୨୧﹕fem!reader, video calling ^-^
you’ve always been the shy type, especially around ryuken, your boyfriend who carries himself with that quiet, commanding presence. he’s a doctor at the clinic, buried in paperwork and patients most days, and you love how focused he looks behind his desk. but talking to him feels tricky sometimes—texts get lost in his busy phone, calls interrupted by beeps and knocks. so one evening, curled up on his couch after he’s finally home, you muster the courage to bring it up.
“ryu,” you murmur, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, your cheeks already warming. “can we… make a discord account for you? it’d be easier to chat, send stuff, even video call without it being all formal like phone calls.”
he glances up from his book, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses. “we have your number. mine works fine.” his voice is even, clinical, like he’s diagnosing a minor inconvenience.
you bite your lip, shifting closer, your hand resting tentatively on his thigh. “please? it’s just… more fun. private servers, voice chats when you’re at work. i miss you during the day.” your voice drops, shy but insistent, and you peek up at him through your lashes.
ryuken sighs, setting the book aside, but there’s a flicker of indulgence in his expression. he’s not one for tech frivolities, but he sees how it lights you up. “fine. show me.”
you guide him through it on his laptop, your fingers brushing his as you click through the setup. he types in his details with precise keystrokes—drishida, nothing flashy—and you create a private server just for the two of you. by the end, he’s got the app on his phone and computer, and you’re beaming, already testing a quick video call that he answers with a raised eyebrow and a soft, “satisfied?”
from then on, it becomes your little ritual. you video call him at random times during his shifts at the clinic. sometimes it’s innocent—sharing a meme or asking about his lunch—but the thrill hits hardest when he’s in his office, door cracked, a patient chart open on his desk. he keeps the volume low, his face filling the screen as he angles the webcam away from anything incriminating.
you love watching him work. the way his long fingers tap at the keyboard, his posture straight and authoritative in that crisp white coat. he’s so sexy like that, dominant without trying, his deep voice murmuring responses to your whispers while he pretends to focus on emails. “shh,” he’ll say sometimes, a warning edge to it that makes your pulse race, especially if footsteps echo in the hall outside his office.
one afternoon, you’re feeling bold—or maybe just achingly needy after a long day missing him. you call on discord, and he picks up after two rings, his office coming into view. he’s mid-consultation, a patient sitting across from him, an older woman discussing symptoms. ryuken nods attentively, but his eyes flick to the screen, a subtle acknowledgment.
“keep it quiet,” he mouths silently, his free hand adjusting his tie. you nod, biting your lip, but the sight of him there—so composed, so in control—stirs heat low in your belly. your camera’s on too, and without thinking, driven by that shy impulse to tease, you lift your shirt just enough to flash your tits at him. the cool air hits your bare skin, nipples hardening instantly under his gaze.
ryuken’s reaction is immediate but restrained. his jaw tightens, eyes darkening as they lock onto the screen for a split second longer than necessary. he shifts in his chair, crossing his legs slightly, but you catch the way his hand pauses on the desk, fingers curling. to the patient, he’s the picture of professionalism, asking a calm question about her pain levels, but you see the flush creeping up his neck, the way his throat bobs as he swallows hard.
he ends the patient visit quickly after that, ushering her out with efficient politeness. the moment the door clicks shut, he leans closer to the webcam, voice dropping to a low growl. “you little tease. flashing me like that while i’m working? you want me hard in my office, don’t you?” his words send a shiver through you, and you whimper softly, nodding as you cover yourself again, heart pounding.
he doesn’t punish you right then—there’s another appointment—but later that night, when he’s home, he pins you against the wall, hands rough on your hips. “next time you pull that, i’ll have to bend you over my desk,” he murmurs against your ear, and you melt into it, loving how your boldness draws out his dominance.
another time, it’s him who takes the lead. you call during a slow moment, but you’re feeling off—needy, frowny, your brows furrowed as you pout at the screen from your bed. ryuken notices immediately. he’s alone in his office, computer humming, but he sets aside his notes, leaning back in his chair. his eyes scan your face, that doctor’s precision reading you like a chart.
“what’s that look for?” he asks, voice deep and steady, like he’s diagnosing more than your mood.
you shrug, shy, cheeks pink. “just… miss you. feeling needy.” it comes out in a whine, and you squirm under the sheets, already imagining his hands on you.
he chuckles low, the sound vibrating through the call. “needy, hm? let me see. show me how bad it is, patient.” the way he says it, authoritative and clinical, makes your breath hitch. he’s slipping into that dominant doctor mode, and it floods you with heat.
you hesitate, then tug your shorts down a bit, revealing the damp spot on your panties. “like this?” you whisper, voice trembling.
ryuken’s gaze sharpens, and he shifts, his hand dropping below the desk. you hear the rustle of fabric, and then he’s palming his bulge through his pants, rubbing slow circles over the growing hardness. “good girl. look at you, already wet for me. i can see how your pussy’s aching, clenching for my cock.” his words are explicit, commanding, delivered in that deep timbre that demands obedience.
you gasp, hand slipping between your thighs to press against yourself, mirroring him. “ryuken…” a soft moan escapes as you rub, the friction sparking pleasure.
“quiet now,” he orders, though his own breath roughens. his fingers work firmer on his bulge, outlining the thick length straining against the zipper. “imagine i’m there, spreading your legs on my exam table. i’d slide my fingers into that tight pussy, check how ready you are for me. you’d moan like the needy slut you are, wouldn’t you?”
your hips buck at his words, a cute, breathy moan spilling out as you circle your clit faster. “yes… please, doctor ishida.” the title slips out, submissive and eager, and he groans softly, rubbing harder, the outline of his cockhead visible now.
“that’s it. cum for me quietly—don’t want the nurses hearing how desperate my little patient gets.” his voice dips lower, dominant edge sharpening as he watches your face contort, your gasps turning to whimpers. you shatter first, body arching with a muffled cry, waves of pleasure crashing as your pussy pulses under your fingers.
ryuken follows soon after, a low grunt escaping as he grinds into his hand, cum soaking through his pants in hot spurts. he straightens after, composed again, but his eyes promise more. “good girl. call me later—i’ll take care of you properly.”
those secret calls become your addiction, each one pulling you deeper into his world of quiet dominance and shared, forbidden heat.
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