feel so good when they rub your skin just right.

He probably plays her his shitty music that he plays for Steve in the backroom. He probably saves her extra scoops like he does for Steve. She probably enjoys looking at his eyes like Steve does. Eddie's eyes shine like amber in the light. So loud and expressive. Steve has a rock he likes to look at that reminds him of Eddie's eyes.

Eddie laughs a good hardy laugh. It's distracting.

Steve's never been able to make Eddie laugh. Eddie's only laughs at Steve.

God he wants him to look at him like that.

What.

You know what...

...

Steve sees the appeal.

---

Yes! Eddie is helping chrissy through a gay crisis. They simply had that talk in the woods a year earlier and decided they were perfect best friends.

Yes! Robin hasn't started working at scoops yet but Eddie convinces her to get the job just so he can wingman chrissy

Yes! Steve freaked out for about five seconds and then was completely fine with his crush on eddie

Steve also apologizes to Chrissy if he ever freaked her out and offers her a firm handshake to start off their friendship which chrissy happily takes.

Robin and Chrissy team up to get Steve and Eddie together

Platonic stobin all the way of course!

Yes this is shorter because I guess I deleted it the first time and rewrote it from memory.

#steddie #strangerthings #eddie munson #steve harrington #ficlet #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #chrissy cunningham #robin buckley #scoops ahoy

43 notes · View notes

eunseoksimp · 8 months ago

Text

Hilarious ; Jung Sungchan

hi anon, i accidentally deleted the request when i was trying to write this up, but i hope this was what you wanted :) i chose that’s hilarious because i thought it would kind of suit sungchan.

Pairings: Ex boyfriend!Sungchan x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst, songfic

Description: sungchan being the asshole ex who doesn’t realise what he’s lost until it’s gone.

Warnings: swearing

based off of the song hilarious by charlie puth.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

‘it’s been a while.’

winter had fast approached, the once vibrant leaves transforming to a dull brown, muddied and trampled on by passers-by.

it served as a form of metaphor for your life, something that used to be so vivacious, exciting, had become mundane, losing it’s colour.

the reason for this change stood in front of you, nervously twiddling with the ring on his finger. the one you had given him for your one year anniversary.

‘what do you want sungchan?’ your voice is cold, distant, devoid of any sort of emotion. how else were you supposed to feel when your ex shows up after your shift, begging to talk to you.

‘i-i,’ you can tell he has something he wants to say, but seems to have trouble getting the words out. his eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips would part for a couple of seconds, like he was going to talk, before they were shut again.

‘if you don’t have anything useful to say i’m going,’ you��re ready for this interaction to be over, scooting your chair back, the sound of the chair scraping on the wooden floor producing a shrill sound.

you wince, but nonetheless you’re on your feet, wanting so badly to just walk away, but his hands wrap around your wrist, pulling you back.

‘i’ve missed you. a lot,’ his voice is quiet, and he’s looking down at this lap, but his hold is still firm on you.

your skin burns underneath his touch, but it’s nothing on the fire burning in your chest at his words.

it was ridiculous, downright hilarious, to hear those words coming from jung sungchan, of all people.

scoffing, your eyes bore into the side of his face, daring him to stop being a coward and face you.

‘are you fucking kidding me?’ your tone is sharp, and he grimaces at how harsh it is, his lips forming a straight line.

‘is this some kind of joke or something? are you bored? is that why you’ve decided to come and ruin my day?’

‘it’s not a joke, it’s true. you always told me to express how i felt, and i’m trying to do that.’

you laugh, head thrown back, shoulders shaking as he watches you with confusion. there was no way this was your life.

‘you used me, for almost two years. you cast me aside, left me an insecure mess. you made me feel like a placeholder, someone who was only meant to be there to patch the wound left in your heart by that girl. and as soon as she decided she wanted you back, you didn’t even think twice about breaking up with me, on my fucking birthday by the way,’ your frustration had built up inside of you, and begin to spill out, chest heaving, breath laboured, as you struggled to contain all of your anger.

‘you ruined me sungchan. you lied to me, snuck behind my back to see her, called her all those times late at night. you didn’t have the common decency to express your feelings and tell me that you still liked your ex and now you want to talk about expressing how you fucking feel,’ your finger jabs his toned chest, accusatory tone pairing with the way your eyes narrow at him.

‘i was going through things, you know this. we were together for five years, it’s not easy to let go of someone that quickly,’ his weak attempts of defending himself, of putting himself in the seat of victimhood only made you irate.

‘then why did you ask me to be your girlfriend in the first place?’ why did you string me along for almost two whole years when you- when you knew,’ hot tears spill down your cheeks, and you hope he doesn’t think you’re crying because you’re sad.

you’ve passed that stage now, bitterness and disbelief the only remaining feelings you have for him.

‘i know i wasn’t the best boyfriend, but i want to try again. please, tell me there’s a part of you that still loves me,’ you can see that his eyes are glossy, but you find his desperation vile, swallowing to contain the bile that threatens to rise to your throat.

he didn’t love you when he had you, he was indifferent and negligent in your relationship, and you recall the many nights you would lay awake, staring at your ceiling as you wondered what could possibly be making him act like that.

you used to be confident, proud and bold in your self identity, but it slowly dwindled over the 16 months you were together and left you in a pitiful state.

you were just a replacement for his ex-girlfriend, someone to while away the time whilst he waited for the true love of his life to return to him.

he had wasted your time, stringing you along like a fool, attempting to kiss away your concerns, using flowers and gifts to distract you from how he truly felt.

it wasn’t an easy journey, trying to build yourself back up, and there were many days where you felt like you regressed, unhappy with the reflection that stared back at you in the mirror.

now suddenly jung sungchan had experienced a change of heart, realising the value of what he had lost, desperately seeking your attention and expressing his intentions of rekindling the relationship.

what a joke.

‘yes, because it’s so easy to erase all of the pain and trauma you caused me sungchan,’ your voice is laced with sarcasm, highlighting the absurdity of the situation from your perspective.

‘but-‘

‘you’re evil sungchan. the devils incarnate actually for how you have and continue to treat me. you think i don’t know that minjeong mysteriously got a new boyfriend last week,’ you cut him off, finally freeing yourself from his grasp.

‘i wish i had never met someone like you. who knows, i could have found a good man by now,’ you’re gathering your things, no longer even capable of being in his presence without seeing red.

‘is this it? are you really done with me?’ he asks, doe eyes peering at your own, long lashes fluttering with every blink. maybe if he wasn’t such an awful person, you would be able to appreciate his beauty.

‘i was done with you that night you left me for her,’ and without another word you turn on your heel, heading for the exit, without so much as a glance back in his direction.

the cold air nipped at your skin, a small cloud surrounding you as you let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding in.

as you cut through the car park, spotting you car easily in the deserted lot, you let out another chuckle, unable to properly process the pain and frustration of having given so much of yourself to someone who didn’t value it at the time.

‘lesson learnt. don’t give your heart to someone who’s still got a broken one.’

62 notes · View notes

thesparklingwriter · 2 years ago

Text

@venexus | 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

tags: fem!reader, newborn baby, zhongli is getting bullied by his wife and infant daughter, xiao gets a cameo, fluff, fluff, and more (you guessed it) fluff

word count: 1080

an: i have tried to post this five times and tumblr keeps deleting it and i am on the verge of tears and i can’t take it anymore the spacing won’t stop being weird and

Zhongli knocks on the front door a couple of times, holding the warm bundle of joy you’re bringing home close to his chest. He hasn’t relinquished the baby since you woke up from your nap, arguing that you deserved your rest, and as much as you’d like to argue against that, it’s true. You’re exhausted.

“You can just give her to me, you know.”

Zhongli shakes his head. “There’s no need for you to be putting unnecessary pressure on your body. You need to rest, and if I have to force you to do it, so be it.” The baby whines softly, pressing her face into her father’s chest. “See? She’s more than happy here. You should rest.”

You sigh, about to complain some more, when your door is slowly pulled open. Zhongli, being the cautious man he is, suggested that you both stay somewhere closer to doctor Baizhu should something happen during the birth of your child, and hence you found yourself away from home for almost two weeks. You’d come to miss home, even though you were slightly anxious about the doctor not being a few minutes away.

“You’ve returned,” Xiao mutters. He wasn’t entirely overjoyed to be stuck on the detail of house and dog-sitting, but you’d been kind to him, and he figured returning the favour was the very least he could do. “I’m glad you’re well.” he says to you. Despite the fact his voice is somewhat monotone, you know he’s sincere.

“Thank you,” you smile gratefully. “And thank you for keeping an eye on Amber for us.” Xiao seems to become uncomfortable with the earnestness in the air, unsure of what to say, so he nods carefully, excusing himself as you crouch down to pet your dog. She wags her tail excitedly, following you as you try to track your husband down.

Sometimes, you end up missing your baby. Zhongli’s so insistent on making sure you don’t strain yourself that you really only end up holding her if you’re sitting down. Which, you suppose you’re doing a lot since he’s handling pretty much everything else.

You find him in the bedroom, putting her down for a nap. He’s singing softly under his breath—as lullaby he often sings to her that seems to hail from centuries before you.

“You never told me what the lyrics of that lullaby mean,” You say to him, wrapping an arm around his waist as you watch over your baby. He reciprocates, lifting an arm to stroke your hair as he kisses your forehead.

“I’m not sure about the direct translation.” He says carefully. “Something along the lines of growing up strong and annihilating all your enemies.”

“How sentimental.” You sigh.

“How are you feeling?” Zhongli asks you the same question every day, more than once. If it weren’t for the fact that you knew he had reason to be worried, you’d be complaining right now.

You contemplate for a couple of seconds, humming lightly to yourself. “I’m hungry.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“I feel perfectly fine. Amazing even. So now you can let me hold my own baby without being worried I’m going to keel over.”

Zhongli laughs at that. The baby smiles too, something in her dreams bringing fond memories to light.

“See, it’s a sign.” You grin, leaning forward to stroke her cheek. “You should stop being so paranoid, you know. I’m not going to die, I promise.”

“I am not concerned about your death. I am simply concerned about you over-exerting yourself before you have the strength to do so.” He says. “I suppose you have a point though.”

Having a baby at home is vastly different to what you expected it to be. You expected it to be pure chaos, nappies everywhere, laundry piling up to the ceiling, the house trashed from every corner. In reality, it wasn’t that extreme. Yes, maybe you ran the laundry twice as many times than usual, and yes, sometimes little Jingmei would manage to leak through her clothes. But as she got older and you all fell into the swing of things, if anything, having her around was less stressful than life was before her.

“What do you want for dinnner?” Zhongli asks you. Jingmei, old enough now to have the slightest inkling of a personality, babbles thoughtfully in response. Amber hops onto the sofa beside you both, and Jingmei’s babbles become more passionate. “Jingmei, my love,”Zhongli smiles. “Can you please enunciate your words? I can’t understand you.”

You scowl at Zhongli. “She’s trying her best. I can understand her perfectly fine. She’s saying she wants to go to Wanmin restaurant and eat so much she empties your wallet.” You grin at her, pressing your nose to hers. “Aren’t you, baby? We can even go say hello to Tao Tao, can’t we?” Jingmei giggles, the sound of her excitement even making Amber jump up in anticipation. You turn to look at Zhongli with a mischievous smile on your face. “You can’t say no now, Li. Even Amber’s excited.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He chuckles. “I had accepted the proposal the second you said it.”

“Lies.” You smile, standing up to face him head on. “Jingmei and I both know you’re lying.”

“The fact that you’re using a child who can barely speak to further your point lessens its validity. You are aware of that right?”

“You are just one big party pooper. You know that, right?” You hand Jingmei, who has been relentlessly making grabby hands at her father, to him, turning on you heel to go upstairs. “I’m going to get ready. Do not, under any circumstances, tell her any more stories about you thrashing your enemies in the Archon war please. She keeps trying to reenact them with me.”

“I’m training her in the ways of the world. She finds the stories entertaining. That’s all that counts.”

“I don’t find her pulling my hair out entertaining. If you’re going to tell her stories, can you please tell her age-appropriate ones? Like about princesses befriending dragons and becoming doctors.”

“I’m glad you have grand plans for our daughter.” He scoffs. “Ignore your mother.” He says to Jingmei, and she giggles at the mere thought of disregarding your words. “I’m going to regale you with the tale of the time I cleared Liyue of pests.”

#zhongli #zhongli fluff #zhongli fanfic #the collab hub: new beginnings #genshin impact #genshin fan fiction #zhongli x reader

651 notes · View notes

impala-dreamer · 2 months ago

Text

Yes, it’s that time again. As an oversized turkey thaws in your fridge and Mariah Carey starts doing her vocal warm ups, it’s time to think about gifting something special to those you love.

Why not give the fanfic lover in your life a custom written fanfiction designed and starring Them?!

Imagine the joy on your bestie’s face as they read about riding in the Impala with Dean and singing along to their favorite song! The magical feeling they’ll get when Bucky rescues them and his prickly exterior softens at their touch… Or hell- get one for yourself and read the story you’ve always dreamed about but couldn’t find ;)

So many possibilities and stories to tell!

Read on for more info and please, reblog to spread the word. 💖

How does it work?

You send me a message and we discuss what type of story you’d like. If I think I can do it properly for you- it’s a go!

You provide details about the character (you, someone else, multiples). Stories can be OFC, Actual People, or Reader Insert.

You leave me alone for a few days and when I return, you’ll get a PDF file of your fic (including custom art) emailed right to you ready for gifting! (gift wrap not included)

What fandoms are you writing for lately?

Any fandom can be negotiated provided I am familiar with it and feel like I would do the details justice. Ex: I’ve watched football, but I’m not gonna write a great football story bc I just don’t get it. ;)

Fandoms I am currently comfy with:

Supernatural, Supernatural RPF (Mostly all ships!)

The Boys, The Boys RPF

The Walking Dead, TWD RPF

Marvel (Cap, Bucky, Thor, Wanda, Sam), Marvel RPF (Evans & Stan)

Criminal Minds

The Hunger Games

The Magicians (Ships too!)

Random RPF Actors/Singers

What Kind of Story Can You Do?

Anything. No, wait. I’m afraid you don’t believe me. I mean… ANY T H I N G. You want hardcore smut that borders on problematic? I’m in. You want the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed and would make Hallmark movies cringe? I got you. Angst? Dark stuff? General? Literally Anything you want. I only have one or two things I’m not comfortable with but that can all be discussed in private, and honestly, after almost 10 years doing this, no one’s ever come close to asking for them so you’re 1000% good to ask for whatever.

What’s the bottom line here?

Well, your story, which will be anywhere from 1,000 - 20,000 words depending on how wordy I get, will be a flat rate of $25. This includes my full attention to your story from start to finish, accompanying art, specific detail inclusion, and an emailed PDF file that you can print out or delete, or whatever you want. It’s yours.

I do not write for word counts, only the story. If your complete story can be told in 1k words, that’s great. If it takes another 40,000 and we end up with a novel, that’s great for you and I won’t charge you any more for it! I’m more worried about giving you the best story I can than worrying about word counts.

Commissions are open now until Christmas Eve Eve (Dec 23, 2023).

I will only take FIVE commissions at any time, so best to get to me first. First come, first serve, then I go down the line.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I’m not scary.

You can also check out my Tumblr Masterlist for examples of my work incase you’re unsure. And… just a reminder, Patrons get a discount!

Much love and wishes for an awesome end of the year,

Beka <3

2024 Tags

@feelmyroarrrr @caplanbuckybarnes @mariekoukie6661 @alwaystiredandconfused @zepskies

@k-slla @foxyjwls007 @shadyloveobject @cosicas-cuquis @luvr4miya

@deanwinchesterswitch @cevansdove-baby @somebrokeartstudent @peytongoose @illicithallways

Add Yourself To The List

#commissions #fanfic #holiday commissions #2024

35 notes · View notes

korgbelmont · 4 months ago

Text

Announcement with regard to future of Transparents

Hello all, after a lot of thinking, I have decided that I am going to start winding down on the transparents and eventually bring them to an end. The fact of it is, making the transparents has been feeling more and more like a chore rather than something I enjoy doing, and during the time where I have been on break from doing them, I have been thinking more and more on it, and I decided that I want to bring it to an end. This wasn't an easy decision to make, but it is what I feel is the right thing to do.

First off, I would like to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who has supplied the files, @ratanslily, @farizrz, @cassiopeiacorvus, @8emi95, @openheartthot, @ladynonsense, @abookishcreative, @marcolinfanmarcooo, and @nebulacosmos. I would also like to give a special thanks to @my-name-is-lumien who helped assemble some of the transparents. Without you all, none of this would be possible.

Next up, I would like to see a really big thank you to the members of the fandom, both those who are still here, and those who had decided to leave.

What will happen going forward?

I will continue on The Ghost Of Us, Filthy Rich, and Along Came Treble as I have already started on those. I will also upload the transparents for All of Us, Hearts on Fire and Rivals With Benefits as I have already made them, so it would be silly to just delete them after taking the time to make them.

This is the same for Terror Fest, but I've decided that I will do some books here and there depending on what they're like. At the moment, I do have Bitten on my list to do because it sounds like it will be a supernatural book. I will also do all the sequels as it doesn't sit with me to leave them unfinished, so Alpha, Blades, Crimes, and Immortal Desires will all be done. At the moment, the only book that will not be done is Plus One, but there will probably be more down the line.

If anyone would like to request transparents from books I don't upload, I will answer those requests but it will be done in the way I do the custom requests in that they will be put on the ask.

I am not going to be leaving Tumblr, I will still be here as I don't feel ready to leave and there are so many amazing people here who I want to keep in contact with. I will probably be doing more and more stories and I will also still do edits (especially the DC ones).

Once again, a really big thank you to everyone for everything over the last near five years, you have all been amazing!

#choices character transparents #choices transparents #playchoices

38 notes · View notes

xxblairexxss · 1 year ago

Text

Safe person

Pairing : Mason Mount x reader

Theme : Fluff

Word count : i’m not sure ;; (not proofread)

Another random idea I had in mind. I’m not really sure about this, might edit or delete it later but I tried a different setting, using 2nd person POV instead of 3rd person POV. Still learning! Anyway, have a great day ahead, loves!

You never ordered on your own whenever you walked into a restaurant, never corrected a waiter if she got your orders wrong. Not because you were being a bitch and thought that you were above everyone but because you were too scared to do so. It made you anxious. It might sounded stupid for some but your friend, Amanda had gotten used to it and taken over the role ever since you guys became friends when your were 8 years old,

and so was your boyfriend, Mason.

“Mase, can you…order for me? Pleaseee..” You lightly tucked on his sleeve and fiddled on it. It was during the earliest stage of your relationship that Mason picked up on your habit to start fiddling with anything you could grasp on whenever you guys were in line to order.

“Of course, princess. You want the usual?” He took your hand in his, intertwined it with his and left a peck on the back of it.

Ever since then, whenever they walked into a fast food joints, Mason would take your hand so you wouldn’t had a chance to start fiddling with your sleeves or his and you didn’t have to ask him to order for you anymore.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You never talked about useless topics though you loved to do so. But you were once called “boring” by one of your schoolmate because no one talked about that, we talked about boyfriends, crushes, dates while you wanted to talk about a podcast you listened yesterday or a random cafe vlog you came across on Youtube one night.

But Mason loved it, a lot actually. In fact, your jabber was one of the reasons he fell in love with you. He loved the way you have deep furrows in your brows and how serious you looked when you talked about Stephanie Soo’s latest podcast.

“Can you imagine?! She killed her because she thought it would be fun?! How is killing someone fun? Ugh, she’s so evil.” He copied your frown and nodded along. “Right, baby, she’s so evil. I agree.” You were so mad but your anger level went down when you turned your head and saw how cute Mason was, copying your actions. “Mase, I’m being serious. She didn’t deserve to die!” He then chuckled and cupped your cheek as you leaned into his touch. “I know, baby. No one deserves to die. She got caught and justice was served, wasn’t it?”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Mason was away for Three Lions’ friendly match and you were on your way home when you walked past Five Guys and the smell of the bacon cheeseburger made your stomach grumbled.

It took you a minute to decide to just fuck it and ordered it yourself if it meant you could eat a hamburger whilst catching up to the latest Black Mirror’s episode, which sounded like the best plan to wind down your night but of course, you couldn’t get rid of your habit to fiddle with your sleeves when you made your order, and in this case, your coat’s sleeve.

“Mase, guess what?” You grinned with full of pride, as you had a flashback of what you did today and of course, you had to tell Mason during the late night video call. “What is it, baby? Did you spend 10 minutes petting another stray cat on your way home again?” You shaked your head, not because you were denying it as you did actually spent 10 minutes petting stray cats, there were two cats actually and they were in the same color but that wasn’t the correct answer to your question. “I ordered Five Guys on my own!” He widened his eyes is amusement and brought the phone closer to his face. “Really? Did Amanda accompany you?” “No, I was all alone! I know… it sounds silly because it’s the simplest thing ever and I shouldn’t feel proud because..” You started mumbling, your voices getting slower and slower as you started over-analysing your feelings and realised that you might ended up making a fool of your in front of him.

“Baby, hey, listen. It’s not silly. I’m proud and happy with what you did today, really. Though it makes me kinda sad because you might not need my help after this and you won’t play with my hoodie sleeves anymore.”

“No, silly. I still need you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, because you are my safe person.”

#mason mount #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #football imagine #football imagines #football fics #mason mount fics #mason mount fic

388 notes · View notes

writingquestionsanswered · 7 months ago

Text

Struggling to Focus on Plot vs Everything

Anonymous asked: I'm currently outlining (whilst still figuring out my plot and everything), but I keep getting sidetracked. My brain is trying to plant seeds to help me figure out the overall story, but it's distracting me from getting the main story line plotted out because instead I'm trying to come up with every possible scenario for why things happen. This method is exhausting, though, and I'd rather have a solid story line first, then flesh it out from there. Ultimately, I feel like I need to figure out my story's timeline and the main events, because I want that all sorted before I tackle how the characters experience it. It's just really overwhelming and when I try to pluck out the big pieces, they crumble into smaller pieces.

[Ask, and subsequent ask, edited for length and content]

So, if I understand correctly, it seems like part of you just wants to get down the actual plot of the story, but when you try, you end up delving into all these deeper background details?

What I'm thinking is this: if you're able to, I would start by doing what I think of as a "holistic summary" of your story... sort of like a brain dump but in general chronological order from beginning to end. It doesn't have to be perfect... you can backtrack, jump around a little, and go on tangents as needed. The point is to just get down as much of the story as you know... and as much as your brain will want to flesh out in real time... just to get it out of your head.

Sometimes, just getting it all out of your head on paper in one single container can help free up your brain to focus on the backbone of your story... the actual framework all of those details need to adhere to.

Another thing that might help, if you haven't done this already, is to look for a story structure template to help you tease out the story. There are loads of them out there from Save the Cat Writes a Novel! to Larry Brooks Story Structure, Three-Act Story Structure, the Snowflake Method, The Hero's Journey, Blake Snyder's Beat Sheet, Derek Murphy's 24 Chapter Outline, Gwen Hayes' Romancing the Beat, Shawn Coyne's Story Grid, The Seven Point Plot Structure, Dan Harmon's Story Circle, The Five-Act Structure, James Scott Bell's A Disturbance and Two Doorways, Kishōtenketsu Structure, Story Spine, and a bajillion others... The key to using a story structure template is to know it doesn't have to be followed exactly. They're not there as molds to cram your story into... they're more like "suggested itineraries" for a road trip. This is an ideal route with some popular stops along the way, but you may wish to alter the route slightly or make some different stops. Many writers actually use bits and pieces of different templates to suit their needs or the needs of their story.

Sometimes, just choosing a random template to tease out your main plot can be enough to help you see exactly what the main plot is, which makes all the other stuff fall into its proper place as character development, back story, and world building.

I hope this helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

47 notes · View notes

sorcerersseestars · 2 years ago

Text

his eyes, your ears [part iv]

series masterlist

Gojo Satoru x reader

summary: There was a time when you called him best friend, but those days escaped you long ago. There’s no way he’s alive – right? With the depth of his betrayal still lingering in your heart and mind, what would his reappearance spell for your life?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

warnings: cursing, lowkey a little mental torture, TW! s*xual a*sault (forced kiss), violence!!, one instance of vomiting (sry), immoral and creepy Geto, reader is kinda anxious nonstop (like writer like reader?), some details are non-canon (a/n 2.0 at end explains), also it’s slow for the first half but picks up I promise, I think I made Geto sound British???, also I made Hanami act like a mom kinda 💀 uh…im going to call it comic relief?

word count: 6.7k. oof.

a/n: I am literally SO SORRY that this has been sitting in my drafts for so long but… life happens! Along those lines – I wrote 1/2 of this in September and 1/2 of it in May, so it might be a bit disjointed sorryyy hehe

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Then you’ll have to live with disappointment,” He flashes you an all-too-pleased-with-himself smile. “Becaaause it’s totally permanently in your phone now.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, right. As if I wouldn’t be able to delete a contact.”

He has a devilish smirk on his face, but his voice is annoyingly innocent and cheerful. “Go ahead, try!”

You gasp. “Gojo! Did you jailbreak my new phone?!”

“Uh, uh! That not what my contact reads as!” He snatches your phone from your hands, and points a large finger to the tiny name on your screen. “It’s ‘My Beloved Best Friend Satoru’!”

“Satoru,” You say dangerously. “Erase this or I’ll erase you from existence.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I’d love to see you try. You’re cute when you try to beat me.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to find words, and you try to ignore the heat on your cheeks. “S-Satoru! You asshole, give me my phone back!”

He holds it high above your head, a wide smile lingering on his face. He’s having way too much fun with this. You jump, trying to swat it out of his hand, but to no avail.

“Why did you even do this?” You grumble, sighing. “What, is it ‘how many ways can I torture (Y/N) in the span of a few hours’ day?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re weak, remember? You gotta have me on speed dial if you want to survive in this line of work.”

First, your eyes widen at his blunt statement. Then you sigh again, this time a bit sadly. “Wow, you have so much faith in me…thanks.”

“You never know what’s out there,” Gojo says. “If you ever have any trouble, call me.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Is this a prank? I thought you hated ‘helping the weak’.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N),” He says firmly. “I’ll always pick up. Abuse the privilege, whatever, I don’t care. Just don’t die.”

Your head snaps towards him, mouth hanging open with shock. “Satoru, what…? I’m not going to…”

You fall silent. There’s no guarantee of that.

He steps closer to you, closer than what you’d consider friendly. Your heart skips a beat.

“Just do it, okay? I’ll always be on the other end.”

Always, huh? But now…

Ring, ring, ring. You bite your lip, pressing your phone hard against your ear, as if his voice will appear if you wish it enough. Ring, ring, ring.

“Please…” You whisper. “Come on, come on.”

Your breath hitches as the distinctive timbre of Satoru’s voice fills your ear, but your shoulders fall almost immediately.

“Hey, sorry I’ve missed your call! If you close your eyes, recite my name five times, and spin around twice, I might get back to ya! No exceptions – not even–”

You sigh and hang up before you’re put through to voice mail. It’s not like he’ll listen to it, anyway.

He’s been avoiding you. You haven’t seen him for days – six, to be exact. It’s been five days since Shoko deemed you well enough to recover at home, despite the worryingly slow rate that your cursed energy has been returning. You were released with the promise you wouldn’t exert yourself and absolutely would not use any cursed energy. All the while, you had childishly held two crossed fingers behind your back – your promise was as empty as you felt.

You should have expected this; this shouldn’t hurt so much. Gojo is the strongest sorcerer the world has seen for hundreds of years. He never runs from his foes – he doesn’t need to. When it comes to facing emotions, however, he is all but mighty. Whenever his emotions run high, overflowing until they begin to leak out into broad daylight, he turns tail and practically erases himself from existence. It’s nearly impossible to find him – he mysteriously leaves no trace, even for an experienced tracker like you.

You left Shoko with an empty smile and promise, and Gojo has done just the same. Despite him swearing that he’d be back to see you, Gojo is nowhere to be found. You’ve dropped by at the school multiple times, even asking his students if they knew of his whereabouts, but nobody has been able to give you an answer.

He’s been dodging your calls, letting it ring until his chirpy voicemail message mocks you. The text messages you leave go unread, unopened.

When you hopelessly reopen your chat with him, you can’t help but bite yoru nails as you stare at the wall of blue on your screen. Message after message – unfinished thoughts, apologies, words full of urgency and desperation – are left by trembling hands bloodied by your own worry.

‘I’m the strongest,’ He always says, so why does fear spike in your veins at the thought of Geto finding him?

Even though his own arrogant words ring through your head, you can’t quell the anxiety that threatens to wreak havoc over your fragile state. You’re worried, so worried, and it bleeds into the rest of your life: you’re all over the place, constantly forgetting appointments and important items, you are inexplicably tense, your breathing is constantly shallow and quick; you’re barely holding yourself together.

A few days ago, you had your meeting with Yaga, alone, which went just as horribly as you could have imagined, but you were thankfully spared contact with the higher-ups due to your condition.

But you’re almost all better now – at least physically. That’s why you’re back again, ready for another round of manipulation and abuse.

You’re out of it, so out of it. Your eyes are glazed over, and nothing they say registers in your mind. Even when you try to focus on the words leaving their mouths, your brain filters it all back into mindless noise.

There’s a sequence of very familiar syllables: ah, your name is being shouted. You look up with empty eyes, blinking slowly.

“Useless sorcerer, answer me, now!” Gakuganji roars. “You are testing our patience, and I’ve just about run out of it. Can you track him, or not?”

You breathe in shakily, and let out a weak, clueless, “What?”

“Track him, or they’re dead,” He spits. “Track Geto Suguru. Find him. We won’t wait long. If you haven’t reported back in a week, your parents won’t be able to enjoy their retirement any longer.”

Some of the other council members shift uncomfortably at his bluntness, but you barely even flinch.

You’re so tired of it all. You almost wish you had encouraged Gojo to just off them once and for all.

“Okay,” You mumble softly, lacking the energy to project your voice. “I can do it. I will track Geto Suguru.”

You drag yourself out without acknowledging them, without any show of respect, but the thought of caring is lost on you. Your apathy leaves a trail of displeased whispers, but you don’t even notice.

You speed-dial his number again and again and again, and are returned with nothing but the taunt of his cheerfully recorded memo.

When you finally look away from his contact info burning your retinas, your gaze is trained on the clear sky. It shouldn’t be so vivid, shouldn’t be so beautiful – today should be overcast and rainy. You can’t help but frown, but your eyes remain on the heavens.

Then you’re granted a sight that usually coaxes a smile out of you no matter how you feel: a particularly large gust of wind lays out a collection of reddening autumn leaves against the azure sky. They swirl and dance in the breeze, hovering in your field of vision for a few more moments before they are whipped away.

It’s a sign of the changing of seasons – it has always been one of your favorite times of the year, especially during your years at Tokyo Jujutsu High. The rapid approach of the holidays and the time spent training with your classmates in the chilly air has always enlivened you.

Today, this sight drives fat tears to roll down your cheeks. It just serves to remind you of the juxtaposition between those blissful times and these turbulent times: the weight of Geto’s betrayal, his subsequent death, his impossible revival.

You turn your head to the side, eyes tracking the leaves as they dance into the distance.

“So I’m really doing this then,” You whisper to yourself. “Yeah, guess I am. You’re not here to stop me…”

They’re far from Tokyo, much further than they were before. That much is obvious from the start, when you first scour for their residuals. After a disappointing first try by Jujutsu High - you shouldn’t expected much, anyway - you decide to return to their last known location: the forest you nearly were obliterated in. You dread returning there, but you have little choice unless you want to do a whole lot of guesswork.

You drive yourself there. Usually, you would be accompanied by your usual driver Ijichi, but the thought of asking him didn’t even cross your mind. In the eyes of the Jujutsu world, this is a suicide mission. You’re well aware of that: so why involve anyway else unnecessarily, risking innocent lives?

You’re grateful for the calming scenery that blurs by: miles and miles of inhabited land, solely occupied by woodland’s creatures. Hardly any curses are present in the countryside, as there are no humans to feed off of. Those special grades you faced were certainly the exception.

You pull over to the edge of the forest once you sense a steady stream of cursed energy. The residual energy is at least a week old - just around the time of your unfortunate encounter with them. You close your eyes and carefully sift through all of the cursed energy signatures left behind, immediately identifying Hanami’s and Jogo’s faint residuals. There’s one stronger energy, and very familiar: Satoru’s cursed energy.

His cursed energy is so easy to pick out, no matter where you are. It’s so bright and lively, practically humming under your fingers every time you sense it, almost as if it were your own.

But there’s a shadow – his energy shadows another. You concentrate, sensing an underlying current of a more recent energy. Your eyes fly open, startled by your discovery. It is much fresher than the others: the residuals are only a few days old.

Its signature is both unknown and yet alarmingly familiar. It’s dark, so dark. Its energy chokes you, holds you hostage with the way it starts to stick to you and steal your courage with its oppressiveness. You’ve never felt an energy quite like this, yet it feels all too familiar.

You begin to shake, the reality sinking in. “Geto…. Just what have you become?”

You shakily clamber back into the driver’s seat, firmly gripping the steering wheel with sweaty hands. Geto was here. Geto knows that you and Satoru were in the same vicinity as Jogo and Hanami. There’s absolutely no way he doesn’t know — you carelessly hadn’t wiped your residuals or even tried to cover your tracks.

You step on the gas. You keep your cursed energy flowing as you speed down the road, revealing a murky trail of residuals to follow. His cursed energy is so distinctly foul that you can pick it out from the rest with little effort. It’s overwhelming and makes you nauseous. Cursed with a twist of familiarity – a sickening combination.

Your mind begins to race. Is this how Gojo felt back then? No, it must have been so much worse, tracking one of your soulmates down with the intent to…to kill. And now you’re being forced to track him down again, just so the higher-ups can order Gojo to repeat history, just so your best friends will be forced to fight until one is–

You jerk the steering wheel over, making for a rough pull-over job. You throw yourself out of the car as quickly as possible before retching your stomach’s contents out onto the dark pavement.

The old wounds in your heart flare up; you clutch your chest desperately.

You are not strong enough to protect your parents - but are you strong enough to survive the alternative, the reality you and Gojo can’t help but deny?

“I have to,” You whisper to yourself. “I have to do this. I have no power in this world, I’m not the strongest…so this is all I can do.”

And so you are off again, this time unwavering from the course you’re set on.

By the time you reach Kyoto, an untimely five hours of panicked driving later, their residuals are so apparent that you hardly have to try. It’s almost as if they’re luring you in, the most sensitive tracker known in the Jujutsu world; why else would they leave behind such obvious traces of their cursed energy?

You ignore your instincts that scream for you to turn back, and instead continue into the outskirts of the most outer part of the residential areas – the residuals lead you far from the city itself.

As you venture further into the countryside, your stomach begins to clench. The residuals are much stronger now, but not alarmingly so. They should still be miles and miles out, perhaps 40 or 50 – there should be enough distance to not alert them of your presence. However, as a precaution, you stretch your hearing beyond the range of any normal human. You still feel unsettled, even with the extra layer of protection.

This is dumb. This is a terrible idea. Yet, you keep your foot firmly on the gas pedal.

You are suddenly flooded with an overwhelming wave of noise. Your brain barely has a second to process what your ears pick up: the roar of an object hurtling towards your car. You swerve to the roadside, and you’re barely fast enough: the driver’s side door is nearly scraped off, and it begins to smolder.

It shouldn’t be possible. They shouldn’t be here. Not again.

Running on pure adrenaline, you rip your seatbelt off and throw yourself to the passenger’s side door, seeking an escape from the next impending strike. Your hearing is more sensitive from your frenzied state, and you hear the next meteor much earlier this time. You rely on your hearing, on your hearing only: it will tell you where to dodge.

You climb out of the car, wheezing on smoke and fumes, and take off running. You gasp at the sound of the next meteor closing in on you and quickly dive away, throwing yourself to the ground and covering your head with your hands. The explosion is so intense that even after reducing your hearing, you feel the shock reverberate through your body and overpower any other sensation you feel.

After the ringing in your ears lets up for a moment, you finally feel the aftermath of the blast: shards of heated rock are embedded in your side, scorching your skin. There’s no time to even think about it: you’re up and running away from the voices that soon enter your hearing.

“You imbecile! Do you always have to do the opposite of what you’ve been ordered?” The grating tones of Hanami enter your ears as he hisses at Jogo. “He said captured alive! Or would you rather face his wrath?”

Captured? So they had been expecting your arrival; it was a trap all along.

“Relax, I haven’t even made a scratch yet!” Jogo shouts back.

“You’re embarrassing yourself in many ways,” Hanami scoffs. “If your intention was to kill, I will begin to further doubt your abilities. I already had to rescue you from that sorcerer, or has your pea-brain already forgotten that failure after it fell off of your body?”

“Shut up already,” Jogo growls. “I got it, okay?”

You truly don’t know what to do. Your last encounter made it very clear that you are solely a tracker with limited offensive ability. Hell, you didn’t even try last time because you knew it be to utterly pointless – the result would turn out no better if you tried now. Two special grades against a Grade 1 sorcerer with Grade 2 offensive abilities? You don’t stand a chance in that regard.

They’re in too close of proximity to disguise your presence – cutting off your cursed energy would be pointless. There’s only one other trick up your sleeve to increase your chances of surviving if they do decide to attack again.

You feel their cursed energies so much more clearly – when you steal a glance behind yourself, you can faintly see them in the distance. Not good.

Jogo suddenly barks out a laugh. “Boss never said we couldn’t rough anybody up though, did he? Got you there, dumbass! Don’t try to stop me!”

Really not good.

There’s a sudden spike in cursed energy – and that energy is heading straight for you. You try to dodge, but your reaction is too late. You feel the heat even before the impact, and you decide you definitely need to utilize your other ability. It’s not perfect, nor is it a full-fledged technique yet, but you have little choice but to use it now.

You concentrate all your energy into the side that will take the hit, and imagine an impenetrable wall. You think of Gojo’s Infinity: the space that can never crossed, no matter how much force is exerted. You don’t have the ability to manipulate space like Gojo, but your shield imitates his impenetrability.

Jogo’s fiery body slams into your side. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, and the searing pain returns. Your shield absorbs the brunt of the strike, but you’re still knocked back at least thirty feet. You tumble into the undergrowth, your back squarely hitting a tree in your path.

You can’t stop the howl that escapes your lungs, and the ragged breathing that follows.

“They tried to stop it! It wasn’t even a fraction of my power and they couldn’t stop it! And you’re telling me that Gojo Satoru is interested in them?” Jogo howls in laughter. “How pathetic!”

At your next blink, Jogo has materialized in front of you. You weakly stagger to the side, wanting to get away but knowing you can’t deep down. They’re just toying with you – if they decided to get rid of you, they’d be able to almost instantly.

Jogo shouts loudly, “So weak it makes me sick! You can only run away, huh? Boss is right – creatures like you are disgusting.”

He rushes forward again, and you rush to encase yourself in your imperfect shield. To your surprise, you are not struck down: instead, you’re…in his arms??

“Hanami! Since you won’t let me have anymore fun, I guess we should go back,” Jogo yells across the clearing to the other Special Grade.

A burst of petals flies past your eyes; Hanami emerges from a newly-grown patch of flowers. They don’t say anything, but they approach Jogo and stand right over his shoulder. Jogo eyes Hanami suspiciously.

“Why are you hovering over me?” Jogo grumbles. “Stay away, tree hugger.”

“It’s almost as if he knew you were going to pull this,” Hanami huffs. “There’s a reason I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“They’re alive, that was the only request. Did Boss put you up to that ‘good guy’ act, huh? Agh, such arrogant scum! Thinks he can tell me what to do?”

Despite your shield, Jogo’s heat begins to affect you. You cough violently, and when you glance at your hands you see rivulets of red.

“Yes, I think that’s accurate, considering you call him ‘Boss’. Now, hand them over before they go up in flames.”

Jogo grunts unhappily, but complies. You’re transferred to the rough bark limbs of the tree cursed spirit. Hanami sighs at the sight of your angry red burns, eyeing Jogo, “Such a barbaric curse…destructive to all life and environment.”

“HAH! You-!” Jogo guffaws. “I’ve see you uproot your own forests! Environmentally friendly my ass! Shut your trap.”

You wince from his loudness.

“So obnoxious, isn’t he? Well, you’re the lucky one here - you get to take a nap,” Hanami says. “Rest well before your…‘meeting’.”

Your pulse quickens at the expression on the curse’s face: a demented sort of excitement. There’s a sweet floral smell that falls over you, and then you begin to grow sleepy. Your eyelids start to flutter as you try to fight it – but you are eventually pulled deep into a dreamless sleep.

You are roused from your sleep by the touch of another. A hand on your forehead – a comforting presence. It’s warm, and familiar. You’re about to smile widely and look deep into his crystal eyes, but when your bleary eyes begin to focus, your heart stops.

There’s an easy, gentle smile on his face. His dark eyes shine brightly, but your own can’t help but drift to the obvious surgical scar running across his entire forehead.

Your reflexes kick in: you smack his hand away, rejecting the unwanted touch, and fall into a defensive stance. He lets out a hum of amusement, but otherwise does not react.

“My old friend,” Geto Suguru coos. “How wonderful it is to see you again. Never thought I’d be able to – what a gift your presence is, my dear.”

It’s then that you realize that you’re shaking; your chattering teeth render you unable to let any words out.

“Did Jogo and Hanami rough you up again? How rude of them,” He sighs. “But don’t be scared, it’s just your old friend Suguru.”

He stops to let his eyes roam over your hunched form. A sickening smirk spreads across his face – sickening because it’s just like the sweet smiles he used to give you.

“You know, you really are the best tracker around. I have to say, I’m quite impressed. Too bad I know all your little tricks, though. Did you like the surprise I set up especially for you?” He smirks. “It’s hard to catch such a talented tracker as you off guard, but I think I managed quite well. You didn’t detect a thing, did you? They were supposed to be much further away, I know…it’s fascinating, isn’t it, the feats you can achieve through sorcery?”

You only stare at him in horror.

“No? Well, I know at least Jogo enjoyed it,” He says with a soft laugh, but his next words cause icy chills to run down your spine. “But I think I enjoyed it the most. The look on your face…was perfect.”

Your stomach turns at his words. His gaze is even worse: there’s a hungry, disturbing glint to them. Your eyes flit from his sharp onyx eyes to his traditional wear: his inky yukata and gilded kasaya are elegant and beautiful, but emanate darkness.

“Forgot what I looked like? It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Geto smiles. His smile is soft and almost sweet, but out of place; its familiarity makes your stomach churn.

“You shouldn’t be here,” You finally speak, voice quiet and cracking. “You shouldn’t exist.”

“That’s a bit harsh, doll. I’m not the only one who doesn’t belong in this world,” He says, lip curled in disgust. “Monkeys roam the earth. That’s more of a disgrace than my existence…I hope you’d agree.”

You only manage to gasp out, “How are you even here?”

His eyes meet yours, crinkling in a dark sort of amusement. “You’d love to know, wouldn’t you? There’s a price to pay for that knowledge, doll.”

“You’d…Geto would never hurt me,” You whimper. “Never.”

Geto just smiles. “I wouldn’t? Maybe not.”

His piercing eyes seem to see stare right through you. “But what about my best friend?”

You freeze.

“Is that such an uncomfortable thought?” He chuckles a little too lightly. “Never thought about it even once? Not even after he killed me?”

He tuts at you, clicking his tongue. “Sweetheart, I knew you were blinded by him, but never to this degree. How low you have fallen…”

He moves closer. Your breath is trapped in your lungs and you can’t move.

“One toe out of line and you might end up like me. Don’t you see?” He shakes his head.

Hot anger flashes through you, and your tongue lashes out before you can think. “One toe out of line? No. No. You committed genocide. You murdered your entire family in the name of it. For what? A delusional dream?”

He sighs. “Of course. So brainwashed…you’re practically a monkey. How disappointing. You don’t get it, do you? I was apparently his everything, and look how I ended up.”

“You’re not Geto!” You cry out. “You can’t be.”

He laughs softly, but his gaze is razor-sharp. “Are you sure these aren’t Geto’s thoughts?”

You bite your lip in nervous thought. “Ge- you…why am I here?”

He ignores your question as he begins to circle you like a hawk, eyes sharp and hungry. “You know, you’re not quite what I imagined you to be.”

You take a few tentative steps back, trying to subtly increase the distance between you and the living corpse in front of you, but he strides over to your side when he notices.

“I’m just so curious,” He says, eyes raking over your figure. “You really are (Y/N), aren’t you? Fits the descriptions…”

The blood drains from your face. You back away from his seeking hands that threaten to touch you, to investigate you.

“There’s a disgusting amount of papers with your name written all over them – I don’t think Hanami would have liked me much before. Such a waste of stationery,” He says, his twisted smirk pulling shivers down your spine. “Why was I so fixated on you? You don’t look like anything special. Don’t tell me…I actually fell for someone as plain as you?”

“What?” You breathe out, eyes wide, mouth parted in surprise. “Geto, you…he…it wasn’t like that.”

“And you didn’t even know,” He coos in faux pity. “How cruel to find out in this way. Seems like you have only ever focused on my former equal. You only pay attention to the strongest – how shallow. What did I ever see in you?”

“I- that’s not-“ You try to form a sentence, deny it, say it’s not true because it truly isn’t, but your tongue and vocal chords won’t cooperate with you.

“When confronted with the truth, humans get tongue tied,” He smiles, voice dripping with mockery. “How precious. What a good little monkey you are – so unbearably typical, so exemplary of your species.”

“Stop,” You gasp out.

“What, sweets? Can’t handle the truth?”

“Don’t call me that,” You try to say with conviction, but it leaves you weakly and softly, almost a plea.

“What, you only like it when he calls you that?” He says with a dark chuckle. “How pathetic. How much has you brainwashed you into thinking he acutally wants anything to do with you? Gojo doesn’t like to get attached. And even when he does–”

He leans forward, invading your space, pressing up too closely to your body. “–sometimes you still end up dead.”

“Stop,” You beg. “Get away from me. You’re-you’re scaring me, Suguru.”

“Am I?” He smirks. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know what to do to make you forgive me, though. Used to work on Shoko, too.”

“No, stop!” You cry, ragged breaths leaving you. “This isn’t you, stop, please, stop!”

“You’re right,” He smiles wickedly, eyes dark. “It’s not.”

His lips meet yours. It burns your skin, but not pleasantly – it’s all wrong, and it hurts. You shove him away with as much force as you can, leaving him stumbling back a few paces. He laughs. He laughs.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” He chuckles, amused. “You’re stronger than you used to be. Maybe you actually live up to being Grade 1 now, huh?”

“Who are you?!” You cry out. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I’m Geto Suguru,” He says with a crazed smile. “Is it that hard to believe when my body was never retrieved?”

“What do you want from me?” You snarl, growing angry. “You’ve just been toying with me, you bastard. Trying to play all these mind games on me, leaving your dirty work to your underlings. None of it feels substantial enough to kidnap me.”

A cackle escapes Geto, “You’re right, it isn’t. By yourself, you aren’t of any interest to me. Just a memento of the past – I don’t have any use for you.”

He continues with a smirk, “I have to say though, your reactions have piqued my interest slightly. Jogo seems to feel the same way. Perhaps if you could be our little monkey for entertainment - it might keep Jogo out of trouble elsewhere.”

Reduced to entertainment.

“You’re sick,” You say, shaking your head.

“Hardly. It’s only natural treatment for someone so unimportant. Should I be frank?” He asks, touching his chin to mock contemplation. “You are here solely as means of luring him out.”

You break out in a cold sweat. It was as you suspected and feared: you are only bait. Bait for the strongest.

“He won’t come,” You declare. “This is pointless.”

“Do you take me as an idiot monkey?” Geto frowns. “You’re not the only one who can read residuals. He came last time, and he will come this time.”

“He doesn’t know,” You hiss. “He won’t come. He doesn’t want to see me right now.”

Geto only smiles. “He’ll come.”

His confidence scares you. Even though it would be very unlikely Gojo is even aware that you’re away on a mission, doubt still swirls in your gut. You don’t want him to walk into this trap – who knows what Geto has planned?

While you mull over your thoughts, Geto grows impatient.

“This is quite dull. Let’s test your strength, First Grader,” He smirks. “Maybe they’ll pass you to Special Grade if you can land a single hit.”

Suddenly, your breath is stolen from you. You double over in pain, caught off guard by the assault to your stomach. It was only a kick, but it was the hardest you’ve been hit in your entire life by another sorcerer.

“Silly me, I’ve forgotten my manners,” Geto says drily. “When harkening back to our school days, I must ask if you’re ready before we spar.

But don’t forget, the enemy won’t wait for you. Didn’t we learn that?”

Satoru’s words. He would often preemptively attack before the sparring session officially began, and he would always recite those exact words. You feel sick.

You don’t respond, knowing it would take away from your focus. Instead, you concentrate on pouring your cursed energy into your hearing technique.

He begins his initial assault: he’s extremely agile, and his punches and kicks seem to come out of thin air. You anticipate his attacks with your highly developed sense of hearing, listening for each twitch of his muscles and the roar of his appendages slashing through the air. Essentially, you read his moves before he has finished them. Your body can’t always keep up with your hearing enough to avoid him, though, but the blows are lessened by your half-developed shielding.

You haven’t attempted a single hit of your own – all your energy has gone into avoiding each of his potent attacks. Every time you see an opening, your chance is ruined by another attack of his.

After a few minutes of religiously defending, your senses slow. You can hear everything, but you can’t physically keep up with him. You begin to take hit after hit after hit – until you’re forced to retreat several paces back. Blood drips from your nose, spilling into your mouth and filling your mouth with the metallic tang of iron. It tastes of defeat and cowardice.

“Are you sure you’re not a monkey?” Geto roars in laughter. “To call you a sorcerer is sacrilegious at best. How disappointing you are. Haven’t improved an ounce since our days together, have you? Other than that half-baked excuse of a technique - trying to imitate the strongest, perhaps?”

You ignore his taunts, using the time to draw out two small daggers from your sleeves. You fare better with bows, but the twin blades are better than nothing.

“What cute little pocket knives,” Geto jeers. “They look sharp.”

“Want to find out?” You growl.

He scoffs. “I’d like to see you try.”

It is a dance that never ends – you are held captive by the need to defend yourself, not able to stop without the fear of further injury. You are slowly giving up hope when time seems to slow down. Your breath hitches as you spot what you need desperately: an opening. You zero in on the opening, thrusting your right hand into the open space. A spurt of red splashes your hand – your aim was true.

You step back immediately, parrying his retaliating blow with your other blade. More droplets spill over you, a shower of red that makes you nauseous.

You’re breathing hard. You haven’t fought with a sorcerer – or even a curse – for a long time, and it’s taking more of your strength than you anticipated.

Geto doubles over, which fills you with confusion. There’s no way those two nicks did any substantial damage, so why is he hunched over in pain?

And then you hear it. Laughter. Crazed laughter erupts from him in waves. When he looks up at you, the fear in the pit of your stomach intensifies. He’s not hurt – he’s pissed off. Very.

“I have to admit, you exceeded my expectations. But that’s not saying much when I expected nothing from a dirty monkey like you,” He spits. “What a brat.”

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted to spar like old times,” You glare, grip tightening on your daggers. “It was only per your suggestion.”

“Your insolence boils my blood…how does he care for someone like you?! How did I?!” He roars. “You are nothing!”

He rushes forward faster than you can register and knocks you to the ground. You instinctively roll out of the way and are still nearly stomped on. You try to stand up, or even just sit up, but can’t. You begin to panic – you feel frozen in place, unable to even turn your head.

“Now you can’t run away,” He growls. “Should I make it a little unbearable? You deserve it.”

You feel a great pressure forcing your body into the ground. It’s excruciating; you feel as if your bones are grinding together and all your muscles are compressed. You can’t bite back the cry that erupts from your throat.

“Now you really feel the gravity of the situation,” He says with a demented smile. “You know, maybe I don’t need you anyway. He can just come to retrieve your body. Can’t make the same mistake twice, after all. Leaving a body to rot is a vulnerability. I could fix that for him, too…leave a puddle where you used to stand? If I crush you long enough, perhaps…”

“Fuck you,” You manage to get out. “You’ll never win. You’ll never beat Satoru.”

You fall flat on your face, coughing, as you are released from his technique. You try to push yourself up, but you only manage to a kneeling position. Not that it matters anyway, not when you are grabbed by your throat and hoisted in the air.

“Do you always make so many mistakes?” He hisses. “It’s like you want me to kill you.”

You couldn’t respond even if you wanted to with how hard he’s clutching your trachea. You have no idea when you dropped your blades, but they’re not in your hands now, so you have to resort to pitifully clawing at his grip with your bare hands.

Your vision begins to blur and darken as you asphyxiate. Howls of laughter ring in your ears, getting quieter and then louder as your hearing fades in and out.

Is this how it will end? No, it can’t, you can’t let it. You can’t leave yourself to die at the hands of Geto Suguru. You can’t die at the hands of your former friend, and be found by your other best friend. You can’t do that to him.

You claw harder, more desperately, even though you feel yourself weakening. It’s futile – his grip won’t even loosen at your efforts.

You have to use your weaker technique. If you do it perfectly, it might propel him from your body, giving you a chance to escape. Escape to where, you don’t know, but you need to try. You don’t have any chance otherwise.

With a burst of strength you didn’t know you had, you focus all of your cursed energy into the skin that is touching Geto. Your close your eyes, visualizing the perfect invisible wall that encases Gojo – no flaws, no gaps, no way to get past – and then you release your energy.

There’s a loud smack that resonates through the air, and then you crumple to the ground. When you look up, you can see a hard shell jutting between you and Geto, effectively shielding you. Geto is clutching his arm, which is now red and swollen.

You actually did it. It was a perfect use of your technique.

“You are frustrating, but no matter. I have other methods at my disposal. Didn’t think I’d have to pull this on you, but you seem to be begging for your demise, so I might as well use it,” He grits his teeth, and holds one arm out, his forearm curling up.

A ball of black energy appears at his fist. It is nebulous and shifts as it grows bigger. It begins to glow as time passes, as it amasses more energy. You have no idea what that is, but you highly doubt your shield will be able to block it. As you think about your options, your shield begins to fade away – you are nearly out of cursed energy. You are wide-eyed as you watch the last sections of your shield dissipate to nothing.

Entirely defenseless, you heave yourself to a standing position and try to stumble away. You fall to one knee in agony – Jogo and Geto have taken a toll on you.

You look over to see the ball of darkness leave Geto’s fingers. You are frozen, knowing you can do nothing, but also knowing you will die if you do nothing.

It approaches, and you close your eyes. Hopefully it will completely destroy you in a single instant, so it won’t be torturous. At least you won’t be in pain for long.

It’s going to hit you. And then you suppose it does. You feel weightless, like you weigh nothing. Perhaps your body has been destroyed, and this is how your brain is processing the absence of your nerve endings.

But if you are not here anymore, why does the wind whip through your ears?

You were mistaken. You don’t just feel weightless, you are weightless.

When you open your eyes, tears spill out at the sight in front of you. Tousled white hair, a blindfold tucked over his eyes, rigid determination showing through his features.

“I didn’t know this is where we were holding the school reunion. Class of ‘007, except Geto went all rogue and didn’t end up graduating. What a failure!”

His words are playful, and he’s smiling, but somehow his tone doesn’t match. It’s serious and dark, not at all jocular. He seems to be making an effort to keep up his lighthearted persona, but his true feelings can’t help but bleed out.

“Ah, you finally showed up,” Geto cackles. “It’s not good to have a weakness. I was about to do you a favor.”

Gojo laughs bitterly, “Don’t you know? Strength comes from weaknesses. Not that you would understand.”

“In any case…” He looks down at you. “I won’t let you take away my strongest weakness.”

next part

a/n 2.0: Okay so, idk how it 100% is in the manga bc I haven’t read it, but basically this ‘Geto’ (*cough* Kenjaku) has thoughts that are Kenjaku but with some of Geto’s memories ?? .. sorry if that’s non canon heehee

Bonus!!: Also I’ve been learning some Japanese so here is Gojo’ name spelled out: ごじょさとる。This is more for my own enjoyment 🫣 but here you go lol

tag list: @thenyxsky, @whitehairedtwink, @screwyou3

also thank you @zoyatoshi for your such sweet reblogs 🥹🥹 literally inspired me to finish this chapter up after 6+ months !!

#gojo satoru x reader #reader needs a hug #gojo satoru needs a hug #geto suguru #Jujutsu Kaisen #jjk angst #angst/comfort #hurt/comfort #geto suguru needs a hug but he’s not getting one

302 notes · View notes