#I’m fixing to graduate tho | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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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aspiringhorrorauthor · 2 years

Text

Wild hearing my housemate doesn’t even know where she’s living once she graduates. I’ve known from the start where I’m going once I graduate and it is definitely NOT here

#No offence to the south west but you’re not the north east and you’ll never fix that #And I am SICK of people assuming I’m staying because I ‘escaped the north’#haven’t escaped anywhere. Once I graduate tho it’s a security breach SCP style and I’m returning to my natural habitat

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tastesousweet · 3 months

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⭒ the girl with the tattoo (iv) - pt 1 pt 2 p3

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : maybe the only way matt and y/n can stand being around each other is to fuck each other

warnings : weed, alcohol/drinking, smut (slightly rough but not very?? pretty filthy tho), profanity

mickey speaks : rlly hate how the smut turned out but maybe its jus me being a perfectionist + i changed a lot of shit ab UCLA (mostly grad dates) to fit into my narrative okay, i knowwww. only sorta proofread bc ive been busy, enjoy <3

THIS IS PART FOUR GO READ THE FIRST THREE PARTS DUHH

"FUCK!"

the turn of spring to summer in LA is typically the most eventful time of year. more parties are thrown than ever before in celebration of the season change, the boom of tourism begins, and of course school years are ending.

you celebrated your college graduation from UCLA only a week ago, with a large dinner at your favorite seafood restaurant and your friends all excitedly in attendance. matt was also there but you let it be known you invited him only so you wouldn’t feel bad (though he claims he wouldn’t have cared if you did or not).

you also shared an excruciating breakfast that same morning with your parents (both suffocating you with their traditional views that reminded you exactly why you moved hours away from them to attend school). you were cautious to wear items of clothing that would hide your tattoo and kept any conversations on the topic of your schooling rather than outside interests (not that they even care to ask) out of fear you may expose your routine of going out to party most weekends.

your brother was also at breakfast and you could tell he was trying his hardest to keep a positive attitude for you. you immediately noticed his wet face when you gave him a full hug after your ceremony, which made you cry, mostly out of missing him and love.

"it's not that bad!" andrea looks at you in the mirror as she continues to give herself soft curls.

“how the fuck did i manage to make this one downturned and this one up,” you reply in frustration while you point to either wing of eyeliner on your grimaced face.

andrea giggles and aims the stick of the curling iron at makeup remover lying in the sink, “just get a q-tip and fix it, cariño.” (“honey”)

you move around her to grab a q-tip from a small jar in the medicine cabinet before following her instructions, getting extra close to the mirror.

remi barges in the bathroom dressed in a mini skirt and a detailed patterned top, “hi nick!” she exclaims to her phone screen, placing it down on the counter while untwisting her lipgloss.

you can see nick’s awkward face as he sits in the car (making his camera jump at any dip or bump in the road), “sooo…this better be erin’s bathroom ceiling im staring at.”

“and if i say it’s not?” remi giggles to herself before rubbing her lips together to spread the gloss further.

“i’d say what the fuck are you guys still doing at home?! y/n’s our mutual friend that even got us into this bitch and i’m not just walking into some sorority house acting like i know any of these fucking people.”

“and we didn’t go to college!” chris exclaims to add to the point.

“yeah, we didn’t go to fuckin’ college!” nicks adds before his face falters, “the fuck does that have to do with it?”

chris’ voice is low as he explains himself, “you know…like, obviously we aren’t gonna know shit about some delta kappa omega?”

nick comedically pauses and the three of you watch the screen to see him staring at chris with no facial expression, “…okay chris. anyway, get your asses over here ASAP. we need you.”

“okay, we don’t need them. you’re being dramatic just chill out,” matt huffs from the driver’s seat.

“hey, we’re leaving soon i promise, nick.” andrea assures and remi picks her phone off of the counter to show the girl.

"thanks, but we'll be fine. erin told me where to find her, let's not get ridiculous." matt continues dismissing the conversation he finds so unnecessary.

you hold yourself back from saying anything but you can’t help but wonder just how close erin has got to matt. and how she managed to hold any conversations without pissing him off (no way a little lap dance dismissed matt’s entire personality). she hasn’t been too explicit about anything happening between them, only cluing you all in through her frequent mentions of him.

chris’ loud voice beams, “yeah, you ladies take your time! nick gimme the phone-” chris’ smiley face takes up remi’s screen now that the phone has shifted, “you know, who the fuck are we to tell any of you to rush?!” he sees andrea in view (with a form fitting dress and warm toned makeup) and can’t help the rush of words that decide to spill from his mouth, “andreayoulookfineasshitbytheway- and i just think, uh,” he giggles at his poor recovery and at andrea shaking her head and biting the side of her mouth (her very andrea way of blushing). “um, yeah, fuck, what was i sayin’?” he turns to matt.

nick laughs from the backseat at chris’ comment (he thinks it’s generally embarrassing opposed to andrea who finds herself embarrassingly flattered by him).

“nothing important, say your goodbyes now, we just pulled up.” matt gives his short advice and takes the phone. “see you, bye,” he hangs up and chris punches his arm immediately.

“dudeee!” chris groans. matt doesn’t give any reaction besides handing nick his phone back without looking at him.

“we’ll see them in less than an hour, get your shit.” matt tilts his head out the door as he opens it and exits the car.

“he’s so annoying.” chris huffs and turns to nick as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“i don’t know him, he’s your fuckin’ brother.” nick shrugs and acts clueless. chris laughs into his seat and nick knows making chris laugh makes him feel way better than just shitting on matt would’ve.

matt opens his door again, “get your gigglin’ asses out here!”

౨ৎ

matt's suprised he's lasted this long at this party without a fucking drink.

he's seen just about every partygoer trope there is - drunk guys and "you need to sober up" girlfriends, overly excited drunks far too impressed by each new song that plays, the loner type who strictly speak within their circle even when wasted, et cetera - and has managed to lose everyone he knows in this crowd, leaving him alone with DD responsibilities in a sorority house bouncing with excitement in honor of their “graduating senior sisters.”

speaking of, he’s only spoken to erin once all night. he did see you with your friends briefly, early in the night before you were swooped away with nick to be introduced to some guy he just met.

so like all times matt is bitchless and bored, he decides to smoke. he reaches in his jacket pocket for the joint he rolled before the party, in case of emergency.

but just as he raises the lighter towards his mouth he's interrupted by an airy, high pitched voice, “um, excuse me!” matt looks over, “yeah, you. sorry, you can't have drugs in the house.” the blonde frowns.

“it’s weed…” matt clarifies, taking the joint from between his lips.

“uh huh! and that is prohibited, outside please,” she guides her hand, drink in tow, towards a sliding door behind her.

he's not gonna nitpick with some chick about the umbrella term of 'drugs' or debate whether the alcohol she's drinking lies under it, so he just nods his head “cool,” and removes himself from his spot against the wall to walk around her and out of the door.

౨ৎ

you slump against a nearby couch as you recover from a hour of dancing alongside your best friends. remi sits next to you and leans her head on your shoulder as you both look around at the room full of people (a shade of deep fuchsia covers the room from multiple LED lights around the large house).

when you feel your own blinks become slower you shrug your shoulder and look at remi's profile, "we should probably get up rem, or else we'll fall asleep. this couch is way too comfy." you sigh.

"mmm... yeah. kinda want another drink but," she turns to look behind you both, "the kitchen's all the way over there..."

"now i know you two aren't tapping out of my party already?!"

you both look over to see erin dressed in a small glittered party dress, making her shine as she walks closer. "erin, where the fuck have you been?!" you excitedly rise from the couch and give her a hug.

"it's actually so fucking hard to host a graduation party, especially with my sorority sisters- they've had me doing all these traditions and shit, i haven't had time to talk to like anyone!" she explains to both you and remi.

"well, at least you look good, bitch!" remi adds and holds erins hand to make her twirl in her dress.

"thank you," she blushes and looks down then back to you two, "have either of you seen the triplets?"

"i think nick's off with some dude and chris is 'teaching' drea how to play beer pong..." you trail off and look to remi, "have you seen matt at all...?"

"not recently, i don't think so?" she looks over to erin.

"oh okay, that's fine. just wanna make sure they're having funnn." she draws her words out as she plays with the ends of her hair and smiles. you and remi can both tell she something bothers her more than she's leading on.

"e, come with us to grab drinks," you hold both remi and erin's hands and guide them with you to the kitchen.

౨ৎ

matt hadn't realized how hard he was staring at you dancing until chris came up to him with wild eyes and a loud laugh, making him snap away from whatever trance he was in.

"you okay, matt? your brain's not buzzkillin' right?"

matt straightens himself to no longer lean on the wall, "no."

"you sure?"

"yes?"

"maybe you should say fuck DD and have a drink or two, might give you somethin' to smileee aboutttt!" chris laughs.

"don't be stupid, chris. 'm not driving drunk."

"obviously we'd get an uber, matt." he emphasizes with a 'duh' attitude. "i get funnier when drunk, not stupid."

"right," matt offers a light laugh.

he throws a hand over matt's shoulder as they both face the crowd of dancing people, "god damn andrea's fucking hot- swear she's been feelin' me all night," chris hypes himself up then brings his red solo cup towards his mouth.

matt's eyes shift from you to andrea, who's limbs move just as freely and smile is just as wide. "that's good, that's good," matt nods. "she's nice."

"she's everything, bro." chris shakes his head in awe, "but, uh, do you have any cash on you?" matt turns his head, eyes showing his annoyance. "i'll pay you back, you know that matt. just like $20 to get me in the poker game outside."

"chris-"

"please, matt," he begs.

matt lets a heavy sigh out through his nose as he rustles in his pocket for his wallet. "you're my favorite now," chris kisses matt's hand quickly before he's heading off with a crumpled twenty in hand.

matt's eyes follow him until he's fully gone, then he's turning to look for you again. only this time it's not a challenge at all, you're already on your way.

you pull at the bottom of your little black dress (which rode up some due to your eccentric dancing) as you approach. "hi, matttt," you sing. it's known to most of your friends that when you're drunk your emotions are ten times stronger, and right now you're feeling extra carefree.

matt can tell you've definitely had a few drinks, so he tries to keep the conversation civil. "hey," he cracks a smile.

"are you not having fun?" you ask. you've wondered ever since you recognized him across the room.

"sure, i'm having fun." he shrugs, keeping eye contact with you.

you notice his all black outfit and blue jean jacket, "we kinda match," you look down at yourself then towards him, "i had a jean jacket too...it's um, in a closet somewhere i think."

"then you must have great style," matt jokes.

"oh i think that was clear before i happened to match you," you joke making use of your hands while speaking.

"mhm, sure..."

"so, do you wanna dance with us?" you smile in question.

"absolutely not," matt laughs and brings a fist to his mouth.

your smile drops, "right, you watch us dance but laugh at the thought of participating...?" you move your eyes to each side, "'cause that makes sense, matthew."

"no, it's not like that. you go have fun, i'm just not one to make myself look stupid for fun." he shrugs.

"so we...look stupid?" you squint your eyes in amusement knowing matt is trying to be such a hard ass for no reason.

"you said it," he laughs.

now you're a bit annoyed. "so you go back to being a loser all alone right here in this corner, and i'll go back to this stupid party and enjoy myself."

"alright," he rolls his eyes, "go ahead and be dramatic about it."

"will do," you sigh and begin to walk over to your friends, presenting matt with the gift of your middle finger directed towards him behind your back.

and matt thinks he just might take chris' advice on having a drink or two.

౨ৎ

you hate that matt is still on your mind.

and it irritates the fuck out of you that you're now giddy seeing him for a third time tonight. but to give yourself the benefit of the doubt, you've gotten to the point where you're so buzzed you've become horny.

you came outside on the hunt for remi, who told you she was looking for erin, and ended up finding all three triplets at a makeshift poker table full of rowdy men.

and as some wise person must have said: when horny, find someone to fuck.

"y/n!! whatcha doin'?" nick notices you and gives you a wide grin offering you a chair near the table.

"hey, nick. 'm sorry i can't really stay i just, um, need to borrow matt."

matt. who isn't paying much attention to anything around him now that the four shots he took settled. with his phone in one hand and a beer resting in his other, he's bound to be startled when you come behind him and whisper in his ear, "heyyy, sorry to bother but can we talk?"

he blinks and looks behind him, "y/n?!"

"come," you motion with your fingers and begin to walk away as he rubs his fingers over his eyes and starts to stand up.

"yeah?" he asks getting closer to you.

you wordlessly bring him back into the heated house and navigate until you find a mostly empty hallway (all while he keeps annoying you by repeatedly asking what you want).

his back falls against the wall, "way to confuse the fuck outta me. what's good?" the hand you were once holding dives into his front pocket out of habit and the other continues to hold his beer.

"i just need you to take me home."

"y/n, i'm no longer driving myself home, let alone you," he shakes his head.

"right, i figured, smartass."

"glad those comprehension skills still work. grab your phone and order an uber, 'm sure you dont need my help."

"matt. i want you to come home with me." you sigh in defeat.

"oh shit." matt dead pans. "ohhh shit." his eyes widen before a a laugh breaks through his closed mouth, "sunshine...you're tryna' fuck?" he looks up at you from his spot against the wall.

you scramble a lie to make yourself look less pathetic, "you're a last resort trust me," you roll your eyes. this was way better in your drunken mind than reality.

"still made the list though!" matt jokes, "wow. who knew you were so romantic? bringing me all the way over here just to tell me you wanna fuck. and at your place? how sweet," he can't help but poke fun.

"fuck you," you say under your breath.

"well only because you asked so kindly!" he goes to wrap his arms around you before you push him back against the wall.

"are you done?"

"i guess." he shrugs.

"so will you or not," you try to keep your confidence and not allow matt's comments to embarrass you. "it's fine if not, just-"

"yeah," matt's smirk slowly grows. "meet me out front, i'll have to go lie to my brothers but i can be quick."

౨ৎ

"why am i shocked you're actually here?" you ask as you shut the car door and look over to matt, phone screen reflected on his face.

the car begins to speed out of the neighborhood as he turns off his phone and shoves it in his jacket pocket, "let's be serious for one second," he reaches over and pulls at the end of your dress, "you wear this and look like that and you think i'd say no? i'd be crazy. i mean, yeah, your fuckin' mouth can irritate me to pieces but-"

"actually just shut up, matt" you remove your head from leaning against the window and move across the middle seat to kiss him. you pull apart fairly quickly though, "how are you less mean yet extra annoying when drunk? i shoulda went with my last last resort." you shake your head.

matt grumbles before leaning to kiss you again.

౨ৎ

after a car ride full of teasing and rushed kisses, you both made it to your apartment complex.

you fumble with your purse as you search for your house keys, distracted by matt’s lips moving over your neck. you pinch your eyes shut in frustration, “mattt, give me a second,” you nudge your shoulder into him to get him off of you.

“let me see it,” he grumbles grabbing your purse and finding your keys with ease, moving his arms around you and unlocking the door.

“you make it look so easy,” you breathe and open the door with your body pressed against it.

matt lets go of you and follows you inside.

you lean a hand on the wall next to the door to quickly remove your heeled shoes and matt watches you with dopey eyes and glossy, excessively bitten lips before deciding to take his shoes off as well.

you walk closer to him once he’s done, your dress riding up your legs and barely covering your ass at this point. you look up to him and softly ask, “do you need anything to drink?”

he brings his right hand up to hold your face and moves close to your lips, “you know i don’t want a fucking drink.”

“you don’t?" your pout is genuine even though you're teasing him. he knows you're sweet enough to really get him a drink if he desired. he draws his thumb across your slumped lip before you speak again, "well…what do you want, matt?” you move your hands to the waist of his jeans, tracing the outer seam.

he pinches his eyes shut and moves his head to lean on your shoulder, he’s not gonna be the one to say he wants to fuck you. you want to fuck him, that's why he's here. so he’s definitely not begging you to touch him.

“hmm…?” you hum as your hands go to either side of his face, bringing him back to look at you. he looks into your eyes as he drops his hand from your jaw. you notice the pink splotches that still linger on his face, recovering from the heat of the party atmosphere and now the heat of this moment.

matt looks down at your lips, “you know what i want, and you want it too.” his hands travel down and push the front of your mini dress up as he feels over your underwear.

you mouth hangs open and you move your hips against him softly. begging him with your actions rather than your words. and those tend to speak the loudest.

"so what do you want, y/n?" he asks quietly without breaking eye contact.

"matt-" you breathe, wanting him to do anything more than a juvenile rub over your underwear.

he licks and sucks your neck as your hands capture his hair. “where do you want me?” he sounds out of breath when he asks so close to your ear. he finally moves his fingers past the waistband of your panties to nudge your clit as he taunts, “hmm…? you want me right here?”

you whine, “we can’t right here."

"why not?" he breathes against you, annoyed.

"i can't have you fuck me in the foyer i share with my best friend,” you just know andrea would be pissed if either of your body’s fluids made it onto the freshly vacuumed carpet.

he retracts his hand, “then why are we just standing around? show me to your room,” his voice is rough.

“why don’t you try to guess which is my room is mine?” you smile with your faces far too close together.

“why don’t you be a good host and give me a tour?” he retorts.

“that’s not fun,” you push.

he growls and lifts you up, walking past the living room and into a hallway that splits in two (all while you incessantly kiss his jaw and upper neck). he huffs at his ridiculous situation and reaches for the first door he sees. a toilet sits at the end of the room and a cluttered counter to the left.

“bathroom,” you mutter with a giggle.

matt responds with a snipped tone, “mhm yeah i’ve seen one before.”

his grip on your waist grows harsher as he opens and closes a multitude of doors with you commentating over.

he finally makes it to your room with you mocking him in a cheer of celebration as you climb off of him and turn on the dim light near your bedside.

matt would normally take in the room around him but his headspace is far too sexually frustrated to give a shit about how you decorate your room.

he opts to stand near the door and eye you from afar, wanting nothing more than to pounce on you.

you notice this (as well as the fact that matt hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said about minding the mess of clothes piled in the corner from your struggle to pick an outfit earlier) and slowly walk back towards him. the soft yellow light blurs behind you and highlights the edges of your figure in a mouthwateringly pretty way that makes matt antsy.

when you’re close enough matt somehow pulls you closer. his nose nudges against yours messily before capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. your hands feel for the end of his shirt and move underneath it to touch his warm lower stomach. you can feel how his body expands and curls as he breathes through your unwavering kiss.

despite wanting to keep the tension high, you break apart from matt to tease a bit, “can i touch you?” his face is scrunched absentmindedly from his desire and his lower lip finds its place tucked behind his front teeth when he rushes a nod to you in encouragement.

you push him away from you softly, “take your jacket off.” you move to your bed and after the sound of a jacket hitting the floor, you find him right on your feet, chasing your kiss and heat.

he leans over you and immediately finds your lips once more. now that he’s on top of you he finds himself wanting to get you to say how bad you want him.

his hands meet your thighs and move your dress as they run up to your rib cage before moving back down to squeeze your thighs.

matt’s surprised when you’re the one to involve your tongue in the mix, making the kiss sloppy yet intimate. your hand then crawls into his hair to keep him close.

but he doesn’t let you hold him for long, taking your hand from his hair and laying it against the bed, raising himself above you. “what do you want sweetheart?” he lowers his other hand towards your stomach, grazing your tattooed hip gently before feeling your underwear.

“you,” you respond in defeat and desperation.

“oh? and you want me to…?”

“matt. touch me,” you take your free hand and guide his own under the waistband of your underwear.

“but i thought you wanted to touch me? now you’re just bein’ selfish.” he keeps his hand close to your pussy, running his index finger across your lips kindly.

you look at him with droopy eyes, “please."

so matt lets you be selfish. he selfishly wants to taste you after all. he lowers himself to your face and captures your bottom lip once more, sucking then biting down slightly before moving his face further down your body slowly. your dress maintains its rippled shape in a bunch right where your tits lie.

he makes his way to your tattooed lower hip, still a little impressed with his execution of the cartoon (as it's not his typical style) and showing this with a kiss, then a light lick (making you shudder the tiniest bit). as he furthers, he finds the space on the bed is not enough, opting for the plush, carpeted floor.

matt sits on the back of his calves to watch how your body reacts when he pulls your panties down, only he misses the satisfied smile curling onto your face when you move your head to the the side.

he shifts your pliable legs to give him a better view of your heat's entirety, spreading your folds gently as he gathers spit in his mouth and spills it onto your clit. his eyes flicker from your face (choking on a moan) to the bead of saliva mixing with your natural slick that has him on edge. “that feel good?” he asks and moves his fingers up and down your pussy slowly, bumping your clit but not lingering long enough.

“yes...so good, matt,” you encourage in a broken whimper.

he hums, placing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard. you moan out lowly and you can't help but close your legs around matt's head. he normally would lay them flat again and tease you but he finds the pressure and dizziness turns him on so much more. his hands rest at your hips, moving up and down and your legs cradle his head as he works his mouth and tongue on you.

"mm fuck," you reach above your head to grip the soft colored comforter in your manicured hands. matt never falters, his licks only become needier when he adds two of his fingers to curl inside of you.

he continues his restless actions until the moment right before you have registered you were about to cum. then, he's immediately removing himself and standing up, wiping his face with one hand as the other hurries to unbuckle his chunky black belt.

you grumble and fix yourself to sit up and look at him, now discarding the belt into his own growing pile of clothes on your floor. he begins to unbutton his pants when he hears you whine and pull at his ego to get him to come back. “how fucking typical. should’ve known i'd barely get one orgasm, let alone two out if this.”

matt immediately stops unzipping his jeans and comes closer to stand above you, his face clearly annoyed. he gives your pussy a light slap, making you whimper. “keep talking shit, brat.” he grits through his teeth and slaps it again making a filthily wet sound that has you moaning.

he doesn't stop at that; he begins to harshly rub your clit back and forth without mercy, keeping eye contact as his face hovers your own, before moving his fingers inside of you while his thumb continues to work your clit. continuous loud moans crowd your room before you eventually meet your high with rolled eyes and shaking legs.

matt quickly pulls his fingers out and wipes them against your thigh leaving it sticky and shiny like golden honey. finally able to unzip and remove his jeans and boxers, allowing his needy cock to be free from the tightness. you move to the edge of your bed when you hear the small clap against his stomach, eager to find matt as ready for you as you are for him.

he watches from above as you admire his length while your fingers ghost over his sensitive dick. you then bring your mouth closer, dribbling spit over his tip and wrapping a fist around him. you look up into his hooded eyes for approval then take him in your mouth and jerk the rest of him with your hand.

he groans and bites his pink and undoubtedly swollen bottom lip as you suck and hollow your cheeks around him, even taking him all the way at some points. and though this feels fucking amazing, he wants nothing more than to be inside of you right now.

he holds the base of your neck then squeezes lightly to get you to pull away, spit erotically traveling with your lips. “can i fuck you now?” his voice is perfectly hushed yet demanding in tone.

you nod and matt wipes your lips, “good, take that dress off.” he removes his own shirt and reaches for a spare condom he’d put in his pocket before leaving the house (for no particular reason). he turns back to you, with your breasts now on display for him, ripping the package with his teeth.

you motion for him to give it to you and he complies. somehow even when you’re literally putting a condom over his dick, you’re a sweetheart about it: kissing it once he’s fully covered and turning yourself over onto all fours without him having to ask. because you understand yourself and have the confidence to choose the position you’d like to be fucked in. and matt would be lying if he said that isn't so fucking attractive.

he smirks as he adjusts himself on the bed, feeling out every inch of your full ass before moving his hands to squeeze your waist. you lay your head against the plush comforter, arching yourself further in anticipation. “matt,” you blubber out a whine.

he takes the base of his cock and guides it through your folds, “mhm…i know.” he sees your face twist in amusement, “oh, you like that, huh?”

you lick your lips and nod your head before matt finally pushes himself fully inside of you. his hips start in slow, rhythmic patterns before becoming uncontrolled and incomplete- and the same goes for your moans.

matt's almost hypnotized by the way your ass moves in reaction to his thrusts (slowing himself down just to watch in detail and only speeding up when you start to get really antsy over it).

as you both get sloppier and chase your highs, matt decides to flip you over and tuck your legs into your chest for a different angle. there's something especially needy in the way he rubs at your clit and makes a mess of your tits with his mouth that drives you insane with pleasure.

"my- shit!" you moan harshly under matt.

"hold it," he huffs.

"can't," you whimper, "just-"

"shhh," matt captures your lips as he quickens his pace, feeling his own climax approaching. after a few moments you're breaking the kiss to roll your head away, exposing your neck as you uncontrollably cum around matt.

"fuck," he moans, stilling his movements to maximize his release.

he takes a moment to breathe before removing himself from you, immediately fucking his fingers into you while rubbing your weak clit (just to be annoying) until you push him away and tell him to fuck off.

he lets out a chuckle as he removes the condom and discards it appropriately. when he comes back over to you you're on your side with your own arm wrapped around your waist in comfort.

matt sits next to you, "that good for you?"

you just nod and bite back a smile.

matt hums in pride, running a hand over your exposed ass before leaning down to kiss and suck a dark hickey into the skin.

"c'mere," you tug his hand.

he complies and you turn to open your legs for him once more, grinding a bit once the two of you begin to kiss again.

you reach between the two of you, taking matt's half-hard dick in your hand and stroking. as you pick up your pace he whines and begins to thrust into your hand in need.

until you hear your front door open. to which you push matt off of you and on to the floor, hearing him groan as you snap at him to get in your closet.

you crawl under your comforter while matt hurries to gather his things from your floor and get into your closet.

you hear andrea stumble a little making her way through the house and you catch your breath just as she knocks on your door and cracks it to check if you're sleeping.

"y/n, you awake?" she slurs a whisper.

"yes. hi drea, how'd you get home?"

she opens the door a little further but continues to lean on the door frame, "how did you get home? was lookin' all over like 'where's my girl?' everyone was usless though," she sighs.

"sorry, i took an uber," you giggle, "i got sleepy, i guess."

"mhm...you and me both." she yawns expectedly.

"you should get some sleep, we can talk in the morning, okay?" you smile from your bed.

andrea nods, "'kay, love you." she leaves with a sleepy smile.

"love you," you reply as she shuts the door again.

you let out a relieved breath, glad she hadn't suggested a sleepover like you'd both normally do when drunk.

matt walks out of your closet, almost fully clothed, buckling his belt again, "gave me fucking rug burn, thanks."

you move a hand over your face, "sorry- i just don't need anyone seeing you here."

"'s fine," he shrugs and takes a seat on your bed, "how long is it gonna take her to sleep so i can leave?"

"less than five minutes," you pick at one of your acrylic nails, seeing matt place his jacket on your bed makes you almost laugh to yourself, "shit, i left my jacket at erin's."

matt grins to himself and adds, "shit, i left my car at erin's," with a shake of his head.

you both laugh softly before it fizzles.

matt's back is towards you as he opens his phone to order another uber home. and now the silence brings you back into reality and suddenly you're feeling sick to your stomach about erin.

it takes you a little but you eventually mumble towards his back, "matt you didn’t fuck erin, right?"

"no," his voice sounds distracted and like he wouldn't care even if he did.

you focus on a loose thread in your comforter that you pick at, "...kay. not that it matters 'cause this was only for tonight. but i know i would probably die from guilt knowing i fucked with you after she did."

he turns to see you genuinely out of it and seeming to shelter yourself under your blanket. he leans towards you and rubs your arm softly before whispering, "don't make it a big fucking deal, nothing's different." his stare actually makes you feel far worse but you nod as if you agree anyway.

he stands up and puts his jacket on, “you sleep well okay, sunny?”

"shut the fuck up, you don't care about how i sleep," you whisper.

he breathes a laugh and reaches for your door.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x black!reader

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labyrynth · 9 months

Text

okay but i do think shen jiu would do well in higher education.

he’s probably not thrilled by having to teach undergrad classes, but he can tolerate it as long as the TAs handle most of the direct student interaction.

i think he would really thrive in graduate programs tho. students mostly directing their own work and research? getting to tell people what they’re doing wrong and how to fix their shit? that’s his jam. i think he’d LOVE teeny weeny seminars—heated discussion and and quibbling over details? as his JOB? he is here for it.

the best part is that he’s finally hit a level of academia where meaningful criticism is hard to find, so everyone flocks to him for it. is he super harsh? absolutely. has he made people cry? without a doubt. but he’s never wrong. nobody ever gets useless feedback from shen jiu.

and also once he’s tenured and no longer terrified of losing his position…i’m just saying he’d probably chill out a bit. or a lot. the wonders of feeling secure!

anyway. i just think he’d thrive as a high level pure academic.

#anyway #svsss #shen jiu #shen qingqiu #scum villain #the scum villain's self saving system #svsss talk #mxtx talk #moi #i do think shen yuan gets to be one of his hapless TAs

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pandulce135 · 9 months

Note

Hey Hey! Just wondering, how would the Rise Turtles (or just Donnie if you're not feeling up to doing all of them) react to catching a S/O singing alone in the kitchen for the first time? Like they're actually really good but maybe they're a bit shy at first about singing in front of someone? I love to sing and have vocal training but I need encouraging.

Note: I low key high key am planning on doing this for all four turtles but Don was first (it’s all a tentative plan tho). I totally get the whole being shy in front of people thing, so I hope this helps and I’m sure you have a powerful voice :)

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.4k

~~~~~

With his arms up in the air, Donnie stretched his shell as he sat up from his previously hunched over position. When you sit at your desk performing numerous computer tasks for four hours straight, you tend to let your back hunch. He let out a sigh when his back gave a few satisfying pops and lowered his arms to look around.

His eyes scanned his lab. The lights were dim, his EDM music playing through his speakers, and the seat you once occupied empty. You had said something about homework and needed to get an assignment done and that the lab was usually a good environment to work. Donnie gave a smug smile when you said that, “Of course it is, Y/N. It is a state of the art work environment to fully allow one to achieve an 84.6% higher success rate for their goal.” He was boasting and using limited data points, he knew, but your smile when he invited you to work in his lab was enough to push him to that point.

He loved your smile.

You had left at some point after he turned on his thinking music, grabbing your stuff and telling him you’d be in the kitchen, where you’d most likely be able to focus a little better. He would have argued but you were already gone when he had finished the line of code he was working on. How could you not like his preferred thinking music that usually drove him to a higher success rate on big projects? He’d have to fix the statistic.

Donnie closed up his lab quickly, turning off his music, monitors, and lights before exiting the room. The pitter patter of his bare feet against the concrete of the Lair was usually enough to warn you that one of the turtles was nearing you. However, you seemed to be preoccupied. He peaked his head into the kitchen to see you sitting at the island. Your head was bopping to music being played through some over the ear headphones he had made you one birthday.

What could you possibly be listening to that is making you work more efficiently than his proven EDM music? He had done research and studies to show positive affects of working to EDM music (again, on very limited subjects and with very limited data points, but you didn’t need to know that)!

That’s when he heard your voice begin from your spot on the stool with your fingers frozen over your laptop.

“With more faith in God, I would tell you that this was the rapture

And we’ve been left behind

Why are we so young with tired, sunken, baggy eyes?”

Donatello stood in the doorway of the kitchen dumbfounded. In all your years of knowing each other, you had never once mentioned that you can sing. Were you embarrassed? Were you shy? Why didn’t you want him to know?

These thoughts stayed swarming around Donnie’s head as he stood frozen in the doorway. You probably assumed no one was in the kitchen. The rest of the Hamato brothers were out getting pizza and Splinter was watching his soap opera on the big projector, so it was a very plausible assumption to make, he concluded. His thoughts seemed to stop when you continued to sing the next part of the verse.

“So I’ll give myself a name, something stupid and pretentious

Like Mawce spelled with a C

And I’ll hope all the cool kids who graduated but stayed judgmental will finally accept me.”

Donnie’s eyes were glued to your form, eyes closed, chin tilted slightly upward. With each line, your head moved slightly, adding more emotion for the seemingly invisible audience of your one person show. Your fingers had curled up into fists and your eyebrows furrowed upward. Donnie found it hard to look away from you, so in your element with beautiful vocals.

“And I might be flying home today, but I’m not going home

’Cuz everything I thought I knew has proven to be wrong.

And I’m desperate to the point of flying straight into the over drinking nights that leave you feeling torn.

And I’m leaving,

I’m leaving for New York.”

He admired your inflections, the way your voice would grow then shrink in on itself to tell a story. He took note of the vibrato that made your voice almost sound like it was shaking. Your voice was so strong and so passionate. Why didn’t you sing more often? So many questions with no answers yet.

The words left Donnie’s mouth before he even had the chance to stop them. “It seems pretty redundant to leave for New York when you already live in New York.” He crossed his arms to lean against the doorway, an uninterested look in his eye. He couldn’t let go of his bad boy persona now.

You let out a small scream that made him flinch as you whipped your head around to face him. In the rush, you pulled down the bulky headphones so they rested on your neck. Heat rushed to your cheeks as soon as you heard his voice out of embarrassment. With wide eyes, you simply stared at him, mouth agape in horror as you realized what he heard. Maybe he wasn’t there for all of it? You began to move your mouth to ask when he spoke up again.

With his arms still crossed, he moved himself nonchalantly to make his lean against the doorframe more comfortable. “And before you ask, since ‘With more faith in God,’” he answered your nonverbal question so calmly it almost made you combust on the spot.

“So pretty much the whole time, huh?” Your voice came out in a squeak a few octaves higher than normal. Your eyes were still the size of saucers. You probably looked like a dear in headlights.

“Yeah,” he answered, plain and simple.

You turned back to your computer, hands still in fists from embarrassment. Through your headphones, you were still able to hear the muffled guitar and voice. You felt hot and tense, and you knew you looked on edge, too. But when Donnie placed a hand on your shoulder, you relaxed slightly.

“I think you sound nice,” he peaked over your shoulder to look at what you were working on. You had already submitted the assignment twelve minutes ago. He’s going to have to fix that statistic.

You dropped your head down into your hands. “Oh my gosh…” Your embarrassment showed through your voice.

“You do!” Donnie’s hand slid across your shoulder to your upper back to try and calm you down. “The crescendos, the vibrato. Oh! Your tone! Why didn’t tell us you sing?”

You lifted your head up from your hands to look at Donnie, a mixture of shock and confusion on your features. “Since when did you know so much about music?”

“Ah, ah, ah, dearest, Y/N. I’m the one asking the questions here.” Donnie immediately shot you down with a pointed finger. You frowned at him with a furrowed brow.

You sighed loudly, pulling away from Donnie’s touch. “I don’t know. I’m just- I don’t know it’s embarrassing? I’m.. a nervous wreck when it comes to singing in front of people? It’s terrifying, people judge.” You let it all out in a word vomit. Your whole body felt warm and tingly from your sudden sharing of feelings. Donnie’s eyes widened slightly obviously taken aback from your vulnerability. You turned your head back to your laptop screen and threw your head in your hands again.

To the side, Donnie stood tall and eyed your cowering form. “Well, based off of my observations, I can say that, without a doubt, you have a wonderful voice and your technique is near perfect.” You let out a soft sigh as you felt his lips against the side of your head to plant a kiss. “No need to be embarrassed, my love. How about we get some pizza?” He smiled warmly down at you as you turned to face him again.

His eyes, which were usually full of disdain for his brothers, were now full of love for you. You felt a smile break through and grow across your face. The smile he loved so much.

“Sure.” You nodded as you closed your laptop and stood up from the stool. Before you began packing your items, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, earning you a small gasp from the tall terrapin. “I love ya, Don,” you said as you shoved all of your loose items into your bag.

He chuckled as he watched you grab your stuff and face him. “How could you not-“ He was cut off by you elbowing his side. “I mean, I love you, too,” he chuckled out.

“I know.”

“Good.”With his arms up in the air, Donnie stretched his shell as he sat up from his previously hunched over position. When you sit at your desk performing numerous computer tasks for four hours straight, you tend to let your back hunch. He let out a sigh when his back gave a few satisfying pops and lowered his arms to look around.

He loved your smile.

That’s when he heard your voice begin from your spot on the stool with your fingers frozen over your laptop.

“With more faith in God, I would tell you that this was the rapture

And we’ve been left behind

Why are we so young with tired, sunken, baggy eyes?”

“So I’ll give myself a name, something stupid and pretentious

Like Mawce spelled with a C

And I’ll hope all the cool kids who graduated but stayed judgmental will finally accept me.”

“And I might be flying home today, but I’m not going home

’Cuz everything I thought I knew has proven to be wrong.

And I’m desperate to the point of flying straight into the over drinking nights that leave you feeling torn.

And I’m leaving,

I’m leaving for New York.”

“So pretty much the whole time, huh?” Your voice came out in a squeak a few octaves higher than normal. Your eyes were still the size of saucers. You probably looked like a dear in headlights.

“Yeah,” he answered, plain and simple.

You dropped your head down into your hands. “Oh my gosh…” Your embarrassment showed through your voice.

“You do!” Donnie’s hand slid across your shoulder to your upper back to try and calm you down. “The crescendos, the vibrato. Oh! Your tone! Why didn’t tell us you sing?”

You lifted your head up from your hands to look at Donnie, a mixture of shock and confusion on your features. “Since when did you know so much about music?”

“Ah, ah, ah, dearest, Y/N. I’m the one asking the questions here.” Donnie immediately shot you down with a pointed finger. You frowned at him with a furrowed brow.

His eyes, which were usually full of disdain for his brothers, were now full of love for you. You felt a smile break through and grow across your face. The smile he loved so much.

He chuckled as he watched you grab your stuff and face him. “How could you not-“ He was cut off by you elbowing his side. “I mean, I love you, too,” he chuckled out.

“I know.”

“Good.”

#tmnt #rottmnt #writing #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fanfic #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #Donatello x reader #Donnie x reader #rottmnt Donnie #Donatello #x reader #Donatello x y/n #Donnie x y/n #x y/n #rottmnt x reader #rise Donnie #rise Donnie x reader

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tf2-oneshots · 8 months

Note

quick fix, medics doves have a bird bath with those really small rubber ducks that are like 1 inch tall. it’s a variety of different little ducks from germany tho, like souvenirs.

scout and medic watch the doves splash in the water occasionally while medic tells scout about how he got each duck.

That’s adorable 🥺

Warnings: none!

Rating: General

A bucket of warm water is poured into a custom birdbath made of stone. Said water is the filtered kind from the fridge. Tap is too harsh on the feathers, as Medic would say. Several rubber duckies, half the size of Scout’s thumb, are placed into the water. Each one unique with either a cute design or an outfit. Scout then removes his bandages, tucking the rolled fabric into his pockets.

“Here come the birdies! Archimedes, no slapping.” Medic warns his eldest bird as a small flock arrive to the bath. Thankfully, the dove keeps his wings to himself as they dip their feet into the water. Scout chuckles, carefully making a pool of water with his hands and going under Socrates’ wings. Lord knows he needs an extra hand in that spot.

Medic joins in, carefully working the dried blood out of their white feathers. The doves not being cradled take a moment to play with the ducks. Tiny beaks push and toss the rubber playmates while feathers ruffle in the water. Scout laughs, watching a tiger patterned duck be thrown out of the bath entirely.

“Cleopatra! We do not throw our toys.” A chide from her father that she doesn’t like. Cleo ruffles, turning away from the man when he puts it back into the bath.

“Where’d you even get that?” Scout picks up the tiger duck to admire it. Black stripes contrast the orange body and white stomach. For a tiny toy, it was definitely detailed. Now, Scout takes the time to look over all of the ducks. A puppy, a witch, and a doctor float alongside the doves. Scout looks to his boyfriend and asks how he came to have such an arrangement.

“I’m glad you asked! I got Dr. Quack when I graduated medical school. It was my nickname actually, teehee!” Medic giggles at the fond memory of his college days. They were so long ago, yet he clearly recalls the strange looks his colleagues gave when he squealed at the reproductive section of the lecture. Always a go-to subject for him.

“The witch was when I got chased out of my hometown for trying to reanimate my favorite singer. Its tradition to leave one at the doorstep as warning.” The poor thing just kept screaming until he whacked it over the head with a piece of wood. In hindsight, she was known for her vocal range. Medic just thought she would be happy to have come back! Instead, he got terrified screeches that alerted the Bürgermeister, who proceeded to arrange a pitchfork wielding mob.

“The puppy I’ve had since I was boy. I won him in a raffle at a dog show.” Money well spent in his opinion. Little Ludwig proudly marched to claim his prize, winning ticket in hand. The duck came with paw shaped chocolate as well, which he promptly ate as they announced the best in show. Such a fun day with his parents.

“Awesome stories, babe.” Scout places his hands on Medic’s shoulders so they can kiss. Just as their lips are about to meet, a loud splash and coo sounds. Lo and behold, Archimedes was wing slapping his siblings! He deeply coos, feathers puffed with his wing landing on an angry Cleopatra.

“Archimedes! Time out!” Medic takes his naughty birdie out of the bath while Scout comforts Cleo. She curls up in his hands, fighting to recover from her brother’s violence. In reality, she’s completely fine. Her feathers are straight and wings unscathed. Ever the dramatic dove.

When Medic returns, he resumes their interrupted kiss. The rest of the doves are left to air dry along the rafters while Archimedes sits in the time out cage. He puffs himself, cooing with anger every time Medic walks by.

I love mediscout sm -H

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 requests #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #mediscout #quick fix #archimedes #tf2 archimedes

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sluttyhollow · 10 months

Text

Hobie x alt black reader (gn)

Canon divergent (let’s just act like universes are all on the same timeline and the spiders can time travel without consequence,) reader is Miles older cousin, hobie doesn’t exist on earth 1610, black reader with locs (can be read as faux locs or even braids/twist tho) colored hair (color not specified) and piercings (nose, smiley, bridge), reader works with kids (unspecified jobs), your writer is from USA and wrote British English the best they could without it sounding ridiculous 😭

smut warnings: dub-con for sex under the influence of weed, mutual maturation turned into sex, gender and anatomy neutral reader

This got a big out of hand I fear, enjoy

18+ No Minors

Summers spent in the streets of Brooklyn as kid were always fun. The nature of being in a big city, there was always something for you and your little cousin Miles to do. As you grew up, the summers became summers and winters spent in the city with them. Then it became attending college nearby, then grad school, and now freshly graduated with a new job, you were staying with your Uncle Jeff and Aunt Rio while Miles lived in the dorms for school. Still your favorite little cousin, and you basically being his older sibling, he was home every weekend so you two could hang out. Miles told you everything, including his not so part time job as the neighborhood vigilante. Much to your displeasure and through his consistent insistence that he was safe, even reassured you that there were OTHER spider people in case he needed them. Which didn’t really make you feel better considering they were probably also young teenagers, later confirmed when he introduced you too his “friend” Gwen (the two teens obvious infatuation with each other causing your eyebrows to raise into your hairline). But they both seemed well enough that your worries disappeared for the time being.

With both your aunt and uncle working overnight shifts now that miles was older, you typically spent most nights and weekends in the home alone or with Miles and Gwen. That being said it was Friday night and miles should’ve been here a few hours ago. At your thoughts, you heard a thump echo from the living room. Assuming miles had finally made his way home you got up from your bed to greet him. Mouth fixed to call his name out in greeting as you walked into the front room all the words got stuck in your throat. Three different versions of spider man stood in the living room of your house. The one you recognized to be miles stood slumped up against a tall spider man covered in spikes, patches and buttons, holding his midsection as another spider man, this one whom you assumed to be Gwen, fussed about a wound on Miles stomach that you were finally taking notice of.

“What the fuck!? Miles!!” Jumping down the rest of the stairs you approached the three spiders, taking care to help them lie him down on the coffee table, you really couldn’t explain blood stains on the couch tomorrow.

“What the fuck happened” the one spider you didn’t know spoke, British accent filling the space around you as he finally pulled off his mask “hit a bit of a snag on a mission, but they got a good hit on Peter Pan before Gwendy and I grabbed him and legged it” if your cousin wasn’t bleeding on the living room table you’d take more time to appreciate the beauty of the man in front of you. Silver piercings across his perfect dark skin, teeth perfectly aligned in his mouth and a healthy set of wicks atop his head. All of which matched his spider persona perfectly.

Drawing your attention back to miles you hummed out a reply before reaching up to snatch the black mask off miles face so you could glare at him properly. Turning your head to see the other young teen in the room had also removed her mask you spoke to her “Gwen, I’m going to take his suit off to look at his wounds” at the mention of clothing being removed she turned bright red, excusing herself to find towels and first aid supplies you kept for miles specifically. With the help of the other man you helped sit miles back up and pulled the zipper on his suit down and rolled it so it sat on his hips before laying him back down to examine the damage.

The wounds were superficial enough, with the exception of one big gash in the center of his stomach, nothing a few stitches wouldn’t fix. After assessing the damage you re aligned your glare at Miles, who was staring at the other spider to avoid your wrath.

“Miles” a short hmm and the quickest side eye glance were sent your way. pinching his side with a decent amount of force you started your speech on scolding the teen, well teens now that Gwen was back with the supplies, on how they can’t just show up battered and bruised without warning, and their lack of safety, how dangerous being spider man was and how you’d just pass away if anything happened to them. Somewhere in the middle of your ranting, and finishing sewing Miles up, you were just ranting to be ranting. Turning your ire on the only person in the room who had felt it

“AND WHO ARE YOU ANYWAYS, YOU JUST LET THE KIDS AROUND YOU GET HURT LIKE THIS” you we’re cute. Colored locs framing your face while the rest sat tied up top of your head, metal pierced through your nose, directly between the prettiest pair of brown eyes and one more that showed itself whenever you talked. Plus you were protective of the two teenagers, which was also cute. A smirk, and air of nonchalance sat across his features as you yelled at him. Folding your arms across your chest you waited for him to answer you.

“Names Hobie luv, and those two blokes ran off to another demension on their own without me, I saved their arses from dying” at that both of you turned to look pointedly at the two teens who BOTH were now ignoring the two adults in the room. Turning back around to finally look at the man in front of you, letting out a deep breath that you weren’t really sure when you took in, as your hands slid down your face.

“Sorry bout that” it was mumbled and forced but Hobie understood your frustration. he too cared for the teens, but their recklessness knew no bounds when they were revved up.

“Ehh you gave em a proper scolding, yeah, can’t take it too personally” he chuckled and you followed suit, plopping on the floor next to him and introducing yourself. The two of you sat watching the young teens in front of you talk on the couch, both awkwardly fumbling over there words, Miles state of half undress still causing Gwen to be a red faced mess.

“Guess I should get Gwendy back to where she belongs luv, maybe we’ll meet under better circumstances next time yeah” standing up to his full height, before stopping a long arm down to your level to pull you up. the smile playing at his lips signified next time would likely be sooner than you thought, not that you minded too much. Bottom lip grazing your top row of teeth before your tongue followed its path, you hid the smile you felt creeping on your face nodding your head in ascent to his statement.

Nodding one last time as he and Gwen stepped foot through the portal that had appeared within your living room. Watching the place it was for a few more seconds before turning to face Miles, who was wearing a shit eating grin.

“You feelin ma boy huh cuz” you couldn’t stand teenagers really. They talked too damn much… he wasn’t wrong but damn.

“Still ain’t got enough fizz to bag Gwen I see” the smile on his face dropping to be replaced by a mean mug “still doing that tired move my dad tried to teach ya, ain’t got no better game” where his smile fell, yours was steady rising.

“But yeah I might be feelin ya boy just a little bit” with that, you turned on your heels and headed back up the stairs. You threw a goodnight over your shoulder towards miles before closing the door.

Though you knew you’d see him again, what you didn’t expect was to unlock the front door exactly a week later to find him pounding across the couch while, wait a minute is that another teenager on the floor. You were collecting new spider teens like Pokémon. The sound of the door opening and bags hitting the floor caused everyone to pause to look at you.

“Yoooo cuz! You know Gwen, and I’m sure you remember Hob” you caught the look he sent you after that “and this is my friend Pav, he works with us too” the kid in question was in front of you, arms encasing you in a hug before you could register that he even moved. And he was back on the floor waving and smiling at you before you could wrap yours back around him to reciprocate the action. Flashing a full smile at the kid, you went to pick up the groceries but saw a pair of black boot stalking off with your bags being toted by a pair and spike cuffed hands. Following them up the body they were attached to before setting your eyes on the pretty face you met the other day. He winked at you before walking into the kitchen, leaving you to follow behind him with the last remaining bag.

“Nice fit” Simple enough, without his spider man suit under his clothes he still looked every bit of attractive. Black jeans, held low on his waist by a couple belts, tattered band tee and his signature battle vest. Random jewelry littered across his hands and neck to match the ones across his face. Continuing your trek into the kitchen you started placing the groceries in their respective locations. Hobie’s brain fried for a second, not understanding what you meant, until the differences in British versus US slang registered. You meant his outfit, though your lingering gaze let him know you’d probably agree with British meaning of the word too.

“You look proper s’well” brown eyes taking in the Demonia boots, black cargo joggers, and black baggy cropped T-shirt you had worn to the store. Jewelry adorned in similar places as his, the lack of extra color in your black outfit making them stand out even more. The word cute flittered through his head again. Just As it had the first time he saw you. Leaning back against the counter, crossing one heavy boot clad foot over the other, he folded his arms across his chest and watched as you began putting the groceries up.

While you weren’t necessarily a shy person, his intense stare fixated on you moving about paired with the lack of conversation had you feeling nervous. Pulling yourself up to full height, which was still shorter than his overly tall frame, you fixed him with a smirk before saying

“I know I’m fine sweetheart, how bout you put those long arms to use and put these up for me” a chuckle slipped through his lips before he pushed himself up, moving far more silent than his boots should’ve allowed him to as he approached you. Hunching his lanky body over yours to grab the items you were holding in your hands, he turned his mouth toward your ear before whispering

“How’s about ya let me take a photo then luv” warm breath fanning across the side of your face as he pulled away standing back to his full height to put the items in the place you had previously mentioned.

The push and pull and subtle flirtling, barely there touching turned into makeout sessions and heavy petting when the teenagers weren’t around. For months you both let this little game continue until it came to a head one night in hobies flat.

“I’m just saying that people benefit from these systems Hob, the kids I work with, these systems prevented them from dying, they still suck and they need to be eridicated and reformed but the people can’t govern themselves cooperatively, we keep proving that we can’t handle it, not yet”

“Do more harm then good innit?”

“Somebody has to be willing to change it then yeah?”

Staring at you, Hobie’s chest filled with desire and then some. You weren’t a punk, not like him at least. But hearing you talk, knowing that while you may not be willing to set the establishment ablaze, you were willing to be the one to rip it apart and start something new and he loved that about you.

The two of you were having a smoke session, you providing the weed cause apparently Earth 1610’s was better. Somewhere between your second and third pre-roll the tension in the air became charged and somewhere after the third began its rotation you and hobie were stripped down to your underwear, both of you too high to deal with the feeling of clothes on your bodies, or so you said. Once the third was done you both were beyond faded and the tension was palpable, hidden barely by the sound of his tv playing something until Hobies voice cut through sending jolts through your already on edge body.

“I wan you to do somethin for me luv” two pairs of low brown eyes meet, both filled with something too good to be spoken

“Yeah, what’s that” it was barely above a whisper, eyes still connected as his next words sent arousal through your body “wan you to touch yourself for me” pulling your bottom lip between your teeth nodding your head as you rolled your legs from under your body to sit with your legs spread. Reaching between them to start toying with yourself slowly. Putting on a show for him to enjoy, and by the looks of it, he was enjoying. Picking up your hands motions, throwing your head back just slightly so you could let a moan of his name slip through. Hobie was a calm man, patience came to him naturally, but you were breaking his resolve and quickly. He’d been palming himself through his underwear since you started but he needed to feel skin on skin. Lifting his hips up just enough to pull his underwear just beneath his balls. Wrapping his large hand around the base and giving himself a squeeze to try and ease the ache he was feeling, he readjusted his attention back on you and began slowly stroking the length of his shaft.

Your head had dropped back down allowing your lidded gaze to meet his for a moment before it dropped down to watch his movements. Perfect, he was so god damned perfect, another moan falling out of your mouth at his actions. The movements of your hand speeding up pushing you closer to falling over the edge before a hand wrapped around yours effectively halting your movements and causing your eyes, that you hadn’t realized had fallen closed, to pop back open and stare at Hobie’s smirking face. Deep breaths racking through your body as a whine slipped out with your fading attempt at an orgasm. Without any words Hobie grabbed your body, placing you in his lap. Legs hooked over his longer spread ones exposing you so he can finish what you started.

Longs arms wrapped around your body, hands reaching down to graze across you. Every simple movement of his feeling like ice on your hot body, everything was just a little extra sensitive. Hands dexterous from years of playing guitar, rough and strong from his years spent defending the world. Easily toying with you until he was using his other arm to keep you firmly placed in his lap. Writhing around to combat the pleasure he was filling you with, your peak creeping back up up the length of his spine and finally pushing its way out as he worked you through your previously denied orgasm.

“S’good for me” voice deep, close to your ear, lips leaving kisses across the expanse of your neck as you came back down. Hobie WAS patient but you made every semblance of patient fr leave his body. Made he want to consume every bit of you to make you a part of him. Give you everything he’s got and then make more to give you and that exactly what he was going to do. Rolling you over to lay flat on your back, his body caged you to the bed as he guided your ankles to rest atop his shoulders. Using your previous mess, he rubbed himself across you, smearing it around your hole to aid in his intrusion, a rather sturdy looking one at that. Dark pink tip rested atop a brown shaft, glistening with your cum around it. Sitting even prettier nestled against you. Holding your legs down, he slid himself in to the hilt in one motion, making you both cry out loud. Hobie WAS patient and calm but you have seemingly erased any semblance of that. The feeling of you around him reduced it further below zero. It was all rough strokes, wandering calloused hands, teeth and tongues gnashing in perfectly fulfilling kisses.

Nothing could’ve made this feel any better. Bodies sliding against each other in the best of ways until both of you worked yourselves over the edge. Warmth filling you from his release as he held himself there to come down. Unlatching your ankles from where they’d come to circle around his neck, he placed your legs back on his mattress before pulling himself out of you to watch how his release leaked from you, perfectly contrasting against the brown of your skin. Not bothering to clean either one of you up, he fixed you both to lay correctly in the bed pulling the sheet up to cover your bodies.

“May not be one for labels but if ya let anybody touch ya like that I might kill them luv” labels may not be bad, he thinks. In this instance at least but unnecessary none the less. Hobie could hop through dimensions, and has had partners in the multitude of places he’s managed to visit when it was convient and staying in those universes for longer than what was necessary never crossed his mind. His universe needed a spider man sure, but he could also simply travel back and forth too. He’s sure he’s not the only spider person on his universe either. The thoughts were spiraling through his mind, he could make this work, he would make this work somehow.

“Hmmm” your voice cut through bringing him back to reality. You’d wrapped yourself around his midsection, sleep filling the tone of your voice. “I think we’re on the same page then yeah?”

He could think about it later he supposes.

#atsv smut #x black reader #hobie brown x black reader #smut #long fic #other #shwrites #shwriteshobiebrown #hobie x black!reader

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my-memed-tw-adventures · 5 months

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Don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this Book 3 idea/thought I had so here we go

All could be solved by psyching Azul out of his Ramshackle plan. Like when Azul drops that he wants Ramshackle for Monstro Lounge purposes, just hit him with the “you don’t want Ramshackle” speech.

Ramshackle is a terrible idea for a branch. Even tho we spent time fixing it all up, it’s far from the rest of campus. People would have to go out of their way to go there. The one in Octavinelle is convenient because it’s right next to all the other dorms. Ramshackle isn’t close to the dorms OR the school. In fact it’s up a fucking hill. Sorry Azul, but I don’t think your food is worth that trek.

Also just all the shit that goes into making a new branch. It’s far enough that he’d have to set up a whole new kitchen over there. Plus buy all the furniture and dishes and food supplies and all that. And he also couldn’t manage both places at once (unless he finessed Cater out of his unique magic but we don’t want that). He’d have to trust one of the tweels to run a location and I know I wouldn’t.

And then just the lifespan of the new location. Start throwing questions at him like: “Why build this thing if you’re leaving in a couple years? What happens to Monstro Lounge when you graduate Azul? Surely you’re not keeping it on campus and staying here. Why stick around when you can leave Crowley and his 10% cut behind? Cant have a real lounge if you’re stuck on campus feeding food to teens. So what, you gonna pay people to build Ramshackle up just to tear it all down when you leave? Sounds like a waste of money to me.” I’m sure Azul has some kind of plan but imma question him hard.

Personally, I’d try and come up with some deal with the kitchen ghosts instead. Have a pop up Monstro Lounge table or something in the cafeteria with samples or whatever. Infinitely better plan. Small table, rotate the food that’s served. People in the cafeteria are there to eat anyway. Have a couple different foods available for people to try, hand out cute business cards (make them look like mini menus) with details about the food you’re handing out so, if people like it, they know what it’s called when they come to the restaurant. Make it more about advertising. Why waste money on Ramshackle that could easily be used once Azul graduates to make a real restaurant out in the real world so he can serve everyone, outside of special occasions. No point in keeping a restaurant that’s locked behind NRC’s “students only” rules.

#there’s a reason I’m trying to get into business #azul hire me #twst thoughts #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #twst book 3 #twst chapter 3 #mostro lounge #twst octavinelle #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland

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kill-the-feels · 1 year

Text

terminal

a/n: a few lil life updates before this chapter: i graduated and passed my edtpa! i also started dating my best friend, which has been so much fun and inspired a lot of fluffy writing (not this chapter tho, y’all stay safe). anyways, i hope you enjoy the chapter!! we’ve finally caught up to That Scene™️ in the movie — you’re just going to have to trust me on this one ;) (previous part) (masterlist)

word count: ~3.5k

warnings: canon violence, language, angst (a whole truckload this time)

Despite the relentless pursuit of the Jedi, the three of you make it to Geonosis relatively unscathed, even after a chase through an asteroid field.

Jango lands in an underground hangar, the top closing and cutting off your view of the night sky. He and Boba run through the checklist of shutting off the ship before he turns to look at you.

“I’m going to check on stuff in the cargo bay,” Boba says. You raise an eyebrow at his back. There’s nothing in the cargo bay. He glances back at you, and you see the little smirk there.

You and Jango sit in silence.

“If something happens to me,” Jango says, at the same time you say:

“Are we really safe here?”

The both of you pause.

“Go first,” you tell him, and he hesitates, looking past your shoulder to the doorway, as if willing Boba to reappear.

“If something happens to me, I want you to take Boba and get as far away from here as you can.” The way he says it is strange, like he’s trying to tell you something, without actually telling you something.

“What’s going to happen to you?” you ask, making a face and Jango sets his jaw, fixing you with a hard stare.

“If something happens to me. Expect the best, but plan for the worst,” he says softly, in such a monotone voice it sends chills down your spine.

“Alright. Okay. So where do we go?” He sighs.

“Anywhere. Not here. Not Kamino. Not fucking Tatooine. Never go back there.” The last part is said with such vehemence you can’t help but nod.

“Yeah, not there. We’ll figure it out. If it comes to that. Which it won’t.” You’re expecting him to agree, and when he doesn’t, the knot of nerves tangled under your breastbone tightens.

You start to stand, to go find Boba, and Jango snags your hand, says your name softly.

You turn, and he’s looking up at you so intently it makes you weak in the knees.

“Promise me, Cyare,” he says softly, tugging you back down beside him. He rests his forehead against your, your breaths mingling.

“Jango,” you say, “it’s going to be okay. Things will be fine.” You try to pull away again, and he tightens his hold, almost desperate.

“Promise me.” You close your eyes. If you truly believe nothing is going to happen to him, then this should be an easy promise.

“Fine. Yes, okay, I promise. I’ll look after Boba.” Jango shakes his head.

“Not just look after him. You’re as much his buir as I am. You two belong together. Promise me you’ll stay with him. Protect him. Protect each other.” He’s really starting to scare you. You put your hands on either side of his face, leaning into him.

“Jango, I promise,” you say. His eyes stay closed for another beat, before he nods and tugs himself away.

“Stay in the ship?” he asks. “I shouldn’t be long.” Something in you tells you to argue. His tone is off-kilter again, too bright for the heavy moment.

But there’s something in his eyes that prevents you from arguing as he snags his helmet and starts to slip it on his head.

So you match his tone.

“No problem. Boba and I will figure out where we go next. For when you get back.” His response takes just a bit too long in coming. Like he knows the next words out of his mouth are a lie, and at the last minute, he decides to commit, instead of being honest and telling you he likely won’t be with you when you leave.

“Sounds like a plan.” With that, he tugs his helmet all the way down, ducking out the door and heading out. You watch him go, feeling the sick sense of dread increasing with every step he puts between you two. ~~~ Boba is, understandably, livid that he has to stay on the ship.

“This fucking sucks,” he says, crossing him arms and kicking his feet up on the dash.

“Boba!” you say in shock, at a loss over what to say to him. It’s the first time you’ve heard him swear — other than his first words — and while a teeny part of you is amused, the bigger part is frustrated with his attitude.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “But I don’t get why we have to stay here, again. I helped Buir get us off Kamino. And it’s not like the ship is that much safer.” He has a point. But still.

“I know,” you say. “But your buir asked us to stay here. So we help him out by staying here.” There’s a distant rumble somewhere, that rattles the ship a little.

“Can’t we explore? Just a little?” he asks, and you laugh.

“You’re probably not old enough to remember, but one time your buir took the both of us to Tatooine.” Boba leans forward, slipping his feet back down. You’re not sure why you’re thinking about Tatooine so much all of the sudden. Maybe there’s a parallel to be found between both trips. Whatever it is, you don’t like it.

“And? What happened?” Boba asks, interrupting your thoughts. You sigh, brushing some hair off his face. He bats you away with a playful scowl.

“We got caught. Nearly got the both of us in big trouble. Your buir managed to come rescue us, but he was pissed. And all because we wanted to go exploring.” He looks down.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go exploring this time then,” he says, looking sheepish. You knock your shoulder against his.

“Y’think?” you say. He knocks back and the two of you end up in a playful shoving war that lasts for just long enough for Boba to remember why he was frustrated in the first place.

“I hate waiting,” he says, going still and slumping down again. You sigh and join him in staring out the window.

“I know. It fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” It’s his turn to look at you in shock.

“Buir!” he says. You close your eyes and tilt your head back against the seat, pretending like you’re about to take a nap.

Instead, you crack one eye open at him.

“Maybe we can take just a peek out. We won’t leave the ship, just open the door and see what we can hear.” In truth, you’re as bad as he is as waiting. Boba shifts in his seat, nearly holding his breath, as he waits to see if you’re lying.

“Really?” You nod.

“Yes, really.” There’s a slight smirk on his face, the same one Jango always has right before he does something potentially dangerous, but in that moment, you fail to notice it.

Instead, you follow Boba down the ladder and through the cargo bay, aiming for the panel on the side, so you can lower the ramp just a bit.

“How long do you think Buir will be?” Boba asks, as he sorts through some of the excess junk stored in the bottom of the ship. You stop the ramp before it gets low enough to walk out — or in. Peering through the sides will have to do.

“Not sure. Could be all day. Maybe even all night. We’re supposed to figure out where we’re going from here.” Boba slips up beside you.

“How are we supposed to know where to go?” You shrug.

“We can always look at the ship’s database, see which places look off the grid.” Boba looks past you, at the barren wall of the canyon you’ve landed in.

“Good point. Hey, Buir, have you seen Ai-Ai anywhere?” A glance at Boba’s face shows you the true worry he feels, at odds with his casual tone. A tone that nearly makes you suspicious.

“You packed him, didn’t you?” you ask, turning away from the gap, poking back through the random collections of stuff. Boba doesn’t answer you, and when you hear shifting around, you take it to mean he’s looking for the beloved stuffed pet.

“Boba?” you finally call. “You packed him, right?” When you turn around, he’s gone.

You close your eyes, mentally berating yourself. The gap in the side. Just big enough for him to slip through. Always wanting to be a hero, to be strong like his buir.

“Shit,” you say, frozen with indecision. To go after him? Or stay, and wait? Which is better? ~~~ Jango is standing in the middle of the command center, listening to Dooku run his mouth about things he really has no care for, when the door whooshes open and two battle droids enter, hauling Boba between them.

His gut reaction is fear — if Boba is here, where are you? Then Boba sees him, and Jango sees the guilt flash over his face.

The little sneak ran off, he realizes, which means you must be panicking.

“Boba,” he says sternly. Boba hangs his head further, and with a wave from Dooku, the droids release him, letting him come stand beside Jango.

While he needs to get Boba back to you, he also can’t risk drawing attention to you. Not only does he not want to put you in danger, but you’re a fantastic weak spot for the Separatists surrounding him to exploit. Boba will just have to stay with him, until he can make his escape. He’ll try and comm you when he gets a chance, let you know Boba is safe. Ish.

Another droid approaches Dooku and says something too soft for Jango to make out. His unease grows. Something is happening. Dooku was none to pleased with Jango’s failure to kill the senator, and he’s worried about potential retaliation.

“It appears we have quite the show in store today,” Dooku says to him, gesturing to the balcony on the other side of the room.

Carefully, Jango escorts Boba outside, placing himself to the side of Dooku and the representatives for the Trade Federation, aware of every little movement, nerves stretched thin in a way that’s giving him a pounding migraine.

“What’s going on, Buir?” Boba whispers, and Jango tightens his hold on his shoulder, warning the boy not to speak too much. He’s trying to plan, trying to come up with an extraction. And it’s markedly more difficult to get out with Boba, than if he were by himself.

For now, he has to stay put. Has to watch for the opportune moment to make his escape. ~~~ Pressing your hands against your forehead to try and ease the stress headache growing with every moment Boba isn’t in your sight, you take deep breaths.

Okay. Okay.

Plan.

If you were Jango, what would you do? Go after Boba, but how, where, and for how long? You know there’s droids patrolling — you closed the ramp of the ship after a particularly curious set tried to come in. They got bored and left, but there’s got to be more where they came from.

This is a million times worse than Gardulla and her thugs — getting caught here could catapult you into the middle of a conflict you’re entirely unprepared for, with players much more important than a gangster in the middle of a wasteland.

So you have to figure out where on this maker-forsaken planet Boba got off to, and you have to do it stealthily.

No big scenes, no getting caught.

You have your little blade that Jango replaced, a blaster from his munitions locker. No armor or a jet pack, but you’re crafty and easily missed. Just keep your head down and blend in.

With another deep breath, you pull up the ship’s nav system and scanner, trying to piece together a path to take.

Geonosis is full of fucking tunnels. Just your luck. But there’s a city, or at least a concentration of settlements near where the ship’s been put down. That’ll be your start.

Deep breath.

You lower the ramp enough to slip out of, the same way Boba did, then start to pick your way towards the city.

The closer you get, the more a faint rumbling reaches your ears. As you navigate down a tunnel, ears straining for any hint you’re not alone, you realize the rumbling is cheering.

Okay.

Crowds can both work for and against you. Easier to blend in, harder to find Boba. The tunnel opens up on the left side, forming a half-wall, and you can see you’re over top of a battle arena. Your legs wobble a little, looking down at the sheer drop to the arena.

Across from you is a balcony, with a large congregation of people watching the scene unfolding beneath you. The stands are filled with Geonosians, each speaking in their clicking and rolling language, shouting jeers and cheering for the coming violence.

Someone on the balcony moves, and you see a flash of blue next to a glint of metal.

Jango. And Boba.

In the arena, three figures are chained to pillars, watching as three different creatures are prodded out of cages by Geonosians.

You feel pity for the three, but your bigger issue is getting to Jango and Boba. Briefly, you consider going back to the ship, now that you know Jango has Boba, but there’s a clatter of stone behind you and the tell-tell clicks, forcing you to move forward or risk being discovered and ending up with the others on the pillars.

Following the winding tunnel proves to be discombobulating, even as you try to navigate in the direction of the balcony. But the half-wall turns back into a full wall, and you can feel yourself descending, heading the opposite direction, with no cross tunnels to right yourself.

Frustrated, you grit your teeth and force yourself to stop and take stock of your options.

The cheering has reached a near-fevered pitch. In the distance, a single Geonosian speaks, the rolling cadence of his language muffled, but distinct against the cheers.

You turn back around. Going down will do you no good. You’ll have to backtrack and hope for the best. Head back for the ship and be ready to leave.

Footsteps shuffle down the hall, and you freeze, spotting a dip in the wall. You slip in and tuck yourself into the shadows, pressing as deep into the dirt as you can.

Two droids pass you, both armed with blasters. With a shiver, you dart behind them, racing back up the tunnel. You stumble as you reach the half-wall, nearly tripping over your own feet. The three figures are fighting back, one of them on top of the pillar. There’s shouting and chaos, and people jeering as the three hold their own.

Across the way, there is a sudden flash of purple, pointed straight at Jango’s neck.

You freeze, watching as he pushes Boba behind him. Around the arena, more lightsabers are activated, the bright blues and greens vivid against he stark landscape of the Geonosian arena.

“No,” you breathe, fingers clenching in fists at your sides. Not like this. Gasping, you continue back the way you came, frantically trying to map the city in your head. The central point. That’s where you need to be, to every try to get to that balcony. Jango said they’d be looking for him. But like this? He doesn’t stand a chance on his own, and you know he’s too prideful to ever back down on his own.

Back past the ship you race, towards a dirt road you initially discounted as heading away from everything.

But as you head down the road, you can see it’s taking you into the city, on ground level. You can work with this.

No longer caring if you’re noticed, you race along, weaving in and out of crowds of Geonosians, who voice their displeasure at being jostled. In the distance, the spires of the large buildings around the arena rise up. You’re on the right track.

Blaster fire echoes on the breeze, still too far to be much of a concern for the people who don’t know what’s going on in the arena.

But you know.

And you’re running out of time. ~~~ Jango can feel his pulse vibrating against his teeth, even as he takes a measured breath. Boba shivers beside him, and Jango glances out of the corner of his eye at the man wielding the lightsaber.

He speaks to Dooku, discounting Jango, which works in his favor. But he can’t make a move with the blade inches from his neck. Slowly, his hand creeps to his blaster, steady, despite the fear threatening to choke him.

In the distance, he hears the thump of battle droid feet, signaling the massive battle about to break out. The Geonosians start to fly away, and to his horror, he sees other lightsabers that have lit up across the way, far more than he can fight against, in addition to the two in the arena.

From the corner of his eye, he can see a small footpath, leading through the stands to a balcony attached to another room. Boba needs to get in there, he knows, so he’s shielded from any blasterfire.

And you. He still needs to warn you.

Battle droids are one thing, but a Jedi is nothing to mess with, and they’ll be after him. It’s only a matter of time before they locate the ship, if they haven’t already, and you won’t know they’re coming.

“It’s over, Dooku,” the Jedi says, and Jango takes another measured breath, looking down just enough to meet Boba’s eyes. Carefully, he looks pointedly behind Boba, to the other room. Boba looks at Jango, brow scrunched in confusion, and Jango swallows his frustration.

With another long glance behind Boba, he looks at his son again, pleading with him to understand. Boba can warn you too. If he can just get away.

Boba nods, finally, just once. Jango draws himself forward, putting himself between everyone and Boba, drawing the attention to himself in a practiced way.

The thumping of battle droid feet gets louder, and he feels Boba duck away behind him, as the first set of droids steps out onto the balcony. The Jedi removes his lightsaber from Jango’s neck, as the droids start to shoot at the Jedi. Jango snatches out his own blaster, noting the way in which Dooku steps back to let him handle the Jedi.

Disgust has him crinkling his nose, but he focuses on trying to down the Jedi, switching to his flamethrower when the Jedi manages to slip away, out of his reach.

With a huff, he flicks his blaster around before he holsters it. Dooku is still watching him, and he knows he’s expected to go after the Jedi, but he needs to ensure Boba has plenty of time to get away before Dooku even thinks about him.

So he’ll perform tricks to buy some time.

Without much more thought, he follows the Jedi down, off the balcony and into the heat of the battle. His blood pumps and he finds himself calculating escape routes even as he works his way through the Jedi and the creatures, aiming for the purple lightsaber, the lone one against the blues and greens.

With one last, quick glance back at the balcony, he sees the way Dooku stands over it all, seemingly unbothered by all the chaos and death around him.

“Forgive me,” he whispers, praying to the maker he no longer believes in that you hear him, that you find Boba, that you both get away.

The Reek slams into him, and he feels something in his ribs give way, as he’s tumbled over and over, head slammed around in his helmet until his ears ring.

When he manages to extricate himself, his whole body hurts, and his jet pack — already the back-up — is shot to shit. His blaster is in the dirt and he manages to grab it, just as the Jedi comes for him, waving his saber all around, a purple blur that’s too bright, too hot, too close.

Fear grips his mind, instinct flees him, even as he stands his ground.

Ten feet away. Seven. Five. Two.

Jango fires as quickly as he can, even as his mind races, telling him to run, telling him he can’t run, begging Boba to look away. To know how sorry he is.

He sees the swing of the saber, feels the blinding hot fire as it cuts through his hand, leaving nothing behind. Watches as the Jedi swings around again, this time for his neck.

Jango closes his eyes, even as he promises to meet death with them wide open.

Instead, all he sees is your face, you extending a hand to him.

He does not feel the next blow fall. ~~~ You burst onto a balcony at the height of the battle, and nearly turn, because this one is empty, and not the one you’re looking for.

It’s taken too much precious time to sneak past the droids — Geonosians leave you alone, battle droids do not — and everything is in full swing by the time you get there.

And then you see a small figured crouched in the shadows, watching it all go down.

You rush towards him, intending to tug him away, to get him to safety.

Instead, the both of you watch Jango fall.

#Jango fett x reader #jango fett x you #reader insert #angst #Fwwchtsam #Canon violence #Listen do you know how many times i had to rewatch the stupid fight scene with mace to figure out all the moving parts #A lot tbh and i still don’t think i got it all correct so please excuse any errors #Thanks for reading!! <3

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