#even though that's still pretty small fry
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undead-potatoes · 1 year ago
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OH WAIT for that "have you met a celebrity" poll I completely forgot I met the artist Humon (who did the Scandinavia and the World comics among others) at a con once, and they complimented me on my troll costume and even took a picture of me
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icewindandboringhorror · 22 hours ago
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recent things and such~
#photo diary#image 1 - kind of interesting lacy looking clouds. Image 2 - pinky purple sunset stuff#image 3 - These REALLY cool flowers I saw in a field ? growing wild so like.. weeds I guess. but I like the color of them and how the#petals are small and layered. Image 4 & 5 - More recent hair growth progress. I still think it will never get much longer because#it's been basically the same lenght for multiple years now BUT I do feel like maybe it's getting like... just the tiniest bit longer?? Just#not as obvious of progress as the first few years. Like now if I take it out of the braids and actually hold it so it goes straight down th#very tips of the hair on one side goes down to the tip of my pointer finger. and on the other side goes a little past my thumb. and I#remember maybe last year or two years ago it was only to my knuckles or like midway down my thumb. so.. perhaps it's not reached a#maximum genetic possible length just YET as I'd thought it had maybe lol.. perhaps I could slowly gain a cenitmeter or two#here and there gjbjh.. Unfortunately incredibly doubtful it will ever be down to my knees though as I had wished. oh well.#image 6 - writing again... as always... Slowly chipping away... And looking for ways to make it go faster lol. The original premise was 8#main characters with 6 quests for each. Then it was 5 with 6 quests. Now it's 4 with 4 quests each. And even that I'm like hmm... what#about having only 3... so it could be done faster... lol.. I think mostly just because I have no gaurantee of investment. So it's like#I could spend years and years doing 500.000+ words of writing and then have about 3 people total actually play the game and nobody cares#and nothing ever comes of it. You know? So I have to balance that somehow. And rather that put out the 100% complete version#be putting out like 'here's ENOUGH of it for you to see what the concept is and what it's like. and IF theres any investment then I#can put in the effort to finish the few bits that I left in more of a preview form'' type of thing. And then it's like.. well if I'm#limiting the initial scope anyway - how much is enough to cut away? and how much would be TOO much? etc. etc. I'm pretty sure I#already have it down to a balanced minimum but some days when I'm very stressed over my ability to actually finish anything I'm like..#ehhhh..maybe I could make another main character into a side character.. as a treat lol..#image 7 - cabbage noodle beef stir fry sort of thing. As usual I kind of cook the beef too long because I'm afraid of getting sick if it's#underdone despite preferring medium rare steak lol.. Funnily because usually making something at home has the advantage of you#being able to do it Exactly The Way You Like It whereas me cooking meat is often like.. ah yes.. the worse way that I dont even like. love#to make a tough chewy anxiously overcooked protein puck for myself. :3 Images 8 - 10 -- various plants from the deck. though#some of these pictures are old and they're no longer alive lol.. Most of my plants actually do live through the winter because I#painstakingly move them inside and outside and inside and outside depending on the temperatures. But sometimes.. one cannot#help but be lost. Especially the temperature change sometimes can make them more prone to mold and stuff. and humidity is#hard to control indoors. There's always one or two that deteriorate despite my best efforts. But that's better than every single one of the#dying because they alll freeze when it gets to 20F one night and I left them outside or something lol#ANYWAY.. hrm.. still working on friend quiz thing... and sculptures.. and videos maybe?? costumes... rghhhghhrrr.. (< to do list angst)
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keferon · 2 months ago
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Sorry in advance for the word vomit but. I love the whole Jazz-and-Prowl figuring out the language barrier but also consider:
They don't.
Prowl's been captured by Quintessons and is currently thinking of ways to completely scrape his processor so they can't get any useful data, only to get rescued by a random mech. They fight their way out (the mech is extremely proficient in combat). At first he thinks it's a drone- it looks at him when he asks questions but doesn't answer (responds to noise, not language), it is sparkless (not alive) and it makes random but entirely incoherent noises and doesn't even ping (not able to communicate). Prowl has no idea what's going on but he's too injured to make it back to base alone and it's helping him? So. He chalks it up to some waylaid stealth military asset and tries to think of ways to both get it back to base whilst also making sure it's not some sort of Quintesson Trojan-horse [10%].
Meanwhile, Jazz was sent to blow up a Quintesson command camp by his organisation but instead he got thrown through a weird portal, and found a pilot all tied down and probably being tortured so naturally he busted him out but uh. He has no idea what the other is saying. He's talking in total tonal gibberish. Not that he's judging, he's heard some stuff about how far other piloting programs are willing to go to advance neural technology. And his face! He has one! A handsome one. Must be some advanced shit because he's got micro expressions and he's using them to frown as him. Anyways, Jazz's got bigger fish to fry. The sky's a different colour, there are two suns and atmo is reading terribly low levels of O2. Maybe he and this pilot got thrown into an alien planet? Cool- well, actually pretty bad but hey they're in this together.
Prowl knows by models that they're bound to run into another Quintesson patrol eventually, and based on the drones alertness to its surroundings, his previous observations to its capacity to fight, and how it doesn't stray to far from him, if patrol numbers are favourable [1-8 range] they can survive [70, .5]% the route back to base. But the drone is reckless and abandons him to the melee (how can a drone be reckless?) and Prowl gets injured worse. Energon drips from wounds, and the angle makes it challenging for him to patch it. But the drone creeps closer, folds to its (knees? Its joints are in an odd but effective configuration) and gently (gently?) begins to mimic (clumsily) Prowl's motions of patching his wounds. Here is where Prowl falters, because drones are not so careful. Drones do not do not look up multiple times at his faceplates, and become more delicate when they see you in pain. Drones don't hold out a servo and help you to your pedes when your done. Which begs the question, if he's not a drone, so what has been done to this mech?
Jazz on the other hand is freaking the fuck out. Naturally. Because uh, he started slicing Quints, expecting Frowny to do the same because his mech was still clearly operational, only for the idiot to completely disregarded normal combat standards which can be summarised as 'fight hard or die' and instead get chewed on by some big ass teeth.
Only to see the glowing purple dripping from his torn sides, only to see that he's bleeding.
Machines don't bleed.
So Jazz figures out Frowny is an alien first. He starts pointing at himself and saying his name, insistently, until Frowny repeats it. He points at Frowny, and records and replays whatever sound bite Frowny makes until Frowny's also nodding in confirmation. He still calls him Frowny, because even though he has his name? Probably? He has no idea what it means and can't actually pronounce it (no idea how to get a mouth to move that way) but hey! Progress! He does this again and again with small things (rock, hand, cyber?animals, music (Frowny's confused at that one it's pretty adorable) ect.
Prowl has no idea what to make of this strange mech. Is he a failed experiment? A runaway from Cybertron following the Functionalists rise or power? Thennn Prowl finds out one fateful night that the mech is actually an alien organic (in a fit of misunderstandings, and squeezes him pretty hard for it ouch and feels SO guilty about it later) and suddenly the language/culture barrier makes way more sense.
Prowl's injuries degrade (a line splits). He has no way to communicate this except for the energon dripping out of his chassis. The organic is clearly worried (how did he think he was ever sparkless), and Prowl can't reach the injury himself. So he guides the mech's servos past armour and wiring, down to protoform (near his sparkchamber) to the split line. Gestures and hopes the mech can figure out what to do from his miming[#^%]. That'll he'll be careful, and won't hurt him [5%, 87%, #*%, *########%].
Frowny is later picking shrapnel stuck in his forearm that's too small for him to remove, so Jazz gets out of his mech to help with his small human hands. Jazz has no way to communicate to Frowny that if he moves, he'll sheer Jazz's limbs clean off, but he goes in anyway, because Frowny's hurt, and speckled in blood. Because he's clearly struggling and hurt and tired. Because Jazz has to trust that he won't.
Frowny's injures eventually make him collapse, and Jazz carries him the rest of the way. Jazz has no idea how they'll be received (especially considering how Frowny reacted when he found out Jazz was organic). Jazz knows he might be dissected. Knows he might be pulled apart (again) but.
He remembers all the little moments they had on their journey (Frowny shielding him from falling rubble when Jazz was out of his mech once, them getting to gesticulating arguments, Frowny's reaction to his music, how he fell asleep on Jazz once and it was fricken adorable).
It doesn't matter that Jazz can't say (barely understands) his actual name. That Frowny probably doesn't understand his. It doesn't matter that they talk in halting miming, in broken sound clips and touches and half-glares.
He's already gone out on all his limbs, might as well put his head on the chopping block. And if it causes him to lose the damn thing, well.
He's a pilot. Dying horribly is practically his job description.
OOOUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH DYING HORRIBLY IS PRACTICALLY HIS JOB DESCRIPTION,,,,,,,,,,,
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the-record · 1 year ago
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☀️ i see the light ☀️
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summary: ellie is just trying to hide from the guards when she stumbles apon a tower and a girl with really long hair.
pairing: flynn ryder!ellie williams x rapunzel!reader
warnings: non me things
a/n: i want to thank the oh so lovely @meowmeowtimw for sending me their gorgeous art, and also everyone who anticipated this fic. thank you so much for the love. also, first time doing a taglist, but let me know if you’d like to be added!
this is going to be done in parts bc my tumblr glitches and i dont want to lose any writing and delay this anymore! i have changed it up a bit from the movie to attempt to fit ellie as a character and not feel like im writing out the script but all the iconic moments will be included
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you’re not quite sure how she ended up here. knocked out and stuffed in your wardrobe.
earlier, it had just been you and pascal. your mother out fetching ingredients for dinner, your birthday dinner.
she’d shut down your hopes and dreams of seeing the lights you saw every year for your birthday. she called them stars, made you feel fragile and weak. left with a half hearted goodbye.
thats when the girl showed up.
short auburn hair, climbing the tower with arrows. before you knew it, she was passed out on the floor, a frying pan in your hands.
in her bag though, that was the interesting piece. something gold and shiny, crystals decorating the circle. too big to be a bracelet, too beautiful to be a magnifying glass.
you and pascal jumped as your mother called up the tower, a surprise apparently. when you tried bringing up the lights once more, she’d simply laughed, brushing it off. you tried again, but gave up when she yelled, asking for paints.
she left, leaving you alone again. until you weren’t.
a girl, in your window.
now in your chair, tied up with pascal on her shoulder. he licked her ear, once, twice, three times before she jolted awake with a yell.
“what the hell?”
you took a deep breath, still hiding in a shadow.
“struggling… struggling is pointless.”
she looked around, taking in what was holding her down. was it, hair?
“i know why you’re here, and im not afraid of you.” slowly, you stepped into her view. “who are you, and how did you find me?”
“am i wrapped in hair?” the girl gawked at you, struggling under the wraps. “who am i? who are you? this is insane. this is kidnapping, just so you know.”
your face dropped. “you broke in first.”
“and you knocked me out and tied me up! with hair! who even has this much hair?” she groaned as she struggled.
“so you dont know who i am?” you whispered as you stepped closer.
she looked at you incredulously, “are you joking? of course not. can you let me out now?” you nodded as you stopped in front of her.
only now did you really notice her. short auburn hair, tied up at the back. green eyes that matched yours. freckles lining her nose and cheeks. lips slightly cracked and parted.
“ill let you out, if you promise me one thing.” she rolled her eyes but nodded. “every year, on my birthday, there are these lights. my mother told me they were stars, but ive tracked the stars for years.” you turned away and pulled back the curtain to your most recent painting. “they’re floating lights, and you are going to take me to them.” she hesitated but you quickly jumped in. “and if you don’t, say goodbye to your satchel.”
she sighed and relaxed into the chair. “alright, fine.” she smiled as your eyes lit up and you ran to her. “ill take you. but, we’re going my way.” you nodded excitedly as you untangled her from your hair. “and, im ellie by the way.”
“rapunzel.”
she shook out her limbs before standing. “rapunzel? pretty.”
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“so you’ve really never been outside the tower before?”
ellie walked slightly ahead with her hands in her pockets, a small smile on her face. she said she knew a place to stop on your way to the kingdom.
you nodded as you took in everything. “she said it was too dangerous for me out here. that id get eaten alive.”
ellie frowned a bit as you spoke. you were definitely a bit ditzy, but smart. you weren’t naive but you noticed the good in everything you’d seen.
“so,” you pulled up beside ellie, nearly bumping her. “how did you find me?”
“i didn’t actually intend to.” she said, looking at you. “i was running, from… some very bad people, and i stumbled apon a pass in the woods. totally by accident. and when i went through it, there it was. the tower.” she watched as you nodded. “i figured id just, go up. i wasnt really thinking someone might be there.”
“obviously.” you teased.
she rolled her eyes, “alright whatever. i just needed somewhere to wait everyone out. and then you came out of nowhere and tried to maim me.”
you gasped, hitting her arm as she laughed. “i thought you were gonna hurt me! what was i supposed to do?”
“okay, fair enough.” you walked in silence for awhile, side by side, hands grazing.
ellie couldn’t help but feel a pull to you. you were kind, and funny. she hadn’t known you very long, but she knew she wanted to know more. and she couldn’t deny your beauty.
she was knocked out of her thoughts as you pointed to a sign in the distance.
snuggly duckling.
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taglist: @urcherrr @onlinelesbo @diddiqueen @pedropascalsbbg @dinaismyfavmilf @madislayyy @ellieswilliamsgf @williamellieslilho @iove-bbb @swxxtbnny
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robolvrr · 2 months ago
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attention-seeker ミ⁠●﹏
transformers reactions to human modifications. (tattoos, piercings, hair-dye.) headcanons!
optimus prime, bumblebee, prowl. tfa.
sfw / suggestive under cut.
may do more of them, i love this show to death.
optimus prime
"you do this stuff... for fun? huh."
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try as he might, he does not understand the point much.
don't get me wrong, i see animated optimus to be the closest to a mid-twenties rascal as you can get. modifications aren't unheard of for bots. he's not a nun.
however ...
he sees humans as still pretty fragile. so the idea that you like going and having needles shoved into your flesh and jammed through your muscle isn't something he can wrap his helm around at first.
primus forbid you have lots.
imagine him trying to process you explaining that yes, your entire back is covered in ink and you're planning on about five different piercings in the next year.
"so you. you plan on getting two on your back. just because?"
"that's the plan, big guy."
poor mech is lost. though he does enjoy learning more about humanity when he isn't stressing too much about saving it.. so expect questions.
when you suggest getting one of the autobot emblem, his circuits nearly fry.
prowl
"so, what's the significance?"
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i see prowl not writing off the behavior as weird and instead digging for why you pursued this journey.
yes, he sees your tattoo and piercing collection as a journey, because that's what it is, isn't it? years of work and pain to adorn your body to your liking.
he knows that humans are bundled with nerves. there's respect earned. he finds humans to be eerily resilient.
will ask you the meaning of each and every one. piercings less so.
"what does this bird represent?"
"mm.. my sense of liberty."
"a visual representation of the wish to stretch to new horizons. how fascinating. being small in a vast universe with the urge to still explore."
"i also just like hummingbirds."
"mm. i see."
will get onto you once he finds out about the "makeshift" work. finds the mistakes or even forgettable craftsmanship to make you endearing.
bumblebee
"whoa! sick paintjob, human!"
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he LOVES human culture. and you guys can just... change your appearance? count him impressed!
you had dyed your hair to a nice golden yellow to match his frame and he almost jammed his intake shut.
"you can just. do that?!? b-but your helm used to be-"
"hair, bee."
"right, right. it wasn't always that color though!!!"
he thinks it's so cool. real dork about it. totally buzzed out once you spoke about the chemistry that it went to the process though.
he thinks piercings are cute. after all the fusion of metal and organic is kiiind of taboo. you pull it off great.
tattoos make him beg ratchet to let him upgrade his paint. poor old mech is grumpy and over bumble whining him to just let him "get some flames and that's it."
you draw a lot of inspiration from him. will gladly brainstorm your next big change and puff his chassis out like a lil peacock knowing you're willing to get something permanent done in his designation.
nsfw.
optimus prime
"you look like a painting. primus above, you're gorgeous..."
optimus prime enjoys tracing your tats. he kisses the patterns and images as if the pain of the needle remains, glossa licking along thick and thin ink with shuttered optics.
he likes to see goosebumps trail after. kind of a weird fetish (?) but he mostly enjoys how reactive you are and how your inkwork ripples with the movement.
when he finds out your piercings can make you sensitive ...
well, good luck.
optimus at his spark of sparks is such a tease. when you continue to surprise him, it's nice to be in control of that mutual fascination for once.
"you enjoy when i tug.. these?"
nipple piercings.
expect his glossa. he takes special care to even lubricate each of his digits just to toy with your sore nipples.
prowl
"that's it. fall apart for me. just like art..."
prowl is observant. so when you let it slip that you've been holding back on some of what's on your body...
you're on his berth and naked. his optics are hidden behind his sharp visor.
"holding back on me? that's a shame. i thought you knew better than to do that."
is he angry? hardly! but his processor is about to work overtime when you stammer just why you hadn't gone into depth.
genital piercings.
he doesn't say anything for a long time. doesn't ask the millions of questions bombarding his thoughts. his servos do that speaking before he can.
let's just say you start to understand why he deals with tedious and delicate situations. those hands are built for... meticulous attention.
bites. all the areas with piercings. focuses carefully damn near to the square inch of sensitive flesh where it drives you wild.
tattoos? he loves to scrape his digits down em.
loves to doll you up in lingerie that accentuates everything you hide. crotchless, cut-outs exposing yourself until he can't see where the inkwork begins and ends.
robolvrr 2024.
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euaphora · 1 year ago
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give it to me on the daily!
✎ᝰ toji x reader
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as much as toji hated to admit to things, he loved letting people know the ways you made him feel and what better way to admit his feelings for you than alcohol in his system.
He went out drinking with his friends for a couple drinks, his eyes felt so heavy and body felt like it was going to collapse.
It was a good thing Geto had called you earlier since he always knew before hand how much toji would drink.
“…like around twelve is good, we’re at the bar with like the thingy with the outside poster that says “enter if you dare” I think it’s for Halloween or something…so come when it’s time to pick him up.” Geto slurs, alcohol hitting him hard in the face already.
He would rarely go for a couple drinks, especially if it was with his friends, geto and gojo. Though, this week was kicking him in the ass so what better way to end the weekend off than with his friends and a couple drinks.
You got into you and got the car warm with the heater, holding you hands out while you start the car. Checking the time you realize it’s barely about to hit eleven so you get on the freeway and head downtown to the bar Geto mentioned.
Slowly pulling up to the gas station and parking your car, you step inside the store and buy some snacks for your boyfriend to munch on when you would pick up, not trying to get ready to hear his rambling. He would always get so hungry when he would go out to drink and begged you to make food or pull up to a fast food restaurant.
Walking over to the door to the bar you can hear someone whistling in you direction behind you and hear them screaming names at you, getting cat called pissing you off with the way how nasty guys could be. As soon as you enter you could immediately hear the loud laughs of familiar men making you smile.
“She even got me these cute black Uggs for this cold ass weather, I was ‘gonna wear them today but I didn’t want any…beer on them. And don’t even get me started…” toji hazily said, cutting himself from talking when he drops his fry that you were standing a few inches from.
He quickly looked up after realizing who’s shoes those were since you would always wear them with your gold anklet he bought you for your birthday.
He gets up from his seat while Gojo continues with his rant , automatically towering over you, looking down at you with low red eyes and a sly grin placed on his face, “Nice to see you..my sweet girl,” he gives you a passionate kiss on the lips, “did he call you again?” He asks, his hands holding onto your love handles.
“I think we both know the answer to that, you having fun?” You question, tilting your head while you bat your lashes up at him. He slowly nods, making you giggle at his slow demeanor.
“I’m fucking ready to leave, do you mind if we drop off the guys first?” He slid his hands off you and clamps his hands together, with a pout look in his face.
Reminding you of a little boy.
“Well of course, don’t want them to crash either,” you slightly laugh but then stay serious, looking at them you see them still rambling about work,“you guys ready to go already ?”
Heading out the bar, toji’s arm was wrapped around you for support so he wouldn’t fall and it seemed pretty impossible since his body weight was insane, muscles taking up most of his body weight.
Placing him down on the passenger sea, he mouths a small thank you and pulls himself off the seat to give you a hug. On the other hand, as soon as the other two boys entered the car, they knocked out the minute they felt cushions. You look in the backseat, watching them drool in their sleep.
Driving towards Gojo’s house, you feel a pair of eyes on you without having to look. Pulling out the bag full of snacks behind your seat, toji’s eyes lit up and grabs the bag once you pulled it out in his direction.
Fucking knew it.
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velvees-archive · 3 months ago
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Some post-SOJ DLC case thoughts about Edgeworth, his opinion on marriage, and by extension, love.
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…and how, at the very center of this discussion is one Phoenix Wright.
Contains spoilers from 3-5, 6-5 and 6-DLC
As if the subtext wasn’t enough.
I wanted to share some thoughts about the DLC case and Edgeworth's insistence on remaining unwed, which, from what I've seen, is a commonly employed gotcha moment against NaruMitsu (because all relationships must end in marriage, right? /lh). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really mind. I just…didn’t find the dialogue exchange very damning.
Coming off 6-5, where Edgeworth says this,
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I saw the DLC as an extension of Edgeworth's sentimentality, this time directed at Phoenix’s romantic prospects.
To make my stance clear, I don’t think Edgeworth is blind to romantic overtures; he just doesn’t care about them very much. As in, Edgeworth is largely unaffected by and uninterested in matters of the heart (with a concession that he is obtuse when it comes to people expressing interest in him, unless they're Wendy Oldbag over the top about it). But even if you feel he's terrible at sensing romantic tension, my argument still stands. Edgeworth doesn’t care about romance, and we never really see him prying into anyone’s romantic relationships…
…with the exception to this being Phoenix Wright’s.
From Bridge to the Turnabout:
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Sorry for the janky screenshots. I didn't didn't take 3-5 pics on my Switch so I had to search for YouTube clips. Let the record show I actually really enjoy Feenris PLUS I love angst, so this interaction was…chef’s kiss.
Assuming Edgeworth doesn't care about romance but he can understand romantic signaling, this is already pretty condemning. Why are you poking around Phoenix's business if you're so uninterested in love? Surely, there are bigger fish to fry, like investigating the Inner Temple Garden because the clues found could be vital to catching the victim's murderer?
Assuming Edgeworth sucks at detecting any romantic undertones, the implications are even worse. You're telling me the guy who doesn't know the first thing about romance somehow clocked Phoenix and Iris's chemistry this quickly? How? For what reason were you able to catch it? How attuned are you to Phoenix's personal affairs?
Now, shifting back to the DLC case, we have this lovely interaction when you show Miles the wedding chapel pamphlet:
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Something to note with Phoenix’s “W-Wait. You’re not thinking about finally settling down and getting married, are you?” is that the screen flashes and we hear the damage sound after the “W-Wait."
Once again, Miles inquires about Phoenix's love life, this time after Phoenix asks about his. I've analyzed my fair share of Miles Edgeworth dialogue, and I don't think he pingpongs questions just to make conversation (see: “Say something, Wright. I’m not good at small talk.”). This leads me to believe he was genuinely curious and (subtly) trying to fish for information. And why would that be the case?
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My overarching point is this: Edgeworth isn’t as obtuse about romance as everyone makes him out to be (both in-universe and from a fandom perspective), which makes his mentioning marriage plans around Phoenix even more suspicious. The way the scene reads to me is that Edgeworth, in Phoenix’s company and swept away by the intimate atmosphere, lets his interest in Phoenix Wright slip through the cracks once Phoenix shows him the pamphlet. It's sentimental of him and it surfaces—once again—while he's investigating a case. At risk of sounding repetitive, there are bigger fish to fry.
It'd be less suspicious if Phoenix had similar conversations with other cast members he shows the pamphlet to, but it never gets to be this personal, even when he presents it to Maya, his best friend.
Good news if you feel otherwise about my “Edgeworth isn’t that obtuse” headcanon though, because should you believe he is actually just that clueless, you now have to contend with this:
If Miles can’t pick up on all things love, why is he so attuned to Wright’s (and to my knowledge, only Wright’s) romantic prospects in particular?
So yeah. Checkmate, I guess. Edgeworth might not be interested in marriage or love, but he’s definitely interested in Phoenix’s partners, or lack thereof. Take that how you will.
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aluciahaz · 10 months ago
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may i just say that your character writing is AMAZING! i honestly don’t check up on your blog a lot but when i do i’m left SHAKING because your shit is soooo hot.
Anyways i humbly come requesting mommy kink with vox because you know i’m all about that. he’s so desperate for validation and scared of rejection i feel like he’d be weeping at a domme mommy type reader. Anyways, do what you want with this!
once again i love your work! sincerely, bimbo <3
oh my god it's one of my favorite writers on tumblr🦅 thank you so much for the compliment it means a lot 😭 also i loved writing this ive desperately needed more vox asks! hope you enjoy! (kinda went ham on metaphors 💀 mb)
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greed never stops
—vox x f!reader
—includes: overstim, tons of crying, begging, light bondage
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vox was a walking, living(?) juxtaposition.
he’ll go barking orders to his subordinates, control most situations with smooth, quick thinking, and command his business with an iron fist.
but with you, the other side of his screen is on full display. his vulnerable, attention-desperate, failure-fearful self. you’ve seen it enough times to notice how it seeps into his daily life. how his control is really just a mechanism to take hold of his vulnerability, hiding it behind a mess of steel wires to make anyone who would try and reach it get tangled in its grasp.
but the moments he lets you untangle his facade, allowing you to see his true self, he feels free. even if most of the time it was during more intimate moments in the night. it was where he could truly indulge in his unfamiliar desires, crying and begging for the validation he was always seeking.
and you were the one he needed it from.
your praise was one of the highest in the hierarchy of compliments, making him feel like he was burning up, frying his brain in a way that made him feel like he’s short-circuited, but the feeling of fuzziness was intoxicating. he could never give up the taste of your compliments.
“come on, aren’t you a good boy? you can hold out for a little longer.”
those words were like rich liquor, and vox was an eager drinker. it swirled his thoughts into a never-ending spiral, and he could only cry in response as you touched his face with a gentleness that rivals an angel’s.
“b-but, mommy—!” he sobs as your fingers drive into him for what seems the thousandth time, his voice module starting to struggle as he tries to speak.
“oh?” you raise your eyebrow, feigning shock before narrowing your eyes, pressing him further down the sheets in disdain. is he still being ungrateful?
“but what, huh? don’t tell me you need more already! you’re such a greedy fucking slut,” you spit out, watching his eyes shoot open from the whiplash of your cruel words. “maybe i should stop—,”
“NO! nono, please! no! i’m sorry—!” he keens as your fingers slowly start to slip out of him, the sound so indecent it makes him shiver.
he pushes his hips up into your hand, trying to follow them only for your other hand to shove his hips back down on the sheets, your fingers twisting nearly all the way out before ramming back in, curling in wickedly that seems to shut him up briefly as he catches a breath that ran away.
vox weeps, unable to do anything else as his claws rip into the mattress, his legs shake and tremble as though they weren’t practically crushing you before. he seems so fragile at this moment, yet you knew he could take much more.
he just didn’t deserve it.
he whines and screams at your touch, tears starting to fall down his pretty little face as the small amount of dignity he had seems to get lost, overrun by your torturous fingers and unyielding pleasure that shoots through his body like a current.
“mommy—ha—please jus—zz—t fuck me, oh, god!” his head drops back down onto the pillows as your fingers wrap around his weeping cock, making his back arch as he sobs out noncoherent pleads. it’s beautifully pathetic.
his legs, weak and feeble, were strewn across the bed with previous markings trailing up his inner thigh, his neck even more decorated with a necklace of red, the glimmer of sweat that covers his whole body making those bites shine similar to crude rubies.
his hands, now tied with his own wires behind the bed (he charges there before he goes to sleep) were sullied with crimson from the tightness of the metal around his wrist, but not as bright crimson as his eyes, which flashed with bright red hearts intermittently. it was always a pleasant surprise, and a sign that he fucking loved this. no matter how much he complained at the start, his eyes spoke the truth.
which is why now, as you replace your fingers with his favorite strap, you know he’s absolutely overjoyed as those beating hearts seem to overtake his pupils once more, pulsating with a hypnotizing spiral.
“finally—! oh—zzz—FUCK!” his last word is practically inaudible with the airiness in his voice, his tone starting to distort, yet, your pace was slow. shallow, even. tears of frustration started to form at the ends of his eyes, his whines more pitiful as he tries to fuck himself back on your strap, only to be stopped by your sturdy grip on his hips.
“what do you say, vox?“ you asked, irritation slipping into your voice. how could he still be so ungrateful? but, he catches on fast, looking up at you with round, glossy eyes.
“thank you! thank—thank you, mommy!” he stumbles out before you switch up your pace instantly, brutally ramming into him just how he likes it. it makes him unable to fathom he could have been known to be anything but yours, surrendering his well-built persona to you. all of it, for your praise.
“such a good boy.”
those words were priceless, but he always ends up trying to buy them with obedience. and even though he’s successfully checked out with such praise, they still have the same effect on him every time.
he shudders and wails with ruined pitch, his screen flickering in and out of error messages and his lovely expression as he gets his reward. there was just something so satisfying about earning your praise.
sure, he can buy pretty much anything, and yes, he can get people to kneel at his feet, but he can’t cry without shame, or indulge in his true desires of being completely wrecked with soft words and fast hips with anyone. no, it could only be you. and even if he practically has everything under his hands, he will always be greedy for your affection, begging, screaming for a chance to have it set his whole body ablaze with its foreign warm feeling.
it makes him lost. no matter how much intelligence vox has, he always finds himself unable to search his way out of the feeling of pure lust overtaking his senses when you fuck him with abandon, his need to keep face seemingly never being there in the first place as tears make him short-circuit, and pleads for you to never stop. he doesn’t want to leave this labyrinth of carnality. he wants to stay lost in it forever.
it’s why even after he cums with a high-pitch sob so loud you thought his volume module broke, he kept weeping incoherently as the lights flicker in the room, his legs practically numb. and finally, he looks up at you, sniffling and choking on his words he’ll pretend to regret the next morning.
“m-more. please, mommy—! AH!” his whole body jolts as you heed his wishes, leaving him to fall back into the pleasure that he craves. he babbles on and on with thank yous and nonsensical sentences, the night seeming to become never-ending even with daybreak inching closer and closer.
vox is unable to speak at the end, and god does everything fucking hurt. his arms ache and his legs are definitely going to be an issue when he has to walk. there are marks all over his skin that will never see the light of day, yet be around for plenty of nights.
but you both know he’ll come back for more. his greed is an unquenchable thirst, and your praise is the only fountain that seems to satiate it, even if only for a little while.
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(i totally didnt forget to tag)
tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @mvskedxrtist @drlucichen @luciferspetduck
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jk97 · 11 months ago
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Unprofessional Attraction | TWO
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♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 18.2K ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff and explicit content (mdni), teacher/student relationship, other members are featured, halloween, drinking alcohol, perverted!yunho, bigdick!yunho, pet names (angel, pretty, smart girl, etc), pinch of sexting and unintentional phone sex, office head (giving and receiving), fingering, praise, unprotected sex, riding, jealousy, blackmail, good ol' porn with plot ♡ A/N - my goodness thank you for 1000+ notes ♡ sorry it's so long but I appreciate the patience!! the school semester timeline in this is kinda unrealistic but ignore that, fictional romance has no bounds LOL. This might end up 4 parts instead of 3, we'll see what my brain figures out.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
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“I’m starting to think you’re kidnapping me.”
For the past 30 minutes into this drive, something Yunho had initially assured you wouldn’t take long, you’ve been alternating between staring out of the window at your surroundings slowly becoming unfamiliar and the small bouquet of flowers sitting in your lap. Even as you gaze at him inquisitively, he doesn’t move his attention away from the road. When he doesn't answer for longer than what you deem appropriate, your brows flicker up in amusement. That gets his attention.
“Oh, right, that’s a bad thing,” he clears his throat dramatically, though you know he’s just poking fun at your impatience, “I suppose I could ruin the surprise if you’re getting restless.”
“No, I’m not! I’m just very curious why it’s so far away,” you stop him quickly. That’s absolutely a reasonable question and Yunho decides to give you the answer.
“I know I said I wanted to be discreet but…” he pauses and sighs, shaking his head, “I just can’t. Figured the next best thing would be to just leave our area for the day and do something fun around strangers instead. I just want us to be comfortable, I guess.”
“You really weren’t kidding about being thoughtful, huh?” You hum softly, hand finding his own sitting on the gear shift. He allows you to thread his fingers between yours without hesitation.
“I meant everything I said, yes.”
“I guess I can be patient then,” you feign annoyance, rolling your eyes. 
The earnest laugh that your silliness evokes from him fills the car and makes the atmosphere even warmer than before. The gift of flowers had already charmed you upon getting into his car, so you can’t imagine that there’s something even better waiting for you at the end of the drive. As much as you’d love to know what this man had settled on within the last few days, you allow yourself to indulge in the feeling of being whisked away and surprised instead. In the meantime, you busy yourself again by humming to his radio and continuing to survey your surroundings passing by quickly the further you drive.
There are many things Yunho is good at and he’s a very intelligent man, but cooking is just not one of those things. Because of this, he generally eats out instead of bothering with making food. This is particularly one of the reasons why he never had an issue when it came to eating dinner with you outside of his home. He supposes if he wants to be a proper and worthy bachelor, he should learn one of these days not to add too much salt to soup, or how to properly fry an egg without burning it to a crisp. Today’s decision to take you both to a cooking class is motivated by those circumstances. Sushi shouldn’t be that hard to master, right?
It begins easily enough. 
Each group has an individual station, and the class starts with a simple seaweed salad as an appetizer. He makes sure to follow all the instructions to a T, his only deviation being adding a dash of red pepper flakes because he likes spice. Yunho’s already so used to you asking for a taste of his food that he immediately goes to share his final product without you even asking.
While you’re still mixing your own he beckons for your attention, holding out a bite with his chopsticks, “Open.”
This is something you’ve done before, yes, but only a few times. It’s a bit more embarrassing though while doing such a thing in front of other people, and he can’t help but notice how you can’t look him directly in the eyes while obliging him. You’re so cute when you’re shy.
“How does it taste?” He asks before you can even get to chewing, but he’s a bit nervous that you might spit it out before he does.
When you do get to chew and swallow, he’s surprised to see your eyes light up, “Wow that’s delicious, Yu!” 
Asking him for another bite inflates his ego just a pinch too much, but he can’t help it when you’re praising him for his work. Maybe to hide his inability to cook anything else he’d simply make you seaweed salad for the rest of your life. Yeah, that sounds nice… He tries to suppress the confident smirk tugging at his lips and hypes himself up for the rest of the lesson. After everyone in the room has wrapped up that portion of the lesson, the instructor moves forward with beginning the sushi crafting.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you meet your friends?” You inquire in a low voice while the instructor carries on about how much rice is an appropriate amount, clarifying, “Mr. Park and Mr. Choi.”
“I met both in college, but I met Seonghwa first,” he muses, “I was a sophomore and he was a junior, and we both happened to choose the same music elective that year.”
“What the hell is a linguist doing in a music class? Felt adventurous that year?”
“I’m quite the singer actually,” Yunho reveals with a confident smile, but his arms cease their rice flattening when he hears you try to stifle laughter. His brows crinkle as he peers over at you with a prominent pout tugging at his lips, “What, you don’t believe me?”
“No, I do, it’s just–” You give him a once over. “I’m imagining this angelic voice coming out of you and it’s really cute.”
“Angelic…” he muses, then turns back to flattening his rice and smiles to himself, “I guess I’ll have to show you one day and you can determine that for yourself.”
“I’d love that, actually.”
The instructor announces that next you’ll be slicing up salmon and avocado to put inside your rolls. You and Yunho work diligently on splitting the filet of salmon provided between each other to see who can do it best and follow her lead once more. 
“Continue the story,” you whisper to him once the instructor gives the last of her enthusiastic pitches on how to glide the knife through in one stroke for each piece, “What happened after music class?”
“Well, we became friends after pairing up for a duet project… and then we met San the following year after he hired Seonghwa for tutoring in history.” Yunho pauses for a moment to put an immense amount of concentration into his first slice, which still definitely ends up way too thick. “He did things like that on the side for money sometimes. Put up posters in the cafes and everything.”
Even though you’re also concentrating, you nod so he knows you’re paying attention. Unlike Yunho, you seem to have picked up on the cutting technique pretty quickly. His eyes keep flickering back and forth between your work and his, and he huffs in dissatisfaction.
“Sheesh, that was quite some time ago,” you state absentmindedly.
“Excuse me, are you calling me old?”
“Possibly.”
For the nonchalant jab at his confidence, Yunho nudges your cutting arm mid-slice and causes you to abruptly cut the current piece in half. The flabbergasted look on your face and the way your mouth drops open at a loss for words makes him giggle.
“I’m so sorry beautiful, it’s these old brittle bones,” he feigns remorse, lips pulling into a dishonest pout when you glare at him, “Can never keep my balance these days with them, you know?”
“Maybe they’re also the reason your slices look as big as filets,” you quip back, “Might as well throw those on the grill, right?”
Yunho’s pout turns genuine. You only apologize because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you both agree to let you cut the salmon while he works on the avocados instead. It doesn’t take long before you’re finished placing the necessary ingredients onto your rice and following the instructor's words on how to successfully roll it all together. This is something that Yunho is actually able to do decently, and he marvels at the way he’s got a genuine sushi roll in front of his eyes made from his own hands. Moving forward, his mind is consumed with cutting it into perfect bite-sized pieces when you tap his shoulder.
“Hey, do you like soy sauce on your sushi?”
“Sometimes, why?” He replies, and when he turns around to peer down at you he’s met with a pair of chopsticks holding up something for him to try. 
You smile in place of instruction, but he opens his mouth without even having to be told to do so. Unlike you, he doesn’t mind holding eye contact while you feed him. It feels intimate even with strangers around you. Dozens of butterflies manifest in your stomach and go into even more of a frenzy when he sighs in contentment. He’ll be nice and pretend he didn’t see the way you swallow the lump in your throat. 
That’s when you notice you put just a little too much soy sauce on his piece, and your thumb casually swipes the excess from the corner of his mouth. It’s an action that should be helpful and innocent, but you put your thumb in your mouth to lick it clean without even thinking. He absolutely takes notice. Every time Yunho thinks he’s got the upper hand in wooing you, you make him lose his cool so easily.
“Your face is red. Was it too salty?”
Yunho clears his throat and shakes his head hastily when he sees you’re genuinely concerned. He really wants nothing more than to kiss you at this moment, but that would have to wait until you both are alone. The rest of the class goes by quickly when tasked with making a different sushi roll and some strawberry-matcha ice cream for dessert. Yunho thinks he might see a hint of disappointment on your face when things come to an end and you have to take off your aprons. 
“There’s a park not too far away from here if you’re okay with walking for a bit. Burn off some calories?” Yunho proposes when you both finally leave the building, and you nod eagerly. For the second time today, you link fingers and begin your venture.
The walk ends up being a bit longer than you both expect, but it doesn’t take much time to find a secluded spot where you could have some privacy when there. It’s fairly brisk today, so when Yunho removes his jacket to grant you a clean place to sit on the grass, you immediately tell him you don’t mind sitting on the ground at all, that you’d rather him be warm. He assures you that he’s not cold at all (a big fat lie) and doesn’t mind getting a little dirt on his pants, so you give in and situate yourself on his jacket. The silence between you both is comfortable, filled with the sounds of people playing somewhere nearby and birds occupying trees in the branches lingering over you. You debate about striking up more conversation about his past, but he beats you to the punch on speaking.
“I haven’t done this in a while you know,” Yunho suddenly divulges, “Have you?”
“Gone on a date?” When he nods you shake your head, “No, actually. Haven’t met anyone worth going past the texting phase, to be honest... Well, besides that one day.”
You feel a bit guilty when still having to lie about that phony date that led to your first dinner together, but it’s not like it’s something you can change now. 
“As bad as it sounds… I’m glad you got stood up that day,” his eyes fall to his lap when he mumbles this. He hopes that doesn’t come across negatively.
The corners of your mouth tug into a smile at his honesty. Maybe one day in the future you’d gain enough courage to tell him it was a lie. You wonder if he would genuinely be upset… Though, you suppose you’re thinking way too far ahead into the future for those kinds of worries. 
Instead of dwelling on it, you simply say, “I am too, Yu.”
“You’ve been using that nickname more often,” he points out after a moment of thought, “Any particular reason?”
“It’s just a habit when we get alone… helps me separate you from how I know you on campus,” you reply and glance over at him apprehensively, “I’m sorry, it probably sounds too childish, right? I can stop.”
“No no, I prefer when you call me Yu,” he admits, palm digging into the grass as he leans back on his arm with a sigh, “Everybody else calls me Yunho, Mr. Jeong, whatever.”
“Am I not in the same category as everybody else?”
“Not at all,” he professes without any hesitation, lolling his head to the side to finally peer back at you. The soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth makes your heart stutter. 
“Duly noted,” is all you’re able to mumble back. When his eyes go from surveying your face for any unease at his bluntness to zeroing in on your lips, you can’t help the heat manifesting in your cheeks.
“Are you comfortable if I kiss you?”
“I feel like we’re way past that step, no?” You quirk a brow.
“Was more so asking since we’re technically in public, but I suppose that’s also true,” he laughs softly, leaning over and pressing his lips to yours before you can reply to him with any nonsense.
His lips are always so soft and plush, and it’s so juxtaposed with the way he kisses you with intensity and clear intent. He’s never really hesitant of himself when you both kiss, never thinking twice about selfishly stealing your air, despite any anxiety he may have about your situation inside of himself. He’s a bit too enamored with the way your tongue still tastes like strawberry matcha to realize that his free hand has dipped under the hem of your dress, fingertips creeping and leaving a trail of heat as they inch further and further up your thigh. As much as you’d love to indulge him, your nerves won’t let you, no matter how secluded your spot might be.
Your hand wraps around his wrist gently, giggling onto his lips as you warn him, “Don’t get any funny ideas. Like you said, we’re in public.”
“You’re absolutely right,” he sighs reluctantly. He can’t deny that he’s slightly embarrassed for even letting his hands move with a mind of their own. There’s just something about you that makes him feel like he doesn’t have to think so hard when you’re around, and it makes him lose his senses in the process. Everything just feels natural. An affectionate smile plays at his lips while he rubs the material of your dress between his fingers, “It’s getting pretty late, the sun is setting.”
“Let’s head back before the traffic gets too crazy then, yeah?” You propose and he nods silently before pushing one last peck to your lips.
The drive back to your apartment feels much quicker than it did leaving, and this stirs up a hint of despondency in your stomach. It feels like your time with him has ended just as soon as it started, but you suppose you should appreciate the full day you did get to spend with him. Still, you know something like today won’t happen that often, and it makes you a bit sad the closer you get to your building. 
Like the gentlemen he is, Yunho walks with you up to the second floor and to your door, hands shoved deep in his pockets while he debates on how to say bye. He doesn’t know if he should kiss you goodbye when anybody could be watching now that you’re back in the area. Then again, he supposes even walking you up to your place was risky to begin with. While he’s debating over these things in his mind, you’ve already opened your front door. He doesn’t even realize you’re staring at him until you call his name, to which he’s subsequently sputtering a bunch of apologies after being caught overthinking. 
“Why don’t you come inside for a little bit,” you hum, more as an instruction than a request. 
Yunho’s tongue prods at the inside of his cheek in rumination over the various prospects of what exactly coming inside could entail, but the way you’re gazing at him with those beguiling eyes is already luring him in before his thoughts can get the best of him. His feet move on their own, taking tentative steps into your abode with an overwhelming feeling of excitement pooling in his chest. The sound of the front door being locked is followed by you coming up behind him and wrapping your hands around his torso. It’s very sweet, the way you bury your head in his back and squeeze him in an endearing hug.
“I really enjoyed today,” you tell him as best you can with your cheek still squished against his back. You feel the warm chuckle he lets out reverberating through his back. He wishes he could reciprocate your hug, but it seems you’re intent on staying behind him.
He settles for saying, “Thank you for giving me the chance to fix things, ____. I just wanted to show you that you mean a lot to me.”
Then, there’s a beat of silence, and he wonders if everything is okay. Maybe that was too much…
“What’s your day look like tomorrow?” you suddenly ask softly, and Yunho's eyes fall to watch as your hands drop and ghost around his belt. 
His Adam's Apple bobs anxiously before he answers in an equally soft voice, “Sundays I… I usually prepare my slides and lesson plans for the week. Meet with the boys in the evening after I’m done for some drinks…”
Your hands gently undo his belt as he’s talking, humming “ mhm ” every few words to let him know you’re indeed listening. 
“Maybe you should leave in the morning then,” you propose, fingers gently popping open the button of his pants. You can feel him take a deep inhale the moment you finally gently tug at his zipper.
“Yeah, maybe I should.”
That night, Yunho learns several things about you.
He gets to learn the ins and outs of your gag reflex. You have a slight affinity with deep-throating your partners, and he falls in love with the view of you even trying to with tears in the corners of your eyes. The way your lips stretch around his thick cock… It’s an image he stores in his mental album of you for later use.
He gets to learn about the tattoo you have hidden on your back as he’s fervently driving that same thick cock of his into you from behind. He traces it delicately with his fingers before reaching forward to grab at your hair, pulling it back for some well-needed leverage while his sweaty thighs smack against yours over and over.
He especially loves learning that you like being talked through things, and he’s already made you cum twice by utilizing his voice. Rinse and repeat, the way your greedy cunt squeezes and milks him for all he’s worth when says, “Remind me, what’s my name?” And when you moan out that nickname that he likes so much, he replies with, “That’s my smart girl. Looking so pretty, you feel so fucking good around me. You gonna cum for me again, pretty? I can feel you squeezing, go ahead and give it to me.”
Needless to say, it was a very long and educational night. 
In the morning, Yunho’s desires get the best of him, and he manages to inconspicuously steal a pair of panties from the laundry pile in your room, shoving them into his pants pocket while you’re in the bathroom. He makes sure to take a plain-looking pair, something he’s sure you won’t notice is missing. There’s a slight feeling of guilt once he’s nearly home, though. 
It’s okay, it’s just a one-time thing, he tells himself over and over, I’ll return them the next time I’m over.
“YOU WHAT?”
Yeosang slaps his hand over his mouth but, to be fair, his reaction is entirely involuntary. He had promised you he would remain calm, but how could he with this kind of information? You repeatedly sputter that, while you may be in the back of the library, he is very much going to cause a disturbance if he doesn’t shut his fucking mouth.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he exhales, leaning in with eyes as big as saucers, “You came in too hot, I need the foreplay first.”
“Don’t phrase it like that, good Lord,” you groan.
“What else am I supposed to say when you tell me you’ve fucked him and none of the lead-up? Fuck, did he even take you out to dinner first?”
“Of course he did,” you defend him quickly, “We’ve spent a lot of time together actually. Mostly dinners and things of that nature.”
“I’m mostly shocked that it took you this long to fuck him. Seems like you hooked him fairly easily.”
“Well…” you cover your face just enough to where an eye can peep out between your fingers, and Yeosang eyes you curiously, “No, that wasn’t the first time…”
“Obviously you hate me, ____,” your best friend immediately states, clasping his hands together, “This is the only suitable explanation of why you wouldn’t tell me this until now. I literally begged you for info like an idiot weeks ago!”
“I’m sorry! It was just—”
“Nah, denied,” he holds a hand up to shush you, “Worst best friend ever.”
“Yeo, I explicitly told you progress was being made. Did I not?”
“You failed to tell me that it was being made between your legs,” he snaps in a whisper-yell. “How many times?”
“Only twice, okay? You haven’t missed much, I promise.”
Yeosang sits in silence with his head perched on his palm, seemingly marinating in all of the information he’s been slammed within the last 10 minutes. There are very few times you’ve seen him at a loss for words, but this moment surely makes the list. 
“I didn’t think he would cave that easily, honestly.” He finally speaks. You release all the pent-up air in your chest that you hadn’t realized you were holding in waiting for his words. “What did you do to him ____?”
He pleads for the final time for you to start from the beginning and explain, and you finally grant that to him without getting too into the nitty gritty. You’re a bit bashful recounting some of the lengths you took in setting this all up, but Yeosang simply nods in understanding at each one. If anyone was going to be supportive, it was always going to be your frontline cheerleader. 
After taking in the full story, he thinks it’s only proper to ask, “What’s your plan beyond this point?”
“Well, exactly what I said to you a long time ago,” you tell him frankly, “If all goes well, I want to be in a relationship with him after I graduate. I don’t see him saying no to that with the way he’s already treating me...”
Yeosang notices the way your demeanor has changed with this answer. Previously, the humorous lilt in your voice was much more prominent. Those same sentiments and that joking attitude seems to be long gone. He can see it in your eyes, the way you’re taking this more seriously. He wonders what Yunho could’ve possibly done to turn you into such a romantic over him. The answer to that would simply be: everything. 
“You know, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure if you were telling the truth about wanting things beyond sex at first,” Yeosang tells you honestly. He may be a goofball, but he’s able to be serious when needed. And despite the foolishness leading up to this statement, his voice is earnest when he says, “I can see this working out for you as long as you’re careful.”
“I hope so, Yeo. I really do.”
On the following Wednesday, you and Yeosang are both seated in Yunho’s class wasting time on your phones as class is set to start. Usually, Yunho is very punctual with starting because his lectures are so long, so you’re curious as to what the hold-up is today. You peek over your laptop and spot him talking to a guy you’ve never seen before and, as far as you know, you’ve never recognized him in this class. They nod at each other before you see Yunho clear his throat.
“Everyone, I want to take a few minutes at the top of the hour to introduce someone important,” Yunho begins, loud enough that everyone can hear and cease chatter. “I’m sure some of you recognize him from other classes. For those who don't, however, this is Wooyoung Jung. He’ll be serving as my teacher’s assistant for the remainder of the semester.”
“I’m happy to be able to help any way I can,” Wooyoung proclaims to everyone with a sweet smile before turning back towards Yunho, “And thank you Mr. Jeong for allowing me the opportunity.”
You wonder if this is something Yunho truly chose or whether it was sprung upon him; it’s fairly late into the semester for something like this to be introduced. He does have quite the workload though, you muse. Surely with new hands to help, he’ll manage his time a bit better. You wonder if that’ll mean you get to spend more time with him while Wooyoung is taking care of things that would usually dig into his free time. As if Yunho knows you’re thinking about him, his eyes find yours while Wooyoung is taking his seat at the front of the class. Something about the ambiguous gaze he gives you when others are around makes you itch for his attention even more than normal. He doesn’t ever fail at making it look natural, like he could be looking at anyone for nothing in particular. Those little moments keep things fun.
The answer to your previous queries would end up being that, yes, this was something Yunho chose himself. When presented with an opportunity for a student specializing in his major to offer assistance after being accepted into the Work-Study program later than most, of course he said yes. San had been telling him since he began working at the university last semester that he should take on a TA while he got acclimated to teaching, but Yunho had convinced himself that he could do it all on his own. While Yunho had been pretty open about how terrible his workload was, considering he has 3 class sections, he was never completely honest with you about how much stress this caused him on a day-to-day basis. 
He was excited that this would free up some of his previously stolen time and take some pressure off of his shoulders. He was also looking forward to being able to spend some of that newly open time with you, especially. That’s why when you unknowingly throw a wrench into those intentions before leaving his class Friday, he has a hard time keeping the dejection he feels from showing on his face. 
“It might be a while before we’re able to hang out again,” you sigh, “Midterms are stressing me out but I don’t want to psych myself out right before I graduate—”
“____,” Yunho places his hand on your head tenderly, silencing your rambling in the kindest way he can. He doesn’t like seeing you so stressed out. “Focus on yourself and do your best, okay? Don’t lose sight of the finish line. Being prepared and passing is much more important than us seeing each other.”
You gaze up at him with some of the prettiest dispirited eyes he’s ever seen. How is he supposed to remain selfless when you look like this? Of course, he’d love to be selfish and fill your time; he knows you’re a smart girl so you’d have nothing to worry about for his midterm at least. He’d take care of it. Nevertheless, you’re still a student of others as well, and he has to extinguish that greed as fast as it ignites.
“Thank you for understanding.”
“Of course, pretty. You know where to find me whenever you’re ready,” he smiles and gives your cheek a teasing pinch before opening the lecture hall’s door, “See you next Wednesday.”
As expected, two weeks of studying and taking tests consume your entire schedule. Yunho is not much better, and he’s consistently cursing at himself for making the test he gave out to all of his sections so long. Even though he wants to truly know if his students understand all the material thus far, he forgets how time-consuming making the test so extensive can be for him as well. Having Wooyoung around helps quite a bit, even though he feels slightly guilty for putting such a large amount on him when he becomes overwhelmed. Wooyoung never complains though, so Yunho is grateful to have gotten a TA who actually does the work and does it well. During this time, you both try to keep regular contact, offering words of encouragement to each other and discussing what you should do to celebrate when you get your passing grades back. 
Directly following the end of midterms week is the weekend before Halloween. Jongho had sent out a text the week prior that he was holding a party at his parent’s rental house, which is currently unoccupied for the season. The man had friends from several different circles because he was involved in many different extracurriculars outside of his studies, so you were certain this party was going to be fairly large.
Naturally, as best friends do, you and Yeosang decide to wear matching costumes for his party. Procrastination had gotten the best of you both with midterms added into the mix, however, and the best thing the two of you were able to come up with before the weekend was a sexy nurse and doctor duo. Simple, but effective.
You both rode along with Hongjoong, who had chosen to be the designated driver for the evening. It’s uncomfortably brisk outside, too brisk to be dressed like you are; however, upon opening the door, you can barely get two steps into the property before Jongho stops everyone in their tracks. His hands hold out exactly what you knew would be coming before even arriving at the house. It’s Jongho’s signature thing.
“You know the rules,” he says with that mischievous smile of his you know too well. 
You must take one tequila shot to be admitted past the door.
All three of you quickly take the shot glasses from your host and toss them back without even giving cheers. The burn of alcohol and the robust taste of bitter poison stains your tongue. It hurts a little on the throat on the way down and you salivate to adjust to the pain, immediately making a face of disgust. 
“God, it never gets easier,” you cough.
“I’ll grab you something easier,” he laughs while rubbing your back, “Same flavor as usual?”
“Please and thank you.”
As promised, he comes back with two bottles of honeydew melon soju in tow and some fresh shot glasses. It doesn’t take too many heavy-handed shots before laughs and giggles begin to bubble up in your throat for no real reason. You forgot that you didn’t put anything on your stomach before leaving the house, and it’s becoming very apparent every time you feel your head shoot up to outer space and come back down just as quickly. That’s a non-issue though because Jongho’s catered this party with enough food to feed a small village. Anyone watching you stuffing your face with Halloween-themed carbs and sweets is the last thing on your mind. Round two of shots is followed by the intense feeling of needing to dance. Even while intoxicated, you’re perceptive enough to notice various sets of eyes on you whilst dancing with your friends. Every so often, an owner of a set will make his way over and try to chat you up. Like clockwork, you say the same thing to every new person:
Sorry, I’m not single.
You say this sentence so many times in the span of an hour that it begins to feel real. Then again, isn’t it already? As far as you’re concerned, you were spoken for until Yunho said otherwise. You wonder if he feels the same about himself... When you start having a small internal existential crisis about whether Yunho thinks the same, that’s when you know you’re approaching your limit for the night. You step away to grab some water and begin the process of flushing your body. When you make it back to your circle, things have changed. Mingi, with his girlfriend in tow, lets everyone know that they’re going to find a private room before taking off up the stairs of the house. You know it’s irrational and probably motivated by the alcohol in your system, but you can't help but feel jealous that they can do something like that so easily. If you could see Yunho and drag him to a room anytime you were horny, you’re sure a lot of your life’s problems would be solved.
The moment they’re gone, Hongjoong leans in and quickly lets you know he’s also going upstairs to join some other acquaintances in karaoke. You’re just about to panic until Yeosang tugs on your arm to beckon for your attention.
“Going to the bathroom if you want to join,” he leans in and proposes, “I really need to pee.”
Everyone seems to have wanted to go their separate ways, but he’d never leave you alone all by your lonesome. And especially not with alcohol in your system. You grab onto his hand with a nod and let him lead you through hoards of people to the closest bathroom. Luckily, it’s empty and there’s no wait. It’s not long before you’re both locked away from the sound of music thumping from behind the door. While you search through your pockets for your lipgloss for reapplication, Yeosang jets for the toilet.
“I’m drained,” you mutter, “Being bombarded by strangers.”
“You showed up to the party looking like that and expected not to catch some eyes?”
He’s right, honestly. The red and white romper you’re wearing leaves nothing much to the imagination with the way your asscheeks are hanging out of the bottom or the way your breasts are squished together at the top. Your makeup and hair, your stockings and heels, everything just exudes pure sex appeal. All topped off with a little hat and a play syringe you’ve been using occasionally for “alcohol shots”. To be fair, your friend group mainly consisted of men, and many men found it intimidating to approach you with them always surrounding you in settings such as this. People must be feeling especially bold tonight with as much alcohol being drunk, you muse. He giggles to himself because he knows that typically you’d entertain some of the suitors for fun, but you seem devoted to the one man on your mind these days. 
“Bet you didn’t send your boyfriend a picture of your costume though, huh?” Yeosang teases, slurred words morphing into a laugh as he finally pulls down his pants. The subsequent sound of him peeing draws a laugh from you.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you scoff and nudge him in the back. He nearly loses his footing. 
“Stop, you're gonna make pee go everywhere!” How he is even still peeing with such ferocity is beyond you. This doesn’t stop him from adding in quickly, “I dare you to show him. It’s only fair, right?”
Alcohol-induced pride is something dangerous, but you’re never one to back down from a dare, even when sober. While he’s finishing up, you find your text thread with Yunho and send him the image you and Yeosang had taken together at the beginning of the party.
[Y/N: 1 image]
[Y/N: Matchingg with my besssttieee]
Coincidentally, Yunho is home and lonesomely watching YouTube videos when his phone pings. Oh wow…
He replies with several texts in a minute—one making sure to compliment you both, but the rest shamelessly thirsting over the way your costume is so lewd. Many other men may have made passes at you and offered plenty of flattery throughout the night, but none of them could make you get flustered as much as Yunho. This is the only man you care about hearing compliments from, the only man whose words matter. Maybe it’s that last bottle of soju making you so confident, but your hands move faster than your brain.
“Don’t turn around just yet,” you tell Yeosang quickly before pulling up your camera. You unzip your romper enough to pull one of your breasts out fully, squeezing it teasingly with one hand while the other takes a quick selfie. It’s a tad blurry, but it’ll do its job. After fixing yourself just as quickly, you give Yeosang the okay so he can wash his hands.
[Y/N: 1 invisible ink image]
[Y/N: Would you let me stick you???]
When he gets this notification, Yunho stares down at his throbbing cock already in his hand and laughs. He was already turned on enough by the other picture to pull it out from his sweatpants, but this? He’s usually not one to send nudes, but good God, he wants nothing more than for you to see exactly what you’re doing to him right now. Against his better judgment, he does just that.
[Yunho: 1 invisible ink image]
[Yunho: only if you let me reciprocate after]
When you uncover the picture, your breath catches in your throat: his hand is firmly wrapped around his aching, flushed cock. It looks as though he’s already been stroking himself eagerly, the way it’s glossy with lubricant and an angry shade of red. God, the things you would do to have him pick you up from this party and let you fuck him to your heart's content… Even though that could never happen, a girl can dream, so you decide you have to tell him exactly what’s on your mind. Yeosang’s too drunk to do his job of taking away your phone while you’re so many drinks deep. 
“Ready to go back?” Your best friend asks while drying his hands.
Holding your phone tight against your chest for privacy, you sputter, “Do you mind giving me a few minutes alone? I won’t be too long, promise.”
Yunho’s shocked when he sees your name come up on his phone for a call. He was beginning to get slightly nervous when you failed to respond to his attempt at sexting, but that didn’t stop him from staring at your photos and feverishly stroking his cock in the meantime.
“Hello?”
“Hello there, handsome,” you giggle, and Yunho immediately hears the intoxicated tremor laced in your words. 
“Having a fun night?” He asks with a laugh of his own, trying to refrain from breathing too heavily into the phone every time he squeezes his leaking tip with a little extra pressure. 
You’re too drunk to realize what he’s doing anyway, and you unknowingly feed into his journey toward an orgasm when you outright say, “Yes but… I want you so bad right now, Yu.”
Yunho’s breath nearly catches in his throat, and his face flushes bashfully as his hand glides faster up and down his cock.
His voice trembles a bit when he replies, “I wish I could make that happen for you, angel.”
“Well… you wanna know what I’d do if I was there?” You push further, closing your eyes and tuning out everything outside the door to focus on Yunho alone. He agrees promptly, head kicking back as he closes his eyes in the same way, tuning in solely to your voice. “Been wanting to ride you so bad lately. Keep imagining the way you’d sound when I bounce up and down in your lap… You make the prettiest noises, Yu, I swear.”
He physically swallows any of those aforementioned pretty noises trying to manifest in his throat, burying them deep in his chest before he responds with the only thing his brain can manifest.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, but…” You lower your voice to a whisper, “Do you think I could make you cum all by myself, like no help?”
Yunho is so close, he can barely hold himself together.
“I bet you could. Just seeing you feel good while using my dick would be enough to, honestly.”
The tiny drunken giggle that tumbles from your lips goes straight to his heart, “I say we test that out then.”
“Just let me know when you want to and I’ll be more than ready,” he assures you, accidentally punctuating that sentence with a soft, “ Fuck .”
“____, Jongho’s looking for us,” Yeosang calls out through the door. “They’re about to play a drinking game or something.”
For some reason, the knowledge that you’re talking so filthy like this while anyone on the other side of the door could perhaps hear you pushes him over the edge. With his phone on his chest, Yunho presses a tight hand over his mouth to suppress any noise threatening to come out, instead heavily breathing through his nostrils as spurts of cum sully his abdomen.
You sigh, “My liver is being summoned, gotta go. Bye-bye, handsome.”
The call ends before Yunho can even open his mouth to reply, but that’s fine because he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to come up with a coherent sentence anyway. He settles for dazedly texting you to let him know when you get home safely. The long and uncomfortably hot shower he takes to wash away the filth from his mind and his body leaves him feeling oddly refreshed. It might be because he hasn’t had a conversation with you not relating to the stresses of the previous weeks up until today. It’s silly that something so depraved ended up being the product, but God, does it feel fresh and exhilarating.
Now that midterm season was over and a good amount of grading had been taken off of his hands by taking on a TA, Yunho found himself with enough time on his hands to give his place a good cleaning. If he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s doing this to give himself more confidence in inviting you over again. It had been some time since he last had you there, but that was partially due to the treacherous state that it was in currently. You had been free from midterms for a week now, there were no excuses as to why he couldn’t spend private time with you in his place. The perfect opportunity arose directly after he accomplished his goal, when you mentioned in passing that you were one assignment away from being able to go out.
“How about you come do your work at my place instead?” he had offered, “I’ll order us dinner and we can relax together afterward.”
It didn’t take much convincing for you to end up on his doorstep half an hour later with your backpack slung over your shoulder. You’re so beautiful when you’re done up, there’s no denying that, but there’s something about you when you’re dressed so comfortably casual that makes Yunho get heart palpitations. When you look like that while lounging at his kitchen table, hands typing away at God knows what assignment, it just feels so domestic to him. You look like you belong there. He tries not to stare too much and gives you your space to work though, busying himself with some random medical show he pays no real mind to on Netflix while lying on his couch. Quite some time later, he hears you let out a hefty aggravated sigh. 
“Words are starting to blend together,” you murmur while rubbing your eyes. “Hate when this happens.”
“Take a break then, beautiful. Come sit with me?”
It started off innocent, it really did. 
Sitting curled up under Yunho’s arm in his lap has now entered the top ranks on your list of favorite positions to be in. It’s soothing, the way his fingers play with the frayed strings of your pants in between rubbing calming circles into your tense muscles. If you weren’t careful, you’re sure this man could lull you to sleep.
“I didn’t know you liked doctor shows,” you mumble against his chest. 
“I don’t,” he laughs, “I figured the girl who dressed up as a sexy nurse over the weekend would be interested.”
“Oh hush, you know Halloween is for foolishness.”
But, upon entering a conversation about Halloween, it leads to a conversation about your photo exchange. Yunho has been meaning to ask if he’s allowed to save that image for obvious reasons. Aside from it being sent while you were intoxicated, he also wants to be respectful about deleting it if need be. You reassure him that it’s okay for him to keep and use it whenever he likes, as you do not doubt in your mind he’d never let something like that slip from between you both. That’s when the phone call also comes up.
“Are you usually that horny when you’re intoxicated?” Yunho inquires, “Calling me up and talking like that was surprising.”
You sit up immediately, “I called you? You’re lying…”
“You don’t remember?” His brows hitch in surprise. 
“No, I don’t recall that at all,” you gaze back at him, dumbfounded, “What did I say?”
“Nothing much,” he lies, but he knows you’d never take that as an answer. Especially not when his cheeks are dusted in pink at you even asking.
“Please, tell me!” You nearly plead, “Oh God, was it embarrassing?”
“You really want to know that badly?”
The innocent nod you give him makes him give in. He remains focused on the TV to prevent himself from becoming too sheepish by looking into your eyes while recounting such words. Yunho is a bit more conservative with his words as he recalls your remarks about riding him. He’s unable to go into as much detail as you did of course, he doesn’t want to work himself up just thinking about it; moreover, he can’t even say some parts without fleeting thoughts of how he already jacked off simply to your voice telling him such things. It’s embarrassing to him how he lacks willpower when it comes to you, he’s a grown man for Christ’s sake. To be fair, you’re not much help. He doesn’t even notice how you’re toying with his sweatpants’ strings while he talks. When he finally tears his eyes from the TV and meets yours, the gaze you share has you finally moving from your spot.
Who knew Yunho’s living room couch was so comfortable on the knees? Surely not you, until yours are digging into it while you straddle his waist. It’s hard to focus on the way his lips are devouring your neck while his hands are simultaneously frisking every inch of your body he can reach. You don’t know at what point during the last minute you ended up with your joggers thrown a few feet away on the floor, or when he ended up with his sweatpants and underwear pooled around his feet. He can’t focus on anything else but the feeling of your bare cunt sliding back and forth over his cock, watching you teasingly smear your slick all over him with his mouth hung open. He can only take but so much of watching you work him up before he finally peers up into your eyes.
“God, you’re way too good at being a tease,” he sighs as he leans up to ghost his lips over yours. You can feel his little gasps every time you apply a little more of your weight on top of his painfully hard cock. He’s a patient man though, so he doesn’t mind letting you toy with him for however long your heart desires, “I’m not in a rush.”
“Maybe I’m just waiting for you to remind me how to fit it in me,” you joke, gasping as his hands busy themselves by massaging your sensitive breasts under your sports bra, “It's been a while since the last time, you know?”
The raspy laugh he lets out hits you right in your core, and even more so when he says, “You’re a very smart and capable girl, I know you can do it all by yourself.” 
The way he enunciates the last three words makes your core throb. When you finally lift your hips to wrap your hands around his length, his hands move from your breasts to your waist for support. You give him a few gentle pumps before lining him up with your sopping entrance. 
“There you go,” he encourages when you push yourself open on his tip with a needy moan.
You slide down his shaft gradually, inch by inch until you’re fully seated. The deep, shaky exhale you let out against Yunho’s neck makes him chuckle because you’re such a trooper even without any prep beforehand. 
“Give me a second.”
“Want some help?” He asks genuinely, massaging the plush of your thighs and chuckling when he feels you clench at the offer. 
He’d lay you down and take care of things himself if you wanted him to, as he’s never one to deny a pillow princess being the service dom he typically is. To his surprise, you begin moving your hips, lifting and sliding back down at a casual pace. His head kicks back and he sighs at the feeling of your warm walls swallowing him in and pushing him out, over and over. You can’t keep in the sounds of pure need and arousal that spill from your lips every time you feel his cock curve up and prod against that spot that makes your stomach do flips. When the sting from the initial stretch subsides, every glide feels breathtaking. You keep your head buried in his neck to focus on your hip movements instead, gasping and moaning in time with every sound of your ass striking his thighs.
You were right, he thinks, it had been quite some time since you both slept together that night of your first real date. Yunho’s been dreaming about that pretty cunt of yours since then—nearly daily—unable to match the feeling of the way you squeeze him with his hand, especially during the nights he works himself up enough to where he needs release. He didn’t want to seem too brazen or shamefully horny by reaching out and asking if he could show you more of what he could accomplish with that cock of his buried inside you, the sounds he wants to try and evoke. Nevertheless, he doesn’t want you to think that’s something that matters the most to him. 
Admittedly, the general nerves regarding your extracurricular activities with each other had subsided after the Halloween stint. Yunho gained a lot of confidence after that night. He previously felt guilty during midterm weeks because, even after he had expressly told you to focus on yourself, he was also so sure that there was plenty of midterm stress he could’ve helped you relieve, and vice versa. In many, many ways. Regardless, he decided to let sex with you occur naturally instead, such as last time. It was worth the wait though, if the way his teeth are sinking so deep into his bottom lip to stop himself from whimpering at this pleasure is anything to go by. 
“Fuck, mhm, just like that baby,” he hisses when you arch your back and begin rolling your hips against him, “Really gonna make me cum all by yourself, huh? Knew you were ambitious, angel.”
You feel yourself nearly gush with every word. This can’t be the same man who stands in front of you twice a week and talks about semantics, right? On the opposite end, how is he supposed to maintain any composure when the sounds of your sopping wet cunt sucking him in so easily are now battling the TV? Your arousal is so loud and it’s driving him crazy. He tends to firmly pinch at the meat of your bouncing ass and chuckle every time it elicits a helpless yelp from your throat, only to keep his antsy hands busy. Still, he makes an effort to let you do things by yourself, as you expressed.
“Yu?” you whimper into his skin a moment later, and he grunts to let you know he’s listening even if his mind is foggy with lust, “I wanna kiss you.”
Yunho’s heart nearly bursts out of his chest, cheeks flushing at how innocent the request is. His hand tenderly grabs you by the chin and leads your mouth to his while murmuring, “Stop hiding then, sweetheart.”
Time and time again, you’re reminded about how good of a kisser he is. There’s something addicting about the way he loves intertwining tongues and doesn’t care about being messy that turns you on to the highest degree. You can feel heat prickle over every inch of your skin when he pulls back your bottom lip with his teeth. When you begin to bounce faster and grow more eager to cum, Yunho’s hands finally grab underneath either cheek of your ass and begin to help you, hips rutting up in time with every quick hop of you on his cock. It doesn’t take long before his breathing becomes ragged, his own orgasm nearing, and you both break the kiss to gasp for air. Your hands grip onto his biceps when you feel your legs starting to give out from fatigue.
“I’m sorry I–”
“You can relax, sweetheart,” he pants, “Just a little more, I’ve got you.”
Yunho wraps his arms around your back, holding you steady and spreading his legs a bit farther apart before taking over and pistoning his hips into yours. The frenzied babbles of his name in his ear make his eyes roll to the ceiling. Your orgasm blindsides you entirely, hitting you right after a particularly sinful thrust directly into your G-spot. There's no time to indulge in the way you’re making some of the most euphoric sounds he’s ever heard himself pull from a woman because the feeling of your walls contracting and convulsing around his cock gives him the final push to finish himself. Right before he lets go, he lifts you off of his cock with strong arms and cum paints his t-shirt a few seconds later. 
“I say we go take a shower…” Yunho begins tentatively, reworking his thoughts after you both are breathing calmly again, “And then, we can order some food because I’m honestly starving. What do you say?”
“And where does finishing my assignment come in, hm?” You pinch his cheek.
“Ugh, you’re right…” he groans, “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time before the food is delivered, right?”
“I’m not even looking at that food until my work is done, and I mean i—” Your voice clips off when he suddenly stands to his feet with you maintained in his arms. 
“That shower isn’t going to run itself then,” he counters, lips tugging into a large smile as he happily strides towards his bedroom with you in tow.
Yunho had informed you beforehand that this next week was going to be a busy one for him, induced by training workshops the university decided to spring upon a few colleges. The Dean of his particular college thought that it was a good idea to shove all necessary sessions into the first week of November. He apologizes multiple times every time he thinks about it. You know he shouldn’t have to ever explain his business to you—he’s doing his job as a teacher, which comes first and foremost—but it’s nice that he considers you when his schedule is in conversation. You tell him time and time again that he shouldn’t concern himself with what you may or may not feel about his unavailability. He was nothing but patient with you during midterms, and you were more than happy to reciprocate that now that the time has come. 
The first day you have class with him that week, you choose to stick back while everyone else is bustling to get out of the door. It doesn’t take longer than a couple of minutes for the room to completely empty, save for you and your teacher. Normally, his eyes would light up noticing such a thing, but today he seems to be drowning in fatigue with the way his face doesn’t even budge. That doesn’t stop you from heading to his podium with tentative steps while he pulls on his blazer and packs up to continue his schedule.
“Got a minute?”
“For you? Always,” he hums without even looking up. He’s in the middle of shoving the last of his things in his briefcase when you hold up a tied-up plastic bag that catches his attention.
“I know you have a loaded day, so I brought you lunch,” you break the news before he can question it. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but you’re sure it’ll be enjoyable to eat regardless. “Just wanted to save you from having to make an extra stop across campus.”
“You’re amazing, ____,” Yunho utters in a soft voice before taking the bag from you carefully. He’s having a hard time mustering up any kind of physical joy today so he hopes that, for now, his words can at least convey what he’s failing to provide otherwise, “I know it doesn’t look like it but I really do appreciate this. Thank you.”
“You seem tense today,” you point out while moving to join him on his side of the podium. “Did something happen?”
The lecture hall’s doors don’t have any slit windows for prying eyes, so you reach up and rub a comforting hand over the back of his neck. He closes his eyes and sighs. If there’s anyone’s touch that could cure his problems, he’s sure it’s yours. Still, he doesn’t want to make himself too comfortable with the location you’re in.
“You wouldn’t believe how many things are going wrong today. I also have to meet with the head of my department for a performance evaluation based on the midterm grades. Everyone generally did very well but,” Yunho massages the bridge of his nose to help collect his thoughts before continuing, “It’s only my second semester, so the impression I’m making with these kinds of things is very important. I know I have nothing to be worried about but it’s hard not to be anxious.”
“Making yourself sick with stress isn’t going to help either,” you remind him.
“I know, I know. I’m just ready for this week to be over.”
“Maybe we should go out of town again this weekend,” you muse, hand moving to squeeze his shoulder affectionately, “I saw online some fall festivals are happening that might be fun to check out. I remember you saying you’ve never been to one.”
He peers down at you, lips splitting into his first genuine grin of the day, “She takes notes in and out of the classroom, how cute.”
“Only when it comes to you. What do you say?”
There’s a knock on the doors, but before Yunho can muster any words to answer it, the owner comes in anyway. Upon entering in a huff, Wooyoung stops dead in his tracks. His eyes flicker between the two of you before he hitches a brow. You offer him a mild-mannered smile and pull your hand away from Yunho’s shoulder slowly so as not to seem suspicious.
“Good afternoon Wooyoung,” Yunho says so naturally, though you’re groaning in your head, “Did you need something from me?”
You know it’s ridiculous of you, but you’re starting to envy Yunho’s TA. Recently, you’ve come to realize that you hate how Wooyoung gets an immense amount of time interacting with Yunho daily, but it’s still never enough. There’s always something more he needs. You get it, he’s technically an employee to make your teacher’s life easier. That’s something you should be cheering on, right? Deep down, in the most selfish part of your mind, you’re just tired of people always interrupting and interfering in the minimal amount of time you have with Yunho on campus, even unknowingly. 
“I remembered I had some questions about your grading criteria for the recent essay that I needed some clarification on before leaving,” he says, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker at you briefly, “But if you’re busy…”
“He’s not. We just finished chatting about what’s due next class,” you answer for Yunho instead, much to his dismay. He notices the tone change in your voice, but as much as he’d like to resolve that, he can only watch you grab your bag. He’s slow to catch himself frowning before fixing his face in front of his TA. While slipping past the younger gentleman to finally leave, you make sure to call out, “See you Friday, Mr. Jeong.”
It takes everything in you to not give Wooyoung the finger to the back of his head, but you decide it’s best not to let such things aggravate you. Again, Yunho is a teacher and this is part of his job. You shouldn’t be so angry at his assistant for doing what he needs to do to make his life easier.
You and your linguist do end up leaving the area again that weekend to attend a festival together. This particular town is covered in thick colorful trees that have yet to lose their leaves. Along with the overwhelming smells over different smells of various food carts and so many people laughing in enjoyment, the entire scene does a number on Yunho’s brain. It scratches a deep itch he didn’t realize he had. Playing little games with you for prizes makes him realize he hasn’t had this kind of fun in quite a long time. 
Yunho’s shocked with himself when he asks if you both can take a selfie together in front of all the colorful leaves before leaving for the day. He’s been thinking about something like this for quite some time, a bit dispirited by not being able to savor memories in pictures like everyone else can. Realistically, he knows he really shouldn’t be offering such blatant evidence of your romance to be left on either of your phones. Texts can easily be manipulated and argued, but selfies with you both in them don’t lie. These kinds of thoughts still nag at him in the back of his head even while he puts on this goofy grin, chin affectionately sitting atop your shoulder as he snaps his first photo with you ever. He wishes he could put something like this as his wallpaper. Even if he could, in a world where peeping eyes weren’t an issue, he wonders if that would be too much. Do you like the people you’re involved with to be that mushy? 
He doesn’t have the luxury of overthinking about these things for too long before you’re pinching his cheek to bring him back to reality. Reluctantly, Yunho decides to let his brain rest and focus on the rest of the time he has left with you. He’s unable to stay the night or do anything intimate that evening because of prior obligations taking up the rest of his night, but that doesn’t stop him from boldly leaning over his center console and surprising you with a slow, romantic kiss while parked right in front of your complex. He knows he should care, but he can’t find it in himself to be bothered with the risks when he just wants to show you that he appreciates you helping him relax today before he has to depart. You hear him loud and clear.
The following week, Seonghwa finds himself seeking out Yunho’s office after packing up for the day. Yunho’s thumbing at his phone’s keyboard when the courtesy knocks come and nearly scare him, but grants permission to enter. 
“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Seonghwa marvels when he finds his friend still perched in his office chair. “Your classes are usually over early on Thursdays, no?”
“I had to rework my syllabus and switch modules around because of some issues getting through lectures last week. Completely slipped my mind that I still needed to revise my lesson plans and slides for tomorrow until this morning,” Yunho sighs, “If I go home it’s definitely not getting done, so I have to stay.”
His friend surveys the ways his cheeks are slightly flushed as he glances back down at his phone briefly and tries to type something quickly. Sure, it could be from frustration or exhaustion caused by his tasks for the evening, but something seems different in the way he’s fidgeting in his chair. 
“Who’s the lucky lady?” Seonghwa inquires out of the blue, causing Yunho to lift his eyes from his phone abruptly. He offers a knowing smirk when Yunho’s brows furrowed in confusion, “You’re smiling a lot more these days— kinda glowing. Seems like you finally made it out of the dry spell and got laid.”
Yunho subconsciously tucks his phone in his lap, unconsciously confirming Seonghwa’s suspicions.
“Nobody special,” he replies, finding this white lie to be more suitable than lying outright, “Nothing much I can say.”
“Well, where’d you meet her? You don’t talk to anyone when we go out anymore so it couldn’t have been at the bar.”
Yunho hesitates for a brief moment before saying the first thing that comes to his mind, “Tinder.”
“I thought you deleted that app a while ago,” Seonghwa’s brows crease.
“I redownloaded it a while ago out of boredom,” Yunho explains quickly. He knows he’s not the best liar, but there is quite literally no way he’s going to tell his friend the truth about this situation whatsoever. Now, he almost wishes he had just fully lied at the start.
“And you can’t tell me more about a Tinder match?”
“I just–”
“I’d understand if I was San, but someone you can’t even tell me about?” Seonghwa jokes, but Yunho can tell this question is not entirely unserious. 
He understands where his friend is coming from. Their relationship runs a bit deeper than Yunho’s with the third addition to their friendship, even though all three are nearly brothers now considering the years they’ve been friends. There’s never been something that Yunho hasn’t been able to come to him about, and they’re both generally always open with anything between each other. Needless to say, Seonghwa always knows when something is off.
“It’s not like that Hwa, just that it’s nobody worth discussing,” Yunho insists, “Who knows where it’ll lead, you know? I’ll let you know if it goes anywhere.”
Seonghwa’s eyes linger on him for a few extra seconds before he simply hums in acceptance. There’s a particular look in his eyes as he sips his water bottle briefly, though.
“Alright... I’ll leave you with these words, though,” he begins, and his voice is earnest. The one he usually uses with Yunho when he needs some tough love. “You’ve worked hard to be where you’re at now. Be careful brother, okay?”
Yunho maintains a fairly neutral expression when he nods, careful to neither confirm nor deny Seonghwa’s thoughts, whatever they may be. Seonghwa is perceptive but surely he’d never pin Yunho as the type to have gotten involved with a student. At least, he hopes.
“You finished for today?” Yunho asks while Seonghwa searches for his keys in his pockets.
“Yeah, thank God.” When he finally finds his keys, he adds, “Don’t work yourself too hard and stay too late, ‘kay?”
Yunho assures him that he definitely won’t, and they both exchange goodbyes before he finally departs the room. He’s pretty sure that he should be the only teacher left on his side of the building in their office right now. He finally brings his phone out of his lap and shoots out the text he was in the process of sending before his friend entered his office.
[Yunho: are you almost done for the day?]
[Y/N: I’m walking to our lot now actually. Everything okay?]
Fuck. Yunho feels bad for summoning you like this on short notice but he can’t take it anymore. His mind has been thinking about one thing all day, and if it doesn’t get taken care of now he might go insane.
[Yunho: if you’re not too far can you come to my office..?]
[Yunho: pls]
You cease your walking, redirect yourself towards his side of campus, quickly typing back to let him know you’re on your way. You don’t get to see him that often, so you’d never deny the opportunity to make that happen. On your venture back to the building, you end up crossing paths with Seonghwa while he’s on his way to the parking lot to head home. The ambiguous glint in his eyes as you both acknowledge each other in passing doesn’t strike you as unusual, but you do take notice. 
The building is fairly empty when you enter, which isn’t surprising for the time of day. You take your time going up the elevator and striding to his office since it didn’t seem like this request was an emergency. You also figure it’s fine to enter outright since he specifically requested you to come immediately, but the door is locked upon turning the handle.
“Mr. Jeong?”
You use formalities after you knock just to be on the safe side; you’re not entirely sure who could be hanging around this late. Moreover, maybe he’s locked the door because he’s meeting with someone else briefly before you. Before you can even unlock your phone to text him and make sure he still needs you before leaving, you hear the door’s lock click open. He opens it a second later, enough for you to enter.
“Never seen you lock your door before.” You’re more preoccupied with shoving your phone in the side pocket of your bag as you enter to notice anything off. “Something happen?”
“I’m really sorry, I just didn’t want anyone else seeing me like this,” he explains quickly. 
You’re just about to ask him what he means, but Yunho doesn’t give you much of a chance to get too far before he circles his arms around your waist and swoops down to capture your lips. It’s an immensely needy kiss, one you’ve never received from him before. Unintentionally, when the aching boner in his pants brushes against you, he releases a soft groan into your mouth– Oh! The sound of him locking the door sends a chill down your back. 
You manage to pull away from him and laugh, brows furrowed in confusion, “Excuse me, have you forgotten where we are?”
“My colleagues are already gone for the day,” he reasons while walking you backward over to his desk. His face is flushed as he implores, “I need you to do me a favor, okay?”
“Of course,” you nod quickly, gazing up at him with expectant eyes. Why does he look so…desperate?
This moment doesn’t feel entirely real. You’re becoming increasingly wet just thinking about the things you could do now that you two were alone in his office if what he says is true. You’ve both exchanged plenty of fleeting, amicable touches when out in public, ones that not many would think twice about, but you’ve never tried something like this when you’re still on campus. Yunho fails to finish his request, too captivated with peppering your neck in wet open-mouthed kisses while he physically coaxes you to sit on his desk. You have on a skirt today, and he’s so thankful not to have to deal with the extra work of pulling off jeans.
“What do you want me to do, Yu? I’ll do anything,” you insist and wrap your arms around his neck, beckoning for his attention, “Just tell me.” 
When he stares directly into your eyes, trying to gain enough courage to speak, you reiterate once more that he can ask you for anything.
“I want you to let me go down on you,” he finally spits out before sitting back into the chair you usually sit in when visiting. 
“But… Right now? Here?”
“If you’re comfortable,” he adds.
It takes a few seconds for the words to fully sink in, and you hesitate briefly before lifting your skirt against your stomach and begin lying back. Yunho scoots his chair forward with an immense amount of anticipation building in his chest; he wasn’t sure earlier if this would take more convincing, but he’s grateful it didn’t.
“That’s really all?” Your brows crease while propping yourself up on your elbows to gaze down at him inquisitively. 
Your confusion makes him chuckle. For someone so good with words any other time, he surely has some trouble expressing himself well when it comes to you most times. Today, though, he decides to let his desires spill freely. He gets ahead of himself and licks a warm strip up your panties, briefly tasting the arousal that’s creating such a big wet spot in the seat of the garment.
“I don’t think you understand ____,” Yunho begins, voice low as he pulls your panties down your legs. The rise and fall of his chest quickens with excitement once you’re bare and spread open by his hands. “Fuck, I’ve been dreaming about doing this again for the longest time.”
“Eating my pussy?” He nods hastily, pressing searing kisses onto the insides of your thighs. “Why didn’t you just ask?”
He sighs when you run your hand through his hair, coy eyes gazing up at you from between your thighs, “I didn’t want to be too forward about it. How do I properly beg you to suffocate me?” 
“Just like that,” you laugh, but that’s cut abruptly by him roughly yanking you by your thighs closer to his face. As much as he’d love to entertain the rest of this conversation, he’s too impatient when you’re laid out in front of him like this, all wet and ready for his mouth. He flattens his tongue against your cunt and licks another long stripe upward, the initial taste making him sigh. The breathy moan you let fly at the brief contact makes his dick twitch in his pants.
“Been touching myself to the thought of these thighs around my head,” he admits, repeating the action but putting a little extra attention on your clit, “I was so hard today that I couldn't even stand up during my last lecture. You did that.” 
You would crack a teasing joke about Wooyoung having to do his job for him, but any words lingering in your head are stolen the moment Yunho buries his face in your cunt, nose prodding at your clit. He licks and laps messily at your heat like some famished gentlemen consuming a meal for the first time in days. The obscenities that spill from your lips amongst cute, helpless whines only make him nod his head. He wants you to learn—good and well—that this is something he’s self-admittedly very talented at and always ready to do if you ever find it within yourself to ask him. If you didn’t learn that the first time he briefly ate you out, you sure were going to learn now. Yunho’s tongue finds itself buried as far as he can manage in your hole, pushing in and out and savoring the way you taste. 
Your hands fly to your mouth because, even if Yunho is sure that you both are alone, you still don’t want the sound of you falling apart on his tongue seeping through the door with the way you’re progressively getting louder. He doesn’t mind you suppressing yourself, he’s set on filling the silence himself. The sounds of him slurping and sucking and kissing are so loud when bouncing against the walls of his small office.
“I love the taste of you,” he groans against your heat, sending vibrations against your sensitive cunt. You gasp and go to close your legs, to move away instinctively, but Yunho is too quick. His fingertips dig deep into the meat of your thighs as he makes an effort to keep them open, refusing to let you squirm away. “Let me finish this time,” he says, voice stern and brows furrowed.
God, that commanding voice he rarely uses could make you cum on the spot. Embarrassment flushes your face when you feel a new wave of arousal from those words gush and drip down your skin. He’s not going to let any of that go to waste though, sparing no time getting back to his ministrations. You don’t even realize that after a while you’ve begun to grind yourself against his face. He feels like he’s in heaven, his hands pulling and encouraging your hips forward as if silently saying yeah, keep going, just like that.
When he feels your legs become more tense, he decides to thrust two fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt and latch his mouth onto your clit, set on abusing that spot inside of you that will finally give him exactly what he wants. He ignores the ache in his jaw because every yelp and whimper spilling from your lips spurs his endurance until he finally hears his favorite words.
“Y-Yu, m’gonna cum,” you sputter before he feels your thighs close in over his head. He doesn’t mind this time, this is right where he wants to be when you tip over anyway. 
Yunho lets out one last groan of his own onto your clit before he feels your legs go rigid, a signal he knows well now. Your back arches off the desk and he indulges in the feeling of you bucking against his face. He swallows everything you have to give him, mouth open and jaw slack as you tremble through your orgasm. It takes you what feels like forever to let go of his head, not like he’s complaining. When your legs go limp, Yunho slumps back in the chair with a huff. He’d get lock-jaw multiple times a week eating you out if you let him. He supposes this is something he should suggest eventually.
“You’re so hot, it’s unbelievable,” he heaves, staring at the mess he’s made of your cunt. There’s slick and cum and spit and everything in between ruining his desk, but he can’t find it in himself to care about the cleanup right now. When you’re finally able to sit up and breathe properly, he grins at you with that messy mouth of his, “Thank you, seriously.”
“Let me give you head too,” you offer eagerly, though you’re not even sure your knees are strong enough for that right now. To your surprise, Yunho shakes his head. “Please, I want to reciprocate!”
“You don’t have to,” he replies instead, finally fully gaining his breath back. The pout prominent on your face could make him melt into a puddle, he feels so bad but…
“But you deserve to cum too—”
“I… did already, ____,” he divulges and bashfully covers his face before you can see his cheeks flush with heat. You slowly glance down at his crotch and your eyes go wide. Yunho has indeed cum completely untouched, right inside his pants, as evident from the large wet spot soaking through his brown slacks.
A man who loves eating pussy so much he gets off just from your pleasure…
You push his arm away from his face and pull him in by his cheeks for an endearing kiss, one that you hope shows your appreciation and adoration. 
“I’ll take care of you another day,” you promise him against his lips upon breaking. Regardless of the embarrassment coursing through him at the moment, he nods in acceptance. Anxiously walking to his car with his briefcase pressed firmly against his crotch to hide the aftermath of committing various sins in his office after finishing his work for the day is not something he ever expected to do, but somehow it still feels gratifying all the same.
It’s around this week that Yunho begins to sit down and seriously start examining his feelings. A quiet night in his home where he’s alone leads him to decide to sort out the swarm of thoughts he’s been accumulating in his mind for the last couple of weeks.
There’s no doubt in his mind that you both share a connection he’s never experienced with another woman before. When this all first began, although he explicitly let you know that he genuinely likes you, he initially wondered if maybe that was coming from being so attention and touch-deprived for some time. That maybe he was latching onto something because you filled a void, a subconscious selfish attachment to you to satisfy the things he lacked. None of that ended up being true, not even close. You both had spent a considerable amount of time exploring this thing… he supposes that’s where the dilemma comes in. What is this “thing”? He knows things are complicated considering the circumstances; but, are you both technically dating, just without the official title until that resolves itself? You hadn’t necessarily made that clear. What if you found someone closer to your age who made you feel the same way as he did within that time? Someone who you could be normal with and not have to sneak around or hide to enjoy. 
This is where his selfishness comes in.
He thinks about how he would indeed be jealous and perturbed if he even saw you with another man like that, even if it makes your life easier. He doesn’t want to even think about you giving another man the same heart palpitations or sweaty hands he gets when he’s around you. He doesn’t want anyone else on that campus to know what it feels like to kiss you. He doesn’t want anyone else to know how good and fulfilling it feels to be the object of your desires. It’s been nearly three months of dates, spending time together, and learning the ins and outs of each other (in all five senses and beyond). How could he not feel infuriated if that were to happen? 
That’s when it clicks for Yunho: he’s fucking in love with you. The moment this loud thought crosses his mind, Yunho’s chest tightens in fear. The last time he thought he felt this way about a woman, she hurt him in a way that took him some lengthy time to heal from. And, as he always has to remind himself, you are not just some woman. You’re also his student. This isn’t as simple as unmatching someone on Tinder because things didn’t work out, or blocking someone after a heartbreak. Though, the more he thinks about that word — student — the more he realizes it doesn’t matter anymore. You are much more than that. And soon enough, that word would no longer be in your vocabulary anyway. The only thing he cares about now is that you end up his officially at the end of the day. He was going to do whatever he could to make the rest of your semester smooth and stress-free, so you both could be happy together when it’s over. 
And, as if you know you’re being thought of, Yunho’s phone buzzes with a text from you asking if he’s asleep. He debates with himself about whether he should bite the bullet and ask if you can both talk about things in the near future, but he ultimately decides against it. For now, he’ll indulge in the way you call his phone before he can even type a response and tell him that you want to fall asleep to his voice.
Some days later, you find yourself knocking on Yunho’s office door in the early afternoon. Unlike some people, you wait until he answers with a confirmation to enter. 
“Good afternoon,” he beams after realizing it’s you, wiping his hands clean with a napkin.
“Ah, I’m just in time,” you chirp with clasped hands when you spot his empty tupperware. “I was worried I was going to interrupt your eating.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered anyways, pretty. You’ve seen me eat many times.”
“You deserve to eat in peace at least once a day like everyone else,” you reason while sitting down across from him as usual, “I sprung this meeting on you last minute anyway.”
“Speaking of which, I’m still quite confused about why you wanted to come here for this,” he replies while spinning his chair from side to side, “I told you my home is always open for you, especially for things like this.”
“This” being discussing your final paper. The same thing that put you right into his lap in the first place.
“Just felt a little nostalgic I guess,” you grin, adding in a quieter voice, “And maybe a little jealous too.”
His brows furrow, “Jealous?”
His confusion is expected, as you’re sure he hasn’t paid attention to much of the interruptions you’ve experienced while with him the last few weeks on campus. It’s not simply Wooyoung either, but everyone who gets his attention on campus when you have to stay away for one reason or another. The way other women on campus look at him or speak to him, unaware that he’s already devoting his attention to you. It eats at you a bit sometimes. 
Yunho may be greedy but you’re much greedier, as if that wasn’t evident enough by the things you did to attract him in the first place. Even then, he’s never failed to oblige any of your requests, whether that be with his endearment, his time, or his… assets. He deserves everything in the world, and you can’t wait to give that to him when the time arrives. For now, you’ll behave to the best of your abilities.
“Don’t mind me, I’m just rambling,” you deflect, “Seeing you in your element is just nice, that’s all.”
Yunho’s curious about what’s going on in your mind but he decides not to pursue further answers. 
“So, what do I have the pleasure of helping you with today?” 
The apples of his cheeks are even more prominent today as he smiles while asking this. You know he loves his job, but you’re sure he doesn’t get this much glee during office hours with anyone else. 
“Last session at your house we talked about my analysis section and I remember you telling me that I was overthinking, but I’m still second-guessing myself on some of my points. I guess I just need to run some things by you to be one hundred percent sure I’m in a good direction.”
“You’re almost as bad as me,” he declares. As the self-proclaimed King of Overthinking, he’s the only person allowed to say such a thing to you. Still, it makes you pout.
“To be fair, we both know this is not my best subject, so this final might be more important to me than any of my others,” you confess. This is partially true; a small part of you wants to impress your handsome linguist by showing him a final product worth reading. 
“You know I’d take care of things regardless, right? You don’t have to stress about that.”
“I appreciate that, but I want to earn this grade genuinely,” you clarify. He lets you know he understands, but you want some extra reassurance when you say, “Promise me you’ll grade me genuinely, okay?”
“I get it. I promise pretty lady,” he guarantees you with a soft, affectionate smile. “I know I tell you all the time in the most inappropriate scenarios… but I mean it when I say you’re a smart woman. I know you’ll do fine.”
If he could see you right now, Yeosang would surely be laughing at you for being such a lover-girl and telling you that you’re an absolute idiot for passing up an automatic A+ on your final, but you never genuinely pursued Yunho for that kind of leverage anyway, regardless of the initial jokes. This was something you genuinely hoped Yunho was aware of when it came to communicating your feelings. 
As always, he takes all the time you need to help you with a list of things you want a second opinion on, sources you want to make sure are up to par, and everything in between. He thinks it’s cute when you pull out your little checklist named “Things To Ask Yu”, and diligently check each off as they’re completed.
A relieved sigh leaves your lips the moment you check off the final thing on the list. You both meet eyes for a brief moment, and the look donning his face is something oozing with pure adoration. You hold his gaze for what feels like forever before glancing at your watch. You’re making good time, it’s been almost an hour.
“When you look at me like that, it makes me want to throw away all my responsibilities and stay here all day,” you mumble.
He lets out an airy chuckle, “Am I keeping you from anything in particular?”
“I do have a class in about half an hour.”
He stretches his arms over his head with a grunt, “Sounds like we should end things for the day and meet here again in a couple of days then, Miss Nostalgia.”
“Well…” You trail off as you stand to your feet and make your way to the office door. 
Yunho watches your fingers lock his door before you stroll back over to his side of the desk. Something stirs in his gut as he looks up into your eyes when you finally reach him, calculating the way you gaze back at him playfully. The small mischievous smirk playing on your lips… God, he just knows he’s in trouble. He turns his attention toward his laptop when you sit yourself on top of his desk right beside him.
“Well?”
“Remember how I said I would take care of you at another time?” The feeling of the edge of his desk sinking into your thighs elicits a soft sigh while you recount that day, as if him eating you out like a Christmas dinner wasn’t already ingrained into your mind. “This seems like a moment where that would be fitting.”
“Do you remember where we are?” He mimics your statement the last time you were both intimate in his office, in the same cadence and everything. His fingers delicately click at his mouse as he tries to think of anything else other than your thighs peeking out of that pleated skirt you’re wearing, directly next to his hand.
“If I remember correctly, that didn’t matter last time…”
“The circumstances were very different,” he immediately counters. 
It’s true, to an extent; the timing was more on par for solitude. Regardless, he knows he sounds like the biggest hypocrite at the moment, even more evident by the roll of your eyes he catches out of the corner of his. He leans back in his chair and runs his hands through his hair. Sometimes he wishes he was more adventurous, less concerned about the consequences, and more accepting of the thrill of things. When he’s thinking of these things, it’s not even for his sake, but yours. He can’t handle the thought of you losing your degree due to his selfishness. And yet, he can’t help the arousal building from those thoughts about your mischievous side. You’re able to pull that side out of him so easily.
“And yet, you’re hard,” you say quietly when your eyes fall to his ever-so-inviting lap, a blithe little chuckle following. Subconsciously, he covers himself over his slacks. “Are you scared of getting caught even with the door locked?”
“____, it's 2 PM and we're in my office with many people passing by every minute. Not to mention my other students who could request me at literally any time,” he explains with a flustered smile, “This is immensely risky, you know that very well.”
“But–”
“You also know very well I’m extremely bad at being that quiet with you,” he interrupts your attempt to plead your case. Only then does he roll his head to the side and give you this look with low hooded eyes that finally make you glance away. His sentiments make goosebumps lace your skin because— fuck —yes you know he didn’t like being quiet. That was honestly an understatement. The heaving, moaning, and endless praise were only the start of what you could pull from the man during your escapades. 
You ponder for a brief moment, contemplating just letting it go, but end up pursing your lips and resorting to those famous eyes you give Yeosang when you want something unattainable.
“Please Yu, just let me give you a good blowjob. It'll be quick and quiet, I promise.”
He just can’t say no when you look at him like that, so he sighs, “I guess…”
“I also have an idea.”
Yunho is not sure what he initially expected when those words came out of your mouth, but surely it didn’t include the way your hands slip under your skirt and tug your panties down your legs. He’s sure his entire face is a deep shade of scarlet when you hold them out for him. It doesn’t help that they're visibly wet. 
“Maybe this can help you stay quiet, you know?” You suggest this while motioning to your face. He understands, of course, but he feels like this will just make things worse. So much worse. It’s confirmed when he feels his pants tighten from merely holding them in his hands. Still, he agrees and nervously pushes his chair back. After sinking under the desk, Yunho pulls his chair forward with enough room for you to sit on your knees comfortably. At least there was no way you would be seen if something strange were to arise.
Undoing his belt is one of your favorite parts, the anticipation visible in his ansty hands when he doesn’t know where to put them while you work it off. Your fingers tug lightly at his pants zipper before you dip your fingers past the hem of his waistband and pull them down quietly. He makes sure to lift his hips a little for you to slip them past just enough. You take one glance at his slightly flustered face before you pull his length from out the hole of his boxer briefs. It’s so hard that it hurts, leaking a copious amount of precum and making quite a mess.
“There are people outside the door,” he voices his nerves again at the last minute, peering at the shadows of feet passing the door, and then back down at you. 
“Didn’t know you had such an exhibitionist kink then,” you poke fun at him in a whisper, noticing how much he’s twitching once the words leave his lips. A teasing laugh slips from your lips and he groans in frustration, his empty hand moving to cock to stroke himself lazily.
“I do not have an exhibitionist kink,” Yunho snaps back with a huff. His cheeks are so flushed with chagrin, and it amuses you because if he really was that scared, he’d simply tell you no. He’d turn you away with that stern voice he rarely uses and suggest a different place and time. But Yunho wants this as much as you want it, despite what his mouth may say in the meantime.
“Ready?” You remove his hand and let a long string of saliva fall from your tongue onto his tip, just enough for lubrication. Then, you place your hands around his shaft and start stroking him yourself, mixing the spit with his dribble of precum. “You seem pretty turned on by the idea of being caught, Yu.”
The endless string of soft gasps and strangled noises of air coming from him as you work your hands on him just the way he likes is enough to drive your pride up the wall. There was always something different about how you touched him that he’d never be able to fulfill himself. He’s indubitably addicted to you.
"Shit, ___–”
“Shhhh. Unless you’d prefer to get caught?” You quirk a brow curiously as you increase pressure on him so he can’t supply an answer. Instead, he kicks his head back and lets out a soft, satisfied moan that sounds similar to your name. You follow that with a tsk! and shake your head disapprovingly. “My mouth hasn’t even touched you and you’re already a mess.”
He lowers his eyes to meet yours with a pointed glare and a chill runs down your spine, “Taking your sweet time is not helping.”
You go to taunt him again but can't even finish the first word before his free hand rakes through your hair and pushes your open mouth down on his cock instead. Yunho twitches and throbs under you with a low, constricted grunt while you clutch his thighs with your nails. He’s in love with the way you look up at him so innocently, your plush lips wrapped around his length and tears prodding the corners of your eyes at the sudden intrusion. It amazes him how you’re still able to smile, eyes half-lidded as if he had just blessed your mouth.
“I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself… Can I?” He sighs out, implying letting him use your mouth as he sees fit. 
The hum you release around his length and the way you relax your jaw confirm his request. Yunho holds you gently on either side of your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks tenderly before guiding you up and down his cock at a leisurely speed. Occasionally, he accidentally prods at the back of your throat and elicits a choked moan. He whispers his apologies each time even though he has nothing to be sorry about, but it’s just a habit. He winds his hand in your hair and pulls his cock out a bit to focus your mouth on his tip, bucking his hips in short, hasty thrusts and reveling in the way it draws sloppy noises from your mouth while you seal your lips around his tip to keep from making things too messy. The panties pressed to his face with his other hand aren’t doing much to repress those grunts that come from deep within his chest.
“Feels so good,” he pants softly from under the fabric, lips fixing to whimper, “Am I going too fast?”
You moan around his length once more, shaking your head and blinking away any remaining dampness from your lashes.
“If it’s ever too much, tell me to stop and I'll stop,” he insists affectionately, but those dark brown eyes are fixated on yours with blown-out irises and deep carnal cravings. 
He can’t expect you to ever want him to stop when he looks like that, right? Of course not. You take everything he gives you like the good girl he already knows you are, the sounds of your squelchy throat filling the silence and bouncing off the walls of his office. As much as you try to keep things clean, you can’t help the flood of saliva dripping onto his underwear the faster he fucks into your mouth. You can tell his orgasm is growing closer and closer by the way his thighs start trembling. 
And even though Yunho thinks he hears a sound closer to his office door than his comfort would allow, he continues his pace. Your eyes are closed, focused solely on breathing, so you aren’t aware of the way his attention is elsewhere. His eyes stayed trained on the silhouette of feet at the bottom of the door’s threshold, and there’s a fleeting thought of whether he should stop. That thought is overwritten with pure lust, spurred on by the way you reach up and begin to massage his balls the best you can from your position. Yunho bites down on your panties, muffling the whine bubbling from his chest. A moment later, your panties fall from his mouth and his hips lose all rhythm.
“Fuck ____– cumming,” he groans a little too loudly, but his head is somewhere deep in outer space, brain screaming at him for release, “Where?”
You open your mouth just the slightest bit wider to emphasize that you want him to cum down your throat. Yunho halts his hips altogether and you feel his cock throb in your mouth as he finally releases everything he has to offer. He’s no longer concerned with who may or may not be lurking at the door; the only thing he can focus on is the way you lock eyes with him while swallowing his essence and sucking him clean after the fact. Nothing else matters at this moment but you.
Friday’s class ends earlier than normal when Yunho gets through his lecture for the period faster than expected. 
“I need you to help me dye my hair soon if you have some time,” Yeosang says the moment people begin to stand and leave. You glance over to find him grimacing while looking into the camera of his phone, “I think I need to go back to pink or something, the brown is just not doing it for me.”
“I knew it wouldn’t last long,” you snort while filling up your backpack, “You’re just not used to having natural colors anymore.”
“I can’t even argue with that, my love.”
You ruffle a hand through his tresses before he finally stands to his feet, and you follow suit. Then, you toss a couple of things around in your mind about your schedule as you both walk down the lecture hall stairs before suggesting, “Actually, you could come over tonight if you already have the supplies.”
“Fuck, you’re the best. I’ll bring dinner too?”
Before you can even answer, a voice calls your name and steals your attention. Surprisingly, it’s Wooyoung of all people approaching you both. You can’t even hide the disinterest you feel in acknowledging him, it’s written all over your face. 
“Do you mind if I speak with you privately for a moment?” he inquires, motioning towards his chair.
Yeosang meets your eyes inquisitively before stepping away and telling you he’ll meet up with you later. The class has emptied when you both venture over to Wooyoung’s seat, and he begins searching through his bag for something in particular.
“Is there an issue with something I submitted?”
“Not necessarily,” he replies. “I suppose I just want some insight.”
He pulls out the notebook he uses for tracking grades in this class and places it on the table. People always find it a bit weird that he prefers to do things by hand first before electronically and, sure it might be more work than necessary, but he prefers to have both methods.
“I’m a pretty meticulous person, ____. I noticed that there’s a discrepancy in the grades for last week’s short essay assignment,” Wooyoung begins in a honeyed voice, “Though, the only discrepancy was on yours.”
“I’m not sure why you’re coming to me about this when Mr. Jeong handles things like this,” you respond indifferently. “I would ask him about the mistake.”
Wooyoung smiles and leans forward on his elbows, “That’s the funny thing, I did. He told me that he had made the change himself and not to worry about it. No other explanations.”
“Well again, he’s the teacher, so it sounds pretty open and shut then.”
“It’s never that simple, ____. I looked back and noticed this has happened a few times throughout the last month, actually.”
“If you’re just going to keep badgering me about grade changes I have nothing to do with then I’m gonna end this conversation here.” To be honest with yourself, there’s a part of you deep down that’s cursing profusely at Yunho for messing with your grades, and so openly at that. This is something you had explicitly made clear you didn’t need or want, but he had done it anyway. This is something you would have to chastise him about later in a very serious conversation. That’s the only concern on your mind as you start taking steps toward the doors and wave with a flick of your wrist, “Anyways, I’ve gotta go. I have other obligations for the day.”
“You mean like sucking off your teacher again?”
You cease all movement and turn back towards him, “Excuse me?”
“Sorry, that came out a little blunt, didn’t it?” He holds his hands up in remission. “It’s just not hard to put two and two together when your ear is pressed to a door and all you hear is choking, you know?”
“I have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about, but I’m offended you think I’d need that to pass a class anyway,” you reply indignantly. Still, there’s this slight feeling of panic pooling in your stomach.
Wooyoung gives you a knowing look, “You’re going to play stupid, really?”
“Look, I really don’t have the time for this—”
“I suppose we could ask the Dean what she thinks about things then? He said your name quite a few times, luckily,” Wooyoung interrupts you and suggests instead. His eyes flicker down to his phone and a pure look of fear at the thought that he possibly has a recording of you and Yunho’s depravity slates your face. “Oh, that got your attention.”
His laugh that follows that statement hits you right in your gut.
“My God, you’re an absolute asshole,” you seethe, but stop yourself before you can say anything worse. You’re well aware that being mean won’t get you on his good side. Instead, you calm yourself and rub your temples before asking, “What do you want to keep quiet, money? I don’t have much to offer but I can figure something out.”
“Listen, ____,” he says as he leans back in his chair and clasps his hands together, “I have a simple proposition that could make all of this just disappear.”
“Spit it out already then.”
“I want you to pretend we’re together for a little bit, publicly. Just enough time to make my ex want me back. Then, we can call it quits and go about our lives as if none of this happened.”
You can’t help the scoff that comes out of you, “You want me to fake date you to make your ex jealous, or else you’re going to essentially ruin my life. Is that what I’m hearing?”
“When you say it like that, it makes it sound evil,” Wooyoung points out with a hefty sigh. He slumps in his seat, “I’m not an evil guy, I would just like some help. That’s all. And you’re just not really in a position to say no, unlike others I’ve asked.”
“There’s a reason why those people said no, obviously,” you retort bitterly. He lets your sharp words roll off his back and simply smiles; there’s nothing you could say that would help your position and he knows this. It’s mid-November and graduation is in approximately a month. Surely it shouldn’t take that long for this plan of Wooyoung’s to finish, he knows this. The thought of it going on longer than necessary makes you feel physically ill though. Not to mention what Yunho would think about you having to interact with Wooyoung intimately.
“I want to make something clear as well,” he begins as if he’s forgotten this himself, “You cannot tell any of this to Mr. Jeong either. I don’t want my money for my assistant position to be compromised, obviously.”
Your brain begins to short-circuit at the thought of having to date Wooyoung openly without Yunho being aware it’s fake. The logistics in itself would cause you immense stress that you surely don’t need while closing out the end of your semester. You should very well be focusing on graduating and nothing more. Nonetheless, the last thing you want is for Yunho to lose his job because you couldn’t keep your mouth to yourself when he was already concerned about being caught that day. You don’t even care about the consequences for yourself, you’d feel immense guilt forever for ruining Yunho’s career and reputation. But, if Yunho heard that you were dating his TA, he’d surely break things off with you anyway. That thought scared you even more.
“So, would you like to exchange numbers?”
Halting your panic-stricken daze is Wooyoung’s hand surrendering his phone to you, a blank contact screen ever-so-inviting. You feel defeated, and you know this is going to end up turning out poorly, but you just can’t risk Yunho losing his job over you. When your anxious fingers snatch his phone and begin typing your information, Wooyoung sighs in contentment.
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♡ taglist: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr @txt-yaomi @thisisntmyrightera @oreoqueen @jadeneliz @atinism @uarmytess @nopension @aaaaajonghooooo @tmtxtf @ateezallday @bloomyroses @shingene @likexaxdaydream @innsomniacshinestar @st4rhwa @eixila @sunflower-png @jadeneliz @witchlaughwoo @ashlurrr @justthattheatregirl @bts-army380
I apologize if I missed anyone! Thank you for reading ◡̈
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dolljunk · 1 month ago
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Here is my Lagoona and her father together. I really wanted him to feel sort of old fashioned next to her but still recogniseably the Creature of the Black Lagoon. If I do get around to making Lagoona's mother, I do plan on having almost no fishy/monster details since I do imagine her as a conventionally pretty Ocean Nymph and that Lagoona gets her fishy details from her dad.
I know that Creature of the Black Lagoon would never officially license out its rights to Mattel to have a design this close for Lagoona's dad but for me, this is how he'll look in my collection.
One of my favourite diary entries from Lagoona is this:
HH Bloodgood wants us to write about our monster heritage for this book she wants to put together and give out to all of us at the end of the year.
All right then – this should be easy or possibly not. Problem is my dad is a very private monster, and not even the mates of my surf team know him very well, and that’s after he has been a volunteer at all our competitions.
Until he met me mum, he barely had any contact with dry land monsters at all. ‘Course mum’s not exactly a dry land monster either – she’s an ocean nymph. She still lives in the same scary sweet little grotto as she did when dad met and married her. Being a nymph means that mum can leave the water and hang out on land as long as she doesn’t travel too far from her grotto otherwise, she gets really weak.
Dad will only leave the water for very short periods of time, and that’s only if there’s a real emergency – like one time when I was just a small fry, I was playing on the top of this rock and didn’t notice the tide going out. When I finally pay attention, I found that at low tide, it was a long way from the top of that rock where I was to the bottom of that rock that was now sticking out of the sand. Mum couldn’t come and help me cause I was too far from the grotto and I was too little to climb down on my own.
I remember the sun being very hot, and my skin was starting to not just dry out but to burn. I was really scared, and I thought I was never going to get down when I heard my dad calling my name, “Lagoona, it’s okay – be brave and jump to me so we can get you back in the water.” I had to jump down a little but not too far cause dad climbed almost to the top of the rock to get me. It was still a long way from that rock back to the water, though, and it couldn’t have been easy on my dad to cross that distance twice.
He told me later that being on land for him was like swimming against the strongest current in the ocean and never being able to rest. I reckon to have the best of both me mum and dad though since I’m at home when I’m in the water, but I don’t feel like a stranger when I’m on land. 
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vampkittyxoxo · 7 months ago
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your headcanons are so cuuute!!!! is it possible for could do hcs for how Larry and Lawrie act when they've got a crushhhh? they're so adorable :3
Aw thank you! And of course, I love this request!
.·:*¨ ¨*:·.
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.·:*¨ ¨*:·.
Larry & Lawrie crushing on you!
.·:*¨ ¨*:·.
~ Larry becomes obsessive, Lawrie becomes distant. That’s just how it is.
~ Larry is thinking about you 24/7, going out of his way to talk to you or do even the most mundane tasks together, and talks Lawrie out of his mind about you. Gushes over you to Lawrie any chance he gets.
~ Lawrie keeps his feelings relatively unknown. You can never get a good read on him, and more than likely you’d have to ask him out. He does talk to you on occasion, but not nearly as much as Larry does. Mostly because he gets flustered very easily and doesn’t want to embarrass himself.
~ If you touch them, they’re nearly bound to shock you (pretty gently). This is just from their emotions overloading and their circuit boards nearly frying from liking you so much
~ Larry gives you small gifts as “tokens of friendship” that align with your interests. Talked about liking some show? Now you have your favorite character on a keychain. You wanted to read a certain book? It’s yours to keep!
~ Larry is also very touchy, but not in a creepy way. He just loves giving you “friendship” hugs when departing.
~ Lawrie opts to just casually talk to you, maybe on occasion sprinkling in small compliments. He does let you get away with small rule infringements, though.
~ When the two see you together, Lawrie gets slightly more talkative and relaxed, but of course he is still so nervous around you.
~ Larry practices asking you out with Lawrie probably over 20 times, mostly to calm his nerves.
“Okay, so stand rightttt there,”
“What does it matter?”
“To set the scene! Alright… (Y/N)…”
“STOP LAUGHING.”
“I’m not!”
“Okay… okay…” … “(Y/N)- YOU’RE LAUGHING AGAIN.”
~ This goes on for maybe another half hour. Eventually, though, he gets it down and is, albeit nervous, ready to ask you out!
~ It would be a literal miracle if Lawrie asked you out anytime before 20 years of knowing you. I imagine he’s very hesitant to get into relationships.
~ If you ask him out, though, he’d say yes almost instantly. That reassurance that you like him is all he really needs to be sure about a relationship… that’s why he would spend so long hesitating, to make sure you actually like him.
.·:*¨ ¨*:·.
Lawrie is… pretty difficult to write for I must say. Especially when canon content of him is scarce.
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astaroth1357 · 2 years ago
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Witchy Requests: The Reality of Summoning a Demon Lord
Contents: Violence and demons being demonic
~♡♡♡~
Summoning Lucifer
First off, this is not even remotely easy to do.
Lucifer does not get summoned away very often because it takes a witch at least comparable to Solomon's skill to pull it off. Of the small handful of people who can, only a couple are crazy enough to try (so he already knows them all by name).
Not only is this hard to do logistically, Lucifer also HATES being summoned with a burning passion. It messes up his schedule, gives him a pounding headache, and it's pretty humiliating to be ordered about like a dog on a lead.
Anyone summoning Lucifer has put some seriously strong spells in place to keep him in check. It'll take more than a salt circle to stay protected because he'll just blow that crap away with his wings.
It's well known that he will attack the second that the caster gives him the opportunity. Even so much as looking away could leave enough of an opening for him to fry them to a crisp. Extra potent magic chains and bindings are about the only things that ensure safety....
Deals with Lucifer are extremely costly due to how pissed he is just being there. He doesn't stop at their soul. Depending on the day, he could ask for any number of other sacrifices before he so much as lifts a finger. A person summoning Lucifer must be prepared to lose almost everything...
That said, he always fulfills his contracts to the letter and employs very little trickery. If the agreement was unclear, then that's on the summoner. Not him. They get exactly what they asked for.
There was a rumor going around for a time that if Lucifer was summoned with classical music in background, he'd be easier to deal with. Unfortunately, a naive young witch gave it a try and found out that "easier to deal with" Lucifer is still willing take off a hand or two no matter how sophisticated the room sounds.
Solomon has only managed to summon him twice. The first time was in a bid for a pact (which ended in a very wrecked office) and the second was an attempt to ask the questions about Michael that Simeon refused to answer (he let him go pretty quickly after receiving a death glare that would have turned his hair white if it weren't so silvery already).
Summoning Mammon
So like. It's pretty easy to do, but it ain't cheap.
Mammon only shows up if the caster can offer up some serious wealth in return. We're talking sprinkling the summoning circle in gold coins and Rolex watches to make it happen. They don't get to keep any of it, either. He's taking that as the "entrance fee."
Though he's generally a pretty safe summon, Mammon's motivations are directly tied to how much wealth he's gonna make off of their time together. Bribes aren't just encouraged, they're expected, and he gets pissed off if they think he'll do any work for free.
Since he encompasses the sphere of Greed, he sees a lot of witches and the like who summon him for a bit of luck or to increase their chances of acquiring ill-gotten gains. He usually demands a cut of whatever they manage to get from his help, on top of what it already took for him to play ball to begin with.
The only witches who get to skip his exorbitant prices are, unfortunately, the ones whom he already owes money to and it is degrading to say the least... He tries to keep MC out of that as much as possible and he'll straight up toss anyone who brings it up.
There's an urban legend around witching circles that of you can get Mammon to kiss a Grimm and give it to you, you'll have good fortune for an entire year. He doesn't really believe it himself but he still gave one to MC, just in case.
Solomon hasn't ever tried to summon Mammon, though he knows that he could very easily. He's not too tied to wealth or material possessions, so he's never needed his assistance to start with. If he ever summons him now, it's usually just to ask how MC is doing since the two are so close.
Summoning Levi
Often more trouble than it's worth...
Summoning Levi is really only useful for a VERY small handful of problems, nearly all of which concerning the Devil's Sea in some way. He's the only brother with any jurisdiction over it, much less the ability to talk to fish.
The issue is that Levi hates being summoned just as much as Lucifer. It drags him right out of his comfort zone and puts him a space where he feels like he's being judged for how useless he is... Thus, he'll spend the whole time sulking, irritated, and hissing to be left alone.
Levi has to be spoken to with extreme care because setting him off could result in the caster getting crushed by all 200 tons of Lotan then swept away in the flood that comes after.
Those who can appease him with video games and anime fair better, not by much because he gets even more irritated if they get details the wrong or seem like a "fake fan" (yes, unfortunately he gatekeeps 🥲). Only the most otaku of witches are safe from his temper.
In truth, main reason that anyone summons Levi anymore is for nautical travel through the Devil's Sea. The dude is like a living compass with precise latitude and longitudinal coordinates built into his DNA. But asking for that is also a one way ticket to meet Admiral Levi who is even WORSE to be around than the Otaku version...
The first time Solomon summoned Levi, they actually got along pretty well (largely thanks to Solomon's equally copious knowledge of TSL). He was only looking for the scales of a specific sea monster, but the two ended up chatting for a while. He thought that he could have made a pact with him right then and there, but Levi asked if he liked The Magical Ruri Hana and his answer to THAT shut things down instantly...
Summoning Satan
Practically the OG demon to summon despite being around for the least amount of time.
Satan is one of the easier brothers to summon because he spent a few centuries spreading around just how to do so in the human world. He wanted an excuse to leave the House and piss off Lucifer by fucking with humanity. Architect of the Satanic Panic right here.
I suppose you could say that in his younger years, Satan was something akin to a rockstar in witching terms. Even non-witches knew of him, just not a lot of the accurate details.
Satan was really the "ground zero" for humanity's pop culture surrounding demons. He used to use it as a chance to let loose from Lucifer's constant pressure, so he played up the persona of the "charming, charismatic bad boy with a homicidal mean-streak" beautifully.
You would also have to be a lawyer if you wanted to make a solid contract with him. He was wicked smart even back then and put it good use by tormenting the humans more. That classic phrase, "Deal with the Devil" came from the amount of times he'd gleefully screw someone over.
Since then, he's calmed down considerably and is even a little embarrassed about his old persona if anyone brings it up. He's much more refined in his modern day dealings, though he'll still make a nasty deal or two just to keep the humans on their toes.
Satan's fondness for cats is the reason why cats got tied to witchcraft in media. It was common knowledge that if you summoned him with a cat present, then he would be too distracted to give you a bad deal. Ever since then, it just stuck.
Solomon's true first interaction with Satan was when he summoned him one day to get some advice about making a pact with Lucifer... It was one of his worst ideas to date and he still has the mended ribs to show for it.
Summoning Asmo
Very easy with low risk... for the most part.
Asmo LOVES getting summoned out by witches. It feeds his ego something fierce. So he never makes it all that hard to do, however...
Those who summon Asmo quickly learn that it cannot be a one-time thing. Or if it is, it better fucking stay that way.
Asmo ties a lot of self-worth to how "in demand" he is, so after a witch summons him, he'll keep a tally on how long it takes for them to summon him again.
If they do so quickly and regularly? No issues. He couldn’t be happier! If they take too long between summons though...?
Fury. He'll come at them laying curse after curse because how DARE they forget about him like that!! And after, uh... whatever he did to help them out, no less!
Most witches just preemptively make a pact with him since they know that calling on Asmo is more like an ongoing relationship than a simple business transaction.
Ironically, despite the fact that Asmo wants to be summoned so badly, he is incredibly picky about the kinds of work he'll do. He won't do anything that could ruin his manicures, mess up his hair, strain his muscles, dirty his skin, cause a breakout, make him frown-
All of this absolutely stems from that time he was summoned by Solomon and tricked into doing hard labor to build his Temple. You live and learn, then throw the people who treat you poorly into the desert as punishment. Or something like that.
Summoning Beel
A very unwise decision unless you have the resources of a sultan.
Beel isn't exactly hostile by default, if anything he's very easy going all things considered. It's just that his stomach does a lot of the talking in contract arrangements...
After summoning Beel, the caster has to try and keep him fed at all costs. If he's eating, he's docile and easily negotiable. If he's hungry, he will eat them without hesitation. He's just going to go for the most filling thing in the room and, unfortunately, that tends to be the human in front of him.
As long as they have ten or so caterers on speed dial, deals with Beel are very straightforward. He's refreshingly forthright compared to the rest.
Sure, the first thing he usually asks for is permission to eat them, but he can be easily dissuaded by offering up something else to fill his stomach in their place. He's not bloodthirsty, just hungry.
For a short time, it was theorized that summoning both twins at the same time would make their interactions more safe, but that was quickly canned when it was discovered that Belphie would encourage Beel to eat whomever brought them there... He was not a good influence at all.
Solomon did actually try to summon Beel once thinking that he made enough food to keep him satisfied for a talk. Beel didn't even get three bites into his tuna salad before he lost consciousness... When he woke back up in HoL, he didn't have any memory of it and Solomon tactically decided to never mention it again so he could avoid future arguments.
Summoning Belphie
Blacklisted. Not allowed.
For centuries before MC showed up, Belphie was considered one of the most dangerous demons for a human witch to summon. Full stop. Even worse than Lucifer. The guy's bloodlust was unreal.
How exactly was the weakest brother considered the most deadly to interact with, you ask? Cold, hard manipulation.
Belphegor knows he's considered the weakest. He knows that he doesn't look like much of a threat. He even knows how to play into that "sleepy and harmless baby brother" image that he's spent so damn long building up.
Belphie is even better at persuasion than Satan. He can make whoever summons him feel silly, no, embarrassed for ever thinking he was a threat, then attack them when their guard was down.
Even if they keep him contained, his contracts are notoriously filled with wordplay and deceit. At best, he'll twist the terms around so he doesn't actually have to do anything. At worst, it'll become a death warrant with more than just their life on the line...
All of this, of course, was Belphie back when he still hated humans. But even after settling down with MC, he's in no rush to go correcting any records. He quite likes having his nap days uninterrupted, thank you.
One of the most horrifying rumors about summoning Belphegor is that if you sleep afterwards without fully sanctifying the room, he'll possess you in your sleep. There are still witches to this day who travel to the Devildom with sage in their pockets just in case they see him and need to start cleansing the area immediately.
Much like Mammon, Solomon has also never tried to summon Belphie. Sure, he can be somewhat unscrupulous, but even the witty sorcerer knows when the risk outweighs the reward.
Summoning Diavolo
Really only possible in theory because there has never been a successful attempt.
No one is very sure why all attempts to summon the Demon Prince crash and burn so easily. Solomon himself as spent centuries trying to work out the logistics.
Is there just no sacrifice comparable enough to bring out a being of his magnitude?
Are the sigils and chants required so ancient and esoteric that they've long been forgotten by mortal minds?
Do the summoning circles work but Diavolo, by the nature of his power and authority, just "opts out" of showing up if he feels like it?
Solomon has tried summoning Dia numerous times and every attempt has left him with nothing but wasted materials and broken dreams. This is basically his white whale. Don't bring it up or he'll get pouty.
Summoning Barbatos
Another unwise decision that leaves many with nightmares years later.
Barbatos is an... interesting case to summon. Like Lucifer, the caster has to be incredibly talented. Though unlike Lucifer, Barbatos doesn't react with such upfront vitriol.
To be clear, he is NOT happy. He is NEVER happy to be called away so suddenly from his lord. But it comes across more like a frigid aura of contempt and malice than the white hot hostility of all the others.
Put simply, it just feels like you royally fucked up in ways you can't even process.
The most unnerving thing about accepting a contract with Barbatos is that he will always agree to whatever is asked for with no complaint, but he'll never say what he wants in return.
The terms of all demonic contracts are that whatever is asked must be balanced by an equal sacrifice, but since Barbs NEVER identifies what he plans on taking, it leaves the caster to wonder what they've loss...
Every bad event from then on gets overanalyzed to the point of paranoia where the caster victim tries to identify if their debt has finally been paid or if he may still come to them one day and demand what he's owed...
Solomon doesn't know it, but a popular theory among his peers is that what Barbs took in exchange for their pact was his mortality in hopes that the centuries of loss and isolation would make him go insane. It's a silly little rumor, but it does still make Barbs chuckle whenever he hears it...
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shadybiotics · 9 months ago
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MAUGA & VENTURE × READER headcanons
[PT2 HERE] Because a little rivalry is always fun~
Whenever Mauga sees you and Venture having a good time, talking and laughing with eachother, he will always make sure to intervene. Having fun without Mauga? Not on his watch.
He will walk up and strike a conversation with you, deliberately taking your attention off of Venture, acting like they weren't even there to begin with.
Before he has even said anything he will have successfully ruined the vibe, for Venture, that is.
Mauga will throw in some casual flatter and flirts towards you, saying how good you look today, asking if you could go help him with something since you're 'so good at what you do'. His words nauseatingly sweet like artificial honey.
Venture staring daggers in his direction all the while.
As he keeps chatting he will slowly slide himself further and further between you two, blocking out Venture with his much larger stature almost entirely and cutting them out of the conversation.
When he has managed to make you blush or laugh he will look in Ventures direction with a smug look, only irritating them further. He knows Venture 'doesnt have the guts' to be as direct and bold in their approach to you as he is.
Unlike Mauga, Venture wears their emotions on their sleeve and will look clearly annoyed and repulsed by his presence but you won't notice right away, still occupied by Maugas flattery.
"As i was saying-" Venture would start loudly after clearing their throat to bring your attention back to them and whatever topic you two were talking about earlier.
Seeing as that won't work because of a mountain of a man standing in their way, Venture will shove past Mauga and pull you by the arm and away from him. "Lets uh, check this thing out over there!" they would point in whatever direction, not really having thought through where they were going to take you. They would then turn their head and stick their tounge out at the larger man.
Mauga would only smirk as he watched you be dragged off, accepting the challenge.
You knew the two had some history together but you didnt really know any of the details, they never talked about it and you never asked. Still, their bickering was entertaining to you, and you didnt mind the double attention at all.
You decided to play along with it, switching sides now and then for your own amusement.
Venture wasn't much of a show off but when you asked they would let you feel their muscles, mainly after their workouts, blushing and smiling proudly as you would compliment and feel their physique. Mauga was obviously not going to have this. He knows he's got the biggest guns around.
"Impressed by that small fry? Get a look at these then!" he would start to flex and pose for you. He did have quite an attractive and impressive form, but you weren't going to let him have this moment, not this time. "Bigger isn't always better" you would say in a smug tone, turning back to Venture.
After hearing your comeback, Venture would have the widest shit eating grin plastered all over their face. They would be beaming with confidence for the rest of the day, thanks to you.
Mauga wouldn't take this personally though. He is familiar with your games as well. If anything, he liked how you played hard too get.
Venture didnt like the competition. They were well aware they didn't have the same physique and boldness to compare, but they were determined to win your heart in other ways.
Whenever Venture got back from an expedition, they would bring you something. They would excitedly hold out your hand and place little pebbles or crystals in it while explaining their properties or how this one is 'so pretty' and 'reminded them of you'.
You were obviously charmed.
Side-eyeing from a distance, Mauga would make a mental note to bring you something from his future heists. Something nice, like an expensive watch or bracelet, jewelry or even clothes if he could find any. Something proper and not some rocks.
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starhvney · 9 months ago
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𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐋
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet laurance x fem!reader
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after your reserved dinner date fails last minute, you and your husband decide your anniversary is better spend together in the privacy of your home.
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, established relationship, laurance and reader are married
𝐂𝐖: you both get slightly tipsy off of wine, suggestive ending
𝐀/𝐍: laurance please become real please i’m
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
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laurance sighs, shutting the door of your shared home with a bit more force than normal. you two had returned sooner than expected, and not by choice. with your anniversary coming up, laurance had told you to relax and leave the planning to him. when this evening came, he had the both of you dress nicely and escorted you to the car, before driving the two of you to a fancy restaurant.
he had approached the host stand with an excited look in his eyes, asking her about the reservation he made. the excitement was not shared, as the hostess gave him a stressed look. 
“i’m so sorry sir, whoever made the bookings last week overlapped the days and now we’re completely packed. you probably won’t be able to get a table tonight,” she explained, her styled hair frazzled after probably getting yelled at all night by unhappy customers. “we can reschedule you if you want to come another day, and you’ll get a discount. i’m so sorry.”
laurance only shook his head, jaw clenched in irritation. “no, it’s alright, we’ll come back another time. i hope the rest of the night goes well for you.”
he proceeded to apologize to you on the way home, with a pout permanently etched on his features for the whole ride.
“hon, it’s okay! it’s not your fault.” you insist again.
“i know, but i just… wanted tonight to be special for you.” he groans, approaching you and hugging you to him with an exasperated sigh.
“it’s special just being with a man who cares about me so much.”
he rolls his eyes, still unsatisfied. you huff out a laugh at his sassy response, leaning up on your tiptoes to give him a short but sweet kiss. you feel his shoulders slightly untense as he leans down, chasing after your lips and frowning when you lean back.
“why don’t we make something nice here? i doubt that restaurant could beat your cooking anyways.” you suggest with a small grin. 
the hopeful look on your face was contagious as always to him, causing him to subconsciously smile back. 
“i’m pretty good, but i think you may be biased.” he chuckles, cheekily leaning down to kiss you again before turning you around by the hips to guide you towards the kitchen.
“alright then, what’s on the menu mrs.zvahl?” he questions, his voice lifting smugly at the title.
“i don’t know mr.zvahl, you’re the chef here.”
“i’m asking you what you want, silly.” he snorts, lightly veering you to the side as he inspects the fridge for ingredients.
“why don’t we honor your italian genes and have some pasta.” you poke his side and lean next to him.
he side eyes you with an unimpressed look, though the mirth shining in his eyes couldn’t be masked by his sarcasm. “if you want pasta, you can just say it.”
he turns his attention back to the fridge, humming as his fingers idly tap on its door. his eyebrows raise before he turns back to you.
“chicken alfredo?”
you nod with an excited smile, ducking under his arm to grab the rosé wine. laurance gathers the ingredients while you fill two glasses, before hoisting yourself up to sit on the counter.
watching laurance cook always mesmerized you. he did it with such ease, never hesitating to recall measurements or nervously checking if he was doing something right. he just knew. he was so confident about it, and it was so… attractive.
you glance up at his face only to realize he’s looking right back at you, his eyebrow raised as his lips turn down in a held-back grin. he totally caught you, but he doesn’t mention it as he turns his attention back to the boiling pasta and the chicken he’s pan-frying. 
“can you hand me the italian seasoning?”
you nod, grabbing the mason jar with a sliver of masking tape on it labeled ‘italian’ and handing it to him. it was his own personal mix of different herbs and spices, and somehow it was better than any store-bought one you’d tried. 
after helping him season the chicken, you slide off the counter and take a few generous sips out of your glass, humming and mindlessly trailing your hand along his back before you pace around the kitchen. along the wall is a small collage you had made a couple months ago, with pictures starting from when the two of you met in high school to your honeymoon trip.
you smile fondly at the flash photo of your younger teen faces. laurance has his arm tightly wrapped around your neck as he pulls you into a hug, his cheek pressed against yours as he cheeses into the camera. you shyly smile next to him, hands placed against his shoulder as you hug him back. you giggle to yourself at the memory, remembering how your heart had thudded in your chest as he pulled you in for the picture.
you don’t realize how long you’ve spent gazing at the timeline of pictures before you turn back, realizing laurance had already drained the noodles and mixed together the ingredients for the sauce. 
“so, chicken alfredo for dinner, and what’s for dessert?”
“you’ll find out,” he replies, the seductive rasp in his tone much too suggestive for the statement to be about an innocent surprise.
you nearly swish some of your wine out of your glass as you take another sip, cursing how your husband manages to fluster you even after all the years of dating and marrying him. you brush it off with a nonchalant hum, cuddling up next to his side again. 
you go to take one of the delicious-looking noodles, earning you a sudden smack to your behind before your hand even reaches the inside of the pot. 
“don’t,” he scolds in a teasing tone, “it’s not done yet. you’ll spoil the effect of the final product.”
“you’ll spoil the effect of the final product,” you mock him in a nerdy tone, finger raised in the air.
he leans down, lightly biting your cheek as he holds you in place. you squeal in response, smacking his chest before he draws back, leaving a bit of saliva on your cheek. you groan dramatically, wiping it off with your sleeve and pouting up at the man. he only challenges you with a “can i help you?” look, before leaning down to give you a sweeter kiss on the cheek and getting back to the final touches on the meal.
“go sit. i’ll bring your plate for you.”
you huff, before grabbing his glass for him and setting it at the table. from the dining seat, you watch as his arm and back muscles move and pull against his dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tie loose. his dirty blonde hair hung over his eyes as he focused on plating your dinner, before he shook it out of his face and balanced both of your plates in his hands as he brought it over.
he sits across from you, face morphing from his serious and focused expression to a proud grin.
“see, why would i need a five-star restaurant when i have my own personal chef,” you muse, tapping his leg with your foot under the table.
he rolls his eyes, before trapping your legs between his.
“so that’s why you married me. i get it now.”
“oh whatever,” you wrinkle your nose at him. “so dramatic.”
you have to hold yourself back from scarfing down the whole meal at once as you practically salivate before and after every bite. you spend your meal in random chatter, feeling yourself grow warmer and cozier as your wine glass slowly loses its fill. 
when you’ve had your fill you get up, slinking around the table and making yourself comfortable in your husbands lap. he gladly scoots back, adjusting his hips and resting his hands on your hips.
“thank you for dinner,” you smile, before leaning in to give him a deep kiss.
he groans, panting up into your mouth as you feel something hard begin to press against your thigh. as soon as you pull away his arms hoist you up into a bridal carry as he stands up, the chair scraping against the wood flooring and utensils lightly clanging together from his sudden movement. you quickly steady yourself as you cling onto his shoulders, giggling as he quickly makes his way towards your bedroom.
“thank you in advance for dessert.”
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©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.
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https-harlow · 10 months ago
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She's Totally Flirting With You
Summary- Jack gets hit on by a waitress, though he thinks she's just being nice, Paisley and Olive come to your defense to convince Jack she's flirting with him.
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Jack had surprised you, Paisley, Olive, and Hayden with a family date, to a restaurant that the girls loved but was a little too fancy to take them to on a regular basis because even though they were pretty well-behaved, you didn’t want to accidentally become the family with misbehaving kids in a fancy restaurant.
You and Olive sat on one side of the booth, while Jack and Paisley sat on the other, Hayden sitting in a highchair on the side of the table. You could tell immediately that the waitress was flirting with Jack. 
“What can I get you to drink?” She asked Jack first, placing her hand on his shoulder. Jack placed his drink order before she turned her attention to the girls. “And what do you two princesses want?” 
“Daddy, can I get an orange soda?” Paisley asked, Jack nodded.
“Yeah, do you want the same thing Liv?” Jack asked.
“I want strawberry lemonade, please.” Olive said.
“And can we get water for both of them too?” Jack asked and she nodded. She took your drink order before turning her attention back to Jack.
“Anything else I can get you?”
“Can we go ahead and get a side of fries for the kids and let’s go ahead and get a second orange soda, she’ll want it as soon as she sees her sister have it,” Jack said and the waitress laughed.
“Of course, that’s so sweet that you’re thinking ahead,” She said, squeezing his shoulder. “I’ll be right back with all of that,” She let her hand linger on his shoulder as she walked away. The girls already going back to coloring.
“She’s totally flirting with you,” You said, and Jack laughed softly.
“No, she’s not, she’s just being nice.” Jack said, shrugging it off.
“If you want to call that just being nice, then okay,” You said sarcastically.
“She probably just knows who I am and doesn’t want to say something since I’m with family or something.”
She came back a few minutes later, placing all the drinks down, coming a minute later with the fries.
“I brought a couple extra plates, so they don’t have to share plates, I know I hated sharing when I was little, especially with my siblings,” She laughed softly. You and Jack split the fries between the girls, keeping a couple for Hayden, since he was eight months old you were letting him try different soft foods. “Neither of you look old enough to have three kids, are they all yours?” She asked, trying to make small talk.
“Yeah, they are all ours,” Jack answered, “We’ve been together for nine years, plenty of time to have a couple kids,” He joked.
“Do you guys know what you want to order?” She asked, her demeanor suddenly changing. You all placed your orders before she walked away again.
“Still going to tell me she’s not flirting with you?” You asked and Jack shrugged. “She literally has puppy dog eyes when she looks at you.”
“Well, maybe she’ll stop now that she knows we’re together.”
She came back a few minutes later to check on everything before checking on the table next to you.
“She needs to stop flirting with you Daddy.” Paisley said, loud enough for the waitress to hear. You smirked as you handed Hayden another fry.
“Do you even know what flirting is Paise?” Jack asked and she shook her head.
“No, but if Mommy doesn’t like it, then neither do I. You love Mommy not her,” She said.
“Well, you're right, I do love Mommy,” Jack said in agreement.
“She looks at you like Sadie does when you have food that she wants,” Olive said, taking a bite out of her fry. You and Jack couldn’t help but laugh at Olive’s comment.
“Where did you get that from?” You asked her.
“You say Sadie gives puppy dog eyes when Daddy has food, and you said that she’s giving Daddy puppy dog eyes,” Olive shrugged. Hayden started to get fussy in his highchair, so you took him out while you waited for your food.
“See, even the girls think she’s flirting.”
“Oh, they are just copying what they heard you say.”
“Maybe, but are you going to tell them she’s not and lie to them?” You teased and Jack fake gasped.
“Yeah Daddy, you can’t lie to us, that wouldn’t be nice,” Paisley said.
“Am I being ganged up on by my wife and daughters?” Jack said sarcastically.
“Maybe,” You smirked. “Even Hayden’s on my side, huh?” You asked Hayden and he giggled.
“Okay, okay, maybe I was wrong,” Jack said. “God, I’m screwed when they are teenagers, aren’t I?” 
“You’re the one who wanted eight daughters,” You teased.
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cjlouwho · 5 months ago
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The Gables
Part 3 of my meeting the parents series. one more to go! all can be read individually, but they're better together. Start from the beginning here. Read part 3 below, or on ao3. tags are all on ao3.
It was about a three hour drive to Tommy's parents place in Hanford. It was south of Fresno, which Buck had been to a few times over the years, but he'd never paid attention to Hanford.
“It's relatively small,” Tommy had told him. “Most people don't notice it.”
It had been a week since Tommy had gotten the call from his mom. It was short, just under five minutes. If Buck was honest, not much was even said during those minutes, but when Tommy hung up he took a deep breath and asked Evan if he'd like to go for a day visit.
“I haven't been home in a year,” he'd said, “and mom needs help with a couple things.”
Tommy almost looked like he was about to be sick. His skin paled and there seemed to be a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. Against everything screaming in his mind, Buck didn't ask questions right then. He simply responded with a yes, that he'd be happy to come along, and left it at that.
Tommy didn't talk about his parents often. He'd mentioned that his dad was a lot like Gerrard, said his mom wasn't really the hugging type, but hadn't really divulged anything beyond that.
Buck could get him to open up about nearly everything in his life, even the uncomfortable stuff from his past that he still beat himself up over on occasion, but when it came to his parents and the life he had with them... there was a whole lot of nothing.
“Anything I should know before we get there?” Buck asked. He'd asked the question a couple of times over the past week, always getting the same answer.
“Uh, no. No, I don't think so.”
“Come on, Tommy, I gave you an entire presentation on the Buckley's before you met my parents. It's good to be prepared.”
Tommy let out an exasperated sigh. “I'm not sure there's a way to be prepared for the Kinard's, Evan. You can't really predict them.”
“Okay, so unpredictable. See, I can work with that.”
Buck's earnestness elicited a smile from Tommy. It was a good sight to see, seeing as he'd been pretty tense since they went to bed last night. He reached over and took Evan's hand, resting them over the center console. “I'm not trying to make it hard on you,” he said, “I promise. I just... I don't really know them all that well either. They're hard to describe. It's been a year, and the last time I was home it ended in my dad getting nearly blackout drunk and my mom throwing a frying pan at his head. She missed,” he reassured Evan, who was not very reassured, “but still, she tried. It was weird though, because the time before that, they were “so in love” and “couldn't be without each other”, which I had also never seen growing up. That's, you know, what I mean by unpredictable.”
Buck nodded, feeling a bit in over his head. “I see.”
“You'll be fine though,” he said, giving Buck's hand a squeeze. “It'll... It'll be fine.”
Buck wondered if Tommy knew just how unsure he sounded right now. It made the knots in Buck's stomach get even tighter.
*****
They drove for a little while after getting off the highway, turned down random street after street until Tommy turned into a neighborhood with a broken gate. 'The Gables Trailer Park' a sign read. The further they drove into The Gables, the more potholes filled the road, causing a fairly bumpy ride.
Trailers were spread out along the open, flat terrain. Some had grass around their homes, others dirt and rocks.
“Is this where you grew up?” Buck asked. He wasn't sure if he was headed to Tommy's childhood home, or a place his parents had moved after he left.
“Yeah, from about eight up. Before that we lived in an apartment in Fresno, but my dad's dad lived here. When he died, he left the place to dad, and it was cheaper than the apartment so we moved.”
They drove for about half a mile until Tommy pulled off the road in front of a trailer. It was an ivory color with brown trim. Looked like it hadn't been painted in quite a few years. There were panels covering parts of the lower half of the trailer, but gaps made it so you could still see underneath. This particular trailer wasn't set on grass, but on what was currently some muddy dirt thanks to the surprise rain storm they'd had the night before.
There was a blue tarp over part of the roof. A sign on the right side of the door informed that trespassers would be shot, while a sign on the left side told them to beware of dog.
“They don't have a dog,” Tommy said, apparently reading Buck's mind. “And dad had to give up his guns like five years ago. Ready?”
Tommy opened his door and got out before Buck had the chance to ask the nearly fifty questions that were popping into his mind. First on the list was asking why his dad had to give up his guns? He'd have to remember that question for later.
He took a deep breath and got out of the truck, straightening out his jacket before he shut the door behind him.
Tommy waited for Buck at the front of the truck, holding out his hand as Buck stepped closer to him. “It'll be fine,” Tommy said, pulling Buck close. “Just remember, no matter what, we're leaving by five.”
When they got to the front door, Tommy knocked twice, then let go of Buck's hand while they waited.
“Sometimes they don't hear the first knock,” he said after a few seconds, then knocked again.
“I'm coming, I'm coming!” A woman yelled, swinging the door open. “I'm old, you gotta give me more time.”
“Hi, Mom,” Tommy greeted. Her eyes moved quickly from him to Buck, who gave her a smile.
“You brought someone.” She sounded unimpressed.
“This is Evan Buckley, Mom. He goes by Buck. Evan, this is my mom, Alice.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Kinard.” Buck held his hand out for a shake. She hesitated, wiped her hand off with the hand towel she was holding, then shook.
“Buck,” she replied simply.
She was a small woman, no more than 5'2. Her white hair was pulled back in a bun, and she didn't seem to wear makeup the way Buck's mom did. She wore a red t-shirt and blue jeans, socks but no shoes, and no smile anywhere in sight.
“Well, come in,” she said, waving the hand towel in their direction. “Don't want the flies coming in.”
The second Buck walked in his nose began to burn. The place reeked of cigarettes, with a faint scent of beer that lingered in the air.
“I got a list of things I need you to do while you're here today,” she said, shutting the door behind them. “Your friend can help if you need him to. Go say hello to your dad while I get the list from the kitchen.”
The living room was to the right, and when Buck looked over he could see a man sitting in a recliner, facing away from them, watching TV.
Tommy sucked in a deep breath before heading over to him, Buck following a couple steps behind.
“Dad,” he started.
His dad turned away from the TV long enough to give both he and Buck a glance, then turned back. “Didn't know we'd have company today.”
“Mom didn't tell you I was coming?”
“She told me you were coming.”
Tommy rubbed anxiously at the back of his neck. Buck wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him, hold his hand, stroke his back, press a reassuring kiss to his shoulder. He knew none of those things were good options at the moment.
“Right. Um, Dad, this is Buck. Buck, this is Frank.”
“Hello, Mr. Kinard. Nice to meet you.” He didn't try to shake his hand. Frank was too focused on whatever show he was watching.
“Mm,” he grunted. “Tommy, get me another beer while you're up.”
Tommy brought his hand to Buck's elbow, “You can sit if you want,” he said quietly. “I'll be right back.”
Buck nodded, walked over to the couch and sat.
He looked around, taking the place in. Almost everything inside looked like it came out of the 80's. A floral sofa, grayed in the places it used to be white. A brown recliner that Frank sat in. The TV had an antenna, and there was an old stereo in the corner. None of the furniture matched, and magazines and newspapers sat on top of most of the flat surfaces.
Buck spared an extra look or two at Frank, trying to find any resemblance between him and Tommy. He couldn't.
Frank had leathery skin, with salt and pepper hair. His wasn't curly the way Tommy's was when he didn't have any product in it. There were no laughter lines on his face, which was on Buck's favorite things about Tommy. He wore a white shirt that fit tight over his beer belly, and stretchy shorts with bleach stains. He hadn't shaved in a few days, and his short beard came in patchy. He seemed tall, but not quite 6'2.
The sound of Frank's voice brought Buck out of his thoughts.
“I'm sorry, Sir, what was that?” he asked, noticing that Frank was looking in his direction.
Buck had gone over a list of potential questions in his head, and the way he'd answer them.
“We met on a rescue mission. We've been together nearly a year now. I moved in just after Christmas. I know some would think it's too fast, but when you know you know. You've raised a great man.”
There was not a single part of him that ever anticipated the question he got instead.
“So, which one's the boy and which one's the girl?”
Buck stared at him, dumbfounded. “I- um, there's-”
“Don't know how many times I gotta say it, Dad,” Tommy said, walking back into the room with a beer in hand, “there is no girl. That'd kinda ruin the whole being gay thing for me.”
Frank grabbed the beer from Tommy, leaned over and popped the cap off on the side table. “Sure would make it a lot better for me.”
Tommy went to open his mouth, but Alice cut him off. “Come get the list!” she called from the kitchen. “Need to get started so you're done by this evening.”
*****
They didn't talk about Frank or Alice while Buck helped Tommy fix the bathroom sink. He just handed him the tools whenever Tommy asked.
Nothing was mentioned while they changed lightbulbs, or rehung a picture in the main bedroom, or moved a piece of furniture out of the house and onto the side of the road for trash pickup. They both stayed relatively silent until they headed into the spare bedroom for Tommy to fix the fan.
“Was this your room?” Buck asked, looking around for signs of young Tommy.
There didn't seem to be any.
“It was,” Tommy replied.
There was an old bed in the room with a brown and yellow quilt on top. An oak dresser in the corner with newspapers poking out of the drawers. The closet door was ajar, the inside so filled with boxes that it couldn't shut all the way. The paint was chipping from the walls, and there was a dampness in the air from a window that was left open about an inch.
“Is anything in here yours?” Buck asked as Tommy stood on the bed to get started on the fan.
“Um,” he glanced around, spotting a cowboy hat on a chair in the corner. “That hat was mine,” he said. “I used to pretend I was a cowboy when I was little.”
Buck smiled at the thought. He went over and picked up the hat. He tried to imagine a little Tommy running around, faking a country accent with a worn red and black cowboy hat.
“I need to get you one of these for home,” Buck said. “Maybe some boots, a western shirt, chaps.”
“Oh God,” Tommy shuddered. “That sounds like quite possibly the worst role-play of all time.”
Buck tilted his head, eying Tommy up and down, imagining. “I don't know, sounds pretty good to me.”
“I can't even see you right now, but I know you're looking at me like that, and it's making it very difficult for me to concentrate.”
Buck laughed. “Okay, okay. What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to stand there and look pretty, but not too pretty.”
“So, you don't really need my help?”
Tommy stopped messing with the fan to smile down at him. “I always need your help, Evan.”
Buck rolled his eyes. “That's a no then. I think I'll go see if your mom needs any help.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
He patted Tommy's shin before heading for the door. “I'm sure I'll survive, Cowboy,” he said, earning a snort from Tommy.
*****
While Tommy continued with the fan, Buck made his way toward the kitchen where Alice was fixing a late lunch.
“Mrs. Kinard, is there anything I can help you with?”
She sighed, like he was disturbing her peace. “You know how to chop lettuce?”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
She grabbed a head of iceberg lettuce and plopped it down on the kitchen table with a knife and a bowl. “Frank doesn't know how to do anything in the kitchen,” she said, motioning for him to sit and get to it. “At least he pretends he doesn't. Been pretending for forty-eight years.”
“You two have been together a long time. You're lucky.”
She snorted. “Don't know if I'd say that. But, we're lifers.”
Buck chopped the lettuce carefully, as though he were going to get graded on his ability. He wanted it to look perfect.
“Can I ask you a question about Tommy?” Buck asked.
“You can try,” she replied. “Not sure I'll be able to answer.”
“I was just wondering what he was like as a kid? He's only has a couple pictures of himself when he was young, but most are from his time in the army.”
“I'm sure I've got some laying around here somewhere,” Alice answered, grabbing up some more vegetables and sitting down across from Buck. She eyed his lettuce for a moment, then set a couple tomatoes in front of him.
It felt like getting an A+ on a report card.
“Tommy was a busy kid. Always running around, getting into trouble. Never really told me much about what he was doing, but when he got caught... Well, it would've been better if he hadn't.”
Buck wanted to ask what she meant, but a part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know.
He didn't have to wonder long, Alice continuing as she chopped an onion.
“He stole fireworks from a shop when he was twelve, set them off in the woods outback. Nearly started a forest fire.” She shook her head. “Kid couldn't sit right for a week after Frank was done with him.”
Buck wasn't sure what to say to that, so he opted to move past it completely. “What about when he got older?”
“He was real quiet in high school. Didn't make friends easily. Smart though. Graduated early, but then he got bored. Running around here and there, no steady job, nothing. That's when Frank drove him to the recruiters office in Fresno. Told him he either signed up or pitched him a tent on the street somewhere. He left for basic a couple months before his eighteenth birthday.”
“He was only seventeen?” Buck asked, wide eyed. In all his army stories, Tommy had never mentioned the fact he was seventeen when he joined, and Buck himself had never thought of it as a possibility. He knew he was young, but the idea that Tommy couldn't even vote when he started his career in the military was especially baffling.
“Yup. Frank said it'd be the best thing for him. He was probably right.”
“H- He must've been scared,” Buck said quietly, mostly to himself, but Alice heard.
“Being scared's a part of life,” she replied coldly. “You overcome it, get better for it.” She gathered the onion she had been slicing and took it over to the stove, tossing them into a pan.
There was about a minute of silence before she spoke again. “You really like him, don't you?”
Buck looked up to see her watching him, probably noticing the fact that he still looked worried over everything he'd heard about young Tommy.
He was surprised by the question, but didn't hesitate in his answer. “Yes, Ma'am, I do.”
“Mm.” She turned back to her pan. “That's good, I guess. He's been alone a long time. Needs somebody.”
*****
When it came time for lunch, Buck, Tommy, and Alice ate in the kitchen while Frank opted to stay in the living room. It was a rather quiet lunch, except for when Buck complimented Alice's cooking. She sat up straighter at that, and went into a story about finding ten cookbooks on the side of the road a few weeks before she married Frank. She took them all and spent those weeks teaching herself how to follow along to with the recipes.
The conversation lasted all of five minutes, but it was better than five more minutes spent in awkward silence.
It was almost three by the time lunch was over, but the only way Buck knew that was because Tommy kept glancing at the clock on the wall. He knew what he was doing, checking to see when it was time for them to leave. He knew Tommy couldn't wait to get out of there, and Buck couldn't really blame him.
Tommy excused himself to the restroom as they began to clean up from lunch.
Alice went to go get Frank's dish, but Buck stopped her.
“I'll get it,” he offered innocently.
He didn't see her open her mouth to stop him, already making his way to Frank.
“Can I get you another beer, Mr. Kinard?” Buck asked, picking up the plate from the side table.
Instead of answering, Frank turned his head from the TV to look at Buck, staring him up and down. “Perfect waitress you are,” he grunted out. “I suppose you'll make a good woman for my boy.”
And maybe it was the long drive, or the fact he had no idea what he was walking into when he agreed to come along for this day trip, or the fact he'd been quiet about so many god-awful things that he'd heard, but Buck was at the end of his “just stay silent” rope.
He cocked his head to the side. “Excuse me?”
“There's roles in every relationship,” Frank explained poorly. “I worried about my son for a while, but it's good to know he's still the man.”
“Did you not hear him earlier? When he told you there was no woman in our relationship? He seemed pretty clear about that.”
“Eh,” Frank waved him off. “There's a natural order to things. You'll see it soon enough.”
The second Tommy walked out of the bathroom and saw Buck staring down at Frank with a look of pure disgust, he knew something was wrong.
“What did you say, Dad?” he asked.
Buck looked up at him, his expression changing. “Doesn't matter,” he said.
“I said he'll make a good woman for you,” Frank repeated confidently. “He's your little sidekick, helps your mom cook, cleans the kitchen, picks up after the men. May not look the part, but he's close enough.”
There was a look in Tommy's eyes that Buck had never seen before. It was beyond terrifying.
Buck tried to smooth it over. “Tommy, it's-”
“I have spent,” Tommy spoke slowly, staring daggers into his dad, “this entire damn day fixing things that you're just too lazy to fix your damn self. I invited Evan along thinking maybe you'd see how happy we are, maybe you'd notice what a good person he is, and how much better he makes me. I did not bring him here to be mistreated by you."
“See,” Frank smiled up at him. His smile didn't reach the eyes the way Tommy's did. “You're saving your damsel.”
“Evan doesn't need saving. He's perfectly capable of standing up for himself, he's just been too nice to do it because, unlike you, he's not an asshole.”
Frank pointed at Tommy, still not bothering to get out of his chair. “You watch yourself,” he warned. “I was polite enough to let two fairies in my house today. I deserve some respect.”
Buck could see the white, blinding rage taking over Tommy. It took Buck about two seconds to move around and step in front of him, stopping Tommy from advancing on his dad. “Don't,” he said, pressing his hand against Tommy's chest. Tommy's eyes moved from Frank to Evan. Buck could feel his heart pounding. “It's not worth it,” Buck continued. “Let's just go, okay?”
Tommy pursed his lips together, but nodded. “Yeah, I- let's go.”
Thankfully, Frank kept his mouth shut as Buck placed a hand on Tommy's back and led them to the door.
“Wait a minute!” Alice demanded rather loudly.
“Mom-”
“You can sit in your truck,” she clarified, “but wait there. I'll just be a minute.”
Buck was going to offer to drive, but the second they got outside Tommy made a beeline for the driver's seat.
Once the car had been started and they were settled into their seats, Buck took a deep breath. “Tommy-”
“I can't right now, Evan,” Tommy interrupted. He was on edge, hands shaking, leg bouncing up and down as they waited for Alice to come out. “I'm sorry, but I can't.”
“That's fine,” Buck replied. He meant it. He understood what it meant to feel overwhelmed. When you needed a second with your own thoughts to process what just happened.
Buck rolled down the window when Alice came walking out with something in her hands.
Through the window she handed Buck a very old, very worn photo album. “Not sure what all's in there, but I'm sure a few of the pictures have Tommy,” she said. “I haven't looked through it in years. Not like I need it anymore.”
Buck ignored the pain in his heart at her words. “Thank you,” he muttered.
“Mhm.” She looked past him to Tommy. “I'll call you if the fan stops working again. May need you to come back. Probably best you come alone next time.”
Tommy nodded. He cleared his throat, managed a broken, “Yeah, Mom, okay,” before they drove off.
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