the i asked my boyfriend/son/male whomever to get pads with wings and the men getting literal chicken wings along with pads is so ryul coded. like he's doing this because he loves you and knows you're not feeling your best but he takes it quite literally and pulls home with some honey wings and extra long pads cause thats the first ones he saw
an: the party ended an hour and she's still here (putting ryul into mechnic/ greased up imagery).
──୨ৎ──
“you’re gonna choke on that one day,” your coworker says, nodding at the pen cap wedged between your teeth. you barely notice you’re chewing it again. just another thing your mouth claims without permission.
the pen cap tastes like cheap plastic and the ghosts of faded ink. it’s another texture, another object to keep your mind occupied. your boyfriend calls it your “zoning out face.”
in this cramped cubicle, you need something to drown out the monotony.
what did people call it again? an oral fixation? something freud thought lasted only through infancy. luckily or unluckily, it grew with you into adulthood, shaping the way you navigated life.
your desk drawer is a graveyard. chewed-up straws, water bottle caps with bite marks, the splintered remains of a lollipop stick from last week’s budget meeting. you’ve tried gum, but the flavor never lasts, and chewing gets repetitive.
truthfully, your boyfriend’s fingers are better. thicker, more satisfying. you prefer them to pens, crackers, or bottle caps.
but reality doesn’t always accommodate desire. he works, you work.
ryul, bless him, never pulls away when you need the fix. he lets your mouth wander across the ridges of his fingers, laughing, “you’re gonna file me down to nothing.”
the pen cap snaps, sharp against your molars. broken plastic floods your tongue, and you spit the pieces into your palm. another casualty in the line of pen soldiers. you’ll have to sneak a new one from the accounting department before anyone notices.
preferably just before lunch, when everyone’s distracted.
⠀₊ ⊹
you slip toward the supply closet just as lunch begins, bodies bustling around you. the accounting department pens are your favorite.
well, not the pens themselves, flimsy and prone to snapping. but the caps. the perfect balance of soft and sturdy.
fingers twitching, you reach for the box labeled “bigs (black) pens,” convinced everyone’s gone. you swipe a couple, tucking them into your jeans, and close the closet door quietly.
then a voice
“again?”
ohyul from payroll leans in, judgment draping his tone. you freeze, pen cap already back in your teeth, caught red-handed.
“you know we can just order you chew toys, right? like for dogs?” he murmurs.
you flip him off around the plastic. he’ll never understand. none of your coworkers do. it’s not just chewing.
it’s an ache, a literal itch in your jaw that coils tighter the emptier your mouth feels. you tried explaining once. people laughed or backed away.
ryul never laughed. not the first time you told him.
not ever.
even when he returns from the car shop, grease-stained and tired, you grab his wrist and drag his thumb between your teeth. he exhales, unbothered, letting you press his knuckles against your tongue until the tang of motor oil fades into something lighter.
“missed me that much?” he teases.
you don’t answer, mapping calluses with your lips.
now, under ohyul’s gaze, you wonder if ryul will notice the difference later. the plastic seam’s sharp edge instead of the smooth press of skin. you bite down harder. the pen groans and splits.
“you’re gonna need dental insurance just for office supplies,” ohyul jokes.
you ignore him, tongue tracing the jagged plastic. dull. unsatisfying. too brittle to fixate on.
shoving past him, you almost collide with ryul in the hallway. visitor badge clipped, he’s here with a snack, already predicting your supply closet run.
“you’re early,” you mutter, embarrassed.
he holds a paper bag from the sandwich shop downstairs. the scent of fresh bread curls between you. “figured you’d want something else to gnaw at,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip.
you discard the broken pen cap, and he laughs. “what did that pen do to deserve all that?”
inside the bag, baguette pieces await. hard, crunchy, perfect for chewing. you reach for them, fingers twitching, but he pulls the bag slightly away.
“not too fast,” he warns.
two pieces vanish in minutes. snap, crunch. obscenely loud in the quiet hallway. ohyul has mysteriously disappeared.
ryul watches, amused, as you demolish a third piece.
“slow down,” he says, catching your wrist as you reach for another. “they’re not going anywhere.”
your jaw moves again, chasing rhythm, chasing pressure. when baguettes fail, he lets you drag his thumb between your teeth, gritty with crumbs. better than plastic. better than bread. better than anything else.
his other hand finds your hair, steadying you as your teeth press into the meat of his palm.
“you’re gonna ruin your appetite,” he murmurs. not harshly. just observing.
you continue, teeth exploring, relishing the contours of something real.
the sandwich bag rustles. another baguette emerges, buttered, golden. he watches as you chew, thumb still wedged between your teeth.
“you’re like a gremlin,” he teases.
you can’t respond. mouth full of knuckles and bread. teeth grazing him in silent warning. he chuckles, finally pulling his hand away.
“later,” he promises, wiping saliva dripping down your chin. “you can have the rest of me later.”
you watch him leave, dull ache settling in your jaw. pens tucked in your pocket will have to get you through the rest of the workday.
by evening, baguette pieces are gone. you skip to the parking lot, meeting ryul. passenger window down, eyes gleaming with amusement.
“break any more pens?” he asks.
you just smile. both of you know the answer.
the drive blurs into streetlights and the click of nails against the seat. every time your jaw tenses, his eyes flick toward you. without a word, he presses two fingers to your lips. you take them without hesitation, teeth tracing the familiar grooves.
“jeez, you’re gonna draw blood,” he mutters, as you bite too hard.
you don’t apologize. your tongue flattens against his knuckles.
by the time you reach your parking lot, your jaw finally relaxes, his knuckles still lodged between your teeth.
“better?” he asks. you nod.
“good,” he says, smirking. “’cause i’m not carrying you inside if you pass out from oxygen deprivation.”
you release him with a wet pop. your mouth feels empty instantly.
you scan his car for something else to nibble on.
finding a peppermint candy pushed inside the car's drink holder. your hands lunge for it. like a starving animal. your jaw clenches around the small, hard candy.
he makes a comment, light hearted. something about how you’ll chew his car seats soon with the pace you’re going .
you chew loudly in defiance.
leaning over, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, even with the candy in your mouth.
“you’re lucky i love you,” he says tenderly against your lips.
✿ ‧̥ random headcanons in which ryul is a simp boyfriend. don't let the occasional scowl fool you. he's the co-captain of the down bad society.
simpbf! ryul who remembers everything you say, even the tiniest details you think he isn’t paying attention to. like the time you casually mentioned you prefer your toast golden brown, never too dark, and the next morning he’s toasted yours perfectly before you even open your eyes. or when you mention once that you love hearing rain against the window while reading, and now every stormy night he texts you, “rain’s here. want me to bring over the blankets?”
simpbf! ryul who might not be able to give the best advice but can be the best listener. when you tell him you're stressed over some things. he reorganizes his entire evening to give you uninterrupted time with him. he brings out the snacks and lets you spill whatever's on your mind. if you rant about a particular coworker he'll agree and say "yeah, that was shitty of them to do." as if he knew exactly what happened.
simpbf! ryul who knows you 'borrow' his hoodies but never brings it up and just buys more. in different colors. just know he loves it on you more than on him. when his beanie goes missing as well. he'll just smile and think at least you're gonna rock some pretty tuff fits. if you're out shopping. you don't even gotta ask twice. he's already carrying your bags for you.
simpbf! ryul: who laughs at whatever you laugh at. very much whatever my girl thinks is funny is funny, bro. he watches you scroll through memes for hours. not complaining once , just laughing at the ones you laugh at because your happiness is literally his happiness too. and when you laugh at his jokes it's ten times better. nothing for that week can upset him.
simpbf! ryul: who when things are beyond his scope asks his other friends. or the internet for help. 'my girl says she likes candles what should i do about it?' suddenly your workspace has a carefully arranged corner with small candles of your favorite scents. he's managed to make his handwriting legible this time to write on the sticky note, "thought you could use some cozy energy."
simpbf! ryul who loves rap. knows every lyric, every flow switch. but if you ask him to show you what he's been writing. he gets genuinely shy. he pretends to refuse, saying it's "cringe." then five minutes later he’s leaning against the wall, delivering smooth verses just to see you smile. the five minutes was just pretense so he could at least act like he won't do whatever you ask of him.
simpbf! ryul who will deny being clingy. absolutely deny it. but if you don’t text for a few hours, he’s checking your last message, rereading it, convincing himself he’s not waiting. when you're out in public he stands slightly behind you, hands in his pockets, quiet. at home? he’s the one resting his head on your lap while you play with his hair, mumbling about how you’re “too soft” but absolutely melting under your touch. you didn't even ask him to do that. he just wanted to.
the first time you met ryul was at the mechanic shop he worked for. black grease across his cheekbones, hands holding an invoice floppily. his arms crossed, underneath his pain black t-shirt. a name tag held with two pins on its side read “ryul’ in choppy letters.
“here for an appointment” he asks, not looking up from intensely scrutinizing the white invoice paper. his voice was deeper than you imagined. but oddly fitting for the face standing right before you.
“actually, no. i just needed to stop by really quick. my car’s making weird noises like two cats hissing at each other.” you shift the purse strap dangling off your shoulders. your shoes scraping the gravel beneath you.
this gets ryul’s attention. he lifts his head, and for a second you think he is going to snap at how that comparison was stupid. that it's not humanly possible for a car to sound like that. “cat hissing, huh? that’s a new one.” he tosses the invoice over the counter. your problem would be worth his focus way more than invoice bookkeeping. “pop the hood, let’s see what’s the issue.”
your car sits outside. sitting slumped in the parking lot like an abandoned trophy. ryul circles it once, then ducks under the hood with the confidence of someone who knows engines like the back of their hands. you stand awkwardly to the side, watching with interest and no knowledge as his fingers prod at wires and hoses.
“fuel pumps throwing a tantrum,” he announces. minutes after inspecting your car. “could be worse.” he wipes his hands on a rag tucked behind the black pants he wore. “you, okay?” he says it offhandedly. finally getting the chance to really see you.
his perceptiveness catches you off guard. you’ve been staring at the pavement with the blankest expression. your feet kicking any little pebble near your shoes.
“yeah. just tired.” you lie. as much of a shitty few months you’ve had. relaying a play by play to a total stranger was beyond your capabilities.
ryul studies you for a second longer than appropriately needed. then shrugs. he’s not in the business of playing therapist.
“cool. well, I’ll get your car fixed by tomorrow.” you look up briefly and ryul swears he can read the sadness over your face. “you want coffee while I pull up the pricing. we got some shitty stuff, but it’s drinkable.”
you inhale a breath, getting ready to say no. but then you remember the silence of your apartment. your walls feel like they’re caving in each night you stumble home. “sure. thanks.”
ryul nodded once. disappearing into the garage. you exhale, leaning against your car. for the first time in months, you didn’t feel so alone. ryul returns, a white cup chipped and a penguin wearing glasses printed on its center. as warned, the coffee tasted terrible. but you took a sip, then another. grateful for the bitterness scraping your throat.
“are you always this quiet?” ryul asks curiously. there’s no hint of accusation. he's leaning against the counter.
you shrug. tracing the penguins grin with your thumb. “depends on the company. depends on the day.”
he snorts, then reaches for the mini fridge next to the counter. his hands find a bright blue can. energy drink most likely. “yeah. well. most people who come here won’t shut up about their transmissions or their adapter problems like im their therapists.” ryul cracks open the can and takes a giant swig. “this is shit”. he says making a face that corroborates his statement.
you laugh. really laugh. shoulders shaking, head titled back. for the first time in months. the feeling felt foreign. ryul’s eyes flickers to yours and something in his expression softens. “you should do that more often.” ryul adds quiet now. he doesn’t look at you. staring straight ahead.
a sound cuts the silence. ryul turns towards it. the shop’s phone rang sharply. forcing his attention away. ryul sighs, sitting the can down. “got to answer that.” he pauses. hesitantly looking at you. “you’ll be here tomorrow.”
not a question.
“yeah.” and you nod. of course you’d come. but if you were honest. even if your car wasn’t ready to be picked up. you still would’ve.
ryul now completely out of sight of your vision. the coffee, you chug down. grimacing at the sludge remaining at the bottom of the mug. when you stepped outside, hailing a taxi to get you back home. you realize from the reflection of the cab that you were smiling. a genuine smile that actually reached your eyes and not stuck on the curves of your lips.
you show up fifteen minutes early. the next morning. ryul isn’t here yet. in his place a pimply kid with long hair that covered his eyes stood over the front counter. oil stains lines down his forearms. he squints at you, offering no greeting or a crack of a smile. “ryul’s looking for some parts. said your car’s finished though.”
you nod, hoping that the disappointment filling your stomach doesn’t show over your face. the kid offers your keys with oiled stained fingers, along with your receipt stappled haphazardly to an invoice. no coffee, no other words.
you reach to buckle your seatbelt when a knock window makes you bolt up. ryul stands holding two paper cups from the coffee stand few blocks down. he jerks his chins towards the passenger seat. “open up.” the steam from the coffee curls up in his left hand. you reach over unlocking the passenger side door. ryul slides in, passing you the cup. it smells heavenly. chocolate and red velvet tang filling up inside your car. “how did you…”
“overhead you whine about shitty coffee yesterday. when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. mumbled something about not as great as my usual red velvet latte or something." ryul says. he takes a sip of his own drink. darker than yours with no hint of sugar nor cream. “can’t have princess over here upset for another day.” you roll your eyes at the princess comment but don’t press further.
ryul drums his fingers on his knee. “you’re gonna drink that or did I just waste $7.”
you take a sip, savoring the liquid. exactly what you like. sweet without being too much. the warmth spreads through your chest. and unlike yesterday’s coffee you don’t mind taking longer sips. “you’re not what I assumed.” you admitted quietly. you can’t make eye contact. so, you look at his brows.
if ryul found it offensive, he doesn’t say. “yeah, what did you assume?” there’s a smirk curving his lips. his head leaning back against the head rest.
you gesture vaguely over his form. “you know. sort of.” your lips twitch as if searching for a way to adequately express it. ryul looks cold. looks like he’d scuffle in a parking lot if something irked him wrong. “you just don’t look like a guy who remembers a stranger’s coffee preference. or care enough to cater to it.”
ryul’s laugh is low. rough at the edges. “stick around, i might surprise you.”
the shops’ bells jingle. another customer enters the shop. ryul doesn’t move. you don’t either. someone shouts ryul’s name, commanding enough that it makes ryul finally move from his seat. “sorry, princess. job calls.”
seven days later you finally convince yourself to make your way to the mechanic shop. showing up under the pretense of an oil check. despite having done one the day your car was returned to you. ryul meets you, eyes sparkling with delight and maybe awareness. like he could see right through your act. “either your car sucks or you’re here to see me." the way his voice dips over the last few words sends a spark down your spine. he’s leaning against your car. grease once again smeared across his forehead. too comfortable.
you open your mouth to deflect. even if it was true. ryul cuts you off with a low grunt, tossing the rag in his hand down the pavement. “dinner tonight. eight o’clock… unless you're busy.”
“i’m not.” you blurt too fast. afraid he might reconsider.
ryul exhales sharply through his nose. half laugh, half relief. “good.” he snatches the rag back up the ground, wiping his hands with unnecessary force. “wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.” ryul sees you raise an eyebrow. “relax, princess. im taking you to the drive in.”
that night you learn ryul is more thoughtful than he lets on. handing you blanket as soon as you entered his car. secondly, whatever movie played across the drive-in speaker wasn’t important. being in his car, his hands around your waist. his mouth nuzzling your neck.
✿ ‧̥ random headcanons in which ohyul reminds you that you can't spell simp without him. at least metaphorically.
simpbf! ohyul who knows your coffee order by heart. memorized it like a class quiz . knew you liked oat milk with your coffee and two pumps of caramel drizzle. he wakes up early before your 8am class begins. always rushing to hand it to you on time. you reward him with a peck to the lips. he'd duck his head down, ears turning red as if he just won the lottery.
simpbf! ohyul who loves salmon and sushi rolls. but knows you hate seafood and always opts to order what you like. you'd choose pasta alfredo and he'd get the chicken tacos. you were going to steal some of his, and he'd pretend not to notice. hiding a dimpled smile with a turn of his head.
simpbf! ohyul who finds solace from your body. always tangling his long limbs against yours. he'd call himself a human octopus. head sprawled across your lap. nuzzling from the warmth that always radiated from you. like a human heater. every so often, he'd peer up to you. eyes round and full of expectation. his way of saying, "please rub my hair." which you do delightfully. fingers kneading the soft locks of black hair.
simpbf! ohyul who dedicates his art project with drawings of you. in various colors and various paints. he caught moments you didn't even remembering having. capturing the way your brows furrowed with concentration when working on something new, or the curve of your shoulder under the pink lightweight shirt he liked on you. when you caught him once, sketching with purpose. you commented lightly, "this me is prettier than in real life me." you meant it as joke, but ohyul responds with so much force you almost feel bad. "that's impossible." the words blur out bright and devastatingly sincere.
simpbf! ohyul who introduces you to his family. hands never hovering away from your hips. one of his cousins joke that they wouldn't kidnap you. his grip just tightens more. he gives them a defiant look. despite the way his face changes hues.
simpbf! ohyul who always walks you back to your apartment after class. one day he admits, "just in case. if there's ever like a zombie outbreak. i know like 6 other ways to get you home." you laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but still loop a pinky around the hand he hung to his side. "if you go through the dog park. there's a vending machine that has the cherry cola you like." he'd beam down towards you.
simpbf! ohyul who would ditch boys night as easily as breathing air. you'd have to reassure with plenty of kisses that it was okay for him to go out with the bros. not knowing they spammed you in a group chat he was blocked from. mocking and teasing how you should loosen the collar you had on him.
ryul knows that he looks tough. having often been told by plenty of people throughout his young life. it's not that he intends to look mean or aloof or even stoic. that just happened to be the way his face was built.
when he first asked you out. you debated on saying no. thinking it was a sort of joke being played on you. the boy who sat at the back of your anthropology 205 course. bundled up with hoodie with eyes that never made contact first. never spoke, never rose a hand to answer. why would he be interested in you?
after 8 months of dating. you realized ryul was a softy. gentle and even clumsy beyond his rugged appearance.
it's nights like these that would you remind you of the soft boy you belonged to.
ryul tries to hide the water coating near the end of his eyes threatening to pool out like a deflated home-installed pool. his sniffles throughout the last ten minutes of the movie filled the otherwise silent atmosphere of your room. what movie made him this way? The fox and the hound. a classic you admit. but not enough to ever wring out any waterworks from you.
"it's not funny." ryul mutters, dragging a hand down the lines of his face. as if to wipe away the sudden heat that rose on his cheeks.
"what?" you bite back, biting your bottom lip to smother a full grin threatening to escape. "who said im laughing?" you try to retort, despite the shaking of your shoulders that hinted otherwise.
ryul’s face contorts into a scowl. “it’s kind of sad if you think about it. parting ways from people, things you’ve grown close to.”
ryul tries to bite back defensively, as if he hadn’t just blinked away tears when widow tweed abandoned tod the fox in the forest alone.
you nod your head along, trying to appease him. that’s just who ryul is. you shift closer, knees bumping his. simple action but ryul’s breath hitch. it’s subtle and if you weren’t so perceptive, almost unnoticeable.
you lean more into ryul’s space. noticing the way his hands tense briefly. he doesn’t pull away, just braces. like the warmth of your shoulders on his was too much. you watch wordlessly as his fingers flex once, restless before curling them into his palms.
his pulse leaps when your fingers brush along the lines of his wrist. you feel the way it jumps, betraying the frown adorning his face. another thing you could tease him about. but the way his throat worked as he swallows the faintest tremor in his breath, made something warm and possessive curl in your chest instead.
"hey," you whisper, thumb tracing the ridge of his knuckles. “look at me.”
ryul's gaze flicks up. wary, waiting for a joke to come out at his expense. instead, he finds just a smile from you. you watch as his shoulders loosen. the throwaway pillow slid between his lap and to the hard wood floor of your apartment.
you close the last few inches between you, nose bumping his. feeling the way his breaths collides with yours, shaky and uneven.
the first kiss, chaste… testing. the second kiss was less so.
you cup his jaw, ryul fingers uncurl to grip you by the waist. he makes a low noise in his throat. mixture of surprise and something else. something more hungry.
you grin into his mouth. "relax." you whisper against his lips.
ryul's bravado tries to enter. shoulders hunching up as a show of confidence, but the tremble of fingers as they move up your back, gives away his true feelings. you shift to straddle his lap, his breath caught again, sharp and audible, and his grip tightens around your hips. anchoring you in place. as if a sudden slip of his hands and you would disappear .
"not fair. you're " ryul barely says, brows furrowing as you rock against him. the bottom of your pajama shorts tracing circular motions against the center of his jeans.
red flushes his cheeks, and down lines of his neck. you duck your head below sharp jaw. nipping at the exposed skin.
ryul answers with groan he wish he could've smothered. his hips jerk up reflexively. crazy how you could work him up so effortlessly.
in a blind rush of want and need, the tv remote falls off the couch. clattering to the floor. ryul body freezes. the sound like a warning to just how fast things were moving.
"don't worry about it." you whisper against his earlobe enjoying the way his body shudders. you catch his chin, tilting his face up in your direction, kissing him until his hands stop shaking.
ohyul tends to have this habit. in which each kiss he gives you is tugged with a smile on his lips.
you always found it fascinating that no matter the time or location, the kisses he traced against your own was always adorned by a smile .
"you know," ohyul would begin, already sensing the way your eyes darted in his direction. "that a smile changes the shape of a kiss?" his voice, coarse and low. the pause that fills the air widens as he waits for your response. and when you didn't reply right away, just nodded as if a cue for him to continue, he does.
"huh. how so?" a question asked with pure enjoyment and very little curiosity. you were used to this from him. known the way the kisses felt.
ohyul closes the little distance between you. hovering over you slightly. you brush a thumb against the faint dimple forming on his cheek. the shape minimal and under the wrong light barely visible.
ohyul leans into your touch, unapologetic and content.
his kisses were always like this. as if if every pressed lips was something to be delighted in, reverenced even.
a familiar habit of his that you admit, waited for. the way his eyes would crinkle before leaning in.
ohyul kisses you, unhurried. you felt the curve of his smile against your own. unraveling you. your fingers, delicately reach for his hair, pulling him closer. you wanted more.
as ridiculously as his statement was .
ohyul breaks the kiss, moving his head and sadly his lips just out of reach from you. the laugh that follows, soft and breathless. "see, you can feel it too." he murmurs, tracing the upward tilt of your lips.
before you could protest that it wasn't true. his hands slide down your back, pressing you against him until you could feel the vibration of his laughter against your chest. making homes in the spaces of ribs and bones.
you return the kiss with a sort of recklessness only he could draw out of you. biting his lower lip with just enough force to startle a gasp from him. momentarily, internally you revel in the way his grin falters. a mil of a second before it returns twice as bright.
you let yourself sink into the moment. into the way his happiness even in between the kisses, felt like an oath pressed buzzingly between your shared breaths.
Oral sensory driven gf and slightly simp bf Jiwoong who lets you do whatever. which really is just you biting and chewing on any bare skin left unmarked from your teeth and lips.
it's not like you mean to graze the nape of jiwoong's neck. it really wasn't your fault that he decided to show up for your weekly sleepover. hair a mess from his post run. smelling like perspiration and the subtle cologne you liked
you've always had this madness to bite, chew, suck on almost anything around you. and honestly was a little ashamed of your oral fixation.
you tried to hide it with most relationships. afraid the occasional boys that graced your life would find your habit weird.
it's only with jiwoong that you're free to let your obsession roam wild. he let's you do what you want. so when he tries to skirt your hands. trying to hurriedly complain about the sweat dripping down his neck. you shoo his hesitation away. not caring about that at all. honestly it's easy how jiwoong caves to your grabby hands. reaching for his as you guide him to the couch.
you don't give him enough time to try and rationalize with you about how he might smell
its all added enjoyment truth be told for you. the sweat you lick from the nape of his neck is slightly salty and and mildly sweet.
jiwoong tries to maintain an air of decorum as one might when their girlfriend bites and nicks sensitive pieces of skin along the lines of one's jaw
it's not until you reach the center of his neck. the subtle shape of his apple adam is grazed by sharp teeth that he somehow lets out a groan
kaledo-art
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