#if this flops i Will Delete It ........ help me

[tddott]

Seriously thinking about making a TD space for +21 fans......I would love to connect with people my age and meet new people

[katsutora]

gave up on tumblr a year ago bc there’s no interaction whatsoever and it gets hella lonely lmfao. someone pls be my regular & share your thoughts w me. or if my fellow writers see this uhh wanna be moots with an itoshi rin kin idk idk

ps: as for now the obsession is blue lock but i also love tokyo revengers !! im also too scared to slide into anyones dms so hopefully this works

[liliavanrougelover]

Would the TWST boys wake up to your alarm?

Summary: Would the TWST boys wake up to your alarm and how would they react to it?

Characters: All NRC students (-Ortho)

Warnings: none(?) (please correct me if I'm wrong)

A/N: I'm working on the Riddle SMAU, but it's taking longer than I expected. Enjoy these silly head cannons while you wait.

Riddle Rosehearts:

Yes and he’s grateful for it. His mother made him wake himself up. She didn’t allow him to get an alarm clock and just expected him to wake up, and that’s not exactly an easy thing to do. While he’s happy, he is used to waking up earlier than you. He probably gets up at 5:30- 6 am, I could never. He would either set up an alarm on his phone or ask if you could set one on your phone. If you set one for him on your phone, he would be grateful, but if you didn’t, he would understand. On the mornings where he wants to sleep in, he would turn off his alarm and let yours wake him up.

Trey Clover:

Yes. He would wake up to your alarm, but he doesn’t. Why? Because he has his own alarm. His alarm is set to the same time as yours because he’s not willing to get up at the crack of dawn. If you sleep through your alarm, he’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed. He’ll make sure he knows what you like for breakfast and he’ll make sure to make it perfect for you. He likes making breakfast for you so much that you may find your alarm has been silenced.

Cater Diamond:

Yes and it upsets him. He groans, flops himself on top of you and tells you to turn it off. If you do, he’ll nuzzle into you and fall back asleep. If you don’t he’ll climb over you and turn it off himself. If you want him to wake up, you’ll have to wake him up yourself. He has made a few magicam posts about your alarm. “Their alarm is the only thing I dislike about them.” -The first post Cater made when you first slept over. He tells you to turn the sound down or you’re never sleeping over again. The ideal volume is none. He’s asking you to delete it.

Ace Trappola:

It takes at least 3 alarms to wake him up and if you have that, he’ll be upset. He doesn’t like waking up and when he wakes up from an alarm? He’s not happy. He’ll reach over you and try to turn your alarm off while sleepily complaining. You can’t even understand what he’s saying because his words are all slurred and quiet. Once he’s fully awake, he’ll make complaints that you can understand.

Deuce Spade:

It takes 2 alarms to wake him and he’d be glad if you had that. He’s slept in more than he likes to admit so he’s very glad that your alarms wake him up. He’ll be a bit confused at first and ask you what that noise is. You’ll have to remind him to get out of bed or he’ll just sit there trying not to fall asleep again. He’s happy your alarms wake him up and he lets you know.

Leona Kingscholar:

It takes 5 alarms to wake him up and he hopes to the sevens you don’t have that much. If you do have that many alarms, he’ll be pissed. He’ll straight up tell you to delete it. He’ll make you delete it. If you don’t then he’ll send you back to your dorm. If you’re really adamant about waking up, he’ll get Ruggie to wake you up.

Ruggie Bucchi:

It helps him wake up. He’s used to waking up early to get him and his grandma breakfast so he naturally wakes up early. If your alarm is natural volume (not too loud, not too quiet) he’s glad that it helps him. If it’s loud, it’ll scare him. He grew up in a pretty cut-throat environment and he’s used to something trying to attack him. Please, turn your alarm down for him. If it helps you wake up, he’ll wake you up himself. Just please turn it down or turn it off. His poor heart can’t take it.

Jack Howl:

He wakes up earlier than you do. The first thing he does when he wakes up is go for a jog so he doesn’t hear your alarm. He doesn’t even know you have one. When he gets back after his jog and you’re still asleep, he’ll wake you up and offer to make you breakfast. It’s just bland cereal and milk though so if that’s not what you like, make your own.

Azul Ashengrotto:

He wakes up early. It’s what a good business person does. He’s very tired when he does though. He’s groggy and he’s trying to keep his eyes open. But, you see, he grew up in the Coral Sea. The Coral Sea is known to be a very dangerous place. Jade has said that it’s very cut-throat, so Azul has gotten attacked (probably) more than once. He hears your alarm and is sent into a full blown panic. He’s fully awake now. He shakes you awake and tells you that something’s attacking. You have to turn off your alarm and explain it to him. He eventually gets used to it. Remember to be patient with him when he wakes you up the moment your alarm goes off.

Jade Leech:

Jade has his own alarm. He wakes up really early but is still groggy. He’s thankful to have your alarm wake him up as well. He would wake up from his alarm and just kinda sit up in bed and stare at the wall, and then your alarm goes off and he finally gets out of bed. He’s especially grateful if you wake up from your alarm so he has someone to talk to while getting ready. (And he totally won’t convince you to wake up Floyd for him /s).

Floyd Leech:

Oh no. You need a new phone. The alarm goes off and Floyd lunges at it and crushes your phone. And when you get mad at him, he blames you. He tells you that you should’ve turned it off before it woke him up (Like he didn’t destroy it the second it went off). He’ll buy you a new phone if you can make him feel better after being woken up like that. Maybe turn off your alarm when you sleep over again.

Kalim Al-Asim:

He doesn’t have an alarm. He has people to wake him up so he never needed an alarm. He’ll wake up when your alarm goes off and thinks someone’s calling you. He’ll just nuzzle into your arm and murmur about someone calling you. When you tell him it’s your alarm, he’s confused. He thought everyone got woken up by other people. Whenever he hears your alarm go off, he hurries to turn it off so he can continue cuddling with you.

Jamil Viper:

He has his own alarm, but sometimes it’s best if he doesn’t wake up to it. His alarm goes off super early, like 5 am early. With how much he does, he’ll sometimes sleep through it. The first time you slept over, he slept through his alarm, but woke up to yours and he assumes someone changed the time his alarm goes off. Even though he claims that he hates sleeping through his alarm, sometimes he’ll turn it off before going to bed so he can wake up with you.

Vil Schoenheit:

He also has an alarm that goes off earlier than yours. He’ll be in his bathroom doing early morning skincare when he hears your alarm go off. He waits a few minutes before returning to see if you woke up. If you didn’t, he’ll wake you up and tell you that you should wake up the moment your alarm goes off. If you did, he’ll ask how you slept and tell you to brush your teeth, take a shower, etc. etc. (If your alarm is super loud, he’ll ask about your mental health).

Rook Hunt:

Rook is the lightest sleeper in the school. It’s his hunting instincts. In fact, if you asked him, he’d say he never truly feels like he’s asleep (He says it more theatrically). So, technically, no. Your alarm doesn’t wake him up, because he wasn’t asleep. He’ll tell you how beautiful your alarm sounds. It could be set to a tornado warning sound and he’ll still think it’s beautiful (just like you). If you don’t wake up from your alarm, he’ll continue to lay in bed with you. You don’t move, he won’t move.

Epel Felmier:

Your alarm wakes him up and he’s grumpy. It doesn’t matter what wakes him up, he’ll be grumpy. He needs coffee. He wakes up and just curls himself around you. If you insist on getting up, he insists you bring him coffee. If you make him get up, he’ll groan and complain, but get up anyway.

Idia Shroud:

He has his own alarm. He calls it “Ortho”. He’s used to Ortho coming and waking him up, so when your alarm goes off, and wakes him up, he’s confused. Was that his phone? Is someone calling him? Oh sevens, he hopes not. When he realizes it’s your alarm, he calms down. He had a mini panic attack when he thought someone was calling him. If you didn’t wake up from it, he just pokes you and if that doesn’t wake you up, he just lays back down.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus doesn’t know what an alarm is. Your alarm goes off and he shoots up in bed ready to attack whatever broke in (At least it woke him up?). You just have to sleepily explain what an alarm is. Every morning he forgets and still thinks something or someone broke in. Give him a bit of time to let it sink in. He’ll get used to it, eventually.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia has his own alarm. Five to be exact. None of them wake him up. So, why would your alarm be any different? Lilia is a heavy sleeper, especially if he spent the night playing video games. The only way to make sure he gets up is to drag him out of bed. He thanks you for getting him up and offers to make you breakfast as a “thank you”.

Silver Vanrouge:

It doesn’t wake him up. His own alarms don’t wake him and neither does yours. I mean, a loud alarm would wake him, but he’d also rush to grab his sword because he thinks someone’s attacking. You’re gonna have to wake him yourself. Just shake him awake and tell him to wake up. He apologizes for making you wake him up, and it’s best to just accept it. You can try and tell him it isn’t his fault, but he’ll keep insisting until you “forgive” him (there's nothing to forgive).

Sebek Zigvolt:

He wakes up the moment it goes off. He's up and ready to fight. He looks at your phone, sees that it’s an alarm and asks what’s happening. Just like with Malleus, you have to explain what an alarm is. He doesn’t approve. What do you mean you can’t wake up on your own accord? He thought that was just Silver. He offers to wake you up in place of your alarm. The offer is not as nice as it sounds. He essentially yells in your ear to wake up. The alarm is better.

[bbyjackie]

𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡

one piece social media + dating feat: sanji

》 almost everyone wanted sanji's ver

♡ liked by sogekingg.usopp, FRAAANKY and 3.9k others

_ynln: hard launch

tagged: blackleg.sanji

theroronoa.zoro: what is he pondering so hard about 💀💀 (liked by nicorobin)

↳ blackleg.sanji: i was staring at a polaroid of the most beautiful, fantastic, gorgeous, jaw-dropping, mind consuming, pretty, lovely, enchanting, heart-throbbing, charming, attractive, cute, captivating, bewitching, stunning, irresistible, elegant, heavenly.. see more

↳ theroronoa.zoro: oh my god forget i asked

sogekingg.usopp: wdym your relo has BEEN hard launched since like four months ago 🤨🤨

↳ _ynln: sad 💔💔 i wanted to soft launch it but that was never possible

↳ theroronoa.zoro: i was trying to sleep and all i heard was screaming

↳ lovenami: real, if i was sanji i would be shocked too if i pulled yn ☝️

↳ blackleg.sanji: @theroronoa.zoro I HAD TO ANNOUNCE TO THE WORLD THAT MY DEAR YN SAID YES 💞💘💝💗

↳ sogekingg.usopp: y’all got NO faith in sanji 😭😭

p1rateking_luffy: what's hard launch?

♡ liked by theroronoa.zoro, ilovecottoncandychopper and 5.3k others

_ynln: he made me dinner, i might just cuff him rn 😪🤞

tagged: blackleg.sanji

p1rateking_luffy: OOOO IM COMING TO THE KITCHEN RIGHT NOW 😄😄

↳ blackleg.sanji: don't even try, i locked the door

↳ p1rateking_luffy: LET ME IN!!1!1!!1

↳ theroronoa.zoro: LUFFY STOP BANGING ON THE DOOR I CAN HEAR YOU FROM THE GYM

↳ p1rateking_luffy: LET ME INNNN PLEASEEEEE

↳ _ynln: luffy omg wait im making you a plate 😭

↳ p1rateking_luffy: OOO THANKS YN

↳ p1rateking_luffy: btw whats a hard launch

_ynln: @blackleg.sanji you actually look so fine in this photo i might just have to delete it 😮‍💨😮‍💨🫵

↳ blackleg.sanji: ANYTHING YOU WANT MY LOVE 😍😍😍

blackleg.sanji: DO IT. I WOULD GLADLY MARRY YOU MY LOVE. IF THAT MEANS THAT I GET TO BE WITH YOU EVERY SECOND OF THE DAY I WILL GET ON MY KNEES RIGHT NOW. I WILL COOK FOR YOU FOR EVERY MEAL AND BUY YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT BEAUTIFUL GIRL 🧎🏼‍♂️🧎🏼‍♂️❣️❤️‍🔥💓💘💗💞💝💕

↳ _ynln: ok 😭

♡ liked by nicorobin, p1rateking_luffy and 13 others

priv.ynn: usopp is a real one for taking these photos ☝️☝️

tagged: blackleg.sanji

sogekingg.usopp: I AM THE CERTIFIED BEST WINGMAN 💪💪

blackleg.sanji: I WILL KEEP THESE PHOTOS IN MY WALLET AND PUT THEM NEXT TO MY PILLOW SO THAT WHEN I WAKE UP I AM REMINDED THAT I HAVE BEEN BLESSED I LOVE YOU MY YN 🥰🥰😘😚🤩

↳ theroronoa.zoro: yn blink twice if you need help

↳ lovenami: ngl yeah that was a bit concerning 😭😭 (liked by nicorobin, sogekingg.usopp)

↳ priv.ynn: EVIL AHHAHA

p1rateking_luffy: yn what's hard launch?

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: i hate happy people

ilovecottoncandychopper: i love that you guys love eachother ❣️

↳ nicorobin: agreed

↳ priv.ynn: AWW YOU GUYS <333

♡ liked by _ynln, S0U1K1NGBR00K and 7.4k others

lovenami: robin w us in spirit </3

tagged: _ynln

S0U1K1NGBR00K: May I see both your panties? 🤲

↳ lovenami: words cannot explain how much i DONT want that (liked by _ynln)

↳ blackleg.sanji: NO ONE DESERVES TO SEE SOMETHING SO INTIMATE OF YN'S OR NAMI'S I WILL FIGHT YOU 🤺🤺‼️

sogekingg.usopp: YOU GUYS SAID WE'D GO SEE BARBIE TOGETHER WTF ?!?

↳ _ynln: WE LITERALLY INVITED YOU BUT YOU WERE TOO BUSY MAKING FUNNY FACES WITH LUFFY 🤨🤨

↳ sogekingg.usopp: YOU SHOULDVE SLAPPED ME

↳ p1rateking_luffy: WAIT I WANTED TO SEE BARBIE TOO

↳ p1rateking_luffy: anyway what's hard launch?

↳ lovenami: luffy you can barely concentrate on a five minute video, we aren't taking you to the theatre for two hours 💀💀

↳ _ynln: yeah luf, love u but you're gonna be bouncing off walls by the 20 minute mark 😔😔

nicorobin: so pretty! (liked by _ynln, lovenami, blackleg.sanji)

↳ _ynln: MISSED U SM ROBIN 💔

↳ blackleg.sanji: I AGREE MY YN LOOKS SO GORGEOUS SHE RIVALS EVEN GODDESSES, I LOVE HER SM I WOULD FLOP OVER A PUDDLE BECAUSE DIRT DOES NOT EVEN DESERVE TO BE WITHIN HER VICINITY ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💗💘‼️💝💕💞❣️💘🥰😍😘😚😮‍💨😍☝️🫵

↳ FRAAANKY: sanji im worried you're one more comment away from a restraining order

blackleg.sanji 2h

[blackleg.sanji] _ynln replied to your story: omg sanji stop im so in love with you 😔💞

[aemondwhoresworld]

SOUVENIR

pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

summary: what will happen when lord stark's wife or maybe his son, reckon found a souvenir from his old lover?

warning: minor angst, jealousy, mention of an ex-lover, use of y/n, cregan is a single dad, y/n’s lord stark second wife

word-count: 1k

mae: english is not my native language, please forgive my lag of grammar. i do use google for a translation, if any reader could help me fix some of the grammar or vocab, that would be great and i’m very appreciate it!! 🤗⭐️ this is my first fic, please forgive me if i made any mistake. i might delete soon (idk if rhis was too flop 🤗)

you and Cregan have been weds for 36 moons. although you are Cregan's second wife, Cregan has always treated you with nothing but respect, love that every lady wife deserve that affection from their lord husband, even when you know that the betroth between you and him are duty, beneficial for both houses but you cannot help but falling for him more and more. the begin of the 5 moons into your marriage life, both admitted you had feelings for the other.

right now, in the middle of winter season in Winterfell, sitting in front of the fireplace inside your and Cregan's chambers, with your favorite book open in your hand along with all the thoughts of those sweet moment that you have had with Cregan and Rickon.

“mommy, mommy look what i found” even you are not his real mom, Rickon still always call you mommy. Rickon's clear voice pulled you out of those thoughts and immediately all your attention is on Rickon holding a handkerchief in his hand, you take it from Rickon's little hands and ask

“oh what did you find Rickon, can you show it to me?” you asked softly, the boy also nodded in agreement, opened the handkerchief and you immediately saw that there were seams and very skillful embroidery inside, and of course this handkerchief did not belong to you because you had no memory of embroidering a handkerchief to give to Cregan as a gift before or not from what you remeber

when you look a bit closer at the embroidered lines, its shape resembles a man and woman, hands in hands. at this moment, you immediately recognize the male figure in the scarf is Cregan because of the Stark family's signature scarf and then when you look at women figure, you wonder who is the girl standing next to your husband?

but then a small knock on your chambers door interupted

“my lady, Lord Cregan Stark wants to meet you in the dining hall,” said the maid, Anza. before the Anza can leave the chambers, you called for her and asked about the handkerchief.

“Anza, do you know who is standing next to my husband in this embroidered scarf?” you gently asked while pointing at the embroidery. when Anza didn't answer your question, you turned to look at her with curious eyes.

"what’s up? is there something i shouldn't know about?”

“no, my lady,” she continued, “if you really want to know, i’ll tell you.”

“then just tell me then” you said

“my lady, it's Lady Celess Ashwood. an interest lover of Lord Stark.”

hearing this, you were a bit disappointed, but you had to regain your composure, stand up and tell Anza to take Rickon back his chambers because it was time for him to rest. you walked out of your shared chamber, went straight to the dining hall where Cregan was already sitting there and waiting for you, all the way from your chamber to the dining hall, holding that handkerchief in your hand with lots and lots of thoughts running through your mind

does he really love you?

or is it because he still misses his past lover?

there are so many thoughts that make you go to the dining hall without even knowing when, with a handkerchief in your hand.

“y/n” Cregan stood up, walked towards you with a gentle smile on his face, Cregan's hands gently hugged your waist, then he bowed down his head and gave a kiss on your forehead, a kiss filled with love.

“Cregan” you said and gently leaned into Cregan's hug. then you asked him

“who is Celess Ashwood?” Cregan was a bit surprised when he heard this name, its been awhile since he last heard this name but he calmly answered

“how do you know this name?” Cregan asked you with a warm voice, his toned arms still not leaving your waist. still holding onto you tightly like he was afraid that if he let go you would be blown away by the cold, strong winds of Winterfell.

“please, cregan answer my question first.”

“Celess is…” he hesitated a bit, as if he didn't want to say it

“Celess is someone i once had feelings for, someone i once loved.”

“so you still miss her? that’s why you didn't want to say it, right, my Lord Stark?" You asked Cregan with a slightly disappointed voice, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes

“please call me Cregan, we are man and wife there are need to call me that” he continue

“and no, i don't want to mention it, not because i don't want you to know, but because i think it's not important anymore. now i have you and Rickon by my side, that is my first priority.”

“then why did you still keep this handkerchief?” you continue to ask him

"i didn't keep it, love. i thought i lost it so i had no intention of finding it again."

after hearing Cregan say that, you can’t say that your moods change completly but atleast you felt relieve when you learned that your suspicions about his loyalty were completely wrong.

“well, i forgave you my husband but unfortunately for you, Rickon is the one who found it and gave it to me.”

“oh my son, Rickon is always on your’s side. i pray to the Seven one day you will gave me a daughter” Cregan joked, then pulled you in a tight embrace. then you ask

“so you have to quickly plant your seed inside me, hopefully the Seven might heard your pray sooner or later, my dear husband.” at this point, you could only laugh, only now did you pay attention to it. the dining table in the dining hall was filled with food and Cregan let you out of that warm hug

“but before we start to try and bring another baby Stark into this Winterfell, we must have to to eat first, my dear y/n.”

[capslocked]

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.)

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Venom intertwined

Summary: Wanda just wanted you and Venom to stop fighting that’s all she wanted, why did it escalate so much?

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, no spicy stuff, fluff, a crushed Pb and jelly sandwich (poor Nat)

A/n: I rewrote this since tumblr decided to delete it, hopefully it’s good, there will be a part two but when? Whenever I write it 😂

“Y/n why are you limping?” Nat barley moved from her place on the couch as you tried, but failed, to walk through the house without anyone noticing your injury

“I’m not limping you’re just incompetent” you laughed but Nat just rolled her eyes “I’m a well trained assassin Y/n I can spot a bee 5 miles away and blindfolded, you’re limping”

You flopped down next to her on the couch unable to hide the pain any longer “okay fine! Yes I’m limping are you happy now?”

Nat ignored your snarky comment instead pinching your arm getting a shout in response “enough with the snarky comments, why hasn’t Venom healed you yet?”

Venom’s head snaked out and you rolled your eyes knowing the rant was coming

“Y/n said that I was useless and she did not need me to live her life, so when someone who was paid to kill us managed to stab us in the leg I refused to heal her since she can obviously take care of herself”

Their head turned to you and glared and you glared back “you are a very childish bastard you know tha-

Venom slammed your body against the floor snapping the coffee table in half

“Ahh my sandwich” Nat said sadly picking up her now squashed sandwich “I was looking forward to that”

You scuffled with Venom on the floor which looked funny to anyone not knowing about Venom since it looked like you were just fighting yourself

“Take it back!” Venom growled

“No!” You shouted back

Suddenly Wanda burst the door hearing the commotion “woah what’s going on?!”

“Your girlfriend and her parasite ruined my Pb and jelly sandwich” Wanda glared at Nat and made a mental note to tell Maria to make more sandwiches to keep the grumpy assassin happy

“Okay you two stop!” Wanda’s plea went unanswered as you continued to fight with the symbiote so she used her magic to still you “hey!” You shouted still trying your best to fight

“I will separate you two if you don’t behave!”

Wanda barely registered Nat’s shout of “no!” Too focused on the fighting going on right now

You didn’t respond to her threat so Wanda, without thinking of the consequences, pulled Venom out of you and dropped you both to the ground, you fell to the ground feeling hallow for the first time in years, nothing felt right, your skin didn’t feel like your own and you couldn’t breathe, everytime you tried your heart sounded louder in your ears, wait your heart? That hadn’t made a sound in years.

Your eyes landed on the mess of symbiote on the ground, seemingly looking for you, when you reached your arm out you hoped they found you when your vision started to fade, after what felt like hours your body warmed back up and you felt the symbiote flow through your body and Venom’s voice piercing your ears “I am back Y/n you can relax now, we will be safe again soon I will heal you” you remained on the ground shaking slightly trying to keep relaxed like Venom said

Wanda and Nat watched you, watched you reach out for Venom and watched the colour returned to your face and your breathing return to normal, Wanda came close to you

“Baby I’m so sorry” Wanda tried helping you up but you scrambled away from her into the corner scared and afraid “no! No stay there Wanda!”

Wanda backed off unsure on what to do but Nat was there to try and help, “Wanda, you know her and Venom are entwined, DNA and all it’s dangerous to pull them apart you could’ve killed her”

Wanda gasped “I know I know! But I just wanted them to stop fighting I didn’t know what to do. And why didn’t you stop me?!”

Nat shrugged “I didn’t think you’d do it I also shouted stop but you still did it so it’s not my fault”

Wanda sighed knowing Nat was right and turned to you again jumping back seeing only Venom glaring back at the two women “Y/n?”

Venom stood tall and all trace of you had seemingly disappeared “you tried to kill us Wanda, someone who loves us would never do that”

Wanda’s eyes watered “no no baby please I didn’t mean to hurt you I just wanted you to stop fighting with Venom” she tried to hug the symbiote to give comfort but Natasha pulled her away

“Wanda they’ll tear you to shreds in seconds!”

The assassin kept tight hold of the witch as they both watched Venom turn to the window and turn back to them both, one side of your face revealed which gave Wanda hope but it was quickly dashed “Y/n? My love are you still there?”

“Don’t follow us” Venom overtook your body once again and leapt out of the window leaving the women alone without knowing where you were going or if you were coming back

“No Y/n! Come back!” You’d never been away from Wanda for more than a couple of days but she had no idea where you were going

***************************************

It was a while before either woman moved, Nat was still clinging onto Wanda as the redhead sobbed for you to come back hoping everytime she glanced at the broken window she’d see your form but it never came

Eventually Maria found them both, she sent Nat off to tell Tony and Bruce what happened and if they could help

“Wanda? Wanda can you hear me?” Maria sat in front of Wanda holding her head in her hands “she’s gone” Wanda whisper sobbed and Maria nodded “I know, they were spotted in Times Square running all over the billboards, they’re heading for New Jersey it seems”

Wanda brightened up and stood “New Jersey?”

Maria nodded “yeah why?”

“Y/n was going to buy a house there, she was going to ask Tony to borrow some money and work it off doing missions and let Tony and Bruce do some experiments on Venom”

Wanda turned to leave but Maria was quick to grab her arm “woah! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“To New Jersey, she needs me I need to fix this”

Maria shook her head holding tight onto the witch “Wanda I mean this with all the love in the world but you caused this, you knew damn well what would happen and I’m pretty sure if you just turned up you’d start fighting with Venom and lose”

Wanda admitted defeat sighing and sitting down on the couch wiping more tears from her face

“Okay here’s what’s going to happen, you’ll have a shower and get yourself sorted then meet myself and the others to discuss what’s going to happen okay? We���ll get her back I promise”

Wanda didn’t speak but Maria took her silence as an agreement and left the room. But Wanda didn’t have a shower or meet everyone she instead got into her car and was currently on her way to you to fix this, she was going to fix this.

******************************************************

Meanwhile in New Jersey you were sat in that very house you were buying, Venom still being at the forefront keeping your body safe while it healed

“Are you feeling okay Y/n? Your body was so cold”

“Yeah I’m okay, just really confused, I can’t believe Wanda would do that”

Venom agreed “she tried to kill us”

You went to say something more but the front door opened revealing a witch standing there

“Why hello stranger, looking a little mouldy there”

The symbiote split their face revealing your own shocked one

“Agatha? You’re back?”

“Awaiting my favourite little alien’s return”

[hoe4sports]

“Take my heart, dont break it”

Alexia Putellas x reader

A/N: You voted and picked Alexia. This is a series based on Myles Smith song called stargazing. No triggers. P2 here.

The fresh Barcelonian air was flowing into your hotelroom as you found yourself sat in the frame of the window m next to one of your teammates, Alexia Putellas. You were both sitting together in silence with your eyes closed soaking up the morning bliss. The sun was slowly waking up as the gentle rays felt like a warm cup of cocoa in December by the fireplace with a book and a blanket. Not too warm, not too cold. You were taking in all the fresh salty air you could possibly fit into your lungs before exhaling through your mouth. It felt blissful, peaceful; like a morning mindfulness class. You could smell the gentle strawberry scent from the tea Alexia had made you when you got up in time for sunrise. You and Alexia had known each other forever. You grew up with her and Alba next door and you had religiously played football with Alexia for your whole life. You did it all together: High school, college, Barcelona and the national team. You sat together on buses and flights. Even though she was entitled to her own hotel room as captain; she still wanted to partner up with you.

“Can I interrupt your peace?” Alexia asked as you opened up your eye to see her still in the same relaxed position with her eyes closed. “If you must” you said as you giggled. Alexia sighted. “No, no, go ahead big al” you corrected as you looked out on the beach below the hotel.

“I’ve been having some issue with Olga; she seems spaced out. She’s there, but she isn’t really there. It’s strange, I don’t really understand and she keeps insisting that everything is all good. I dont honestly know what to do.”

You could sense the tension in the room as the Catalan poured her heart out to you. It was like thunder from a crystal blue sky. They seemingly had the picture perfect relationship. Amazing vacations. Nice cars. Fancy dinners.

“It’s just, I know it’s selfish but I can’t stop my mind from wondering if she is cheating on me. She’s always on her phone, and she deleted her location off of the life360 app.”

You spent a second figuring out what words Alexia wanted to hear and what she needed to hear. It was clear as day that you needed to knock some common sense into her. Who would cheat on one of the hottest women in the world of football? Nobody could ever be able to commit to adultery without anyone taking notice of their famous girlfriend.

“Ai, Ale. Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or what you need to hear? Pick your poison capitana.”

You looked over at her. She was still sitting in the sun in the window while taking on the fresh air. Her chest rhythmically rising. Her brown eyes were still closed and her blonde hair was up in the messiest Lucy Bronze style bun you could imagine making the sight of her almost wanting you to giggle.

“Hm, buena pregunta…Tell me what I need to hear.” Alexia said softly as she opened up her eyes to look at you showing off her worried grin. Her body language changed. Like she was getting ready for a fight.

“Estúpida, Olga loves you! She adores you. She practically worships the ground you walk on. You need to talk to your girlfriend, and you need to tell her what you told me.” You finished as you looked at her with an attitude.

Later that day at practice, you were doing drills with Claudia. It was evidently warmer now, and you had popped off your shirt to avoid getting overly warm. You kept passing the ball at the right time in the right height to help Claudia with her first touches. It was always fun working with Claudia. Her humor was incredible and if her humor didn’t do the job; her infections laugh would. As you passed the last ball to Claudia, she ended up whacking the ball senseless and the ball went flying into the open field. It caused you to laugh hysterically as Claudia flopped down on the grass. Claudia was a vibe; you got along so well and she’d been like your little sister.

The next practice begun at the gym, and it was individual programs. You, Alexia, Claudia and Ingrid has the same program for the day meaning that you partnered up together. You noticed that Alexia seemed distracted. At first, she had placed the weights in the bench press without securing them causing them to go flying off the pole. The next situation was when she tried filling her waterbottle from the water cooler and she overfilled in for a good 10 seconds before she caught the little spill. The last situation was when Claudia was doing squats and Alexia was supposed to be spotting her right side as you spotted the left. The weights were a little heavier than what Claudia normally lifted so you expected her to need assistance. After four lifts, Claudia went for the fifth and it caused her to fail. You grabbed the pole from the left side as the younger girls hands were wobbly violently to hold up the other side of the pole. Alexia didn’t caught on. “Alexia” No answer. “Alexia for fucks sake, help!” You yelled causing Ingrid to shove her away to help you with the spotting.

In the warderobe that afternoon after everyone left, you decided to stay behind and talk to Alexia again. Alexia liked taking her time in the shower so it wasn’t uncommon for her to be the last woman standing. You approached her as she stepped out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around her lower half leaving her chest open.

“Ale, you have been distant. You could’ve caused an injury. What’s going on?” You crossed your arms as you stood in front of her with a stern look on your face. The feeling you had wasn’t something you could shook away easily. You just couldn’t act in situations that maybe had happened. That wouldn’t be fair to Olga or Alexia.

“Ai, Y/N, it’s just hard. I’m in my head and Olga is too busy to talk. I cannot shook the feeling I’m having in my gut. But I need to trust Olga, right?”

You nodded. Olga hadn’t done anything that wouldn’t give her chance to explain herself. For all Alexia knew, this was all just a big misunderstanding.

Olga was amazing, you knew her from before her and Alexia started dating, and they were perfect for each other. Olga was always so perfect, almost to the point where it annoyed you. Olga was picture perfect and rarely looked out of line or did Alexia wrong. Alexia’s observations were however not unlikely. A few weeks ago you went to a new restaurant with Claudia, and you could’ve sworn you saw Olga with another woman. You couldn’t be sure though because you had excused yourself to the bathroom to get a better look, but when you got out of the bathroom; The mystery woman was out of sight. Quite frankly, she had also been out of mind.

That was until now however, but it couldn’t have been Olga. Olga was sweet, genuine and had a heart of gold. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what Alexia had said, but you could also not tell her that you might saw Olga. You were having an internalised conflict of trying to decided whenever to tell her or not. You didn’t want to seem pushy and like you didn’t like Olga, but you didn’t want Alexia’s heart to break either.

At least, that was the lie you continued to tell yourself.

[cordeliawhohung]

i had posted this vent piece a few days ago but then deleted it because it had too much of me in it. but some people said they thought it was beautiful and i'm trying to get better about not being ashamed of my dark days so i guess i'll repost it on the off chance it helps someone else.

simon riley x reader; short drabble | hurt comfort, depression, dissociation

Idle hands are the devil’s playthings, and you’ve learned he really likes his games. 

They start as a gentle buzz. A whispering in the back of your skull that traverses down your spine until it takes root in the core of your being. Nothing makes sense at first. It never does. There’s only an insatiable need to destroy, and the object is usually yourself. It’s a fiend you attempt to fight off with deep breathing and good thoughts, but even that gets tainted. Everything born new and fresh eventually becomes stained. It is the cycle of life. Of all things. It haunts you every day. 

You gain this sudden sentience — the realization that you are. It hurts worse than anything, looking at yourself and seeing someone who could enjoy existence. Hope lives in the frayed edges of your jeans at the worn soles of your shoes and the worst part is, you can’t even remember taking the steps to make it that way. It just becomes. You step out of your body to enjoy experiences your mind refuses to remember and you’re only left with the rot and acrimony when it’s all over. 

Part of you hates it because it’s not really you. Can you truly be so soft? Sweet enough to partake in eating bread with a friend? This has to be a facade. You look around your carefully decorated living room and want to smash every object within sight because it’s you. The lovingly placed photos. The hand picked decor. Your favorite childhood movie playing on the TV. Everything drips with your mark, and it’s disgusting because it’s you. 

It’s always you. 

The one person you’re forever stuck with. An aberrant creature you can’t quite run away from. 

You’d snuff it out from the source if you were brave enough. Instead, you continue to curse this existence and apologize for being here all the same. 

The front door creaks open. It’s a long drawl. Nearly enough to perk your ears. You do not look to see who enters. You know him by footsteps alone; towering man lumbering across the living room with heavy weights snagging his shoulders. He says your name and you only hum as glossy eyes stare through the TV. If you look at him, you’ll only ruin him too. 

Work boots scraping across the floor, he flops on the couch next to you. Vibrations rock through you with the force of his body hitting the cushions, and still you’re hardly moved. Eyes forward. Hands tight. Idle. Waiting to rip flesh from bone. Waiting to exterminate the one thing that refuses to relinquish its ailing grasp. When he speaks again, you still don’t answer. 

Feeling you float away, he grounds you. Keeps your head above water as his own suddenly rests in your lap. The weight surprises you. So does the warmth. And for a moment, he is that flicker in the darkness. The sputtering flame that’s losing oil to burn. You stare at him, crooked nose pressed against your knee as he nuzzles into you like a well behaved beast. It’s enough to bring you out of that murk, even if only for a moment. 

“Simon?” 

“Right ‘ere with you, love.” 

The movie continues. Its soundtrack crackles and hums, luring you back into times too far out of your reach. The only thing within your grasp right now is Simon, and so you take what you can get. What you’ve always wanted. Fingers weaving through short chopped hair, he’s snoring in no time, and still you persist. Hands no longer idle. Moving. Flowing. Useful. 

There are some days when the world is too heavy to lift your body from your bed. Days when it seems the only thing you’re good at doing is bleeding. But if the only thing you’ve done today is revel in the feeling of your lover's hair between your fingers, and felt him rest upon your lap, then you know you have finally done enough. 

[gyumibear]

˗ˏˋ STUPID CUPID ˎˊ˗

“cupid, what you do to me….” | stupid cupid — nct dream

synopsis ── after your latest forum fails miserably, you’re almost out of an extracurricular! that is, until a mysterious account going by the name “cupid” brings you just the thing you need to fix your reputation: park wonbin, radio show host and your longtime crush. with the help of cupid, wonbin suddenly falls head over heels in love with you! you’d expect for this to be a good thing right? but no! everyone’s starting to notice how strange wonbin’s acting and now it’s up to you to figure out how and if you can get wonbin back to normal before anyone finds out what you’ve done. especially because “cupid” has disappeared… stupid cupid.

pairing — campus crush!park wonbin x journalist!reader

genre — smau + written. romcom. suggestive. love spell au. college au. angst. “strangers” to lovers.

warnings — hella swearing + crude humor (kys jokes). mentions/illusions to: food/sex/alcohol consumption. fighting (physical and verbal). mind control (what cupid does is essentially brainwashing). light jealous and possessive behaviors. use of pictures of yn but only for reference. everyone makes fun of each other a lot, but not maliciously. yn is a manga reader so spoilers for jjk, csm, the summer hikaru died & black butler. more warnings in the actual chapters, but please always lmk (!!) if i missed something. keep in mind: this story doesn’t describe the idols in real life and is written by a blk person so aave will be used.

playlist — stupid cupid nct dream. mutual butterflies ryan trey. don’t get mad wayv. cosmic red velvet. one kiss riize. love language hibiki. off the record ive. 2nite p1harmony.

notes — the taglist is open! (26/50) updates every saturday! creds to the respective artists for the graphics used! please consider reblogging or replying with your thoughts on each chapter!! it means the world to me but i appreciate spam likes too! you can join the taglist by replying to THIS post. asks will be deleted sorry </3… it’s just easier to manage for me.

profiles ── hate91.1 | public forum mods | specialz

act one let me monopolize that heart…

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ONE ── this week’s forum

ᯓᡣ𐭩 TWO ── nobody wants wonbin

ᯓᡣ𐭩 THREE ── chat… am i cooked?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 FOUR ── tell her the truth

ᯓᡣ𐭩 FIVE ── party ready!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SIX ── byob (bring your own baby)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SEVEN ──

ᯓᡣ𐭩 EIGHT ──

ᯓᡣ𐭩 NINE ──

ᯓᡣ𐭩 TEN ──

act two girl you got me crazy…

to be added…!

additional notes ── ah sunny back again with another smau! yippee!! um, i don’t have much to say except hii if you’re new round these parts.. i hope y’all enjoy because i worked hard and i hope this doesn’t flop? i’ll be sad. pleek.. pleek…?

early taglist ── @onlyhyunjin @pxnklover @glorism @nujeskz @soheendo @starwonb1n

2024 © GYUMIBEAR. do not repost, modify, or translate my work onto other social media sites.

[lfghughes]

Won't Do It Again

authors note: I know I was gone with a while but I came back with a mini series ill be doing! readers beware there's mentions of drinking in this and also toxicity. this is kinda just the start so I know its kinda boring but trust.

Of course you felt dumb but somehow you kept going back every time.The first time you and Jack hooked up you didn’t even blink when he said you two should keep it between yourselves because you agreed, why should other people know your business? He claimed he didn’t want things going around and you could understand why so you kept your mouth shut. But the hot and cold from him drove you insane. Right now it was cold, ice cold actually as you watched him from across the room at a house party just flirting with a girl. “You’re not drinking tonight?” Nico asked and it snapped you from your thoughts. 

“Oh no, I don’t really feel good, I’ll probably head out in a bit.” You shrugged as your eyes flicked back over to Jack. Nicos eyes followed yours, landing on his teammate “Looks like Jack is having a good night.” A chuckle left his lips as your own heart fell into your stomach. “Good for him.” And with that you couldn’t watch anymore so you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to put as much space between you and pretty much everyone but no such luck. 

Home is where you needed to be so that’s where you went. There was no need to tell anyone goodbye especially not Jack since he was busy. The minute you got home you sank down into your bed, willing the tears to come but even then you were so tired of this cycle that you couldn’t get the tears out. The buzzing of your phone caught you off guard and you couldn’t help but let out a frustrated groan when you saw Jacks number pop up.

“Hey where did you go, dork?” Jacks voice filled your ear. “I went home, I was tired.” You simply answered, not wanting to offer up any more information on why you left. “Can I come over?” He asked and you knew you should say no but yet the butterflies in your stomach started fluttering around. “Sure.” 

It didn’t take him long to get there and as soon as he was in your door, he wrapped his arms around you and his lips were on yours. “You know, Nico was telling me how into you he is.” Jack started once he finally had pulled back and your eyebrows furrowed at the conversation. “I think he’d be good for you.” But before you could even say anything else his lips were back on yours and even though you were confused about everything he just said, you were focusing on the kiss. 

When he finally pulled away, he grabbed a hold of your hand and starting leading you to your couch. “Let’s watch a movie before bed?” He asked and you nodded your head as you flopped down onto the couch. You grabbed a few blankets and spread them out between the two of you. “You know that girl from earlier?” Jack asked, raising his brow at you as he turned to look at you. You nodded your head but you could feel that sinking feeling in your stomach again. “Do you think she was into me?”

What in the world was Jack on where he thought that was an okay question to ask. “You’re joking right now, right?” You asked and the confusion on his face let you know that he indeed was not joking. “No? All the boys were saying she seemed into me and I should go for it but I wanted a womans perspective.” He said with a shrug. With those words out of his mouth you stood up. “You need to leave right now.” You told him and his face only got more confused. 

“What why?” He asked as he stood up next to you. “Jack I’m not kidding, leave.” And with those words he knew you weren’t kidding and he left. This night was one of the worst nights yet, and your head was starting to pound at everything that had happened. It wasn’t long until a text showed up on your phone. “What did I do that pissed you off??” But the only thing you could do was click delete on the message.

[calcifiedunderland]

Part I, Part II, Part III (Here) (COMPLETED)

Ending I, Ending II, Ending III

Note: *falls over from exhaustion* after overthinking wayyy to much, here’s the last part!! Thank you all so much!!!!!!!

Taglist: @recreyomakesdoodles, @aruis4nosleep, @tinseltina, @ibby-miyoshi-nerd, @takitafulily, @viperwhispered, @peeisgood, @twistedcece,

Warnings: food/eating

————————————————————————————————♣️🐙🐍

The next day, you busied yourself getting ready for the Unbirthday Party.

You ate the leftovers from Jamil for breakfast while Grim feasted on some tuna. You’d fallen into a nice little rhythm - eat Jamil or Azul’s leftovers for breakfast, and snack on a pastry or two made by Trey on your walk from Ramshackle to the Mirrors, and attend class. You’d even wrapped up a slice of tart in a napkin and munched on it in between classes, slipping Grim a bite or two to keep him happy.

After breakfast, you headed out. The two of you ambled on the way to Heartslabyul, when your phone rang.

You rose an eyebrow, but responded, “Hey Azul, is everything ok?” Azul’s voice came from your phone, sounding a bit shaky. “Everything is fine, Prefect. I was wondering if you could stop by the Lounge for a moment?”

About two minutes earlier, Azul was in his office, idly twirling the longer lock of hair next to his cheek. His thumb hovered over the send button, uncertain. How in the Seven Seas do humans do this?! He huffed and deleted it all, setting his phone down on his desk.

For the hundredth time, he thought back to how your study date went. The relieved look on your face, when you finally understood the subject because he had helped you filled him with smug satisfaction. He’d proven that he was reliable. His mind raced, there’s another exam for Alchemy. Maybe they’d want more help.

He reopened your chat when the door to his office opened. Floyd flopped onto the couch in boredom while Jade perched next to him, smirking with intrigue. Azul frowned, setting his phone down to pace around his office.

“I have no idea what to say. How, in the Sea Witch’s name, do I ask to see them again?” At that, Floyd just groaned in annoyance, but grinned when he saw Azul’s phone (unlocked) on his desk. “Ya can just ask them!” He cackled as he held Azul back with one arm and called your number with the other. Jade simply chuckled with a sadistic grin, while Azul yelled.

Now, Azul was sweating enough to fill the ocean twice over. “I’d like you to stop by the Lounge, because…” he trailed off, staring wide-eyed at the twins. Jade hummed, and offered “leftovers?” Azul nodded rapidly, then said quickly “y-yes! There’s some leftovers I’d like you to have!”

You stepped into the Heartslabyul mirror, “I really appreciate it, Azul, but I really don’t need any more leftovers, I barely have any space.” Your fridge was already bursting with Jamil’s curry, Azul’s Lounge dishes, and Trey’s fancy pastries. You’d taken to pawning some off to Ruggie, and even Epel began stopping by for some food.

Azul stared at Jade and Floyd, floundering for words. What? How?! You’d only taken two boxes of food, enough for one meal between you and Grim. He cleared his throat. “I-I see, well… I understand that Crewel will be having an Alchemy test soon, perhaps we could schedule a… session?” He gulped. He ignored Jade chuckling and mumbling ‘surely you mean date.’

You stopped in front of the Heartslabyul maze with a smile. “I’d really appreciate that, thank you. Y’know, I was having trouble with last week’s potion.” Azul sighed with relief, dropping into his office chair, “How about you come by later today? I have the afternoon free, and-“

“I won’t be able to, Azul,” you said apologetically. You waved to Ace and Deuce in the distance, the two of them were setting the table for the Party. You continued, “The Unbirthday Party is today, and it’ll be a while. Trey wanted me to help with the desserts again.” Trey stepped out into the maze, smiling at you.

You began walking to them, “Anyway Azul, I can call you back later, Trey needs me, I have to go.” You ended the call. Azul stared at his phone in disbelief. Clover…!

He stood abruptly, a scheming look in his eye. At that, Jade and Floyd immediately stood to attention, and moved to walk behind Azul as he stalked out of his office.

————————————————————♣️🐙🐍

You smiled as Trey walked up to you. The green-haired third year held a large cake stand in his hands, with a nicely decorated white heart-shaped cake sitting neatly inside. “Hello, (name),” he greeted you, setting the cake down on the table in front of Riddle’s throne. He smiled at you, and you felt warmth spread from your cheeks to your toes. “I’m glad you made it early, I needed some help frosting some last-minute cookies.”

You nodded in understanding, and walked with him into the kitchens. Trey walked behind you, “here, you’ll need an apron,” he gently put the neckpiece over your head and tied the string around your waist. You were caught off guard with how fast it happened, and your face felt warm. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could hear the smile (or smirk?) in Trey’s soft voice. “Wouldn’t want you to mess up your nice party outfit,” a deep chuckle reverberated from him.

You nodded quickly, squeaking out “of course!” before picking up a piping bag and frosting the cookies with the typical heart-pattern they always had. Trey smiled softly at you before doing the same with another bag, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. Beneath his breath, Trey hummed, glancing at you every so often. As he swirled icing onto a madeleine, he wondered if he could ask you to help him again sooner.

Pretty soon, you two stacked the cookies into a tray and the Unbirthday Party was underway. Cheerfully, you watched your friends play croquet while you nibbled on a buttery madeleine cookie that Trey frosted. Thankfully, you weren’t particularly hungry now. You’d scarfed down some of Jamil’s cooking for breakfast, unable to resist the deliciously crisp scent of falafel that you’d warmed in the microwave.

While it didn’t have the same crunchy texture like when Jamil finished making it, it still tasted divine. And after browsing through your fridge, Jamil insisted on cooking you some dolma, complete with bell peppers stuffed with veggies and rice, and a few large, sweet, juicy, delectable mangos sent (and grown!) by Kalim’s family.

Jamil’s food was incredibly filling, and it didn’t help that every time he saw you, he sent you back with at least three tupperwares. Not that you minded, of course - you never minded it, especially when Jamil looked so happy. Subconsciously, you pulled out your phone and opened Jamil’s chat. You saw he left a message.

Jamil: Hey (name), are you doing ok? Please text me when you get this.

Back in the Scarabia kitchens, Jamil frowned at his phone. What is going on? An hour ago, he was walking to Sam’s shop to buy ingredients when he overheard Azul and the twins talking in the Mirror Chamber. Quickly, he hid behind the post and listened carefully to them. Strange, why was Azul going to the Heartslabyul mirror?

“So, whatcha gonna do about Sea Turtle?” Floyd asked, hands up behind his head. “Can’t have him crampin’ your style on Shrimpy.” Jade chuckled, a wicked grin on his face, “quite right. What is your plan, Azul?” The Housewarden in question merely stalked to the mirror, saying “I’ll simply chat with Trey. I’m sure Heartslabyul wouldn’t mind some more guests to their Unbirthday Party.” The twins merely grinned at each other, and walked into the mirror after Azul.

Jamil stared after them. So, not only is Azul pursuing you, he thought as he pulled out his phone to text you, but so is Trey? He’d known about Azul’s plans to become closer to you, but he hadn’t considered Trey. Still, Jamil should know about lying low and using closeness to your advantage. Sevens, that Clover could be as cunning as him. Despite the situation, a devious grin spread on Jamil’s face. It seemed that both of them weren’t aware of Jamil’s intentions though.

When he went back to the Scarabia kitchens, Jamil expected a text from you soon, but he was still waiting after an hour. It wasn’t like he wanted to oust himself by going to the Unbirthday Party looking for you, but he was feeling antsy just waiting. He flipped over a falafel patty on the stove, when he heard his text notification.

(Name): Hey Jamil! Yea im good, sorry for the late txt, im at heatslabl rn

(Name): its knda crazy here, jade and flyod are here??? Atm im hidin from flody, he saw me an yelled SHRmPY n I dont wanna be eaten lmao T-T

Jamil frowned deeply, and wrote back:

Jamil: Stay safe, I hope everything is ok. Do you know where Trey is? Maybe he could help.

Jamil: And do you know if Azul is there?

You flinched when you saw Floyd’s feet running beside the table you were huddled under, tablecloth obscuring you. He laughed loudly, babbling out “Crabby!” and “Mackerel!” Thankfully, he wasn’t looking for you anymore, but Sevens you needed a break. You responded to Jamil:

(Name): uh idk, i haven’t seen trey fr a while, and idk if azul is here at all.

Jamil’s eyes narrowed at his phone screen. Putting the last falafel aside, he packaged up some in a tupperware with more pita, some tahini hummus, and shawarma. He sent you a thumbs up, and made his way out of Scarabia.

————————————————————♣️🐙🐍

“Hello, Trey,” Azul greeted, hand firm on his cane. The two of them stood in the Heartslabyul kitchen, tension thick. Trey’s eyes narrowed at Azul. “Azul, what brings you to Heartslabyul?” he asked conversationally, though forced. Azul smiled thinly, eyes narrowing in turn, “I simply came to see what your…Unbirthday Parties are like.”

Trey crossed his arms, “Well, as I’m sure you can see, we’re all busy. Though they are called Parties, they’re an important event to Heartslabyul. An irreplaceable tradition,” he stressed. Azul hummed, “I’m sure, but they’re rather… unorganized, no?” He nodded towards the sink, “I see several things have escaped your care…” He glanced around the kitchen, noting a few stray cookies, cupcakes, and icing laying around, not to mention the large mound of dishes packed in the sink.

Azul looked up at Trey, pursing his lips. “You seem quite busy, perhaps all your eggs aren’t in one basket, hm?” he said with a smirk. Trey crossed his arms, angling his head, “I’m sure you didn’t come here for eggs, Azul, so say your piece and let me go to the Party.”

Under the scrutiny of Azul’s grey eyes, Trey was surprised at himself for his sudden brashness. Still, he decided, he didn’t want Azul taking advantage of your kindness. Azul cleared his throat, before the door to the kitchen swung open.

Trey’s golden eyes widened at Jamil’s dark grey irises, and the Scarabia second year steeled his gaze at him. Jamil shifted the Tupperware in his arms, “Hello Trey,” he said calmly while clutching the container considerably not calmly. “Where is the Prefect? I was looking for them.”

Jamil noticed the way Trey and Azul side-eyed each other. He serenely smiled at them, staying silent. Something swirled in Jamil’s dark eyes that made Azul’s eyes narrow - it wasn’t Jamil’s Unique Magic, but was still just as sinister.

“Jamil,” Trey said evenly, “it’s not often we see members of other dorms in Heartslabyul.” Its even stranger that you’re here looking for Prefect. And now that Azul is here too… Jamil nodded, and Trey continued. “The Prefect is out at the Party right now, what do you need them for?” The two listened closely to Jamil, who said carefully, “They texted me, and I was going to bring them back to Scarabia for a bite to eat-“

“Hm, how kind of you, Jamil.” Azul cut Jamil off, smiling coldly at him. He tapped his cane on the floor twice, saying “but I’m afraid I must take the Prefect with me to study, as they’re obligated under contract.” Trey narrowed his eyes, arms crossing, “If they were under contract, wouldn’t they be there now instead of here, the Party?”Azul stared disdainfully at him, damn, I should’ve explicitly wrote out when (Name) would meet with me. I shouldn’t have left it up to them!

Trey felt triumphant as he said, “I’m sure whatever obligations the Prefect has, they will attend to after the Unbirthday Party.” Azul grit his teeth, “While Scarabia is… accommodating,” he nodded to Jamil, recalling Kalim’s wild chaotic parties, “and the Queen of Hearts’ dorm is indeed… charming,” he nudged a fallen cookie with his cane, “I believe the Prefect would prefer the attention of Octavinelle. After all, they have sought refuge with us before. If I recall, it was during winter break, right Jamil?”

Jamil’s eyes widened, and he glared at Azul’s smug look, “Yes, I’m sure they feel right at home being watched by your two henchmen. Please,” he scoffed, “They already have enough on their plate. You’d probably make them work at your restaurant.”

Trey begrudgingly agreed, “he’s right. That isn’t your decision to make, Azul.” He adjusted his glasses, the frame glinting in the kitchen’s light, “Of course, when they want to relax with people who care, they do come to Heartslabyul.”

Jamil turned incredulously to Trey, snorting “Heartslabyul also has a pair of ruckus-causing freshmen, if I remember correctly. I’m not sure the Prefect could properly relax here.” He tossed his bangs over his shoulder, “Scarabia is far more suitable, and Kalim’s family recently sent over new sofas for the lounge room. They’d be comfortable there.”

The three stared at each other, no one moving. Outside, however, was pandemonium.

————————————————————♣️🐙🐍

Something just had to happen at the Unbirthday Party, you thought exasperatedly. Of course, none other than Jade and Floyd had to come to Heartslabyul.

Now, Riddle was screaming Off With Your Head! at a wild, giggly Floyd. Meanwhile, Jade was inspecting the Rose Maze grounds under the excuse of ‘looking for wild mycelia.” Even though Heartslabyul meticulously kept the grounds spotless. Still, it didn’t stop your first year friends from tailing the Octavinelle Vice suspiciously while Cater was busy live-streaming the entire mess with a cheerful peace sign and grin. And now, after texting Jamil as a plea for help, you were staring at the thumbs up emoji he sent you. Like, what the hell Jamil? Really?

You sighed to yourself, drinking the last of your (drink) before rising to your feet. You had some suspicions for why the twins were here, paranoia filling you. Azul’s call earlier was a little strange. You would’ve asked him if he was alright, if you hadn’t had the Party. Shit, was there something in the contract I violated or something? You’d scoured that contract for everything, surely there wasn’t anything you missed?

You quietly passed a laughing Floyd and picked up a few empty cake and pastry platters, silently walking to the kitchens to put them in the sink. It’ll be nice to help Trey out a little. You also wondered if Jamil texted you back, oh and you could call Azul about your study session too! You were about to push the kitchen door open when you heard Trey mention your name.

“...and in any case, (Name) is already overworked,” Trey continued, maintaining eye contact with Azul. “I’m sure you wouldn’t do them any favors.” Azul’s eyes narrowed, “and what exactly do you mean by that, Clover?” His tone became icy, and a chill ran down your back as if you were doused with ice water.

You were startled to hear Jamil, who responded sternly, “the Prefect mentioned you made a contract with them. The last time you made contracts for studying, I remember it didn’t go well with them.” You heard Trey sigh and agree, “Jamil is right, and you know it. How do we know you aren’t just fooling them?”

Azul winced pushed up his glasses, frowning deeply, “I admit that the Prefect and I haven’t had the… best start,” he began, “but what happens between them and I is none of your concern.” You heard Trey bite back in a tone you’d never heard him use, “I’ll make it my concern if something happens to them.” Hastily he backtracked, “they’re my underclassmen, I have to look after them.”

Azul scoffed and continued, unimpressed “I’ve told you before, my intentions with them are entirely pure and good. I have been nothing but benevolent. Besides,” he smirked, ego growing, “don’t you find it interesting they came to me for help, and not either of you?”

You were surprised to hear Jamil’s voice sneer, “You would’ve found some way to rope them into your contracts sooner or later. But I wouldn’t have let you get away with it with (Name).” You heard Trey grit out, “You’re not much better than Azul, Jamil. Don’t think they haven’t told me what happened during winter break.”

You sucked in a deep breath and hefted the dishes in your arms. You’d heard enough. You were tired of people discussing you. And you were too underpaid to deal with whatever bullshit those three were beefing about in there. You summoned every acting tip Vil gave you, and pushed the kitchen door open with your back, “Hey Trey!” You feigned cheerfully, “I got some dishes, and did you know the twins are here?-“

Despite what you heard, you watched with amusement as the three of them jumped out of their skins. Trey and Azul’s glasses went askew and Azul’s cane clattered to the floor, smashing a fallen cookie into crumbs. Trey’s hat fell off next to him. The decorative coin beads in Jamil’s hair jangled as he flinched. Jamil’s long bangs and braids whipped Azul in the face as he spun around to look at you. As Azul spluttered at the sudden hair-attack, you noted Jamil was clutching a food container in his arms. Your mind drifted to your fridge.

You looked at them innocently and dumped the dishes in the sink. Not my problem.

“Oh, hello Azul!” You hummed, putting the cane in his hand, “I didn’t realize you came too! What a surprise!” You decided to ignore the flustered look on Azul’s face as he fidgeted with the cane. “And there you are, Jamil! I got worried when you didn’t text me back.” You smiled and hugged him softly, brushing his bangs behind his ear. Jamil’s face went slack with shock as you did, the tupperware almost slipping from his grasp.

You turned to Trey, sweeping up his hat and dusting it off before reaching up on your toes. You set it down softly on his head before adjusting his glasses gently, “Hey uh, fair warning, Trey,” you kept your tone in check, practically feeling Azul’s and Jamil’s gazes staring at the back of your head, “the twins are here, and Floyd is kinda making Riddle very… behead-y,” you winced. “Sorry, I tried to help…”

You noted the soft dust of pink on Trey’s cheeks as he cleared his throat, and gently grabbed your hand that was still hovering by his glasses, “it’s no problem, Prefect. You’ve done an excellent job, I can take it from here.” You smiled at the three of them, deciding to get the hell out of there. “Thanks, Trey!”

In a last-minute pitied attempt to quell all three of them, you smiled nervously at them all, “And, uh, Trey? Thank you for the pastries, they’re absolutely delicious,” Trey smiled, eyes closed as he rubbed the back on his head, “Glad you like them, (Name).” You suddenly felt the other two guys’ eyes on you.

Azul cleared his throat, “I hope you’ve been eating balanced meals, Prefect? After all, too much sweets aren’t good for you.” Trey sent him a look, “there are many pastries that aren’t sweet, and besides, I’ve been ensuring the Prefect is getting enough to eat. And as for their health,” Trey smiled teasingly at you, “you’ve been brushing your teeth, right?” You groaned, smacking his arm. Trey chuckled, “the Prefect does deserve a sweet treat once in a while, right Azul?” “Tch…”

You were curious why Azul simply pushed up his glasses, saying “but simply as dessert. I believe the main course is more important in a meal. For that,” Azul smiled charmingly at you, “I’m sure you’d find my menu at the Lounge more suitable to your tastes.” Something in Azul’s voice tipped you off - he was using his business-y convincing voice. And you noted that Trey was watching him very closely, while Jamil was looking at the two of them calculatingly. As your gaze bounced from one to the other, Jamil smiled, not quite reaching his eyes, “perhaps you’d like to try some more of my homemade cooking? I haven’t had you try all the ones I want to make for Kalim yet…”

Suddenly you felt the air in the kitchen get very stuffy. Go figure, this is NRC. Of course there’s an ego-feeding competition. Still, feeling a little bad about not acknowledging the other two, you nodded to Azul, “well Azul, thanks for the food! I had some for breakfast. And, thank you for helping me with the History test, I appreciate it a lot!” You grinned at him, “I was the highest in the class, Trein was impressed!” Azul chuckled softly, but you saw the blush dusting his face, “Of course, Prefect. It was my pleasure.” Finally, you smiled at Jamil, “And thank you for the leftovers, Jamil. They were incredible!”

Trey and Azul’s eyes dart immediately to Jamil, then to the tupperware he held. Jamil smirked slightly and held the tupperware out to you. “I’m glad you liked it, Prefect. I made some more, please take it.” You nodded, taking it with a nervous smile. You idled there awkwardly, then cleared your throat. “WELL!” you tucked the tupperware under your arm, “I’d better get going! Thank you all so much!” You turned on your heel and scampered out of the kitchen.

Azul sighed heavily, “I was about to ask them about another study session… oh, well.” He turned to Trey, “I believe we’ve both outstayed our welcome. I suppose I’ll see you, Trey.” Trey nodded, lips pursed. Jamil followed after Azul, looking back at Trey for a moment before walking.

You sighed heavily, tossing yourself onto your mattress in your room. Downstairs, you heard Grim hum happily as he nommed on something, but you couldnt be bothered now. You flopped over, staring at the ceiling. This is so weird.

You couldn’t help but feel like you’d stumbled into something entirely out of your control, but somehow it was different than dealing with Overblots, Grim, or even Crewel’s cruel tests. It felt… strange dealing with emotions like this. In your heart, you felt like you knew what it was, even if you didn’t want to admit it yet.

Soon, you lost track of time, so lost in thought that you flinched when you heard your phone go off. You sighed, and got yourself up off the bed. Walking over, you picked up your phone from the nightstand, and saw you had a text from…

Cake Ending

Five Star Meal Ending

Silky Melon Ending

————————————————————♣️🐙🐍

Lmk which dorm is your fav in the comments, mine is heatslabl lmao

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!!! I had a lot of fun writing this fic, and it makes me so happy that people like it!!! Take care shrimpies~

[idleoblivion]

"An Unexpected Lesson in Envy" Cater Diamond x GN Reader

Synopsis: Cater wants to show off pictures of you on Magicam, but the online response is not what he was expecting.

Word Count: ~1.4k

A/N: Well it turns out that Cater’s speech and whole overuse of internet lingo thing feels so unnatural to write for me so I think I ended up making him more serious than I was supposed to lol, I did my best. Also the @ looks like that cause I almost accidentally tagged a real person lol

Warnings: jealousy, light reverse comfort

“Come on, just a few more!”

“You said that ten minutes ago!”

You loved him, you did, but your boyfriend had a habit of roping you into photo shoots that could be inconveniently long. You were too cute, he’d always say, he couldn’t help it. You were in the gardens of Heartslabyul, which made for the perfect background as well. Today though, you have a history essay that you really need to get started on. If you stuck around too much longer, you’d have to work pretty late into the night to finish in time. 

“You’re so cruel to leave me~” he whines, which you respond to with a lighthearted glare. “Fine,” he sighs, “We’ve already gotten enough good pics anyway.”

“Thanks. I’ll text you later tonight.” You quickly kiss his cheek before hurrying back to your dorm to work. 

Cater returns to his room as well. While he’s ascending the tall, twisted stairs to get there, he’s scrolling through all the photos he got today. He’s almost giddy as he looks through them, you ended up with some fantastic shots today. 

He flops onto his back on his bed and starts collecting his favorite ones to post. He decides on a short collection of them, and rushes to Magicam to show them off. 

‘Some adorbs photos with @ ididntasktobehere in the gardens! Some of my fav pics I’ve taken! #aesthetic #gorgeous #photoshoot #CayCaythebestphotographer’

He smiles to himself, satisfied with the caption he typed out. He posts them immediately, excited to see the response that they’ll get. And the attention starts coming within minutes of posting. 

He knew the pictures would get some popularity, his followers liked almost anything he posted featuring the gardens, and you were always a stunning model in his opinion. What he doesn’t expect is the amount of attention. The comments and likes start rolling in like they never have for him. No other post of his has gone as viral as this one. 

He’s ecstatic about it, until he starts actually reading the comments. 

-OMG, who is that? They are BEAUTIFUL 

-literally ethereal omg

-They could slap me and I’d actually thank them for real

-JUST ONE CHANCE PLEASE I BEG

He’s…conflicted. 

Of course you’re beautiful, and of course people would notice. That was to be expected, so why was his chest still feeling tighter and tighter the more he read?

He wasn’t the jealous type, really. He never got upset if you were affectionate with your friends. He never blamed you if some other guy flirted with you, because of course you always turned them down. And as long as they took no for an answer, he couldn’t really blame them for finding you attractive either. 

It’s never been so many people though. Especially all at once. It wasn’t just one person who wanted your attention, it had turned into hundreds thanks to his post. People were praising you with every compliment they could think of, and some were even asking if you were single. 

Your account was private, so he wasn’t worried about you being flooded with unwanted attention suddenly. But he was worried about what you’d think if you saw all the comments. Would you be uncomfortable? 

…Would you like them? He guesses he could understand if you did, everyone was being so nice and complimentary. But he realizes a part of him really doesn’t want you to. 

He was the uncomfortable one. As uncharacteristic as it was, he was jealous and had to admit it. 

Now he was at a loss for what to do, though. Does he delete the post? You followed him, so if you checked once you were done with your essay and the pictures weren’t there, you might ask what happened to them. He technically could respond to everyone that you were taken, but didn’t that make him seem insecure? He should be able to just brush it off, he thinks. 

It’s getting late by this point, and he decides to just try and ignore it for the night. He’d deal with any more comments in the morning, when his head was a little clearer. 

—-

He could not ignore it for the night. Every few hours he was up and checking for any more replies to his post, always finding at least a few new ones. His frown deepened with each additional comment. For the first time, he was actually loathing the popularity of his own post.

You could tell something was off when he greeted you with only a half-hearted smile and spent your whole walk to class together clearly lost in his own thoughts. He wasn’t any better anytime you spotted him in the hall between classes. He still wasn’t any better at the end of the school day, which is why you follow him to his dorm to confront him about it.

“Come on, you know you’ve been weird today. Are you feeling sick? Is something wrong?” “It really isn’t that big of a deal.” There’s absolutely zero pep in his tone, none of his usual Cater mannerisms present. He seems almost exhausted.

“That’s a lie and you know it. Cater, why can’t you talk to me about it?” He ponders for a second, still feeling guilty for being jealous in the first place. But clearly he wasn’t hiding it well, and making you worry about him didn’t feel very good either. So he takes a deep breath in before laying out everything that happened with the post.

“...That’s it? I saw the post, you even tagged me. I looked at the comments too when I saw you were getting so many. I honestly just rolled my eyes at them. I didn’t realize they were making you upset.”

“I…I guess I didn’t expect to be either? I just…I don’t know why. It’s not like I think you’d break up with me for one of them or anything.”

“It’s still okay to feel weird about it though. Do you want to take the post down?” “I thought about it, but I’m not sure. And the same thing might happen if I ever post more.” He seems extra dejected at the thought of that. Luckily, an idea pops into your head.

You grab his phone out of his hand. He looks at you surprised, but lets you open up his camera and sit next to him.

“Okay, now like this…” You put his arm around you and lean into him close. He seems to get the idea at this point and smiles widely before pulling you in tightly himself. You both position yourselves in frame, and you press your lips to his cheek as you take the picture.

When you pull away and hand him his phone back, his mood has already flipped completely. Even more so as he types out his next caption:

‘Thanks for the love on the pics we posted! Me and my lovely partner @ ididntasktobehere have been reading all the nice comments together! #cutestcouple #cutiesinlove’

“‘Cuties in love?’ Get rid of that, that’s embarrassing.” “But it’s true! We’re a couple of cuties, the cutest couple in the school!”

He laughed at himself and closed his phone with a satisfied grin. He was sure the two of you got the point across to everyone. With his confidence restored, he looks at you and starts brainstorming again.

“Oooh, maybe Vil will let us use one of the rooms at Pomefiore, everything in there is so fancy, it would totally blow up if we did a little shoot there.” “You’re seriously already planning another?” You laugh.

Of course he was. Now that everyone had it straight that you were taken, he was going to take every opportunity to show you off. 

Plus, if anybody had something to say, he could always just ask you to kiss him on camera again. In fact, he decides, he’ll probably ask you even if they don’t. Because as good as showing you off felt, it didn’t feel nearly as good as showing off that you were his and he was yours.

[wqnwoos]

“it looks like something you’d find in a museum,” jeonghan says, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. “it’s abstract.”

“hannie, it’s meant to be a fucking chair.”

you let out a long groan, and fall backwards onto the floor, throwing the ikea manual into the air. “why can’t they just put words with the pictures? captions? something useful?”

jeonghan only laughs, brushing a hand over your forehead. the both of you are sat on the floor, in front of a confusing amalgamation of wood and screws and scattered cardboard boxes. “i think we’re doing great. we did the bookshelf today!”

“that bookshelf is like a smaller version of the leaning tower of pisa,” you deadpan, sending a dirty look to the offending object, that is, indeed, teetering dangerously in the corner of the room. “we’re awful at this — and you!” you accuse, so suddenly that he actually jumps. “i thought you’d at least be good at this!”

“me? why?”

“i don’t know! you like lego!” you wave a hand dismissively. “how different are they really?”

“is that a serious question?”

“no.” this time, you flop sideways, into his lap with another, longer sigh. “i’m tired.”

“i can tell,” jeonghan says and softens, patting your head gently. “it’s 2 in the morning, angel. we can sleep and then try again, hm?”

“don’t wanna move.” your voice comes out muffled, pillowing your head on his thigh and squinting up at him.

“i can leave you here,” he suggests, grinning slyly when you whine in protest. “i’m kidding! i’m joking. let’s go.”

and he pulls you by the hand to the bathroom, helps you wash your face, hums you to sleep when you ask him to — and when the bookshelf finally does fall, at 4:37 in the morning, jolting jeonghan out of his sleep, you barely even stir. only cuddle closer to the warmth of his arm, so peaceful he can’t even be annoyed at you.

he doesn’t mind, he realises, that the bookshelf has fallen over or the chairs look like abstract sculptures. because all of it belongs to him and to you — together. recently things have changed from mine to ours, and it makes everything, even the collapsing furniture, so much sweeter.

an / ok so i’ve already published this one once and it got like 3 notes before i impulsively deleted it so if it’s familiar. that’s why. also this is a queued post!

taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

[chysalxsm]

- Needy dom's / NSFW

My nanami story was flopping so I deleted it.. well I mean I haven't posted for three months so who am I to expect for it to be getting attention. Anyways here's another one of these cause I just love writing those!!! (Btw you can imagine your fav ;))

CW: Needy! character x fem!reader, pussy drunk, pet names ( baby, angel, slut), hair pulling, body worship (kinda??), rough sex (mentioned)

Gosh needy dom's that just can't help but moan in so much pleasure when they're inside you for the first time. Your pretty pussy is so fucking tight and wet around their fat cock that it feels like they're already going to come like a virgin.

,,God.. I'll never pull out from that perfect cunt.."

He just can't help his thrust getting even harder and harder, it feels like that his hips are moving from his own. He's just so fucking pussy drunk that he can't imagine fucking other woman anymore. Your pussy is just the best.

,,God.. I'm gonna come.."

He'll groan, moan and whimper at how good you're feeling, how pretty you sound when he hits that sweet spot of yours that makes you see stars...how he's wrapping his arms around you and pulling you unbelievably close to him just so he can praise you and moan right next to your ear, kiss your back and neck in a needy manner.

,,Fuck, you feel so good baby...You make me feel so, so good angel.."

And when he's close his thrust get sloppy, his fingers rubbing your clit so fucking good that your eyes roll back, climaxing and tightening around him so deliciously that he's filling you up to the brim.

Yet he doesn't stop, his mind is foggy with lust and want. He wants you, he wants to breed you, wants to never pull out of you..

He's whispering sweet nothings in your ear, pushing your hair back and arching your back, as he pounds you so good from behind. His palm muffling your moans..god you just sounded so more desperate that way..

,,Fuck baby! If you keep clenching around me like that...I might come again and again.."

It feels like hours have already passed by how many times you came, by how often you screamed his name out, the name of the guy that makes you feel like you're on cloud nine.

,,God again?..Such a pretty slut..how many times did you already come? Is it the ninth time?"

He sounds so needy moaning your name, letting his hands roam your body in a way that makes you feel loved, appreciated and desired. He loved your body and he couldn't get enough of it..

[writinground2]

No. 60 Drabble list 5

No. 4 Drabble list 1

With lessi russo please :) and thank you for your stories they’re amazing!

Two Bros - Alessia Russo

60 - Two bros, chilling in a bed

4 - Let's kiss and see where it takes us

 “Two bros, chilling in a bed,” Ella said as she smirked at Y/N in the bed next to her, Alessia poorly containing her scowl. 

“That’s not the voice over El!” Mary shouted, dropping her phone, “it’s ‘two best friends, they might kiss’.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and flopped back on the bed, “Mary can we be done? There’s so many other Tik Toks we can do.”

“No! We are getting this right,” Mary deleted the other video and readied herself again. 

Alessia giggled when she watched Y/N mouth help me to her. 

“Two things wrong this Mearps, 1, Ella and I aren’t best friends, and 2, I would never kiss Ella,” Y/N fake gagged for added effect, beginning to climb out of the bed. 

“Let’s kiss and see where it takes us,” Ella snagged the hem of Y/N’s shirt as she stood up. 

Y/N smacked her hand off her, “gross,” she stuck her tongue out to make sure the younger girl knew she was kidding. Ella groaned and fell back, pretending to be overly offended. 

Mary had tricked the woman to come to her room to do Tik Toks. Ella had been in on the plan. The two were hoping to get a reaction out of Alessia when Ella would lean in to fake kiss Y/N. That the reaction would cause Y/N to realize that Alessia had feelings for her and cause the two quit beating around their feelings for each other. 

It didn’t seem to be working though. Ella just continued to fool around, not really working Alessia up. So far, their plan was not working. 

“Wait, we could do a different one!” Mary tried to call Y/N back into the room. 

“I’m tired Mearps, I’m going to bed,” Y/N groaned. 

“Well, that didn’t work,” Ella moaned, “you were supposed to get upset that I was going to kiss Y/N not just laugh about it!” she flailed a hand towards Alessia seated in the corner. 

Alessia furrowed her brow, glancing between the two. 

“We were trying to make you jealous,” Mary filled in, “it didn’t work.” 

The blonde shook her head and pushed herself out of the chair, “you two are ridiculous.”

“Come on Less, you gotta tell her at some point. I don’t understand how she can be that unaware to your feeling’s, but she is. The tension between you two is making me want to kiss for you,” Ella called after the blonde. 

Alessia laugh, leaning against the doorframe, “Ella, I love you, but just leave it.” 

“You’ll thank me later!” Ella yelled, but the door was already shutting. 

“Two bros, chilling in a bed,” Y/N mumbled into Alessia neck as they snuggled in bed. Alessia could feel the smirk against her neck. 

“That’s all this is?” Alessia chucked, “we’re just chilling?”

Y/N pushed herself up to be leaning over the blonde, “what was it Ella said? Let’s kiss and see where it takes us.” 

Alessa sat up, meeting Y/N as she leaned down. 

“You and I both know where this leads,” the blonde mumbled against Y/N’s lips. 

“That’s kind of what I’m hoping for,” Y/N shifted to be straddling her. 

Alessia let Y/N control the kiss, allowing herself to be pushed back into the mattress as Y/N pressed more of her weight into her. Groaning as a hand was slipping into her shirt, and Y/N dragged her nails along her sides. 

The pair made out like teenagers for a minute before Y/N settled herself back into the blonde’s side, “goodnight my love.”

“Goodnight beautiful,” Alessia dropped a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head. 

The pair had laughed early that night when Ella and Mary had individually invited them to their room after dinner. They both knew that it would be some attempt to the set the pair up. Y/N was able to hide her feelings better than Alessia could, so Ella had taken it upon herself to help her best friend. What Ella and Mary didn’t know though, what that the pair already had confessed their feelings for each other months ago. Having established their relationship well before anyone decided to intervene.