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#this post later longer than a relationship

scoonsalicious · 1 day

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Unwanted: Chapter 30, Epilogue - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mild sexy stuff (Just some very light hand business. Very light.)

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: You moved out of the Tower :(

A/N: This is it! The last part! You guys. I can't even. It's been a magical journey, and I'm so honored that I got to take it with all of you. I'm scheduling this post on Thursday in my office, and I'm fucking crying, because you've made this more than anything I could have ever hoped for. I love each and every one of you, so fucking much. Thank you for coming on this adventure with me. Thank you for loving Pocket. Thank you for sticking with Bucky and not throwing knives at him and his stupidity. Just, fucking THANK YOU. You are all amazing, beautiful people, and I could not have done this without you. Thirty Chapters, One Hundred Fifty Five Thousand, Four Hundred and Fourteen Words, and more to come. Bucky and Pocket's journey is not over! POOKIE LOVES YOU SO MUCH.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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Not even twenty minutes later– it was actually almost pathetic how close your new place was to the Tower, really– you were opening up the door of your brand new penthouse apartment. It was more extravagant than any other place you’d ever laid your head, and when Tony’s realtor had first shown it to you, you’d balked at the opulence of it. But Tony reminded you that you’d been shot, after all, and had almost died once, then actually died, all in the span of a few days, and after that, on top of everything else you had already endured in your life, wasn’t it time you treated yourself to something good? Besides, it wasn’t like you couldn’t afford it. So, here you were.

“Honey, I’m home,” you called out softly to the enormous, empty space. It would still be some time before the movers finished loading up and delivering everything from the Tower, and then you were going to have a lot of furniture shopping to do. Toeing off your shoes, you padded your way across the apartment to the terrace. Opening the glass doors, you stepped outside. You walked to the edge and rested your elbows against the railing. Taking a deep breath, you admired the view of the city before you, the Tower just a block away. Looking across, you could easily make out Tony and Pepper’s apartment. Waving at breakfast, indeed.

You felt a pair of strong arms slink around your midsection, tugging you into a broad, warm chest. “Thought I heard you come in,” Bucky said, nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Hey, baby,” you smiled, reaching back to caress his face with your hand. You turned in his arms so you were facing him. “I missed you.”

Bucky laughed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I only left the Tower two hours ago,” he said. “But I missed you, too.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, pouring every ounce of love and affection you felt for him into the motion. “I can’t believe we finally did it,” you grinned.

“Took us long enough,” he mused back, but then turned thoughtful. “Probably would have happened a lot sooner if I hadn’t–”

You brought a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Stop. We agreed not to talk about that, remember? Dr. Whitmore said we can’t move forward if we keep hashing out the past, and I just want to move forward, with you.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, but you just smiled and kissed him again.

After you’d been released from the hospital, you and Bucky had had a long, emotional discussion about the future of your relationship. The only way you’d ever stand a real chance, you’d both decided, was if you committed to couples’ counseling and complete and total honesty. Bucky knew he didn’t deserve yet another chance from you, and you probably wouldn’t have given him one if you hadn’t loved him so fucking much. But you’d actually died, and you couldn’t stand the idea of wasting any more time without him. Now, after nearly a year of doing the work, both on your relationship and yourselves, you felt your connection was stronger than ever. And besides, when it really mattered, Bucky had proven, in the most definitive way, that he would pick you over Jade Carthage.

“So…,” you said once the kiss had been broken and you began playing with the hem of his shirt.

“So, what?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow at him suggestively. His eyes widened as he caught your meaning. “What? Here? Right now?!”

You tilted your head and looked up at him with the most innocent expression you could muster, given how completely un-innocent your current thoughts were. “Yeah, right here, right now. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough, baby?” You trailed a hand down the center of his chest and his breath hitched. “Almost a full year, spent using my fingers, pretending they were you, never feeling full enough? Never getting off as good as I got off with you? It’s been so long since I felt you inside of me, Buck. So long, it fucking hurts.”

When you had decided to give your relationship a real reset, one of the rules you had established, with the advice of Dr. Whitmore, was no sex. You needed to establish emotional intimacy and boundaries once again, without the complications a sexual relationship would bring. She had even suggested you both try to date other people, to ensure that this was the relationship you both truly wanted, but neither one of you could bring yourselves to do it. And now, here you were, almost a full year since the last time you’d been together, and you were desperate.

Bucky groaned at your words and you knew he was this close to giving in to you.

“Come on, baby,” you purred, reaching down and slowly unbuckling his belt. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to be inside of me?” You slowly began nibbling at his jaw, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin and letting it flood your senses.

“Always want you, Pocket,” he growled, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you flush against his hips. You let out a low moan when you felt the evidence of his arousal press into your stomach through his jeans.

“Then have me, Barnes,” you whispered, carding your hands through his hair. “Have me on this balcony, have me on every fucking surface of this apartment, as many times as you want.”

Any remaining sense of resolve Bucky may have possessed snapped, and he was on you, sucking on the skin of your neck as he rutted his hips against you, and it felt so. fucking. good. to feel him like that again. His hand dipped into the waistband of your pants, where he found you wet and eager for him. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he growled into your skin as his fingers slipped through your slick folds to toy with your clit. “All this for me?”

You groaned as you felt one finger gently breach your entrance. “Only you, love,” you moaned. “Only ever you.”

You both froze when you heard the sound of the elevator ding, and Bucky quickly withdrew his hand, popping his finger into his mouth to suck away the evidence of his actions. Grunting in frustration, you looked around him to see the elevator doors open and the movers begin to unload dollies of boxes from the Tower into your new apartment.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “So much for reunion sex. I swear, I’ve got blue balls, Barnes”

Bucky grinned at you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before redoing his belt and heading over to help the movers. “This’ll only take a little while, doll,” he winked at you. “We’ve got the rest of our lives together to make up for lost time.”

<- Previous Part / The End

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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astrababyy · 6 hours

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i think the thing that frustrates me the most about feyre's character post-acotar — hell, even post-acomaf — is that she stops being a character past that point in the series. acomaf, i can still see elements of feyre's original character, but i think acowar and beyond (especially acofas and acosf) is where her character devolves completely into something virtually unrecognizable. and this, in my opinion, is because once she and rhysand become established in their relationship, her entire characterization starts to revolve around him.

prior to acomaf/acowar, feyre has a personality independent of the relationships she has with other people. her characterization has its flaws, as the first book is flawed as a whole, but she's generally a decently-crafted character. feyre is an interesting character because, in the first portion of the book, we learn that she's a jaded, clever huntress who is willing to kill to survive and make painful decisions for the good of herself and her family. she's bitter, resentful, and miserable, and the crux of her life revolves around survival.

but then we learn new things. feyre loves painting, and if she had a choice, she'd marry off her sisters and live peacefully with her father, spending her days painting anything her heart could desire. she's capable and an able killer, but her dreams and wants are for a peaceful life. these desires are expanded upon later in the book when we learn that, if given the option, feyre wouldn't kill. she's jaded and can come off as someone who'd be a stereotypical "girlboss," badass killer. but in reality, feyre doesn't like bloodshed. she doesn't like killing, and if she had it her way, she'd never kill another living thing again.

this is interesting. acotar!feyre is actually a very interesting and dynamic character when compared to who she becomes in later books. she has an internal conflict that affects every aspect of who she is, and it is this conflict that is so deeply tied to what she's forced to do in the climax of the story: either kill innocent faeries or watch as the love of her life dies before her very eyes. this final trial is so painful because it's been established that, in a peaceful environment, a killer is not someone feyre wants to be, and a killer is instead what she's forced to become.

then, of course, acomaf happens and yada, yada, yada. she's still a relatively interesting character on her own, if (arguably) ooc, but has an independent characterization regardless. it's after this book where things take a turn for the worse.

in acowar, feyre is no longer the character who protects the "little guy" and would give up petty jewels to make sure a faerie can eat. she's no longer the character who acts based on her morals and inherent humanity, rather than faerie logic. instead, she's the character who destabilizes an entire court on the brink of war, uncaring of the consequences to the people of spring. in acofas, she's buying another goddamn house while people in velaris and beyond are struggling to make ends' meet following the war that she and rhys dragged them into. in acosf, she's doing the same fucking thing to nesta that destroyed and traumatized her a few books previous, and she's become the glorified housewife to rhysand. she's having his kid when she's not even 25 yet. she's being paraded around like some prized horse. she's sitting around, painting and decorating houses, while rhys does all the actual politicking. she's exactly what she feared she'd become in acomaf, and there's no consequence whatsoever.

this is not the feyre of acotar. this feyre is the faceless, empty love interest to the real main character: rhysand. she's a reflection of him. that's why she went from the woman who feels uncomfortable wearing fancy jewels to the woman who'd spend her newfound millions on frivolous lingerie rather than do anything meaningful with her position as high lady. that's why she went from the character who had respect and a new understanding of nesta in book 1, to the character that'd do such horrendous things to her in acosf. that's why she stands around and lets rhys and amren bully and degrade nesta. she's not a character anymore. she's just rhysand's mate.

#anti sjm #anti rhysand #sjm critical #acotar meta #acotar #feyre archeron #astrababyy #anyway fuck rhysand #the way he treats feyre is disgusting #and she would NEVER let half the shit he does slide if she was still the character she'd once been #anti acowar #anti acosf #anti acofas

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theaquamarinearchives · 23 hours

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[ mess it up ― diluc ] "how could I think that all that i gave you was enough? 'cause every time i get too close, i just go mess it up." cw. gn!reader, angst, ex-lovers, mentions a minorly unhealthy relationship, diluc with trauma (canon event, i didn't do it to him), mentions of alcohol and drinking, light swearing, a lot of adelinde content! thinking over the breakup and having regrets

aquamarine's findings. repost from my old blog, this was sorta revenge for him being c6 but i love my husband i swear // mess it up, gracie abrams.

DILUC was a stubborn man with a tough shell, one that appeared to never be faltering no matter how many people tried. adelinde had spent countless evenings standing at the door to master diluc's office, a glass of grape juice in her tired hands as she tried so stubbornly to win the young master's heart back over; maybe he wasn't going to be this cold and sheltered for the entirety of his life, if only she tried a little bit harder.

the very cavalry captain of the knights of favonius - his own brother - had even tried endlessly, purposefully causing mischief around the dawn winery in an attempt to drag out that mischievous redhead child that diluc was storing away in the dark of his heart. despite kaeya's attempts, it was all futile and he'd be merely scolded by his brother.

sometimes even jean attempted to grasp the reins of an old friend, regardless of the turmoil left between the wine industry tycoon and the knights of favonius. he was once honoured among the knights, feared by their enemies and their youngest captain; what had happened so achingly? now all she can do is grimace at her own fruitless attempts at small talk in the streets of mondstadt, on days where the clouds blanket the sun. it's dull, dreary and the tired look in diluc's eyes couldn't have matched the weather anymore than they did.

in the stupidity of your own decisions, something you tried to excuse as mere young love, you too had make your move to try fix something that perhaps should stay broken. yet it worked, perhaps momentarily. he cracked, faint smiles etched onto his face whenever he'd see you. his calloused hands would stop wiping tankards with a damp cloth just to press a soft kiss to your head when you visited him at work, his focus no longer on the tavern or work for a few seconds.

on days where the sun hugged mondstadt, basking it in golden light that brought smiles out on every face in the city, you'd find diluc among the grapevines, his sleeves folded up to his elbows as he partakes in some hard labour around the winery; after all, he still cared enough to give his workers a day's rest to enjoy the sunshine. you'd join him, happily harvesting grapes in delicate grasps of your hand however diluc wouldn't fail to miss you popping the occasional one into your mouth with a cheeky grin.

regardless of the lingering touches and gentle, featherlight kisses, nothing could truly fix him, could it? for all you know, your attempts had been nothing more than another day, another week, another month for the redhead. the same redhead that you'd dedicated hours to - that you'd dedicated your heart to. what a fool, placing something so delicate into the hands of someone who didn't know how to take care of it.

diluc wishes he'd told you that sooner. he wishes the warnings had slipped from his chapped lips into the night air on the evening you'd confessed your feelings, that he didn't give an ounce of care for love. he was going to focus on the winery, the business - his father's legacy. perhaps it was the only thing he had left to grasp of him now that he'd settled in the post-mourning phase of his young adult life but that twinkle in your eyes, how could he say no?

grumbling to himself, he sips at the bitter liquid in his glass before slamming it down moments later. it's supposed to taste sweet, at least that's what kaeya insinuates every time he steals a bottle from the cellar. diluc never cared, he never drank. he couldn't stand wine yet he kept producing it like it was his lifeblood but here he was, ruby eyes boring into the dark red liquid that fills the winery's infamous glasses his mother had collected when he was still too young to remember.

adelinde lurks in the shadows, a frown adorning that pretty face all the other maids gushed over; she didn't look a day over her age, still as youthful as ever as if she hadn't watched the young masters grow up into grown men with differing personalities nonetheless. a soft sigh escapes her lips, her hands clasped in front of her neatly pressed apron as she makes her presence known.

"i thought i'd never see you drink wine." she comments, her eyes drinking in the way diluc's body tenses in the orange glow of the candle on his desk. his gaze lifts to her, softening ever so slightly when he sees the maid. he feels vulnerable - no, he is vulnerable. nothing will bring back the relationship he'd thrown out so effortlessly like paper in the breeze and that bites at him, tears at his flesh while he's still conscious. the thought makes his body ache more.

"first time for everything," his voice is hoarse as he replies, gruff as he leans back into the plush velvet of his desk chair. that familiar black coat with the fur trim hangs over the back of it and adelinde sighs again, "it's late, why haven't you retired for the night?"

he's sober, adelinde notes as she steps further into his office, her lithe hands lifting the bottle of wine he'd been drinking from to admire the label she'd seen no ends of times throughout her life. diluc watches without another word. he realises how absurd it must seem for him to be drinking the wine, so out of character it would probably turn his father in his grave but it drowned out the pain or at least, it dulled it for a while.

"you know i've never retired while you're still awake," adelinde retorts as she places the wine bottle back down on his desk. the thud draws diluc to his senses and he clears his throat, pulling his large hand away from the glass as he seats himself upright, "you're still thinking about them?"

"do you think... they'd let me back in, adelinde?" he asks in his moment of vulnerability, his rough fingertips tracing over the rings that decorate his fingers. adelinde's lips pull into a tight line, "if i pulled myself together and let them see it happen... do you think they'd let it happen?"

adelinde knows the answer is no, she'd caught wind weeks ago that you'd moved on from the situation and was fixing your wounds in the aftermath of what had happened. she'd uttered it to diluc before but it appears he'd either had one glass too many or he'd chose to ignore it in a delusional hope to fix himself again.

"master diluc, you know-" she cuts herself off, her eyes sorrowful as she drinks in the way his lower lip trembles. his breath is shaking, vulnerable and she's reminded of the young boy who'd come running to her whenever master crepus scolded him for his mischievous antics.

"i fucked up, i know," he groans, a slight crack in his voice as his hands bunch into fists on the arms of his chair. adelinde makes a soft noise in response, "and now i just have to sit here, kicking myself with my gut in a knot while they're happier."

there's a silence that fills the office. wind creaks in the attic, adelinde realises she'll have to chase up the maintenance workers on fixing all the gaps and there's a subtle crackle of the flame burning on diluc's desk. she takes note of the dark circles under the young man's eyes, hollowing his pale face from the lack of sleep he'd been receiving since he cut things off with you.

at least, that's the story he told her - that he was the one to cut the ties holding the pair of you together. it wasn't the truth and diluc thinks he'll never utter the truth to anyone, a possibility as to why he'd stopped drinking wine the moment adelinde made herself known. he's a lightweight and he's self aware, the last thing he wants is to spill out the truth like a sobbing mess, tears staining his cheeks while his breath reeks of alcohol.

the truth was you'd been the one to finish things to protect yourself. your hands clasped around your breaking heart, trembling and shaking in a last ditch effort to stop things from collapsing completely. diluc couldn't love, not in your eyes. you'd tried so hard but you knew behind the acts of affection, he wasn't there. it was as if you was kissing a ghost, someone who lacked the will to be in that situation.

in the long term, it made you feel unloved. that's when you began to recognise that you was holding pieces of your shattering heart and desperately trying to piece it back together again, fumbling endlessly with your own heart all while you tried to force feed love into the winery owner - the one who undoubtedly was up until that point, your lover.

diluc doesn't blame you for your decision but he regrets it, every ounce of it. he considers that the whole relationship could have been avoided but at the same time, by the time you'd ended things, he'd began to crave your touch, your love, your kisses. he'd hear your voice when you wasn't even present. it happened too late however and now he pays the price, the heartbreak of his own regrets for not trying harder.

this truth he'd keep locked in his shallow heart, his lips pursed into a tight line as his eyes drag over the quill on his desk - yet again, another thing he doesn't dare bring into this conversation with the maid. he'd wrote you numerous letters, just begging to hear from you so that mayhaps his heart could rest a little.

he would tear every one of them up and only one of them was ever sent.

"diluc!" your voice chirps in his memory, your cotton shawl drifting in the infamous breeze of mondstadt as you stand upon the grass hill, clouds decorating the blue sky above your head. a smile graces your face, that specific one that he adored despite never mentioning it to you - a mistake on his behalf. your eyes crease with your smile, a gentle laugh reverberating from you, "hurry up!"

diluc finds himself trudging up the grassy slope to join you, his fateful beloved. his shoes find dips to keep his footing in the steepest parts, a calloused hand occasionally pressing to the sharp grass blades to stop him slipping. eventually, he joins you. he stands at your side, drinking in your face in sheer admiration before it dawns on him that this isn't his reality, not anymore.

the bedsheets are damp when he wakes, moonlight still filtering through the large ornate glass windows of his chambers. an exasperated breath escapes his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them as his head falls back onto the feather filled pillows. fiery red hair sprawls out beneath him, no longer tied up as tears sting at his eyes, threatening to spill in the vulnerable silence left in his wake.

every time he gets too close, mere inches from a promised happiness within his grasp, he just goes and messes it up, like always.

the archives' notifications. @bisexuawolfsalt, @lovingluxury, @auroratumbles, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @soleillunne

@zamorazz, @zworllyx

#: recorded in the archives #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#diluc x reader #genshin diluc #genshin angst #genshin impact #genshin #diluc angst #genshin x reader

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veggiecorner · 7 months

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I woke up within a cold sweat with this botw/totk zelink headcanon but i like to think Link actually proposed to Zelda but in an unplanned unofficial way. Like...a week after totk happens and they're having their first breakfast at Hateno (or maybe Akkala) and Zelda's rambling about how she's sad she never recorded ancient food recipes she's tried at her time in the past and Link just stops her and goes "hey...do you want to get married?"

Zelda's visibly like ??? huh??? and he repeats it. She's a lil spooked cause where is this coming from. Also she's dense so she says "well...I've...assumed I'll be married sometime in the future..." not connecting that he's literally proposing to her and he smiles so sweetly at her and says "I mean with me. Will you want to marry me?" And he steps over to her side of the table and finally gets on one knee.

#he doesn't have a ring but that'll come eventually! trust...#oh yeah since no one asked: the ring he brings does have the light dragons scales #its like the main point of the ring #anyways when he gets down on one knee he has this whole speech about how he thought he lost her #and knew more than ever he did not want to spend any time away from her #ALSO ANOTHER HEADCANON OF MINE zelda and link definitely were dating for a while before totk #and a close friends know (like Sidon..Impa...Riju...etc)#and someone mentioned to link that hey if you make this relationship serious with zelda down the line you'll be king #and link was freaked out by that idea #anyways thats another story for later #BUT NOW in this proposal he no longer cares #he just wants to be with her #publically now #and wants to call her his wife #okay tags over SORRY AHSDBKAJ THERES SO MUCH BYE #botw #post botw pre totk #totk #zelink

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camels-pen · 4 months

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warning: eating disorders/food issues

"Something wrong with it?"

Usopp startled and snapped his head to the side. His nose jabbed Sanji's eye and they both hissed. Usopp jerked away to rub the tip of his nose.

"Fuck, I forgot about that," Sanji grumbled. There was a contrasting, fond smile on his face as rubbed his eye. "Anyway, the food?"

"What about it?"

"What's wrong with it?"

Usopp turned his gaze back to his plate. Plenty of pork chops piled high- at Luffy's request for a meat-filled dinner- and mashed potatoes with green beans on the side. His mouth salivated again just staring at it.

"Nothing," he said. "Just taking my time."

He could feel Sanji's unimpressed stare. "You've been 'taking your time' through the whole dinner. Everyone's already finished and left. The moss ball even finished the dishes, and we both know how he likes to dawdle."

Despite himself, Usopp giggled quietly. When it was his turn to do dishes, Zoro always took his time, waiting for Sanji to get frustrated with his speed and leave him to finish it alone. It was the perfect strategy to steal booze when Sanji wasn't looking, but it seemed Usopp had unknowingly thwarted his first sake stealing attempt after their reunion.

As if reading his mind, Sanji said, "I let him steal that alcohol, you know. I'm not that stupid." He huffed, voice sounding like he was pouting as he added, "It's the only damn way I can keep an eye on his shitty drinking habits. He'd constantly drink us dry otherwise, that damn mossheaded bastard."

Usopp giggled again and made the mistake of glancing up at him. Sanji was staring across the room at the kitchen, probably the place he'd put all the good booze. He'd confided in Usopp, once, that he had two hiding places for drinking alcohol: one, more obvious place, by the fridge for the cheap stuff, and another, hidden somewhere he wouldn't say, for all the more expensive and high quality stuff. He'd confidently crowed, on more than one occasion, that despite the cheap stuff always going missing, he'd never lost a drop of anything else. He always looked so smug saying that, and well, Usopp now knew why.

But then his eye- the left one now, and despite looking right at it, the change had still caught him off guard more than once- turned to Usopp and Usopp clammed up. Sanji stared at him, his eyebrow- this one curled on the opposite side, closer to his nose bridge than his ear- raised high on his forehead. "If you're well enough to laugh at Zoro, it can't be that bad."

Usopp gulped. Looked away. "I'm not sick," he said quietly. "The food looks great, Sanji, really. Eating is just..." He trailed off. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, only the sounds of their distant crewmates enjoying the sight of their descent to the ocean's floor filling the galley.

Sanji's arm slowly, hesitantly, laid on the back of his chair- Sanji didn't used to hesitate, but, he supposed, things had changed. He settled himself in the chair next to Usopp, rather than continue to lean over him, and said softly, "Eating is just...?"

Usopp stared at the grain on the table, studying the lines and deviations with an intense and sudden fascination.

"Usopp."

"It's hard," he mumbled.

Another silence, this one less expecting and more confused. Awkward.

"You ate fine at breakfast...?" Sanji said, voice lilting up at the end, almost in question.

Usopp snorted. 'Ate fine' was a kinder way of putting it. Usopp had demolished breakfast, nearly rivaling Luffy with how much and how quickly he ate. The usual sense of desperation had dimmed slightly, now that he was with his crew, but it was still there, dictating his eating habits. He would've felt more ashamed if he hadn't seen Luffy, Franky, and Brook eating in the exact same disgusting manner. Instead, he felt right at home.

He had wondered, privately, if something similar had happened to them. Had tossed around the idea of asking them about it. Then he would think back to how they used to eat, before. How it was exactly the same. How they had all basically cried that they'd so dearly missed Sanji's cooking. He couldn't blame them, he nearly sobbed over Sanji's pancakes- and then did sob over his hashbrowns.

"The island got hungry at dawn," he started. Stopped. Stared at the little vase of daisies at the centre of the table that Robin had gathered from her garden- now shared with Usopp. "It would close up. Then open. After, everything was... safe. For a little while."

He gulped again, cringing at his dry throat. He stared at the glass of water, a little wet stain under it. Luffy had bumped his glass earlier when he stole a few chops off of Usopp's pile.

Usopp didn't reach for it.

"You know, I was expecting grand stories of your heroics when you finally talked about where you were." Usopp shrunk in his seat. "No- no, come on I didn't mean it like that. I was just trying to make a joke."

"You should leave the jokes to the experts." Usopp's lip quirked. "Even Brook's better than you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sanji scowled. "Brook wouldn't know a good joke if it kicked him upside the head."

Usopp giggled again, relaxing. "Admit it, you missed his skull jokes."

Sanji huffed. "...Maybe a little."

In the background, they could hear Zoro talking about taking a swim followed by a familiar thud and Nami yelling at him. They both giggled this time, leaning into each other.

"God, I missed everyone. I missed-" Sanji cut himself off and Usopp turned to look at him. There was a wobble to his lips and his visible eye stared intently at him. Usopp would almost say Sanji looked longing- yearning, even- if he didn't know better.

"I know," he said. "I missed everyone too." Sanji's eyes pinched a little at the corners, but Usopp didn't know why. He didn't linger on it long though, what with Sanji's smile as he pressed his temple to Usopp's for a moment. Usopp's heart would've beat wildly two years ago, but now all he felt was warm and content.

Sanji hummed in agreement and pulled away. Patting his pockets, likely for a cigarette. Usopp pulled the one tucked behind his ear, admiring the feel of soft blond hair a moment too long before handing it to him. Sanji chuckled and accepted it with a quiet thanks.

He lit it and sat back in his chair, relaxing with the first inhale. "Back to the important stuff." Usopp would argue all of that was important stuff. "You only felt safe to eat breakfast?"

Usopp shook his head. Then tilted it side to side. "No- well, sort of. It was never really safe, but..." He rolled the words around his mouth, feeling out the right ones while discarding others. "It was... easier. To eat a lot in the morning. Gather food later in the day. Then sleep when I got hungry closer to sunset."

Sanji blew out a puff of smoke. "You didn't have anyone to watch your back while you were eating?"

"I did." Usopp nodded, a sense of pride filling him as he puffed out his chest. "Heracles'n was a great friend and teacher! We took turns watching out for each other and, well, he's the reason I survived that island in the first place." He flexed one of his biceps. "He also helped me get a whole lot stronger!"

Sanji pursed his lips around his cigarette. "But you didn't eat dinner. Or lunch." Today nor in nearly two years, though Sanji likely meant the latter.

Usopp deflated, arm settling back down in his lap. "We couldn't stop moving until sunset. By then it was better to sleep and eat heap loads in the morning rather than risk dinner and not getting enough rest." He sighed. "Heracles'n was always telling me to eat more berries and fruit throughout the day, but..."

Sanji stared at him. "You had this-island-is-too-scary-so-I-can't-eat-anything-itis?"

Usopp scowled. "I'd like to see you keep up an appetite when you're constantly running and hiding from giant-"

Sanji used his arm to tug Usopp closer, so their sides were pressed together. He pressed his nose to Usopp's hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What for?" Usopp whispered back.

Sanji didn't answer, his breaths warming Usopp's head. The galley had grown silent when he finally spoke, the others having found quieter activities or retired to their rooms.

"If I was stronger then- or quicker-"

"Sanji," Usopp said. "There's no way you would've been able to beat Kuma, back then."

Sanji shook his head. "I know, but maybe we could've been sent somewhere together."

There was a bittersweet, choking feeling in the back of Usopp's throat. A burning in his eyes. "You wouldn't have liked it there," he said, laying his head on Sanji's shoulder. "You would've hated it, actually."

"But I would've been with you."

Usopp laughed, the sound wet and brittle. "I wouldn't wish that island on anyone, Sanji, but least of all you. I'm not worth-"

A hand cupped his face, cutting him off as he was turned to face Sanji. His nose was bent, pressing against Sanji's cheek. "You worth a lot, Usopp. You're worth it to-" Sanji's cheeks dusted pink all of a sudden and he looked away. "You're worth a lot. And it would've been nice if I could have watched your back. Made sure you were eating well."

At a loss for words, Usopp turned back to the table, staring at his plate. The mashed potatoes were surely cold and hard by now and he was fairly certain a thick pork chop wouldn't stay down.

The green beans, maybe. Those could work.

He picked one up. His stomach rumbled. He lifted it to his mouth.

His hands shook.

He gulped again. Stared at his hand intensely.

Sanji's hand covered his own. A sudden, terrible spike of anxiety overwhelmed him and he held his breath, hoping Sanji wasn't going to just force him to eat it. He hated wasting food after all and it was already in Usopp's hand and Usopp himself just needed to quit cowering and just eat it already-

Sanji pulled his hand away from his mouth. The tension left Usopp in a rush. Shame took up where anxiety had left, but he forced himself to meet Sanji's eye. He knew what came next.

Before Sanji could say anything, Usopp blurted, "There was food. On the island. Not just fruits and berries and whatever game we could hunt. Pre-cooked food, I mean." Sanji's brow furrowed, but Usopp continued on. "There were these plants- and rivers- that had cake and burgers and ramen and- well, you get the idea. And the closer you got to the centre of the island, the more tasty the food got." He gulped. Coughed a little. Sanji reached for his glass, but Usopp grabbed his wrist in a tight hold. If he didn't get it all out now, he never would.

"I didn't meet Heracles'n immediately. I was on my own at first and- and I didn't completely trust him at first either." He laughed, the sound as self-deprecating as it felt. "The centre of the island, that's where its mouth is."

Sanji's eyebrow furrowed further. "So when you said the island 'got hungry'..."

Usopp nodded. "It was a trap to lure in prey." Quietly, he added, "Like me."

Sanji gasped, his eyes darting down, and wow, Usopp really should've re-thought the whole 'show off his new muscles by going shirtless' plan. He pulled away from Sanji, and pulled up the waist of his pants. "Staring at my stretch marks isn't going to change anything, y'know."

Sheepishly, Sanji said, "Sorry- sorry, I should know better." He held out his arms, with a sad little pout. "Come back?"

Usopp held out for a few moments, glaring at him, but he sighed and eventually gave in. "I hate you," he mumbled into Sanji's shoulder. Sanji patted his back in response.

The two of them sat there in silence once more. Usopp savoured the contact between them, like he had always dreamed of on Boin.

"You had to train yourself to avoid delicious looking foods, then," Sanji said quietly. Usopp nodded. "That makes sense. But then, breakfast?"

A new wave of shame, far heavier than the last. He dug his forehead into Sanji's shoulder. "I don't want to talk about it."

He didn't know how to explain how he had become some kind of wild animal during meals and he didn't want to explain. Heracles'n was already one person too many and earlier, the entire crew had seen him. His heart beat hard and fast in his chest at the reminder, a belated rush of fear to make up for his single minded focus at breakfast.

"Then I won't ask," Sanji said. "You should tell Chopper though-"

Usopp grimaced. "Eventually, but..."

Sanji sighed, pressing his cheek to Usopp's hair. "Okay, but can I make you something? Just a snack or tea or...?"

Usopp huffed. "Sanji-"

"I know, I know! But letting you go to bed hungry is..."

"Hard," Usopp finished for him, pulling away. "I know."

He wasn't going anywhere before Sanji fed him, of that he was sure, but it made Usopp's stomach queasy just thinking about all the snacks Sanji used to make before they were separated.

Some of it must have shown on his face too, since Sanji was already holding up his hands and starting to look even more concerned. "It doesn't have to be anything special. I could just peel a tangerine for you or slice up some apples or juice some pears- I mean oranges! Why would anyone juice pears- oh, hm, I should check that sometime; remind me to write it down. Oh and maybe I could steep a really bitter tea, so you don't have to worry about drinking too much because I know you hate bitter things-"

And Usopp couldn't help himself. He laughed.

Sanji deflated, his brow furrowed in confusion, or maybe it was concern. Usopp didn't know, he was too busy laughing at the absurdity of Sanji being so anxious and speaking every rambling thought. It was adorable and Usopp couldn't help but reach up and squish Sanji's cheeks.

"I lo-" Sanji's eye widened and suddenly, Usopp didn't feel brave enough. "Lost my notebook. We'll have to use one of yours."

"O-Oh, yeah, sure." Sanji nodded, voice slightly muffled by his squished cheeks. He stared at Usopp, his eye asking another question.

Usopp looked away, his eyes landing on the fruit bowl on the bar counter. There were apples, bananas, and pears. He pulled his hands away. "...Nami will be mad at you." he said quietly, weakly.

Sanji sighed, a shaky, relieved little thing. He wrapped his arms around Usopp's middle, crushing him to his chest. "I think she'll forgive me," he said.

Boldly, Usopp added, "What if you made coffee?" The only coffee in the pantry was a fancy jar brought along from a Revolutionary base near a village that prided themselves on their harvest.

Sanji chuckled. "Robin would forgive me too."

Usopp hummed. "You seem awfully confident."

"I am," he said, pulling away completely, his chair squeaking against the floorboards as he stood. Sanji held out a hand, a smile on his lips. "If you don't believe me, let me show you."

And right here, Usopp could've chosen to laugh it off. Said something about not wanting to face Nami's wrath, much less Robin's. Fled the galley completely with an excuse or three and sleep in his workshop while ignoring any and all feelings of guilt. It would've been easy.

But he'd already accepted it. Acknowledged the inevitable consequences instead of turning down those anxious suggestions. How could he do anything else, in the face of such genuine care and concern? To leave now would just hurt them both and the last thing Usopp wanted to do was hurt Sanji.

And, well, he trusted Sanji, to do what he couldn't. Planned to trust him with his heart, at some point.

Trusting him with his stomach, in comparison, was as easy as breathing.

So, Usopp placed a steady hand in Sanji's own, a small, teasing smile on his face, and said, "Lead the way."

#one piece #sanuso #sanji #usopp #meant to be pre-relationship but can be read however #nemo the writing ho #side note: dear god this ended up way longer than intended #had a nice time writing them being gay though 💚#gotta remember to put this on ao3 later #belated tag i forgot to add but this was inspired by redriotinggg's post the other day #i was POSSESSED with the need to write after reading it lmao

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crvstybowlofcereal · 1 year

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this is a really specific vent(?) post. im processing things by putting them in words. its not serious, feel free to ignore me lol

i just want to say that a couple years ago when i was in the beginning stages of researching autism (and would soon realize i am most likely autistic) i was in a relationship. and communication in a relationship is So Very important to me. I would constantly ask how he was (obviously it was more specific to whatever situation was going on) and he would always say he was fine. If I had even the Slightest hint that he wasn't actually Fine (like 19 times out of 20) i would continue asking if he was sure and if he wanted to talk, and he continued to say he was fine. half the time i assumed he meant it and i read the situation wrong, the other half of the time i assumed he didn't want to talk about it.

he ended up breaking up with me because i

"didn't pick up on some things"

"what kind of things?" i asked

"idk, just, things."

and he had been talking to my friend (U) about our relationship, and telling her that i wasn't picking up on things. she got mad at me and we had a "fight" for a short time, she thought i was being a bad partner, and her sister (M) (who is toxic and possessive) felt like i wasn't spending enough time with her, so she complained about it to their mom, who got mad at U for it for some reason? so U also brought all that up, telling me M felt left out. (i wasn't leaving M out of anything, i was sitting with my partner at lunch half of the time, she was welcome to join, but didnt, looking back i think M has RSD and maybe i should have been more direct when moving to a new location to explicitly invite her) (U was also not in school at the time due to covid, so its not like i was spending more time with her over M, which is something M would get so upset about if she perceived it to be that way [she was incredibly possessive of me as a friend and the extent of it made me feel like an object tbh])

U never brought up the issues my partner talked about, because that's how we are, we don't make it known someone was venting to us, to respect their privacy, but it fueled her emotions during our "argument" so i really only heard her being mad at me for not including M, (which i later learned is because M's emotions were made to be her problem when they shouldn't have, this has been a running problem so it wasnt that surprising to learn) so i started spending more time with M, but it was school, and i had work, so schedules only allowed so much time, and any time I was with M (lunch and one class) was when i was also with my partner, but i had other classes with him so i assumed it was fine, but he started drifting away (also around a time i attempted to communicate something important about our relationship, which ended up making him uncomfortable, but he didn't say anything about it until we had a conversation after breaking up)

i was stuck in a place where i felt like no one around me communicated how they felt and still expected me to understand them and do what they wanted me to do

U and i recently reflected on this and realized my ex was a shitty communicator (he and his next partner also broke up because he didn't say how he felt and expected them [also most likely autistic] to... just kinda know ig?) and that she should have gotten my side of the story (she had no idea i was frequently checking on him and trying to get him to talk to me)

and that she wasnt actually upset at me about M, she was upset that people were making it her problem, and she was especially upset during this reflection to learn that M was not being left out at all, she was just doing That Thing again where she wanted me to be Her friend and Only Her friend.

U AND I ARE NOT MAD AT EACH OTHER FOR ANY OF THIS, I WAS NEVER MAD AT U AND U WAS ONLY MAD ABOUT HER PERCEPTION OF THE SITUATION, AND ONLY FOR A SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME, EVERYTHING IS FINE

so basically i went like a year and a half thinking that people were rightfully mad at me and i was too self absorbed to pay attention to other peoples' emotions and i started learning how to read people again (clearly my body language research from middle school wasn't cutting it anymore) only for me to realize i just need people to be a little more direct that allistic people typically are, and those specific people were just being dogshit at communicating, (even for allistic people, relative to my needs)

anyways highschool post-covid was Really Fucking Weird and socially stressful for me

TL;DR reflecting on my communication needs not only not being met, but being far undershot for even a "normal" persons needs and how i was convinced I was the problem because of circumstances

#U and i are best friends and have been for 7 years now #U and M are twins #M and i barely talk anymore now that she has Other Friends (grateful tbh)#i know i previously brought up having an ex bf with messy hair and eyeshadow. this ex was Not Him #(my identity as a lesbian was shakey in highschool- i was figuring things out)#(i had several “girlfriends” in middle school (all lasting less than a week after the first because religious guilt))#(but in highschool i had two separate boyfriends and zero girlfriends)#oh god my first ex is such a fucking story but thats for another time #also the ex in this post was like. REALLY fucking obsessed with spiderman #it was great frfr #but it made anything spiderman related super weird for me for a like a year after the breakup #he broke up with me On our 7 month anniversary like right after school got out for summer #the next school year was awkward bc he was in one of my year long classes and we had a LOT of mutual friends #he also started dating his next partner like a week or two after breaking up with me #i was also pushing down ALL my emotions at this time so when i finally Let Myself Feel Things a couple months later i played Good 4 U a LOT #17 was a fucking weird year for me frfr #honestly ALL of my teenage years have been rough and i have never actually let myself acknowledge that before This Moment #and that feels really weird to say because im technically still a teenager #this post ended up way fucking longer than i thought it was gonna be #(also going back to the middle school “relationships” ive sorta-almost-dated a good handful of people #but i only consider 3 people to actually be “exes”)

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sorenlionheart · 1 year

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gonna be honest, despite all the love drama in the comics, i still genuinely see sonally as a relationship without labels. not that they don't have romantic feelings for one another or don't use them at all but since they don't really align with societies expectations of romance they decide to use labels very sparingly. neither of them really know what to expect or what they should expect from a relationship so they just don't put a label on it. but if sonic was to be called sally's boyfriend she probably wouldn't deny it, y'know? they both know their feelings run deeper than they let on but it's not something that they're really worried about. they probably have a conversation about this stuff but since neither of them have a clue of how romance works (or how it's "supposed" to work) they decide they'll just take it one day at a time and they can worry about labels another time.

if any of this makes any sense, i feel like this is probably a very ace (and neurodivergent) way of seeing their relationship but that's how i feel

#soren.txt #sonally #anyways they are my blorbos i love them very much #i never rly post in tags anymore outside of the occasional art posts and im posting this at 8 am on no sleep if you haven't noticed lol #but seriously i never understood why some adaptions of sonic make him into this flirtatious guy? it makes no sense to me #he'd only be a flirt to get what he wants /lh #not that he'd never flirt period but i feel like he'd be a lot more comfortable with it in private (and later on in their relationship)#but its a learning process for both of them #it takes sally even longer to muster the courage to even flirt back #because i also like to think that sonic is one of the few people who sees sally as someone more than just a princess #and someone more than the leader of the freedom fighters. because she's so much more than that. and vice versa with sally towards sonic #so when they're alone they feel more free to just be themselves #because they know those expectations aren't being thrusted upon them #this got more rambley than expected hi i care about my first otp a lot

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industria-adastra · 2 years

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So...

Since AntarcPhos is pretty dead, I guess it's time to consider...

*drumroll*

PadpaPhos

Yeah. Just two bros chilling and bonding over their desire to peace out permanently. And also why not?

I could have a whole entire meta delving into how Padpa confided into Phos out of all people and how Phos and Padpa's red and blue oni dynamic was pretty interesting. Alongside with Phos pretty much yoinking Padpa to the moon to fix them and Padpa immediately being 100% down to do whatever for their cause. I'd say it culminates in the whole yanking out a nice hunk of gem flesh in front of Rutile but that entire hot mess also requires including Rutile and Padpa's complex (and technically unhealthy) relationship AND the kind of mindsets they have.

So yeah PadpaPhos why not amirite.

(Currently they can in fact chill out together as two lifeless bros seeing as 96 implies/outright bricks us in the face that Padpa is probably not coping too well with being an immortal banking on their mentally broken, mentally disintegrating junior to whole-heartedly desire salvation/nothingness for them. Like at least if they're shattered or missing a few hunks of their flesh they can sleep it out in the closest approximation of eternal nothingness (death lite edition) rather than spend a couple millennia grinding more points for apathy as ennui sets in with the speed of light.)

#houseki no kuni #hnk #land of the lustrous #hnk phos #phosphophyllite #padparadscha #hnk padparadscha #personal post #padpaphos #and why you could consider shipping it #it wouldn't be like me to not go into at least one rarepair for a fandom lol #anyways this got longer than i expected huh #stan padpaphos for absolutely nothing but vibes alone (joke)#although tbh hnk and shipping is kinda like there but not the main point #the most outright romantic relationship in hnk is between a manipulative (nihilistic? am I using this term right) arsehole and #their new shiny pet project they can wind up however they want them to #there's probably like 99+ metas on Cairnmea and how downright awful it is but like I feel like writing about how awful it is too #maybe in a later post

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sabertoothwalrus · 2 months

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here are some preliminary sketches I had done in my sketchbook for the peepaw chilchuck comic.

I wanted to follow it up with some worldbuilding thoughts I had while working on it, if that sort of thing is interesting to anyone:

- it’d take place 5ish years post-canon

- I changed almost everyone’s hair to show time had passed. Chilchuck and Kabru were the most drastic (I COULDNT STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT LONG HAIR KABRU THAT KUI DREW), Marcille grew out her bangs, Senshi’s beard is slightly shorter, and Izutsumi’s hair is mildly longer. Laios and Falin give me the impression that they’re the brand of neurodivergent that’d pick one haircut and stick to it for the rest of their lives. I almost gave Laios facial hair but idk he’s gotten over his daddy issue enough for that.

- Emertim Chils: I tried to follow both the half-foot and dwarven naming conventions for the baby, so Emer- comes from “emerald” (dwarven names are often gemstones or ore) and -tim because Chilchuck’s father’s first name was Tim :) Dwarves don’t have family names, so Emertim would take Chils, same as Flertom. Usually they’re named after their father but I didn’t wanna name a random dwarf man. thank you Chel for helping name him 🫶💕

- Initially the idea that Chilchuck would keep an entire grandchild a secret was just a joke, but it made sense when I thought about it. I wonder,, would dwarf/half-foot couples have trouble conceiving? Because if so, I’d imagine Flertom may have lost a couple pregnancies. Chilchuck is already such a private person, and I don’t think he’d feel comfortable airing his daughter’s grief like that. They wouldn’t wanna tell anyone until they were sure this baby was gonna make it.

- For the above reason, Chilchuck would absolutely spoil this kid. Not that he wouldn’t have spoiled his grandkids anyway, but I think after all that stress, he’d be extra extra doting. He’d be letting him do things he’d never DREAM of letting his own daughters do. Completely different parenting style.

- I think he’s still too prideful to take advantage of Laios being King (sidenote: is Laios even wealthy??? does a kingdom that sprung up from a previously-sunken continent even have money?? what the fuck is their economy), but like,,, if Laios offered any gifts he wouldn’t exactly say no.

- Izutsumi surprisingly really likes the baby :3 she’d like to take naps with him and he’d like her purrs and she’d have a lot of fun playing with him.

- SENSHI. meemaw mode. That kid would grow up not realizing Senshi isn’t technically one of his grandads. He is FEEEEEDING this kid.

- LAIOS DOES GET TO HOLD THE BABY!!!!!! just. eventually. They don’t actually expect a Tarrare situation LMAO they just wait until the kid is a little less fragile and a little more mobile. I think Laios would be really good with toddlers.

- Chilchuck is very thankful Emertim’s half-foot genes kick in sooner than later because he was getting too big for him to carry.

- Emertim would probably get the extended lifespan. He and Marcille would get to stay friends for a very very long time :’)

- my personal headcanon is that Chilchuck and his wife decide to split. He still loves her and it’s probably still a bit mutual, but after four years of almost no-contact, they decide their communication issues aren’t working well for their relationship. Plus, the Adventurer’s Bible says Chilchuck is renting their old house out to family, and he’d feel bad kicking them out so he and wife could move back in. They’d still be on good terms, and would be good at coordinating when to babysit.

#do yall like this sort of post…?#my art #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi spoilers #chilchuck tims

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joeloverture · 3 months

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morning cardio | dbf!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | updates blog pairing: dbf!neighbor!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] your neighbor and dad's longtime buddy catches you sneaking back home after an underwhelming hook-up. you want more — he provides. warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!neighbor!joel, age gap (23/50), reader has a bad relationship with her father, reader's father is overly strict, reader hooks up with an oc, dirty talk, soft!dom joel, degradation, praise, thigh riding, 1 spank, titty slapping, daddy kink, exhibitionism but nobody sees, almost caught, heavy petting, misogyny for sexiness that joel doesn't actually believe in since he's a sweetheart [no use of y/n] word count: 3.7k a/n: watch me almost exclusively post dbf joel. watch me. also, mind the tags, they've changed slightly since i posted the teaser. this was supposed to be a series. this is no longer the case bc i'm indecisive. sorry.

Mistake number one: your eyes are crusted shut with the mascara you’d forgotten to wipe off.

Mistake number two: the bed you wake up in is not your own.

Mistake number three: sleeping with your neighbor.

Rubbing your mascara-sealed eyes, you blink yourself into consciousness and instantly regret it. There’s a moment of stillness, time stretching as you take in the room underneath the swelling orange sunlight. The window is cracked just enough to give you a glimpse at the world outside — birds chirping, sprinklers spritzing, cars crunching gravel as they pull out of the driveway. Surrounding the narrow, rumpled bed is a graveyard of orphaned socks. A box fan whirrs in the corner. The room had felt much cleaner past midnight when it was only the yellowed street lamp outside shining through the window. Then you spot the digital clock on the cluttered bedside table reads 6:10, ten minutes later than you’d wanted to be awake for, and time returns to its regular pace.

Your heart kicks awake in your chest, veins going cold. You kick the sheets off of your sweaty body, roll out of bed, and stumble two steps before planting your feet on the carpet below. Even that isn’t enough to stir your hookup. Dylan Andrews.

It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Both of you were home for spring break. Both of you had flirted at the block party with each other. He was only decent-looking and mediocre with his hands, but you needed a break from spending another night in your childhood bedroom. What better way to do it than with a dick appointment?

Again. It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Sneaking out underneath the nose of your strict, tough-as-nails dad was the easy part. Sneaking back in? Less easy. And to make matters worse, you were already ten minutes behind.

Shit.

You tiptoe across the room, naked as the day you were born, and stuff your underappreciated lingerie into your backpack. Without even putting your panties or bra on, you hop into your shorts and wrestle with your hoodie. By the time you’re out of Dylan’s room, it’s 6:12.

The difference between your dad and Dylan’s mom? She doesn’t give a shit what side of town Dylan wakes up on or how much alcohol is sloshing around in his system as long as he’s safe. You’re not the first girl to do the walk of shame out of Ms. Andrews' generic McMansion house, and you’re far from the last.

She’s downstairs in front of the coffee maker, still wearing her pajamas and doing a Dollar General crossword when you slip past her kitchen unnoticed. The door clangs shut behind you, and you figure she must see you walking down the cul-de-sac.

Your dad always leaves for work at 6:45 after a freezing cold shower and a steaming cup of black coffee for balance. You can only hope his shower ran a little late and that he isn’t at the dining room table already. Cramming two steps into one, you continue with your beeline down the awakening street.

You’re followed home by the mailboxes and flower beds, the pebbles you kick with every step. You’re almost to the property line, prepared to make a mad dash to your front door when you hear the faint call of your name. You skid to a stop, and turn to face the source: the craftsman-style house next door.

And there he is – Joel Miller, sitting on one of the cushioned chairs of his front porch in nothing but his sleep shorts and a t-shirt, legs spread as wide as the chair can accommodate. There’s a smug, knowing look on his face, one that says I’ve caught you. See how you can get out of this.

It’s been a long time since you’ve been face to face with Joel — Mr. Miller. You’d think you’d see him more often, with him being your dad’s buddy and your neighbor, but it’s been since summer. You’re sure he must be having the time of his life by joining your just got laid parade.

“You’re up awful early,” he calls, beckoning you up the driveway with a come-hither movement of his fingers. Leaving your dignity at the curb, you pad up the yard to his porch, climbing one of the stairs to lean against the gutter that feeds into his shrubbery. Pollen and moss is scattered across the wooden deck, surrounding a package that he hasn’t bothered to pick up yet. His guitar is off to the side, propped up against the doorway of the house. You wonder if he’d been playing when he’d seen you walking by.

Joel’s covered for you before, briefly and sparingly. Taken the fall for the half-empty bottle of fireball in your dresser even though he’d never go within ten feet of that shit, blamed it on himself for accidentally leaving it behind after fixing a wheel that had jumped off track for you. Even though your dad had chewed him out for drinking on the job, he’d still managed to sneak it back to you with the wise words of hiding it in a sock next time. You’d been two months past your twenty-first when that had happened, and maybe Joel had pitied you after realizing how authoritarian his friend was.

You aren’t as sure if he’ll pity you now.

“Needed some fresh air,” you defend lamely, hands hanging limp by your sides.

“Needed some cock?” he corrects, and his bluntness makes you choke. He seems relaxed for the words that just came out of his mouth, fingers drumming on his impossibly large thighs, a playful smirk resting on his lips.

You sputter, “No! Jesus, what the hell–”

“I got eyes, hun. Saw you leave that Andrews kid’s place. Clearly he didn’t stick it to ya that good if you’re still walkin’ steady,” he comments. His head tilts.

“Joel,” you hiss, eyes flitting to your dad’s house next door. He seems to read your mind, his smirk widening.

“Wonder what your pops would think. Bet I have a pretty good idea. His little angel, sneakin’ around and whorin’ herself out.” He clicks his tongue at you. “A damn shame.”

Heat spools low in your stomach and down to your unsatisfied center. You wish you’d worn darker colored shorts instead of the flimsy gray things you have on. There’s no barrier of your panties to stop yourself from leaking all over them, and with the way Joel’s looking at you, eyes dark and sly, you’re wishing there was.

“Can’t even imagine what you’re gettin’ up to at that college ‘a yours. Bet you had five guys inside of ya all at once, and I sure ain’t talkin’ about burgers, hun.” He lounges back in his chair, watching you.

You feel yourself gush. Heat burns in your thighs, and they rub together on instinct, seeking to extinguish that brimming ache between your legs. You bunch your hands in the fabric of your sweatshirt and can’t stop yourself from squirming underneath his gaze. It’s not like you’ve never thought about this, this with him of all people when you’re underneath your covers and your hand finds the warm junction between your thighs. Always unattainable. Always just out of reach.

You whisper again, “Joel,” but this time, it comes out as more of a moan. Humiliation warms your cheeks and chest, forming a different kind of pit in your stomach.

“Hmmmm?” Joel hums at you with a raised brow. He’s casual, indifferent, almost. But then his eyes flicker up and down, stopping at the wet patch smeared across the front of your shorts, the way your thighs press tight, tensing before letting go. “Ah. A little slut shamin’ gets you all riled up, hun?” That tears a whimper from you. He does that stupid come hither motion again, and like a lost dog, you listen. Standing in front of him, you feel completely, utterly exposed.

He adjusts himself in his chair, and you swallow the building lump in your throat when you see his bulge hardening. It sends another zap of heat to your core, and then another, more surprised one when his hand goes up to grab at your tit. Your breath catches as he thumbs one of your hardened nipples. A triumphant noise echoes out of him. “Braless, too?” His other hand goes down to your shorts, playing with the waistband. “Prancin’ around in these short, skimpy things, too. Practically giving the whole neighborhood a free peep show.”

His hand slides lower. Lower. Pans over to the crease of your thigh and then his thumb is planting over your clit, rubbing only once before he pulls away. “Messy pussy. Bet you stained the guys sheets.”

You’re quiet, staring at him, his wicked fucking expression, those hands that look like sin itself. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Ah. Poor baby. All this effort and you didn’t even get to come.” He just looks at you. Unmoving. Not doing a single damn thing to get you there.

“Please, Joel,” you whisper, embarrassed by the gritty need already embedded into your voice when he’s hardly even touched you.

And he’s still wearing that wolfish look, that tainted-with-intention gleam in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what you do want when he asks, “What? What do you want?” He licks his lips, a fleeting moment.

You look over your shoulder, at the rising street. Anyone could have their windows cracked. Anyone could hear you confess on this porch. Still, you murmur, “I… I want you to make me come, Joel.” Your voice shivers a little bit along with the stroke of wind that wisps against the backs of your thighs.

His brows raise together, now. His head tips forward. “What was that? A little louder. You know, my ears really ain’t the sharpest these days…”

Fucking bastard.

“I want,” you say again, fighting to stop your voice from wavering, to keep it not too loud but not too quiet. “you to make me come.”

Joel sucks on his teeth for a second. “Ohhh. Now I don’t think that’s really fair, hun.” He gives you a mockingly sad look.

“Why?” you ask, and you know you sound as whiny as a petulant child. But he’d been correct earlier. You put in all of this effort, sneaking out for a thrilling night that had turned into something more like two sweaty bodies moving together and only one of them feeling good from it. You want to feel good. You’re tired of looking at the right and the wrong. Joel’s sitting in front of you, his thumb still smelling like your arousal; that’s what’s right.

“You’re out here breakin’ all the rules. Shouldn’t be rewarding you for that, sweetheart. Besides, it’s a little fucked up, dontcha think? Makin’ you come all over me while your pops, my buddy, is none the wiser gettin’ ready for work next door?” His vulgarity only weakens you even more, pussy clenching and begging to be filled. You’re about to protest again when he cuts in, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help ya out.”

Your heart pedals in your chest, eager and wanting. But Joel, instead of getting up and elbowing you inside like you expect, stays right where he is. He pats one of his splayed thighs, the grin on his face only widening. Your face contorts. Joel hears your question before you ask.

“What? Never humped someone’s leg before? With how much of a bitch in heat you’re actin’ right now, I’m surprised.” You can feel the shock on your face plain as day. Joel jerks his head down to his thigh, egging you on. “Better hurry up if you want my help, sweetheart. Pretty sure your dad’s about to get goin’, and I sure don’t have all day, either.”

The rapidly shrinking part of yourself that isn’t consumed with desire tells you to take a step back. That anyone, God forbid, even the Adlers across the street could witness this. Talk about a free peep show.

You think of the alternative: sneaking back into your house with a hope and a prayer that your dad won’t find you, backpack over your shoulder and shoes on, as you climb the stairs back to your bedroom. Open up your Joel-advised dresser drawer of things your dad says you shouldn’t have and pull out your vibrator. Do the same old hassle of a routine, desperately trying to make yourself come. Reach an unfulfilling peak.

Or… take what Joel’s offering you. Risks and all.

You take a tentative step forward, glaring at Joel when he chuckles because of your hesitance, and plop yourself down on his thigh. The pressure against your clit immediately pulls a whimper from you. His big hands fix themselves on your hips, holding tight, but not too tight as to hold you captive against him. There’s still the faint existence of the Joel you’ve always known, considerate and sweet and all southern gentleman, that exists behind the guise of his dominance.

You nestle your head into the crook of his neck, breathing heavy against him as you get a slow start to grinding your hips on his thigh. Although your movements are tentative, uncertain in nature, your head is already going fuzzy.

“Bet you’re only this wet cause that boy already put a new load in your dishwasher.” You scoff at him in disbelief — both at how much more wet it gets you, and how foul his words are. He chooses then to jerk you forward by the hips. You cry out as your pussy drags along the thick expanse of his thigh, clit catching on the bunched up fabric of your rumpled shorts.

“Zip it, you fuckin’ hussy. Ain’t a damn soul in this neighborhood that wants to wake up to you sobbin’ while gettin’ off on this thigh.” One of his hands drifts back to squeeze at the flesh of your ass. You hear the spank before you feel it, a sting that echoes and sticks right between your legs. He’s effortlessly strung a barbed wire of humiliation around your body. The lack of power makes your thighs clamp down around his, and you can’t tell if you crave more of it or despise it.

Unable to decide which, you loudly, exaggeratedly moan into his ear, still rocking down on his lap. It resounds through the neighborhood, the springboard roofs ricocheting you coquettish noises down the street and through the flowerbeds. A spooked crow lifts off of the power lines behind you, and you hear it squawk as its wings beat and carry it away.

Joel cocks his head at you, brow raised. “So it’s not just your legs that have a problem stayin’ shut. It’s your nasty mouth, too.” His hands migrate up your sides to your tits, which jostle with every flighty movement across his thigh. Before you know what he’s doing, he tweezes at your nipples in a way that makes you melt into him, forehead falling flat against his neck. And then he lands a hard smack across your chest, pleasure with a bite. Your hips jolt. “Behave for daddy before I make you walk next door draggin’ a snail trail behind ya.”

You know he doesn’t mean your real dad. A new rush of heat settles in your stomach, tightening your cunt from an ache to an insatiable thrumming that only Joel can solve. “Fuck,” you almost shout, but end up muffling into his skin with an open-mouthed kiss. He sighs, adjusting under you. The change in angle on your clit makes you whimper, especially when you feel his hardened length smushed against the outside of your thigh.

Your hand goes down to grip it, to participate in the push and pull, the cat and mouse, but he shakes his head, pulling it out of the way. He holds you by the small of your back, urging you to keep rubbing on him. “You’re lucky I’m even givin’ you my thigh,” he spits. “Ain’t gonna let you play chutes and ladders tryna make me come when I know damn well where that hand was last night.”

“Daddy,” you pout at him, lower lip jutting out.

He only shakes his head. “Don’t start.”

Whining in agitation, you manage to school yourself into behaving like he’d told you to. Every grind of your hips welcomes pleasure, beckons it, activates the porch light inside of you that invites it inside. You go limp against Joel as he guides you back and forth, and even limper when he tightens the muscle underneath your soaking core. Your hands anchor themselves on his broad shoulders, nails carving into his skin through the flimsy material of his shirt. He hisses underneath you, a break in his seemingly titanium resolve. You feel yourself getting closer, heat wreathing around your stomach, cunt clenching.

In your house, the foyer light flickers on.

Your hips stall over Joel’s as you see your dad’s backlit silhouette moving around in the foyer. Likely sliding on his shoes, patting his pockets for his wallet and his work phone…. You have two minutes at best.

Joel’s eyes follow your distracted line of vision. His amused chuckle warms the back of your neck. “Oughta hurry up if you don’t wanna get caught. Your old man would be in for a rude awakening, headin’ to work and finding his precious little girl fuckin’ my leg like a whore,” he murmurs.

He bounces his leg underneath you, and you bite back the needy cry that threatens to slip out. It feels so good, too good for you to think about anything other than the haze of arousal and pleasure that hovers over your head like a perpetual fog. You return to grinding down on him, hips pumping with a greater, renewed speed. “Attagirl,” Joel croons at you, and the hand at the small of your back presses harder, pushing you up and down his thigh.

Short, strained breaths of yours meet the morning air, eyes pinned on the rectangular window. It’s a golden-washed reminder of how wrong this is. Your dad would blow a gasket, see red, breathe fire at you if he knew exactly what was happening just a few feet away from his front yard.

But you forget all about that when Joel’s calloused fingers cup your chin, nudging you to look at him. His eyes are all pupil, darkened with something like starvation, something like want. “Don’t look at him. Look at me,” he coaxes, and he bounces his thigh again.

You’re close, you can feel it. He can feel it, too, in the way that your thighs fasten around his, your cunt rocking on him as your fervor makes the whole front porch shake and shudder. Tossing your hips back and forth, you wanted it, but now? Now you need it. Your stomach tightens, your legs shivering below you as your cunt gushes all over both of your shorts. “That’s it, baby, come on me like you were beggin’ to. ‘S alright, nice and easy for daddy, mhm?” He tenses his thigh one final time, and you lurch over that edge. “Gooood girl,” he hums as your cunt flutters against his leg. “You’re a daredevil, aren’t you?” he asks, jerking his head toward your house.

You figure you must be, after what you just did.

You’d planned on staying there, riding it out and trembling against his warm chest. But the garage cranks open. You jolt off of Joel’s lap, damn near teleporting across the porch with how fast you move. Joel smirks at you, crossing his unfucked leg over his freshly fucked one, where you’d rubbed your cum all over his skin until it’d glistened. The sight warms your stomach all over again, but it doesn’t last – nerves spasm in your ribcage as your dad ducks out into the driveway.

You fumble with your shorts, pulling them down and crossing your hands in front of the obvious stain on the gray fabric. Your dad squints across the yard, cupping a hand over his eyes. “Miller?” He calls your name shortly after, and you straighten. “You’re up early, kiddo.”

You open your mouth, on the precipice of a lie that you know won’t be good. It’ll come out unsteady, dishonest, and uneven.

Joel points at the package at the foot of his doorstep. “My toolbox got sent to yours,” he explains. “Damn postal. ‘Bout as good as the Boston Post Road these days. But your kid’s got me covered. Raised her right.”

For the second time, Joel Miller covers for you. You have no idea where this leaves you, standing under your dad’s scrutinizing gaze. With your cum cooling and sticking to your folds the same way it’s cooling and sticking to his leg, Joel knows your secret. And he’s keeping it.

Your dad only gives a shallow nod, looking between the two of you. “Well,” he hooks a hand back at his truck. “I gotta head off to work.” He shifts on his feet, this time pointing to you. “And you head back inside, kiddo. Too early for you to be up and movin’.” Of course it is.

You stare at the ground, the pollen and stray leaves below your feet. Finally, you settle on a nod. Shallow and halfhearted, much like his. Your dad, satisfied, retreats back into the garage. You hear the truck engine come to life.

“You heard the man,” Joel says. You tighten your fists, moving to step away, but the way Joel’s eyes glimmer has you loitering. He lowers his voice. “See you soon, daredevil.”

That damned nickname. “How do you know I’ll be back?” you retort under your breath.

He shrugs. “I’m sure there’ll be more… ‘packages’.”

You blame the heat in your body on the rising sun, sweat clinging to the back of your neck as you plod off through the front yard. There’s only one thought in your head as your dad pulls out and you close the garage. Mr. Miller can’t happen again.

Mistake number four: thinking you’re telling the truth.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic

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jk97 · 3 months

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Unprofessional Attraction | ONE

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 13K ♡ series synopsis - There's no such thing as a coincidence, right? CollegeSenior!Reader (22) and linguistics teacher Yunho Jeong (27) indulge in an entanglement of inappropriate gravitation. It's risky and it's wrong, but listening to one's better judgment never leads to anything as intoxicating. When someone threatens this secret relationship with blackmail to expose the truth, things take a turn for the worse. Graduation can't seem to come fast enough. ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff and explicit content (mdni), slight age gap, teacher/student relationship, other members are featured, pining, some obsessive behavior and manipulation (mainly from reader), drinking alcohol, inebriated driving (big no no frens!) perverted!yunho, bigdick!yunho, sprinkles of praise, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (mention of bc pill tho), porn with plot ♡ A/N - part one is kinda tame, the next two parts will have more explicit scenes. I hope you enjoy, and please look forward to the rest! I haven't posted a fic on tumblr in many years so pls be kind ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | ?

Yeosang is too attentive, especially when it comes to his best friend.

That’s why he knows you well enough to call you out when he whispers, “You’re staring again.”

“I’m staring at the whiteboard, pretty sure that’s what you’re supposed to do in class,” you argue, not bothering to even glance at him. It’s quite obvious that your eyes are too busy soaking in things that don’t have to do with phonology.

Your linguistics teacher, Yunho Jeong, is dressed particularly charmingly today. Something about the tight-fitting white polo shirt and chocolate brown slacks he has on this class is too distracting. It doesn’t help that his hair is a little more messy than usual, you wonder if he was running late this morning. Linguistics has nothing to do with your major, however, for your final semester in college, you simply needed a filler class for your last few credits. Yeosang suggested joining him in this class so you could both support each other, but he never factored in the fact that you’d be too distracted by the teacher to do anything of use for him. There weren’t many younger teachers such as Yunho at your university; in fact, you were pretty sure this was only his second semester teaching in general. He was generally a mild-mannered and easygoing teacher, but he was also able to command a room when necessary.

A minute later, Yunho offers everyone a 10-minute break since the last section of his lecture lasted a little longer than he anticipated, and the class immediately breaks out into chatter.

“He’s single, you know,” Yeosang turns towards you and props up his head on his palm, “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Don’t tell me things like that, you’ll make me delusional.”

He doesn’t miss the goofy smile tugging at your lips as you stretch your tired limbs from too much sitting. The lectures for this class were two hours long, but they were only twice a week on Wednesdays and Fridays, so you couldn’t complain too much.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That I might have a chance with him,” you nudge him playfully.

“I’m not sure he’d want to date someone barely passing his own class,” Yeosang quips quickly, subsequently squeezing his eyes shut when you flick his forehead in response.

“Watch your mouth, I am not ‘barely passing’!” You return your eyes to the subject of your conversation, slowly taking in his form, “For the record, I could definitely pull him if I tried to. You think he likes younger women?”

“That is a terrible idea,” your best friend immediately shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Surely I would be guaranteed to pass then though, no?” you offer instead, half-joking.

“You haven’t gotten laid in the last month and this is the first person that comes to your mind to fix that?” Yeosang scoffs incredulously.

“I wouldn’t just be in it for the sex,” you clarify. Your keen eyes watch his every move, from the way that his large hands flex as he thumbs at his phone to the way he purses his lips in curiosity at whatever he’s looking up. Like a lion stalking a gazelle before pouncing. “He’s quite literally perfect. Tall, smart, handsome, financially stable… the whole package. I deserve a man like that, right Yeo?”

You meet Yeosang’s eyes curiously, and he reminds you, “I think you’re forgetting he’s our teacher .”

“We graduate soon,” you whine, “Act now, worry later. I could graduate with a boyfriend already lined up the minute I get handed my degree.”

“You’re playing with fire, ____,” he holds his hands up in surrender. As your best friend, he knows you’re not joking, despite how much you might play it off later. He knows that once you set your mind on something, you generally don’t stop until it’s achieved, “Let’s see you try, though. It’ll be entertaining.”

When class resumes, you listen to the rest of his lecture with renewed cravings and an unusually optimistic disposition Yeosang has never seen you hold for this subject.

From that moment forward, every instance you “stumbled” across your teacher was planned. You figured out which parking lot he parked his car on during the day and bought a proper parking pass for that lot, now alternating between taking the shuttle and your car to the university. Your schedules crossed occasionally on your driving days, and you’d simply offer warm greetings or cheerful send-offs depending on the time of day. Yunho was a man of habit who visited the same campus restaurant nearly every day he worked during lunchtime in between his midday classes. It didn’t take much energy to stop by a couple of days a week and run into Yunho, giving you the ability to strike up a conversation or two when asking for recommendations on what you should order. These instances were simply to put you more on his radar, instead of just being a face in the sea of students in his class.

He seems to be good friends with two other teachers who are also around his age, teachers Seonghwa Park and San Choi. You wonder if getting in their good graces would somehow transfer to your teacher, by word of mouth. Luckily, you have a friend who has Mr. Park for a history seminar. On a Sunday night, you shoot a text to set the stage.

[Y/N: Jongho!!!! It’s been so long since we’ve hung out :(( Can I swing by your class tomorrow and pick you up? Let’s get lunch!]

When 2 PM rolls around on Monday, you make the mistake of trusting the shuttle to come on time. It’s nearly 3 PM when you get to the necessary building, and you’re sure Jongho’s class ended close to half an hour ago. The plan to run across Mr. Park is thrown completely out of the window, you are only worried about Jongho being upset with you. You know he’d never, but still. Being late to something planned ahead of time always upsets you to no end. You curse at yourself over and over every stride down the hall, and it’s good that the hallways are virtually empty or else you’d probably look crazy. Eventually, you make it to your destination.

You’re just about to blindly call out an apology to Jongho but end up stopping dead in your tracks as soon as you enter the door; not only is Mr. Park in the room seated at his desk, but he’s also accompanied by Mr. Choi and Mr. Jeong. They’re huddled together, Yunho leaning against the whiteboard leisurely with a cup of coffee in his hand while intently listening to Seonghwa complain about the registrar’s office fucking up another one of his student’s enrollment for his class.

“There she is,” Jongho sighs this aloud as if his prayers have been answered.

He didn’t know if you were going to still make it and he’s dying of hunger from skipping breakfast. Immediately, all three men’s eyes turn towards the entrance. You pray to God that your face isn’t flushed with how hot you feel being the fixation of so many eyes. Or maybe it’s more so how handsome the men are that those eyes are coming from. This surely isn’t the time to have such a weakness for a strapping man in a button-up and crisp slacks.

“Hello, ____,” Yunho is the first of the three to speak. Subsequently, San amiably nods toward you in acknowledgment.

“Good afternoon all,” you greet everyone, bashfully adding, “I’m so sorry for interrupting.”

“Not interrupting at all,” Seonghwa waves his hands, dispelling those fears, “We were curious why Jongho was sticking back so late. He assured us a friend was coming to get him and we just chose not to leave him.”

Well, this is embarrassing. You nod hastily and glance toward Jongho, who is practically skipping down the lecture hall’s steps. Yunho wants to crack a joke about seeing you everywhere, about how you both must be magnets or something else silly, but he decides to keep that to himself. He doesn’t want it to seem like he’s keeping track of course, even if he is.

Instead, he affirms to the other men, “This is a student of mine.”

Admittedly, your ears had tuned every other word out except “mine”, and you nodded a little too enthusiastically. You haven’t been this discomposed in a long time, too bashful to look any of them in the eyes, and you pray it’s not showing too much elsewhere. Jongho’s friendly hand landing on your shoulder grounds you.

“You ready?”

“Absolutely,” you puff out.

“Don’t cause too much trouble for her, Jongho,” Seonghwa pokes a bit of fun at one of his top students, who replies by waving him away and scoffing. They seem to be relaxed with each other— this is something you desire to achieve with Yunho soon. You snatch up your friend’s hand and finally move to leave for lunch, if it could even be considered that now with how late it is.

“See you Wednesday, Mr. Jeong,” you look back and shoot him a wave, accompanied by a charming smile. He nods back, offering you his own as well.

Unbeknownst to you, San’s eyes follow you out the door with Jongho, especially surveying the plush of your thighs rubbing together as you walk. Such as yourself, skirts are surely a weakness of his.

“She’s a senior, right?” he murmurs, half-jokingly.

“Stop it,” Yunho promptly elbows San in the arm, earning a stifled laugh from Seonghwa.

Yunho has heard stories about San’s slight affinity with the pretty college women when he goes out to bars on the weekends. Nobody from his own classes, of course. Needless to say, Yunho would not let him even think about you that way. No way in hell.

“I was just asking, Jesus.”

Seonghwa stretches his limbs from his chair, “It’s never ‘just asking’ with you.”

“You buy a table of women drinks one time and your friends never let you hear the end of it,” he groans with a roll of his eyes, “God you guys are the worst.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what it is,” Seonghwa concedes sarcastically.

“Just don’t make any unannounced visits to my classroom anytime soon, you buffoon,” Yunho chastises him while pressing his cup to his lips, “And I’m serious.”

“You got that,” San yields, “Wouldn’t wanna be a cock-block.”

Yunho nearly spits his coffee, “I beg your pardon?”

San nearly doubles over in laughter and, to Yunho’s surprise, Seonghwa has joined in. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the look they’re sharing and it makes the back of his neck burn with heat. Yunho doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed but he steers the conversation away from discussing you any further. He ignores the feeling of indignation and possessiveness pooling in the pit of his stomach.

It doesn’t take long for you to decide you’ve done what needed to be done outside of the classroom; the cherry on top now was simply to get him alone more privately.

You didn’t have to try very hard for this to happen; your work on your paper outline was already sub-par at best. You did fairly well on the quizzes and packets he passed out once a week, but that final paper preparation was surely going to be a challenge. When you find enough courage in yourself to email him about seeing him during his office hours for extra academic help on formatting your paper and choosing a more concise topic, he replies quickly and enthusiastically. According to your syllabus, the topic should relate to what you’re studying for your degree, but the real meat and potatoes of the paper should incorporate an aspect of linguistics in relation to your career path. Yunho understands how something like this can be difficult to tackle, so he assures you not to worry and that you both will work on perfecting it in no time.

“Mr. Jeong, do you mind if I text you instead? It’s more convenient for me than to email,” you end up asking him at the end of class on a Friday.

Yunho doesn’t mind this and he says so; he's put his phone number on the syllabus for situations like this. Moreover, he doesn’t think anything of it when he receives a text from you the morning of your first session telling him good morning and saying that you’re excited to finally get some guidance. You follow up by asking how he likes his coffee, and if he prefers muffins or donuts. Even after this indicator, he’s still surprised that you show up at his office right on time at 10 AM on Monday with two fresh cups of coffee and a couple of things from the campus bakery.

His office is fairly small, but not enough to feel uncomfortable. He’s decorated it to his liking though to make it feel a little more homely on the days he has to stay late for one reason or another. He watches you marvel at his space before you set down everything in your hands and relieve yourself of your backpack.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning ____, welcome in,” Yunho smiles. “You’re very punctual.”

“Of course, I meant what I said about being excited,” you tell him honestly, settling into the seat in front of his desk, “The right one is yours, by the way.”

Yunho timidly thanks you before sliding it closer to himself. He’s never had a student do something for him like this, then again he hasn’t been teaching that long to begin with. Regardless, he appreciates it and the gesture goes straight to his heart. He takes a sip to emphasize this.

“I’m all ready when you are,” you proclaim, clasping your hands together.

With that, he begins to look through his folders for your class number and finds the topic idea and outlines you’ve submitted previously. He doesn’t even have to look for your name specifically, you always tend to write his name and your class section in a particular way on the top of your work that is very appealing and oddly unique.

“You have really pretty handwriting,” Yunho murmurs out absentmindedly when he finds it. When he lifts his head to see your intrigued eyes gazing back at him, he clears his throat and adds, “Mine looks like chicken scratch so I’m always fascinated by others.”

“As long as it’s legible, that’s all that matters,” you hum with a smile, “And I can read yours just fine, so you’re fine.”

Yunho’s not sure why that mild compliment, something that should probably be insignificant, steals his words from him for a moment. Instead, he offers a hum in place of thanks while quickly taking another sip of his coffee. He glances at his notes before speaking again.

“Okay, so when I reviewed your work, it seems like you generally have a solid topic,” he begins, “It’s definitely something that can be a bit more concise, but it’s fine. The problem is that you’re trying to incorporate too much into the paper as a whole.”

You nod in understanding, so he takes a sip of coffee and continues.

“That’s good and bad, for a couple of reasons. It’s good that you’re being ambitious and trying to give lots of information. This shows me that you’re planning on doing a lot of research and you’re going to be very knowledgeable about your topic,” Yunho cocks his head, “If you set yourself up like this, though, your paper will end up being over twenty pages easily. And we both don’t want that, right?”

He gives you a knowing look, and you can’t help the candid snort you let out at his frankness, “Definitely not, oh God. I’m so sorry.”

“Precisely. So, let’s work on cutting some of these sections out and conjoining some of these bullet points in others. Sound good?” He holds out his hand with a grin as if to make it a deal, and you grant him a firm shake.

After a considerable amount of time figuring out which parts of your paper to chop without losing the vision, Yunho feels his limbs tighten from sitting too long. He’s been in this chair since 9 AM, so he asks, “Can we take a quick break? I need to stretch a bit.”

“Of course!”

When he stands to full height and stretches his arms, your eyes inconspicuously survey the way the edge of the desk lines up right with his pelvis. Perfect height for extracurricular activities… You wonder if he’s the type of guy to be open to something like that, fucking his lover in his office. Surely this thing is sturdy enough to withstand it, you muse. The thought of him bending you over the desk just to prove how sturdy it is makes you rub your thighs together. You decide to chug the rest of your now-cold coffee to get your brain back on track. Yunho collapses back into his office chair gently and lets you know he’s ready to resume. The rest of the time is spent setting up a list of some things you could tweak when you go home on your own and prepare for him to view in a couple of days.

On Wednesday, for your second meeting, you both convene at his office directly after your class with him in the afternoon. You smell especially good today, a mix of jasmine, vanilla, and something else he can’t put his tongue on… but it’s got Yunho’s head a bit foggy. Still, the meeting is engaging and brimming with useful help just as the last. Leaning back in his chair, he takes a brief moment to review a printout of what you’ve implemented into your outline from your last meeting discussions. It’s definitely already an improvement, but there are still a few things that could be tweaked in terms of sectioning. He grabs his favorite pen and lays your papers out in front of you, leaning forward to mark things you should be mindful of. A circle here, a quick jotted note there—his soothing voice explains each eagerly, and you can tell just how much he loves this subject by his enthusiasm. You reply to all of his criticism and suggestions with just as much enthusiasm. Yunho finds himself leaning in a little closer than might be suitable for the circumstances, but his brain is still ensnared by your perfume. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, truthfully, but it doesn’t bother you a bit. In fact, you’re a little too enamored with watching his large hands grip his pen and flex while writing to notice he’s calling your name.

“____?” he calls for a second time, to which you finally meet his gaze while blinking bashfully. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry, I think I spaced out for a second,” you answer honestly. He is absolutely too close to you right now and the way you can see the details in his eyes is making your brain short-circuit. He finally sits back in his chair and chuckles warmly.

“We have been working for quite a while today, I’m sure it’s a lot of information. Maybe we should wrap up for the day and meet again next week? I’m a bit tied up on Friday,” he ponders. You can’t help the hint of disappointment that makes its way onto your face, and he notices. There’s this unusual feeling in his chest right now; why does he feel regret for his stupid schedule? He leans forward on his elbows and cocks his head, “You’re doing very well, you know that? We’ve made a lot of progress after only a couple of meetings. I’m very excited to see how this comes together at the end of the semester.”

“I’m very self-conscious about my writing, so I appreciate that, Mr. Jeong,” you confess with a sheepish smile.

“You have nothing to be stressed about, I love what I’ve seen so far,” he continues his praise, “And I’m very happy you’re in my class, ____.”

The smile he gives you after such a statement manifests dozens of butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t help but match it. These one-on-one sessions go on 2-3 days a week for about two more weeks, loosening him up to you. He successfully becomes much more casual and unfiltered in your presence before you decide to up the ante. The following Tuesday of the next week, you remain on campus fairly late after classes end for the day, seated on a bench near the parking lot you both share. It’s warm outside even with the sun gradually setting, and you spend the time mentally rehearsing exactly what you planned on saying when he arrives to leave for home. He should be here any minute now–

“_____?”

You spin around at the familiar voice calling out your name. It’s him, of course, coming from the staff meeting you found out was being held this evening. Finally , you think. He stops just short of where you’re perched on the bench.

“Oh, hello Mr. Jeong.”

“What are you doing out here so late?” He inquires quickly, and there’s a tinge of concern laced in his voice. However, he realizes that asking this might be out of the realm of things he should know, you’re a grown woman after all. So, he follows up with an excuse, “It’s getting pretty dark out.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” you mutter, glancing away from his gaze.

Yunho can’t deny, he’s a bit mesmerized by the way you look tonight. He’s never seen you with your make-up done up like this, or your hair styled so charmingly. When you glance back at him again with those long, fluttering lashes of yours, he feels the back of his neck turn hot.

“You can tell me anything, you already know,” he reminds you, “I won’t judge and I’m always available to listen.”

“Well… I have a reservation for dinner with someone at six… but it seems they stood me up,” you reveal while mindlessly fiddling with a frayed string on the skirt of your dress. Yunho glances down at his watch: it’s 5:48 PM. “They were supposed to pick me up a while ago. I was trying to hold out some hope, but… I’m just being stupid.”

Yunho furrows his brows; why would someone stand a girl like you up? You’re beautiful and exceptionally smart (despite any kind of trouble you may have had with your paper). You’re also one of the sweetest people he’s ever crossed paths with in life. Many of those paths having been crossed within the last month, of course. Still, he can’t fathom it.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, ____,” he tells you truthfully. Then, he thinks about how your car isn’t here, and how the shuttle won’t be around until 6:30 PM. He’s slightly apprehensive before offering, “Do you want a ride home?”

You give him a winsome smile that pierces into his heart with an invisible arrow, “You don’t have to do that. I appreciate the offer though.”

“No, really, I don’t mind at all,” he says with more confidence. The idea of him being your knight in shining armor, buried deep in the back of his head, is shouting at him. That’s when you decide it’s time to take your shot, for better or worse.

“Well, in that case, would you like to accompany me to the restaurant instead?” you inquire, glancing up at him curiously. “I already paid for the spot, so I wouldn’t want the reservation to go to waste.”

Normally, you’d follow up a statement like that with a: “But it’s okay if not.”

Not tonight.

You didn’t want to give him an out to this proposal willingly. You can see the mild indecisiveness in his face anyway, all the way down to how Yunho’s hand tightens around the handle of his briefcase. You did get all dolled up for whoever you were supposed to be spending the evening with, and he’ll feel awfully bad letting you go back home to take it all off for no reason. It’s just a dinner, he tells himself.

“Sure,” Yunho finally says in an exhale, “Let me pull around my car.”

While he walks off into the parking lot towards his car, you bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop the dishonest smile that’s threatening to spread across your face. Was it all a bald-faced lie? Of course it was! But, sometimes it takes some white lies to get to what you want, and what you wanted was no longer that far out of reach if tonight was anything to go by.

When he finally pulls around to pick you up, you allow yourself to slip into the mode you usually go to on dates. It doesn’t hurt to pretend tonight, it’s like manifesting your reality. You thrum your fingers against your bare thighs, to no particular beat, while staring out of the car window at other passing cars during your brief trip on the highway.

“Is this a restaurant you’ve been to before? It looked really nice online,” Yunho eventually says into the silence, trying to make small talk. He had briefly skimmed the reviews while plugging the address in on his phone.

“I haven’t, actually,” you divulge, going further, “I’m a bit of a foodie, you know? I like to try new places occasionally.”

That conversation flows smoothly for the rest of the drive, and even smoother when you both are seated and eating dinner in a booth towards the back of the restaurant. It’s nice to see him in a more relaxed setting.

“Thank you for joining me tonight, Mr. Jeong.” You offer him some well-deserved gratitude as you wipe your mouth, signaling the end of your eating. “Makes things a lot less embarrassing tonight for sure.”

“No need to thank me, I enjoyed your company,” he smiles. He doesn’t even hesitate this time before adding, “That bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

The bubbly laugh and adorable smile you grant him the experience of witnessing enraptures him, the tips of his ears burning at the thought of how he wants to be able to produce that from you again and again. Yunho hasn’t been on a date in a while, so he’s sure this feeling is just because he’s attention-deprived. Still, it’s something he notes mentally. And, even though some might consider it inappropriate, you and your teacher both began having dinner occasionally, just like that. Platonically, of course.

“We can go over my questions for my paper topic here rather than in that cramped office of yours, you know?”

Surprisingly when you proposed this, he showed little resistance to the idea. Yunho enjoyed getting out of the house for the evenings he usually spent alone with a few beers and a Netflix series. He enjoyed having a pretty girl keep him company even more. He reminds himself every time he picks you up, though, that this is simply work and nothing more. Just some overtime—helping a student who enjoyed his class get better at the material. It’s not meant to be enjoyable.

But after the first few times of these “informational paper related” meetings, conversations involving anything to do with linguistics slowly molded into Yunho placing a nimble finger to his lips to say a silent shhh, followed by, “Let’s not talk about schoolwork tonight, okay?”

That moment, when you noticed that slight shift in Yunho’s energy, the atmosphere from there turned more informal. You become more conscious of those important invisible lines between student and teacher— or even more teacher and friend— that have begun to blur significantly. “Good evening Mr. Jeong,” became, “Le’me taste your food, Yunho?”

To which he never declines, naturally.

Tonight, on the 5th dinner, the climate between you both plows further into the downward spiral of informality, warm and fairly flirtatious. At least, that’s what you surmise by the way he keeps openly teasing you this evening. It’s all innocuous banter, but that doesn’t quell the adoration you hold for him in the pit of your stomach. It’s enough to make your thighs clench together underneath the table. You finally decide to shamelessly reciprocate, teasing him about the way his hair is going every which way tonight. You emphasize how the style is still very handsome despite him looking like he’s been through hell and back.

“I was having a pretty bad day today until I remembered where I was going tonight actually,” Yunho divulges, pushing the wrinkly sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He truly has been through hell and back today, between snooty older teachers and idiot freshmen both treating him like he’s a student just because of his age, “These kinds of nights with you always make my day, so it’s been saved.”

A playful smile tugs at your lips as you cock your head, “Is it the food or is it the company?”

He leans forward on his forearms with a prepossessing smile, one that makes your heart thump loudly in your ears.

“Both, of course,” he teases again, “I suppose the food is just a bonus, though.”

He takes notice of the way your cheeks are dusted in pink as you shyly avert your eyes and locks that innocent image into a deep chamber of his mind along with all the others. He practically has a photo album saved mentally. It’s not too long until the food comes, and things become all about eating. A fair amount of time into your dinner, you decide to add a new element to your dynamic.

“Do you mind if I drink a little tonight?” you inquire quietly while your eyes skim the wine menu briefly. Not like you were going to care about his answer, but it was simply fun to ask. He chuckles.

“You’re an adult,” he points out instead. You smile to yourself before meeting his eyes from behind the menu. There’s something especially curious tonight behind those dark irises of his. The unfamiliar stare he gives you from behind his bangs is accompanied by a subtle smirk that makes your stomach tie into tight knots.

You turn away your eyes until you’re able to catch the attention of your waiter once more. In the process of requesting a glass of some Cabernet Sauvignon, you hesitate before saying the name of which brand because of the price tag for one glass, but most risks are pricey and tonight you felt like splurging for the reward in return: releasing your inhibitions. The waiter turns towards Yunho to confirm if he’d like to add anything before he leaves.

“Bring a bottle of that instead, please. We’ll share,” he requests alternatively. It takes all of your strength not to look at him like he’s crazy as the waiter nods and heads off to fetch it.

“It’s on me tonight,” Yunho beats you to the punch on declaring anything about his decisions.

“You don’t even know the price of it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he quips back with a chuckle, “Are you suggesting I can’t afford it?”

“Yunho…”

“Don’t even give me that, ____.”

The way he blithely says your first name with a different warmth now always causes your heart to swell in your chest. All formality is truly gone between you two. You both share matching smiles in place of any further words about the matter.

When the waiter returns briefly with a freshly opened bottle of wine and two glasses, you both offer him words of gratitude before he slips away once more. Yunho wastes no time pouring you both a proper amount, sighing contently when finished. You lift your glass towards him and grin once more, “Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

Yunho surely got his money’s worth, because the bottle is gone between you both quickly, signaling the end of your dinner as well. You don’t feel the few glasses fully set in until Yunho is helping you out of the booth, your legs feeling akin to a newborn baby deer as you bashfully stumble into his arms. You suppose your food wasn’t as carb-heavy as usual tonight. You’re not drunk, but surely you’re not sober either. He doesn’t mind holding you steady on the way out of the restaurant, a guiding hand timidly pressed to the small of your back.

As much as you despise the thought of driving under the influence, it’s pouring an insane amount of rain upon exit of the restaurant and Yunho insists he’s fine enough to drive. The dilemma that arises is how your place is further than he has confidence in making it to in this storm while inebriated. You know just as well as he does that there’s no way he’s driving you home tonight.

“I have a spare bedroom,” he begins, and glances over at you, hoping you understand what he means because he’s not sober enough to come up with the words to ask you otherwise. The pouring water is making it hard for him to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t miss the feigning look of indecision in your eyes. He tries to ignore the way the rain has soaked through your dress enough to make it plaster your body. It accentuates every contour of your figure, from the rounds of your breasts down to your supple thighs. When the boom of thunder somewhere far off fills the silence after his proposal faster than you do, he panics slightly.

“I can get you an Uber if—”

“You already paid for an expensive bottle tonight, don’t waste more money on an Uber,” you grasp onto his arm fondly, sopping breasts squished into his bicep. Your lips curl into a soft smile at his attempt at chivalry though, “I’ll be fine. Let’s hurry though, okay? I’m cold.”

That statement is followed by a sharp shiver running down your back, and that’s enough for him to drag you along with him to his car with quick, but careful, steps.

Surprisingly, Yunho lives in a townhouse. You’re very thankful not to have to walk up the stairs of a condo. He thanks God there’s an empty parking space in front of his house, he hates when the tiny lot fills up before he gets home. You both prepare yourselves before rushing out of the car and to his front door.

Your hazy eyes train themselves on his pretty, slender fingers fiddling with the doorknob before he finally gets it open. Those same fingers grab your hand and pull you through his front door with him mindlessly. Another chill immediately runs down your spine at the cool AC blasting through his home, which he immediately runs off to turn down.

“Both bedrooms have bathrooms with showers,” Yunho sputters while quickly heading off to find you a towel and some spare clothes for which you could sleep in.

While you’re still peeling your drenched shoes and socks off, he settles on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants since it’s still a bit chilly in the house. You try not to track too much water through his home while you journey through his living room and meet him halfway.

“I’ll shower in the guest room,” you tell him, taking the items.

He runs an anxious hand through the wet hair sticking to his forehead, “I can also dry your clothes if you leave them on the bed.”

“Fuck, that’s great,” you sigh with a smile, stepping past him but cocking your head back to add, “Wait about five minutes before you come grab them, I should be in the shower by then.”

Just as you requested, Yunho comes into the room a little over five minutes later when he hears the shower running. His eyes confirm that the bathroom door is closed for your privacy before grabbing your wet clothes and retreating to his laundry room down the hall. He chucks them all in his dryer and runs it on medium heat and maximum dryness. While that’s running, he busies himself with running to his bedroom and speedrunning his shower to ensure he’s out before you. He’s a man on a mission, pulling on clothes and towel-drying his hair before rushing to the laundry room to get your clothes.

Yunho pulls your garments from the dryer one by one, making sure there’s nothing left wet. He stops when he pulls something out that catches his eyes. Your underwear. He’s quite enticed by them, even if they were pastel pink with turtles... Hot, he thinks sarcastically. Yunho eyes the crotch curiously and remembers that technically he didn’t wash your clothes at all. It’s been a while since he’s had a girl over his home and that, on top of the thought of even holding your underwear, is taking a small toll on him. He gives in and puts them to his nose, breathing in deeply.

Oh God … Even after they've been soaked in rain, your scent is still heavy on the fabric. He groans, why did you have to smell so fucking good? He remembers that you are quite literally right down the hall while he's here sniffing your underwear like a pervert. It’s your fault, right? Yeah, it’s your fault for trusting him with such a sensitive piece of clothing by himself. It’s your fault for smelling so good and looking so pretty and—

He gives up on rationalizing it and presses the clothing fully onto his face again, inhaling heavily and feeling himself grow harder and harder by the second. His arousal grows worse and worse, precum dampening his underwear with every deep inhale and fluttering thought of what you probably taste like… He finds his hand mindlessly palming himself, and luckily his groans are muffled by the underwear bunched up in his face. That’s when he hears the water shut off.

Yunho whispers a handful of obscenities as he hurries to the room to place your dried clothes on the bed while you’re still in the bathroom, closing the door behind him softly. He’s long gone by the time you step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

Normally, you’d stay in the shower until your fingertips are pruney, but you suppose being a good guest includes not using up all of his hot water. There were more pressing things to attend to anyway, like the tall attractive man patiently awaiting your presence outside of this room. So, when you tug on your now dry panties and his previously provided clothing, you quickly make your way out of the room and to the living room. You’re not exactly sure what you expected upon seeing him, but he’s indeed still exceptionally handsome freshly out of the shower. Those same curious eyes gaze at you behind his shaggy bangs, still in the process of drying. Clad in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his biceps and strong thighs are fully on display as he lounges on the couch. The way his long legs are man-spread now that he’s comfortable in his own abode makes you swallow a little harder than usual. Still, you meander over and sit on the other side of the couch, not too far away.

“Your place is very nice,” you state absentmindedly, glancing around at the walls of his home. “Very fit for a bachelor.”

Without you noticing, Yunho’s eyes skillfully study the way you’re so casually in his clothing. You’re too busy glancing around at unnecessary things anyway; he wonders if you’re rambling about his decor because you’re nervous. He’s nervous too, but not for the right reasons. Regardless, seeing you in his clothing is taking an additional toll on his mental health. How did you both end up in this situation together… This is wrong, he thinks. He shakes his head to try and clear those corrupted thoughts from his mind. It isn’t until you realize he hasn’t replied to anything in a couple of minutes of you jabbering that you finally peer over at him. His eyes are trained on the short distance between the both of you, mindlessly chewing on the nail of his thumb.

“You okay?” you ask, finally catching his attention.

He nods hastily, “Definitely. Sorry, it’s been a long day. Mind is on empty.”

“You’re fine, no worries.”

It’s uncomfortably quiet for a moment as you both exchange stares. You’re seconds away from breaking the silence before Yunho steals the chance.

“I’m sure you’re tired, so we can head to bed,” he suddenly exhales, hands clasping his thighs, “The guest room is all yours for as long as you need it.”

You take the chance and lean forward toward him on your palms at this statement, slightly sinking into the couch while you gaze at him, “Is that what you really want, Yunho?”

There’s now an even longer moment of silence where you both stare each other in the eyes again and the room is unbearably quiet. Yunho finally breaks it after his Adam’s apple bobs uneasily.

“Of course,” he awkwardly chuckles with furrowed brows, “What do you mean, ____?”

Your heart deflates. For a second, you wonder if maybe you’ve been reading his body language incorrectly the entire night. There’s a flare of embarrassment that ignites on your cheeks as you immediately retract yourself.

“I suck at making jokes,” you match his chuckle nervously, “Don’t mind me.” He cocks his head at you curiously and you stand to your feet before he can catch the way your face is lighting on fire with every passing second. You avoid looking at him as you begin striding back to the guest room, “Goodnight Yunho, see you in the morning!”

Yunho is left alone to his own devices once he hears the sound of the door to the guest room closing down the hall. Sitting alone on a large bed in your teacher’s home feels surreal, and all too disappointing the same. You press your palms to your eyes to try and settle the embarrassment that keeps washing over you every time you think back to your impromptu attempt at making an advance toward him. God this fucking sucks…

After a few minutes of setting up some alarms on your phone for the next morning, you decide you need to go get some water and wash away tonight from your mind forever. Yunho Jeong doesn’t like you more than a friend, it’s time to accept your fate and that you failed at attracting him. To be fair, it all was a shot in the dark to begin with. You try not to be too hard on yourself and hope that he’s already in his room by now.

But, if that’s all truly the case, then why is Yunho standing in front of the guest room door when you open it? His arm is positioned as if he was about to knock. Yunho had been standing there for quite some minutes, debating his next actions in his head, overthinking as usual. Though, could it be considered overthinking if the consequences of his actions could lead to delinquency? Had you not opened the door to go get water, albeit unknowingly, he probably would’ve psyched himself out.

“Oh– Did you need something?” you mumble and look up inquisitively at him. His mouth lingers open for a few seconds before he learns how to speak again.

“Can we talk?”

“Of course.” You can’t help the hint of confusion gracing your face as you step aside and allow him inside the room, “Is everything okay?”

When you close the door and face him, he looks distraught. Everything was indeed not okay.

“Are you still drunk?” He asks first.

“I don’t really think I was ever drunk,” you tell him, “But no.”

“Neither am I.”

At first, it doesn’t click about why he’s confirming this. You also don’t notice the way he gradually takes tentative steps forward—or the way you’re equally taking steps back—until your back hits the bedroom door. He’s so close that you can smell the minty mouthwash still fresh on his breath unfurling over your face. Still, he looks hesitant about his actions.

“I’m sorry, I was just… nervous before,” he swallows. He watches your face shift from confusion to realization; he’s referring to his response when you shot your shot. You relax against the door.

“About?” Is all you can ask in a soft voice, left hand daringly reaching up and cupping his cheek.

“About drunken words,” he continues, his voice just above a whisper. You can see the stutter of his heart against his chest. “And my feelings.”

Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, “What are you feeling, Yunho?”

In a moment of fleeting courage, he gently grabs your right hand and leads it to settle below his groin, pressing it against him a bit for good measure.

“What does it feel like I’m feeling to you?”

Your cheeks heat up at the feeling of him in your palm; you didn’t expect him to be so forward about it out of nowhere. The overall anticipation of the situation is killing you, even though everything feels like it’s moving too slowly and too fast all at the same time. All of your effort was leading to this point and yet, somehow, you still don’t feel nearly as prepared as you thought you were to finally fuck him, to finally fuck your teacher. That doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around nothing at all at his words alone, because this is definitely what you’ve wanted so badly for weeks.

You try to swallow even though your throat feels parched, mindlessly whispering, “Oh my God…”

Then, you give him an experimental squeeze which has his eyelids fluttering closed, and a deep grunt leaving his flared nostrils.

“Fuck …” he groans. It’s too natural, the way you subconsciously run your hand up and down the bulge, feeling it harden even further. Yunho is at his wit's end. “I need you to tell me exactly what you want ____,” he reminds you.

You get it, he’s covering his bases because of his relation to you outside of this bedroom. Consent is sexy regardless, so you grant that to him.

“I really, really want you to fuck me Yunho,” you purr as your hands creep up his chest until you can wrap your arms around his neck, “And I think you want the same, right?”

Yunho’s hands sneak under the t-shirt on you and he massages the flesh of your sides, fingertips ghosting up your skin until they reach your breasts. His thumbs brushing against your hard nipples involuntarily make you whimper his name, and this is all Yunho needs to hear to proceed without such caution. The moment he leans down and smashes his lips to yours, time stops.

It’s nasty, the way your tongues are dragging against each other, spreading trails of saliva everywhere.

It’s nasty, the way he can’t help but drag that same tongue down your neck, sullying your freshly washed skin with spit.

It’s even nastier, the way he moans out your name, shamelessly grinding his clothed boner into your crotch, searching for friction because he’s touch-starved.

“A-Ah—wait! Bed, please,” you let out a broken moan at the way he sucks and bites on your neck. Yunho grunts in agreement, spinning you around and forcefully guiding you back until you both reach the bed. You can’t help but giggle when you fall back on the mattress— he’s so hungry for it, for you. And you’re more than ready to give it to him.

“Can I take them off?” He still asks like a gentleman, though his fingers are impatiently already tugging at the bottom of your sweatpants. You nod with fervor.

The moment he tosses them away, the situation begins to feel a bit more real to you both. Maybe it’s because you’re sopping wet and semi-exposed, and he’s not, so you become bashful and self-conscious.

“Take yours off too?”

Yunho doesn’t hesitate to oblige you. He peels off his shirt and shoves his shorts away easily. There’s a brief second where he hesitates before also pulling his boxer briefs down and finally fully exposing himself to you in all his nude glory. Yunho hasn’t slept with a woman in a while, but he’s never had complaints about anything, and especially not his size. He can tell by how your eyes are drinking him in, that you won’t have any either.

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you murmur, eyes hazy as they rake over him from his broad chest to his defined abs, then his defined hips to his heavy cock. There’s a cute hue of pink dusting his cheeks at the compliment.

Yunho doesn’t give you a chance to stare at him very much longer before he’s finally ridding you of your shirt, lips meeting yours again the moment it’s tossed. It’s not long before that naughty mouth of his indulges in your breasts, licking and sucking on your hardened nipples like they’re the only thing that will keep him grounded to earth. You’re a moaning mess underneath of him, hands carding through his tresses and lips struggling with telling him how much you love his mouth. He could suck on your beautiful breasts all day but there are more pressing matters at this time.

His eyes never leave yours as he kisses all the way down the expanse of your stomach to the waistband of your panties. Only then does he close his eyes to bury his face in your clothed cunt and take a deep breath, filling his lungs until they feel like they're about to burst. He’s so content that now he can do it knowing the real thing is right underneath. It gets him hard all the same as the laundry room. You watch him grind himself into the mattress for some relief just at the smell of you.

“I’ve never done something like this before,” he divulges, pressing heated kisses into the skin of your sensitive thighs.

“What, eating pussy?” you tease to ease his nerves. He stares pointedly at you from behind your mound.

“You know what I mean.”

Your hand reaches down to find a comforting purchase in his hair, “Neither have I, Yu.”

Yunho can feel himself falling apart faster and faster, and the nickname is not helping him keep it together at all. He hooks his fingers in your panties and gently tugs them down your legs, joining the rest of the discarded clothing on the floor. Your cheeks tingle with heat when his hands spread your legs wider, eyes seemingly mesmerized.

“Such a pretty pussy…” he whispers, marveling at the way your sticky lips tremble when you clench around nothing.

He solves that by pushing in two of those pretty fingers of his, all the way down to the last knuckles. The desperate moan that flies from your lips sends him into a depraved headspace. He immediately latches his mouth onto your throbbing clit and sets to work, thrusting into your squelching squeezing heat and sucking to his heart’s content. Yunho loves eating pussy, truly. There’s something truly cathartic to him about holding a woman’s legs down while she twitches and grinds against his face as he’s slurping up every bit of essence that seeps from her greedy hole. He even removes his fingers and opts for lapping at your heat like a starved man instead. Up and down, left and right… His tongue leaves no inch of your heat untouched. He loves the feeling of your slick coating his face when he pushes his tongue as deep as he can into your hole. He feels your hands yank him by his hair before he can even get to the fun part. He gazes up at you in confusion, mouth messy and eyes indubitably pussy-drunk.

“Please,” you beg, chest heaving, “I want you inside.”

Yunho licks his lips clean before crawling back up your body to fulfill your request. You’re right honestly, there’s only so much grinding he can do into the mattress to ease the ache of his hard cock. He leans over to grab a condom from the nightstand but you pull him back over, mumbling about how you’re on the pill and that it’s fine.

He’s so big, the way he’s engulfing your whole body with you caged between his arms like this. Gazing into your eyes, he drags the blunt tip of his cock back and forth through your dripping folds, occasionally pressing it hard against that clit that he’s taken such a liking to sucking on.

“Hey,” you mumble against his lips, catching the full attention of his blown-out irises. “I can tell you’re nervous. Just relax and lose control, for me. Okay?”

Yunho’s last rope of restraint snaps.

The moment you feel his tip finally breach your entrance, you squeeze your eyes shut and mewl at the feeling of his thick cock sliding into its rightful place. Yes, obviously he’s meant just for your cunt, because you fit like a glove when you're swallowing him in so badly the deeper he pushes. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, despite your squirming and twitching underneath him at the feeling of being so full.

“I’m about to move,” he pants, adjusting to the feeling of your warm walls squeezing his cock, “Holy fuck.”

When you nod, he finally lets go of his inhibitions. He begins to roll his hips at a nice steady pace, large hands clasped to the backs of your thighs as he pushes them towards your torso. His mouth hangs open in ecstasy and his eyelids lower lazily at the way your walls suck in his cock so tightly and squeeze it like they’re begging to be filled to the brim. You reach up and latch onto his arms to ground yourself, head dizzy and overwhelmed at the feeling of him starting to snap his hips just a little faster now that you’re stretched out a bit more to accommodate him.

“Yunho, fuck, you’re so big,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. Yunho grinds his pelvis into you at this remark, rubbing against your clit with his happy trail.

“And you’re taking me so well,” Yunho praises with a lopsided grin, “Feels good?”

“So fucking good.”

Yunho pushes your legs back even further as he leans in to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss. You’re so pretty with those glassy eyes and those flushed cheeks of yours, but there’s something about that that quivering bottom lip that makes him want to suck every sound from you himself. He finds himself bucking faster and faster, unable to maintain any kind of self-control.

He breaks away to catch his breath, eyes lazy as he groans, “Let me hear you. This is what you wanted, yeah?”

“Mhm, yes, yes,” you whine desperately, “I wanted it so bad. Wanted you so bad.”

You grant him a flurry of shameless bitten-off moans, egging him on further and further. Yunho buries his face into the crook of your neck, making your skin damp between his own warm gasps and grunting obscenities. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this aroused before; yes, he’s so painfully hard at the fleeting thoughts of how inappropriate everything is. He’s your linguistics teacher—he’s not supposed to be teaching your cunt how to mold to the shape of his cock. He’s not supposed to be massaging your clit and babbling nonsense about how he��s going to lick your pussy clean when you cum. How can he say that to a student? However, his eyes roll back at that thought.

“I’m going crazy,” he groans into your skin, mindlessly speaking his thoughts aloud. “I’m so close.”

You’d say the same if you could, but your mouth can’t form proper words with the way his long fingers are rubbing quick messy circles around your clit. Instead, you put your mouth on the shell of his ear and say his name in a filthy mewl. Your legs tense up and your toes curl; Yunho can feel you cum around his cock a beat later, encouraging your convulsing and whimpering. He can only manage to give you a few more rough thrusts before he pulls himself out and allows himself to empty his balls in quick spurts all over your torso, a mix of “fuck” and “____” leaking from his mouth at how filthy the action is, dirtying you like this. He’s a man of his word though, quickly hefting himself back down to your sopping cunt and diving face first to taste everything he missed tasting earlier. The groan of pure bliss he lets out into your sensitive cunt has you squirming away, much to his dismay. But he finds himself chuckling anyway—he got to taste your cum and, even if it was for only a few seconds, he’s satisfied.

Cleaning up and cuddling after is far from awkward, Yunho feels comfortable with his arms wrapped around you and head on your chest. You find yourself mindlessly scratching his scalp and playing with his messy hair, while his large hands massage the muscles of your thighs. It’s immensely intimate, and this scares Yunho deep inside. Unbeknownst to his stress, you’re settling into a mental state of bliss; you can’t wait to see where this night leads you after, even if it might be a little awkward back in the classroom at first. He tries not to dwell on such thoughts for too long, eventually falling asleep under your touch.

Yunho wakes up to a cold, empty bed. Glancing over at the clock on his nightstand, he catches some time he can’t be bothered with reading fully, nine-something-in-the-morning. He groans internally at the bittersweet arrival of the morning. After a few seconds of just lying there, bleary eyes staring at anything and everything, he remembers that he’s not supposed to be alone right now. The grimace that crosses his face is heavy.

He lugs himself up and out of bed to find his phone, which he’s left God knows where. After a bit of searching, he’s even more upset to see a lack of text from you about leaving. Leaving with no word after sex… Yunho has been in this position before and it makes him feel like shit. It feels even worse considering that this is not just some random woman, you are his student. He’s a chronic overthinker, he knows he is. Yet, he can’t stop his mind from filling with a plethora of miserable thoughts about what this could mean.

Did you simply want to fuck him and nothing more?

Did you regret sleeping with him and want to leave without confrontation?

Did you sleep with him to then leave and tell someone, maybe to humiliate him?

All of these thoughts scream at Yunho until he finds himself clenching his jaw, and tears are pricking at his eyes. He hates this feeling every time it happens; it makes him feel like he’s not good enough. In a moment of brief irrationality, Yunho debates if he should outright block you.

He’s impulsive like that when he’s worked up. However, after a few minutes of begging himself to calm down, he tossed his phone away and went on to make a cup of tea to ease his agitation. He knew this was a mistake from the start and he still did it.

He doesn’t get a text from you until after 11 AM.

[Y/N: sorry for leaving without saying anything!! I forgot I had prior commitments this morning, didn’t wanna text you until I was sure you’d be up. hope you slept well :)]

Yunho doesn’t know what to think. Prior commitments? Surely this would’ve been something you would’ve mentioned before he drove you to his home last night. It is Saturday though, so it’s plausible. He opens the message and leaves you on read instead.

Earlier this morning, you were certain Yunho must have completely tired himself out after sleeping with you because he failed to wake up when your alarms went off. You make a mental note that it only takes him cumming once to make him go comatose (and maybe a little wine to boot). You had left his place with no ill intentions, and your message was truthful. So, when you get left on read by him, it ignites a small flame of insecurity in you. You’re never one to double-text a man, but considering this is something you put a great amount of effort into getting to happen, you put your pride aside when you don't get a reply by the next day.

[Y/N: Wondering if you want to try a new restaurant after work tomorrow… Let me know if you’re interested!]

To your surprise, Yunho replies that he’s too busy. He doesn’t offer to reschedule for a better day, which isn’t like him. Instead of taking it too seriously and replying something disheartened, you let him know that you understand and to let you know if anything changes. He opens this message and doesn’t reply. You try again on Tuesday. This time, your inquiry is more succinct, no fluff.

[Y/N: Are you free Wednesday?]

He answers this similarly to the last attempt, maintaining that he’s too busy to see you that day as well. However, this text is more curt than the last. When you cave in and ask him which days he’s not busy, he leaves you on read, again.

[Y/N: Do you have a free moment to talk then?]

Yunho doesn’t open this text altogether, and the disgruntlement this stirs within you lingers in your system all day, even when you decide to go out with your friends to clear your mind.

Throughout his class with you the following day, you endure Yunho’s eyes practically boring into you at various points in time. It’s like an itch that can’t be scratched, nagging at your scalp while you keep your head downcast towards your laptop. Thoroughly, as distractions do, it keeps you on edge and unfocused throughout the whole lecture. It doesn’t help that Yeosang is out today, so you feel alone even surrounded by so many people.

At some point, during a quiet moment of everyone completing an individual assignment he had handed out, you glance up over the screen of your laptop and catch his attentive eyes gazing back. He gnaws on the nail of this thumb as he usually does when his brain is on overdrive, his eyes calmly lingering on the fixation of all his thoughts. Eventually, he turns them away and decides to focus on something else irrelevant involving his phone. Anything to take you off of his mind.

You quietly snicker to yourself and roll your eyes. So, he can play on his phone just fine during class but can’t find the time to text you and talk? Men will be men… If he just wanted to sleep with you and leave at that, he could at least tell you, you brood. You try not to let it get to you, but it’s hard to focus on anything for the last half hour of class. You don’t bother sticking around after and instead, preoccupy yourself by striking up a conversation with another acquaintance on the way out of the doors. Yunho notices the way you act like he doesn’t exist while leaving and it makes him a bit bitter. He knows it’s irrational, but you’ve really done a number on him, so he can’t help it.

On Thursday, you’re sick of the games altogether. Being the super sleuth you were at the beginning of this mess, you knew when Yunho typically went to his office in between classes to get grading done that he couldn’t do throughout the day. So, when you finish your mathematics class, you pack up your things quickly, knowing he should be roaming this same hall in very little time. There’s one thing–or person, you suppose–that you didn’t account for in this plan.

“You’re terrible at covering hickeys, you know,” Hongjoong chides, eyeing your messy job at applying makeup to your neck.

To be fair to yourself, you hadn’t realized Yunho had sucked one onto your skin the night you both slept together, and the dark blotch was too annoying to deal with every single day. You bruise too easily and they don’t go away fast enough. Admittedly, you had slacked off on the cover-up today. You chalk it up to secretly being in Fight Club, which you remind him, the number rule is to never talk about Fight Club! That, of course, was not a good enough reason for Hongjoong, and you regret that you didn’t acknowledge beforehand he would surely grill you endlessly about your recreational pastimes.

“Okay seriously, I just wore my choker too tight yesterday and it pinched my neck, that's all,” you explain as he quickly follows you out of the classroom. He squints at you with skeptical eyes, as if he is not believing any of the piping hot shit you’re serving him on a platter. Phase two was to gaze at him with winsome eyes, ones he was definitely familiar with. They always worked on Yeosang, but Hongjoong was harder to subdue.

“Don’t.”

“Joong, I’m telling you, there’s nothing more for me to answer here.”

You employ a small pout to boot.

“And you think I believe that?”

“I think you should believe it.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. Meanwhile, your eyes inconspicuously search for Yunho in the sea of classmates flooding the hallway; there was a very important conversation you had hyped yourself up to finally have with him. One that surely would not be done if it didn’t get done today, at this very moment. That would obviously fail to happen if Hongjoong kept pestering you with his concerns. Suddenly, your eyes spot the tail end of Yunho’s styled hair turning the corner and leaving the hallway. Goddammit!

“Joong, I really gotta go,” you say frantically and secure your backpack onto your back. His lips open slightly in puzzlement, but there’s nothing he can say before you’re already shoving people out of the way to make it through the hallway to follow him to his office.

You take the stairs while he takes the elevator to waste some time; hopefully, he'll be set up and comfortable by the time you get to his floor. When you make it to his office, he’s indeed already seated and filtering through sheets of work from students during the last class. You don’t bother knocking before entering; he hadn’t afforded you the comfort of manners lately, so neither would you.

Honestly, had anyone else burst into his office so unannounced like this, he might've cussed them out by accident. But before he can get any words out, you can see the physical shift from annoyance to puzzlement wash over his face as he realizes it’s you, then, genuine dread graces his face before downcasting his gaze.

“I need to talk to you,” you insist, “Now.”

He’s having a hard time even meeting your eyes when you’re speaking and it’s pissing you off tremendously.

“I’m a bit busy right now,” he sighs, now in the process of looking through his desk for a pen that works. “It’ll have to wait for another time.”

You ignore him entirely, “Why are you avoiding me, Yunho?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Yunho quickly objects. “I’m just–”

“You’ve blown me off twice this week already,” you counter. “Now I can’t even come see you at your office?”

Yunho puts his head in his hands and tries to collect his thoughts. He’s too sensitive to handle this conversation with no preparation beforehand. Then again, the longer he keeps isolating, the longer he’s going to keep feeling like shit. He can hear the undertone of hurt in your words, but he’s only doing what’s best for you, right?

“The least you could do is give me a real reason,” you continue. He finally lifts his head and meets your frustrated eyes. “Just give me a real reason to and I’ll fuck-off all you want.”

“____, that night was a mistake,” he tells you simply. The look in his eyes says otherwise. You know he’s lying but it still feels like a punch in the gut.

“A mistake?”

“It’s something that shouldn’t have happened, and it was inappropriate of me to do that with you. Let’s just forget about it and move on, please.”

You furrow your brows in agitation, “You really feel that way?”

“I do,” he murmurs, eyes falling back to the papers in front of him. He visibly hesitates for the briefest moment before picking up his pen and resuming his grading. This feeling of rejection hurts a little more than usual. Why do you feel like a failure? Why do you feel like a fuck-up? Maybe it’s because of the effort you put into this man, unlike many others. You stand there in his doorway uncomfortably silent until you find it in yourself to offer some final words.

“We’re both adults, Yunho,” you remind him in a voice that airs on the more serious side of yourself. He’s never heard you sound such a way with him. “No one has to know what two grown adults do in their free time. And you don’t owe anyone any explanations.”

When he doesn’t look up from his paperwork anymore, you finally leave and gently close the door behind you.

Nearly a week after that day, your phone begins to ring while you’re out at a bar with friends. Yeosang’s nosy eyes catch the name on the screen and he gives you an incredulous look. His name still has a heart beside it and you haven’t updated him on anything regarding Yunho since telling him that you both were texting each other outside of class.

“What is he doing calling you at 9 PM, miss?” he teases as you move your phone to your lap, “Booty call?”

“Would you like to ask him yourself?” you snort.

“Boo, why can I never know anything–”

“Oh but when I mention the obvious hickey, I’m imagining things, huh?” Hongjoong interjects with narrowed eyes when he overhears you both bickering. “Who’s the mystery man?”

“It’s nobody,” both you and Yeosang say in unison.

Hongjoong quirks a brow at how you both are gazing at him with matching smiles, suspiciously. He lets it go quickly and instead butts into Mingi and his girlfriend’s conversation. By the time you glance at your phone, Yunho’s call has already gone fully unanswered. Subsequently, you chose not to return the call later when you’re done and home. You didn’t necessarily want to talk to someone who called such an intimate moment with you a mistake. And especially not intoxicated. If he wants to talk to me that bad, he’d just send whatever he needs to say in a text, you tell yourself. But, of course, those texts don’t come. Yunho doesn’t know how to express himself like that over message. However, after getting wasted, it takes everything within you not to text him first in a fit of overwhelming horniness. What’s the worst that could come from letting him know that you’re craving the feeling of that thick cock of his splitting you open, or how maybe this time you should test out your gag reflex? Yeosang knows you well enough to take your phone from you after a certain amount of shots, so you don’t get that opportunity anyway. God bless your best friend.

A couple of days later, you still find yourself unable to let things go. How can you when Yeosang brings it up any time you speak alone? For someone so sure you were making a huge mistake, he sure is desperate for the tea. It’s like he’s your frontline cheerleader (which he usually is anyway). If he found out you both fucked, surely he’d lose his mind.

“You can’t keep me in the dark, I’m still dying to know how much progress you’re making with Mr. Jeong after seeing him call you that night,” Yeosang pleads, “Have you both met up in private off of campus yet?”

“That’s classified info,” you state and try to stifle your subsequent laughter when you hear him grumble. You still hadn’t found it within yourself yet to tell him that your plan had failed. “You’ll know by if I pass this class or not.”

“Just a little hint, please? I’m on my knees.”

“Progress is being made, Yeo,” you disclose in a sing-song voice. Surely a little white lie wouldn’t hurt in the meantime, “He’s a very good conversationalist, you know. With that deep voice of his, and especially late at night.”

Yeosang groans in annoyance, “You’re killing me ____, I’m too curious! You didn’t entertain a single man at the bar, something juicy has to be happening.”

You debate on at least telling him about the extra study sessions you and Yunho had been having before things were soiled, the innocent stuff that he could gush and tease you over. But, just as you’re about to say something, he cuts you off unknowingly.

“Shit, Mingi’s calling. Le’me call you back,” Yeosang groans, and you offer a hum of affirmation before the line clicks. Maybe it’s for the best that you had been interrupted before you put your foot in your mouth.

You quickly fill the silence by shuffling one of your ‘Doing Chores’ playlists and focusing your mind on cooking the remainder of your dinner. A couple of minutes later, the chime of your phone interrupts your music. You continue to focus on stirring while your other hand carelessly presses the answer option.

“That was quick,” you giggle.

“Felt like forever to me,” a familiar, deep voice replies. You freeze and glance over to see Yunho’s name on the screen of your phone in place of your best friend’s.

Fuck.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeong,” you reply instead. “I thought you were someone else, my apologies.”

“Have we really already reverted back to the formalities?” he sighs and his voice already sounds a bit defeated.

You roll your eyes, “I’m a bit preoccupied right now. So unless you’d like to discuss my class work, I don’t have time to entertain this.”

“Just give me five minutes, please.”

You turn off the stove and snatch up your phone before ambling to your bedroom.

“Spit it out already, Yunho.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you ____,” he admits.

Hearing you say his first name makes him feel a smidge better, even if it’s in irritation. He wonders if you can feel his heart pounding through the speaker or the way it makes his fingers tremble while holding the phone. “I was just scared, you have to understand that at least. I told you I’ve never done that kind of thing before, ever.”

“Thought it was a mistake–”

“I only said that because you left without saying anything. I thought you regretted it!”

“I literally told you why I did that, you decided to not believe me apparently,” you counter, voice laced with the slightest bit of frustration as you sit on your bed. Then you add in a mutter, “Instead of talking with me like an adult.”

There’s a long moment of silence. He doesn’t hang up though, so neither do you. You stare at the timer under his name, continuing to count up seconds full of emptiness.

“I’m really sorry,” Yunho finally sighs. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. I was just scared.” You remain silent and it eats at his confidence slowly. He’s desperate and doesn’t really care if it shows at this point, so he goes on to fill the silence again, “You were right, we’re adults. It’s not anybody else’s business what happens outside of campus. That’s why I’m trying to fix things now. Please.”

You sigh heavily while stroking your temples. This conversation is not something you had prepared yourself for, but the desperation in his voice is hitting you right in the gut. You know he’s being sincere, but it’s just hard to make yourself that vulnerable as well. You both know the truth is that it’s not okay, none of this is. It’s all extremely inappropriate. What you are doing with each other could ruin both of your lives if found out before you graduate. It’s risky; and yet, you still find yourself saying a sentence you definitely shouldn’t be saying:

“Listen, I genuinely like you Yunho.”

“And I genuinely like you too, ____. So let me take you on a proper date,” he says a little too hastily, but he can’t stop himself from the excitement that bubbles inside of him, stemming solely from you even reciprocating his feelings, “And not just a dinner like usual, I mean something thoughtful.”

“Something thoughtful…” you repeat after him, accidentally punctuating it with a giggle at how foolish the whole situation seems. “Are you serious about that?”

“Absolutely,” he assures you, “Only if you want to, of course.”

You sigh and smile to yourself at how heartfelt he sounds. Sure, there are millions of ways this could go extremely wrong, but you decide to ignore those thoughts and take him up on his offer. If you were one to listen to the better part of your judgment, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this situation in the first place. It would be a shame to let that work you put in go to waste just because of a little hiccup in the road. Besides, Yunho was surely the best fuck you had received in quite some time. There was plenty of time through the rest of the semester to explore that side of him again as well. The conversation ends with you both agreeing to meet with each other in a few days, Yunho promising to make it enjoyable even though it’ll be discrete.

♡ taglist for those who replied to my interest post: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr

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girasollake · 4 months

Note

Hi! Can I request a smut imagine with prompt 48 and trope 8 with Theodore Nott.

She’s a slytherin too and a badass bitch who everybody wants to be or date

Thank youuu!

✧ theodore nott x fem!reader x jealousy x "you. are. mine."✧

(this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )

this took longer than i expected, thank you for your request anon! x

told u guys i’d post smth… surprise!!!!

warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, p in v sex, some swear words, some slight cedric x reader, theo being bitchy ig, fingering, general sex stuff, orgasm denial, ummmmmm yeah i think that’s it

i’ll reread it later to fix mistakes cuz rn it’s 2 am where i live and i’m going to bed bye

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Your relationship with Theo was complicated. At least in your mind that was the most suitable word for this dynamic, you could never find anything else that would quite describe it. You were friends, that’s for sure, this was the only thing you were certain of. Some days you had found yourself tangled in his bedsheets, his soft fingers caressing your back as you lingered in his scent. But, there were also days when you didn’t speak to him at all, strolling through the halls and seeing him tug a piece of hair behind the ear of some Ravenclaw girl while simultaneously giving her his infamous smile. Even though you also flirted and went on dates with others, something inside your guts sunk down each time you saw him with a girl who was not you. And you could barely handle it. Every time you promised yourself you’ll never sleep with him again or give him your attention, you’d always end up doing the opposite. There was something about him that lured you in, it was toxic, but so divine. So, whenever his lips connected to yours in a hungry kiss, you’d forget about all of the other women he probably does this with. It was just you and him and your only thought during these moments was to stay with him like that forever.

‚-it’s not like it’s that important.’

‚Huh?’ You lifted your head and met Pansy’s annoyed face. ‚Sorry, what were you saying?’

¨What is going on with you lately?´She shook her head and sighed. ´I asked if you have a date for the ball.’ She then added.

‘Oh, well, not really.’ You shrugged.

‘Seriously? Is this about Theo again? I’ve told you multiple times that there is a fucking queue of guys just waiting for you and all you do is always go back to him.’ She huffed. ‘What about Mason? Louise? Henry? They were all head over heels for you, I don’t believe they didn’t ask you at least once.’

‘They did. I just said no.’ You mumbled and avoided her angry gaze.

SShe groaned and took a sip of her butterbeer. ‘I was not going to tell you this, but I see there is no other option.’ Pansy took a deep breath. ‘I heard the boys talking about the ball and Nott wants to take Arisa.’

You swallowed a big gulp in your throat and looked down into your drink. You expected that something like this would happen, you just didn’t think you wouldn’t be prepared to hear it.

‘’M sorry.’ She looked at your numb expression with caring eyes.

‘It’s okay Pans.’ You gave her a soft smile. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

Even though you tried to not think about him for the next few days, it was unusually hard. He was on your mind non stop, like a song playing on repeat. On top of that, everyone was talking about the upcoming event. While walking through the halls you overheard people gossiping about the pairs, discussing what they are gonna wear and you were also a witness to roughly 7 performances of the boys creatively asking their crushes to go with them.

You walked into the courtyard and took a seat on the nearest free bench. You pulled out your sketchbook in hopes to finally draw something. Truth is, you didn’t remember the last time you practiced your beloved activity, not that you didn’t have time, you just didn’t have any ideas. This time wasn’t different, you looked around and then your gaze rested on the empty page before you. You made a soft line with your pencil and stopped, it was like your hand didn’t want to listen to your mind. You groaned and closed the sketchbook to put it in your bag again. While doing this, you felt a presence in front of you. Looking up, you saw Cedric Diggory, a charming smile plastered on his face.

‘Hi, do you have a moment?’ He asked and you stood up to face him.

‘Of course.’ You smiled.

‘I have a question.’

‘If you want my help with something, then no. I can barely finish my own essays and-‘

‘No, that’s..’ He chuckled. ‘I was wondering if you’d want to go to the ball with me?’

‘Oh..’ You bit your lip softly from the inside. ‘I.. I’ll think about it. Is that okay with you?’

‘Surely, just don’t take too long, darling.’ He sent you a wink and walked out of the courtyard.

Later that night you were studying in your dorm, soft music was playing in your headphones as you scribbled some sigils for one of the classes. Your back was turned to the door, so you didn’t hear that someone came in. It was the feeling of being observed that made you move your head to inspect the room and there he was. Theodore Nott stood next to your door, his arms were crossed and you couldn’t quite read his expression. You grabbed your headphones and took them off.

‘Knocking exists.’ You told him.

‘Not for me.’ He replied sternly.

‘What are you doing here, Theodore?’ You fixed your position on the bed so that you were fully facing him. ‘Don’t you have any other hoes to tend to?’

‘Are you going to the ball with Diggory?’ He avoided your question.

‘Why do you care?’ You stood up.

‘Answer me.’ He took a step closer to you.

‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.’

‘For fucks sake, stop being a brat and answer the question.’ He said through gritted teeth.

‘It’s none of your business.’ You replied while stepping closer to him and poking your finger into his chest.

His scent filled up your nose and you felt this forbidden feeling again. Your body was lustful, for him, but you couldn’t let him win again.

He chuckled, ‘See, that’s where you’re wrong.’

You scoffed, ‘Fine. Yes.’ You spat at him. ‘I’m going with Cedric. Is that what you wanted to hear?’

His eyes darkened at the confession, which wasn’t even true. You just wanted to get on his nerves and see what he would do. You didn’t even have time to react before he pinned you to the wall and hovered over you. Your breath hitched and you tried your best to avoid his eyes, because if you looked into them, you’d lose.

‘No, you’re not.’ He stated. ‘You are not going with anyone.’

‘Why? Why the fuck do you care so much?!’ Your eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He gripped your face with one of his hands and forced you to look at him. You closed your eyes.

‘You.’ He whispered and brought his lips closer to yours before breathily adding the rest. ‘Are. Mine.’

The sound of his voice was angelic and it sent a certain feeling down to your core. You tried your best to resist but your eyes fluttered open and met his. You lost.

He grabbed your face and connected your lips in a hungry kiss. You whimpered into his mouth and cursed yourself in your mind. Why was he so addictive? Why couldn’t you quit? He just felt too good to be true. Kissing you in all the right places, his fingers touching where you needed him most, every time you felt him inside of you, it felt like heaven.

He took a few steps back and tried to not break the kiss. He pushed you onto the mattress and with one of his hands he pushed all the books off the bed. He left wet kisses along your jawline and you moaned at the feeling. He discarded both of your shirts and attached his lips to your chest, leaving a couple love bites along the way.

‘I want you to say it.’ He mumbled into your ear.

‘Hm?’ You were brought out of your trance.

‘I want you to admit you’re mine.’

‘But am I?’ He stopped kissing your neck and gripped your throat.

‘Are you?’ He raised his brow and smirked challengingly, knowing you’d fold under him.

You stared deep into his eyes and swallowed harshly because of his grip, before replying, ‘I’m yours.’

‘Good girl.’ He let go of your neck and connected your lips once again.

Soon enough both of you were a sweaty mess, clothes laying somewhere on the wooden floor, soft sounds escaping your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. His breath on your neck and occasional kisses made you feel dizzy, his fingers making you squirm from the pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.

‘I need to feel you.’ You breathed out and Theo didn’t waste a second.

He positioned himself on top of you and slowly entered your aching pussy. You threw your head back and he used that to immediately attach his lips to your neck once again.

‘’S okay, darling. You’re doing so good f’me.’ He whispered to help you relax.

His voice made you let go of the tension in your lower body, finally allowing him to move at a pace so perfect for both of you. He lifted you up and spinned both of you, so that you were on top of him. His thrusts became quicker and stronger, one of his hands was caressing your breasts, while the other rubbed your clit so deliciously. You cried out his name a few times when you were close, but he always stopped just then. He just smirked every time and continued his actions, it turned him on, watching you whine on top of him. He felt he was getting closer to his release, so he sped up again, and this time his hand stayed on your sweet spot. You reached your high with a loud moan and threw your head back, your hand grabbing Theo’s arm. He released inside of you with a loud groan and you used that to push away his hand which was still rubbing circles on your bud, too sensitive for more. You collapsed on top of him and gave him a peck on his collarbone. Theo reached for the blanket and covered the two of you.

‘I lied.’ You mumbled.

‘What?’

‘I’m not going with Cedric.’ You replied softly. ‘I told him I’d think about it and..’

‘Good.’ He interrupted. ‘You’re going with me then.’

‘Am I?’ You looked up at him playfully. ‘I thought you were taking Arisa.’

‘Who?’ He replied and you giggled. ‘She asked me to go. But I refused.’

‘Why? She’s a nice girl.’

‘Maybe. But she isn’t you.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. ‘And I belong solely to you.’

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

@ girasollake 2024

#imagine #x reader #🤍 - girasollake writing event ☾ ⋆*#theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x fem!reader #theo nott smut #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x fem!reader

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klausinamarink · 3 months

Text

You’re Never Too Much

rating: T | cw: negative self talk | wc: 1.5k | tags: angst with happy ending, hurt Steve, arguing and making up, established relationship, post-canon | prompt: Love is giving them space when they need it

written for @steddielovemonth

Steve knows he can be unbearable with his partners sometimes.

He can’t help it. He doesn’t have a switch that shuts down the sparkling fountain of love like his parents apparently possess. It just naturally flows his veins without pause and surges anew every day.

His first girlfriend Heidi had broken up with him three days into the relationship, saying that Steve was too much for her. He had been more confused than devastated back then because since when did hugging your girlfriend from behind with a kiss to the cheek become ‘too much’? It only confused Steve more when he saw Heidi’s new boyfriend doing the exact same thing with her and they’d been together for three months by then.

Steve had ignored the tiny pang in his chest, shrugged off Carol’s comments, and moved on. Maybe he and Heidi weren’t meant to be anyways.

But it kept happening with the other girls. Leaving romantic poems in the locker instead of make-out invites? Too much. A bundle of flowers after class? Too much. Wanting to cuddle after sex? Too much. Stay the morning after? Too much.

Then came Nancy and she had adored every one of Steve’s antics that none of his previous girlfriends had liked. He quickly made his own schedule of sneaking into her bedroom late in the evening to help her study because he loved her blush and the bright gleam in her eyes. The day when Nancy told him that he was a dork was the day when Steve felt his heart swell because finally, he wasn’t being too much.

And then Barb disappeared and monsters turned out to be real.

Nancy stayed with him but it wasn’t the same anymore. She would still laugh at his corny jokes and affirmations but Steve had seen her distant eyes, no longer bright with the same love. Like she had managed to switch it off by herself.

Steve should’ve split up with her. But he didn’t want to be an asshole and leave her miserable with no support who knew nothing about the Upside Down. But she hadn’t pushed him away or told him his efforts were too much. So he stayed.

If he had left sooner, then Steve wouldn't have been told in a stranger’s bathroom that his love wasn’t just too much, they were bullshit instead.

He couldn’t trust himself with another romantic partner after that.

And then about two years later, he and Eddie started dating.

Everything that Steve had been told was ‘too much’ or ‘bullshit’ became ‘give me more’. More lazy kisses in the morning, more cuddles on the couch, more help with the laundry or dishes, more lovemaking, more, more.

Steve also found out real quick that Eddie loved whenever Steve quoted Shakespeare - especially Romeo and Juliet or Much Ado About Nothing - for no reason except to watch his boyfriend turn and scream delightfully into his own shoulder. Of course, Steve had taken his advantage, dialing it up with the Harrington charm just to make Eddie’s face redder. Whenever he thought that was too much, Eddie turned back around and kissed him with stupid smiles on both of their faces.

For a while, Steve had thought he finally found the perfect partner.

But he forgets that he doesn’t know how to shut his heart down.

—

Steve casually leans against the living room wall, acting totally non-suspicious as hides from view of the front door. He hears it swing open and then Eddie coming inside, the metallic clicking of his crane accompanying his steps. Steve waits just a bit longer until Eddie makes his way to the kitchen. Then he hurries around the corner and giddily wraps his arms around Eddie’s torso, lifting the man up.

“Welcome back-” Steve starts, a petname ready to fall out as he’s ready to bemoan his loneliness. But Eddie’s cold tone makes his jaws instantly clamp shut.

“Put me down.”

Steve obeys, swiftly but carefully as not to agitate Eddie’s leg. He keeps his arms around his boyfriend, squeezing just once in what he hopes comes off as assuring. However, Eddie only stiffens and says in the same cold tone-

“Let me go.”

Steve does. Eddie continues on towards the kitchen, not even glancing over once. Anxiety starts to drill into Steve’s spine, already making its way into the lining of his stomach. Something clearly happened to Eddie that’s putting him in a foul mood.

Tailing after him, Steve finally finds his voice and asks, “Is everything okay?”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He plops down onto a chair, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders are starting to shake. The anxiety shifts into concern as Steve hurries over to his side. “Eds-”

Eddie suddenly slams his hands onto the table, startling Steve back. He whips his head around to glare at Steve, yelling, “Is it too much to leave me alone for one minute?!”

Too much.

Steve swallows the thick lump in his throat, mumbles something he hopes is an apology, and stumbles outside to the backyard. He stares at the pool for a second before he quickly rounds to the side of his house, stopping just along the walls where he always felt the sunlight wouldn’t reach. Steve slowly crouches down to the ground, staring at nothing in particular despite the burning pressure behind his eyes and heart.

He should’ve seen this coming. Actually, he had known the day when Eddie finally had enough of his unbearable actions was approaching soon. They’ve been together for nearly a year. Just as long as Steve had with Nancy before that Halloween party. But Steve’s been living in blissful ignorance, hoping that it wouldn’t happen.

But even that had been too much.

A wet laugh bubbles out of his lips and Steve quickly clamps a hand over it. He feels like a kid, hiding behind his house like he’s avoiding his father instead of Eddie. It’s so stupid but very on-brand.

He lets the tears drop, forcing his hand to remain on his mouth so he can stay quiet. He doesn’t want to upset Eddie anymore.

Crunching stones under shoes approach. Steve doesn’t even look up when he hears a sucking of breath and Eddie’s murmuring voice, “Shit, Stevie.”

Calloused, ringed hands gently cup both sides of his face. Steve barely catches himself from sinking into the grasp. It’s always too easy to enjoy the feeling of Eddie’s hands on his cheeks. Was it too much for Eddie as well?

“Stevie, please look at me.”

Despite his brain screaming at him no, Steve does so. Eddie’s eyes are bloodshot red and tracks of tears practically shine on his face. In another scenario, he would look as beautiful as ever. But instead, he looks like shit.

Eddie’s fingers tap on his hand, the one still clamping over his mouth. Steve shakes his head quickly. He doesn’t want to break down into a sobbing mess and demand Eddie’s comfort.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie rasps out, a line of spittle popping out of his mouth. His voice sounds rough like he had just cried. “I’m so sorry, Steve, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Work was-” He closes his eyes, shudders out another breath, and opens them again. “What happened at work wasn’t an excuse and never should be. Even if I was exhausted and upset, I shouldn’t have lashed out. I wish I could take those words back, baby.”

Steve finally removes his hand, managing to speak coherent words just before the sobbing finally breaks out. “Am I too much though?”

He catches the horrified expression before Eddie suddenly pulls him forward into a tight embrace.

“You’re never too much, sweetheart. You’re just fucking perfect.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear, clear as day.

Steve doesn’t know how they spend kneeling on the ground as his entire body rattles out from crying while Eddie keeps holding him and occasionally gently shushing Steve. Eventually, Steve’s eyes dry out and he feels so tired that he just wants to tuck himself into bed and sleep.

Eddie helps him up and guides him back inside the house. They linger at the foot of the stairs, both of them realizing the same thing.

“Do you… want me to sleep with you still?” Eddie asks softly. He hasn’t let his hand go from Steve’s where it occasionally squeezes around his fingers. It fixes something in Steve’s heart but it’s barely enough to soothe the ache over.

“I-” Steve cuts himself off. Eddie looks at him earnestly, his brown eyes appearing to grow bigger with the still-there shining tears. Steve sighs and continues, “I think I want.. space. Just for tonight.”

Eddie nods, pursing his lips. “So do I. I think that’ll be good for tonight.”

“You won’t leave?” It hurts Steve to ask even though his gut is certain that Eddie will rather chew his hand off than leave.

“I’ll still be here.” Eddie raises a hand up with a small smile. “Especially in the morning when we’re rested and less pissed-off.”

Steve smiles back, “Okay.”

And when the morning does come, Eddie’s still here. When they talk and apologize, Eddie tells Steve again that he never thought of Steve as an unbearable boyfriend.

It makes Steve feel warm from the overflow of Eddie’s love.

#klaus writes #steddie #stranger things #steddielovemonth

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bedsyandco · 6 months

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age is just a number ☆ quinn hughes

note: Ahhh! I love writing Quinn so much😭 this was written in 20 minutes, i'll edit it later, i just really wanted to post it cause I have 0 patience and self control

requested: yes

summary: luke bsf x Quinn hughes. 4 year age gap. After some comments were made by Quinn's brothers, you get a little insecure in your relationship and Quinn has to reassure you

You and Quinn had been dating a few months now. sneaking around behind everyone's backs including Luke. Your best friend and Quinn's youngest brother.

The four of you were sitting in the living room at the lake house, watching some movie. Jack and Luke were chirping Quinn about some actress that he used to have a crush on. Going on and on about how he had a thing for older women because he was such a mommas boy.

You laughed along at first, always finding it so endearing to watch the brothers bicker back and forth. Even though you've been around to witness it for quite a few years now...it never got old.Your smile quickly faded when Jack started making comments about how all Quinn's relationships with younger women has failed, and that he should go for someone older this time, cause it doesn't seem like the younger girls can handle him.

You know you shouldn't let these comments bother you. It wasn't that serious and it wasn't directed towards you, but it was one of your, if not the biggest insecurity you had when it came to your relationship with Quinn. Being four years younger than him. Not being enough to keep him interested. These comments from two people who probably knew him the best, didn't do anything to reassure you.

"I'll be right back," you whisper, avoiding Quinn's eyes as you make your way to the bathroom.

A few minutes later there's a soft knock on the door and Quinn enters, shutting the door behind him and coming over to where you're standing in front of the sink. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you closer and kissing your shoulder softly.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" he asks you softly

"Nothing," you mumble and he puts his hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him and pushing you against the counter.

"Don't lie to me. I know you well enough to know everything's not okay and even if I didnt this pout is enough to tell me there's something wrong." Quinn says, rubbing circles on your hip and tracing your lips with the thumb of his other hand.

"Do you think I'm too young for you?" the words slip out before you can stop them and Quinn sighs, knowing his brother's comments was the cause of this.

"Age is just a number baby," Quinn says teasingly and you sigh.

"Quinn I'm being serious," you retort, grabbing both of his hands and holding them in yours, the way they were caressing you becoming a little too distracting.

"So am I. I don't care if you're 4 years younger or 4 years older or if you were born the exact same day I was. It doesn't change the fact that you're perfect for me. You know how Jack is, especially if he's been drinking, he can't keep his mouth shut. Especially if there's an opportunity to chrip me about something. If they knew that we were together, he would be more careful about making remarks like that." Quinn says and you bite the inside of your cheek, knowing he was right.

"I'm not ready to tell Luke yet." you say and Quinn nods, expecting that response from you.

"The longer we wait, the worse it's gonna be." Quinn replies and you look down, not wanting to argue about this. again.

Quinn sighs softly before taking his hand out of yours and cupping your face between his palms, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"God it's torture seeing you all day and not being able to touch you. Kiss you." he says wrapping his arms around your waist and just hugging you for a few minutes. You smile a bit, thinking that this is exactly why he was nicknamed "huggy bear". Your guy loves hugging.

"I'll sneak into your room tonight. If you think a young girl like me can handle you," you quip and Quinn chuckles, knowing you're not gonna let that go for a while.

"I think you can handle me just fine baby" Quinn smirks, slapping your ass as you walk past him, and out the door.

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📂 bedsyandco works!#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📜 cam's fics #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic

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