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minnieminshi · 7 months

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Sporteen Masterlist

Welcome to what I call my chronic brainrot and where I start to accept the fact that I might actually like watching sports even tho I spent most of my childhood saying I hate sports lol

This is the first series I’ve done and I’m also a first year uni student so I make no promises on how frequent I can update this but I do wanna try to get them done at least by when my semester ends in like April

Also some of the stories are linked as since some of the guys are on the same team/sport

Choi Seungcheol: Pucking Chemistry

Summary: You never should’ve agreed to tutor the captain of the hockey team. Who shows up a full hour after the agreed meeting time? Choi Seungcheol, apparently as you’ve come to learn. And now you’re stuck tutoring him because for some reason, you're his last hope to pass chemistry so he’s eligible to play in an upcoming tournament.

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol, mentions of your father abandoning the family

Extra info: high school setting, Cheol uses the term "princess" a lot and I'm a sucker for calling people by their last name, mentions of Monsta X’s I.M (aka Changkyun) and Kard’s Somin (but she gets mentioned like once lol), your little brother’s name never gets mentioned but you do call him Frosty lol, and my knowledge of hockey is limited to watching Dr. Mike on yt talk about hockey injuries so there’s not a whole lot of hockey action in this fic lmao. On a personal note, this fic made my realize my little brother is turning 13 this year and I can’t handle that because what do you mean he’s a teen now he literally turned one the other day and I think that shows in this fic lol

Release: 2/24 Read Here

Word count: 9.9K

Yoon Jeonghan: Maybe Romeo and Juliet Were Onto Something

Summary: When you agreed to help your dad with coaching his soccer team, you expected to help with writing down prs and handing out water bottles in return for free tickets and an excuse to be out of your dorm. What you didn’t expect to happen was falling for the charming co-captain of his soccer team. So do you take your shot with co-captain or do you heed your dad’s one and only rule of absolutely no dating his players?

Warnings: cursing since that’s gonna be pretty much a staple in my writing lol, arguments with a parent

Extra info: uni setting, so originally Jeonghan was gonna be a basketball player but then I remembered I hate basketball due to getting hit in the face and breaking my glasses on my birthday during practice… Plus I saw a tiktok of svt playing sports and Jeonghan was playing soccer and the gears started turning in my head lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Hong (Jisoo) Joshua: It’s a Win-Win! Right?

Summary: Agreeing to fake date your best friend definitely wasn’t on your schedule when you dropped by after Joshua’s swim practice after your student council meeting had ended. But with his oddly passionate fangirls, you suppose this was more for his comfort than anything else. And hey, you could also use this to get your vice president to stop hitting on you as well, so it's a win-win for everyone. Plus it’s not like you’d be met with the realization that you might be in love with your best friend, that’s crazy…

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol, and crazy fangirls

Extra info: high school setting, I got a confession… I don’t actually know how to swim lmaoo I just never learned so I apologize for the lack of actual swimming lol and Joshua is definitely inspired by Oikawa from Haikyuu in the sense of his fangirls lol and I guarantee there’s at least 50 fake dating Oikawa fics so here’s my spin on that with Joshua lol. I was also half tempted to make Joshua like one of my friends, who, for some reason decided our senior year to join our school’s swim team that I didn’t even know we had lol while he was on the varsity soccer team but I decided against it for simplicity lmao

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Wen Junhui: Racing Hearts and Skating to Love

Summary: Getting the chance to perform at an end of year celebration? Amazing! Having to perform a paired performance with Wen Junhui? Not amazing! Don’t get it twisted! You don’t hate Junhui, in fact it’s the opposite. You’ve been silently crushing on your fellow skater for months, and now you’re going to have to create and perform a paired program with him. Which of course meant having to spend weeks with him, and getting close to him to actually practice. But you can do this, it’s only for a few weeks, your heart can handle it. Hopefully it can, at least.

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol

Extra info: it’s never mentioned but it’s a uni au lol, reader wears contacts and glasses because I do too and I love Wen Junhui so next question lol and literally all my knowledge of ice skating comes from the time I was obsessed with Yuzuru Hanyu like a year or two ago so I apologize for the inaccuracies of the sport lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Kwon Soonyoung: Goal- Wait Watch Out!

Summary: Meet cute except it’s not cute and you probably have a concussion from the rogue soccer ball to the head. All you were trying to do was drop off your roommate's lunch since she forgot in the morning and now you’re being carried by a concerned goalie and your roommate treating you like one of her athletes. At least the goalie carrying you is cute?

Warnings: cursing since I can’t help myself, and of course injuries (a concussion) since that’s the plot lol

Extra info: uni setting, my knowledge is very limited on soccer and all that I do know comes from when my librarian would let me stay in the library while the cup was going on last year instead of making me go do errands for the teachers during my student aide period lol and putting Hoshi as goalie is most definitely brought on by Jeonghan’s monthly meeting pics of him as the goalie lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Jeon Wonwoo: Scheming Love

Summary: When your coach told your team that you guys would play a skirmish against the boys volleyball team for fun, you felt your heart freeze. Now you weren’t scared of the boys team, you believe your team is fully capable of beating them in a game. No, what scares you is the fact that it means you have to play against Jeon Wonwoo, one of the middle blockers on the team. And your longtime crush. Normally you’re confident as a libero, doing your best to make sure your team’s defense’s on top and making sure the ball doesn’t touch the ground, but with Wonwoo on the court at the same time? Maybe you should start apologizing to your team now. Wait, why did they have a team huddle while you were helping the manager bring the water bottles? And why are they smiling at you like they’ve just made the greatest plan in the history of the world?

Warnings: cursing as usual, and threatening to strangle someone (as a joke lol)

Extra info: high school setting, reader wears glasses because I do too and I love Wonwoo lol. One of two fics that are fueled by my Haikyuu brainrot that’s coming back thanks to the movies and the new content that’s been coming out recently. Wonwoo as a middle blocker is brought on by this twitter artist that’s drawn Tsukishima in some Wonwoo stage outfits and that has caused me great pain I eat it up every time and reader being a libero is because that’s my favorite position lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Lee Jihoon: Wait Where Are You Going? Come Back!

Summary: You really didn’t plan to watch your university’s baseball team play today, especially since it was so hot out and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky to provide some shade to hide under. But alas, your best friend insisted on dragging you along, wanting to watch her boyfriend play. Sure that’s fine and dandy, but why drag you along? At least the catcher’s cute, or what you can see of him on account of his mask. Wow, he's really muscular and is he giving Seokmin signs on how to pitch- wait why is your best friend and her boyfriend pushing the two of you after the game is over? And why are they running away? Oh, she’s gonna pay for this once you get through his conversation with the cute catcher.

Warnings: cursing as usual, and betrayal from your best friend and Seokmin lol

Extra info: uni setting, I’m like 85% sure Woozi said he used to play as catcher when he played baseball so that’s why he has this position. I don’t know anything about baseball besides one man named Shohei Ohtani and that getting hit with the ball hurts like hell (and all the injuries Dr. Mike on yt covered lol)

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Lee Seokmin: Breaking News! Falling in Love is Scary!

Summary: Being part of your university’s blog and radio show is great, until you’re being forced out of the studio/office and out in the open to go interview the baseball team after a recent winning streak. Normally this job would get assigned to another team member, but after a recent bout of frat flu ravaging your crew, the interview is left up to you. Whatever, just get the answers to the prewritten questions you have and the sooner you can go back to the studio/office to work on other things. Or that was the plan before the pitcher, Lee Seokmin, took an interest in you and suddenly seemed to pop up everywhere around campus. Or aka, grumpy reporter x sunshine baseball player.

Warnings: cursing as per usual, and you being a hater for no reason lol

Extra info: uni setting, I don’t know much about baseball other than the fact that I would kill to see DK in a baseball uniform

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Kim Mingyu: Red Bandage of Fate

Summary: When you joined the athletic team as a student trainer and got assigned to the university’s soccer team, you wondered if the team’s number 06, Kim Mingyu, the ace of the team and top scorer, was the same Kim Mingyu who basically lived in the training center, constantly in need of treatment for his never ending list of injuries. And please, slow down with the injuries, the center’s almost out of athletic tape and bandages, you’re begging him to please be more careful out on the field.

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself, and very obviously injuries (I’ll come back to be more specific with the injuries lol)

Extra info: uni setting, I’m taking an intro to athletic training class this sem so I know some stuff about treating athletes but again it’s intro class so beware if some things aren’t super accurate lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Xu Minghao: Filmed Lovestory

Summary: When you agreed to help film your friend’s practice for an upcoming competition, you didn’t think much of it. You’ve done it thousands of times. Put on your skates, a couple of extra layers so you won’t freeze, use her phone to record her, and follow her out on the ice. It’s simple, really, and a great way to spend Saturdays while also getting some exercise in between your tiring uni life. What you didn’t expect is somehow to agree to film the practices of one of her skating friends. Her very handsome skating friend, you might add. So now your weekends are fully booked for the ice, but watching Minghao skate on the ice, it’s not so bad.

Warnings: cursing as per usual

Extra info: uni setting, as I mentioned with my Jun fic, all of my figure skating knowledge comes from the time I was obsessed with Yuzuru Hanyu like a year or two ago so again I apologize for the inaccuracies of the sport

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Boo Seungkwan: Tangerines, Confessions and a Supply Closet

Summary: When you agreed to be the boys volleyball team’s manager, you didn’t think you’d spend your high school career taking care of the team. Yet, here you are, in your senior year and the only reason some of your players are even here (and why some of them are passing their classes, seriously signing up as a manager became a lot more than just handing out water bottles!). The only reason you’ve been able to stick around as long as you have is because of the team’s setter, Boo Seungkwan, who makes your job of wrangling the team a little easier. Now if only you could get the team off your back about confessing to him before the two of you graduate, that really would be great.

Warnings: cursing as per usual, threats to kill an entire volleyball team (all jokes), and getting locked in a supply closet

Extra info: high school setting, this is the second fic that is 100% fueled by my Haikyuu phase that is slowly coming back due to the movies and the new content that’s been coming out recently. And out of all the sports, this is the one I’m most knowledgeable in since I actually watch matches (shout out to Lim Sungjin and Heo Subong). Also I had such a hard time giving Seungkwan a sport since he does so much I decided on volleyball because the thought of him playing makes me want to bark so there’s that

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Chwe (Vernon) Hansol: Quick, He’s Not Watching!

Summary: When your older brother told you to wait for him in the bleachers, promising to give you a ride after your night class, you didn’t think much of it. If you’re lucky, you’d be able to take a nap in the bleachers waiting for him. What you didn’t expect was to somehow catch the attention of one of the midfielders, Vernon. As you come around more and more often, you find the midfielder always making an effort to say hey to you, and even stealing some of the team’s snacks for you. Now you just wonder if he’ll make a move before your brother notices the two of you getting closer with each other.

Warnings: uni setting, cursing as per usual, and older protective brother that means well but doesn’t go about it the right way

Extra info: I deadass looked up what the positions in soccer are because I have no idea what goes on in the sport even though one of my friend’s played our entire high school career

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Lee Chan: You’re Not Too Bad

Summary: You didn’t think that showing up to your best friend’s, Seokmin’s, baseball practices would make one of the players hate you, but here you are and apparently Lee Chan hates you. Or so you think at least. The rest of the team loves you, especially since you always bring them plenty of food to feed them throughout practice (it pays to be a nutrition major) and always try to help out even though you’re not an official manager. But it’s no biggie, it’s not like Chan hating you bothers you, nope, not at all. But maybe you’d skip out on stopping by Seokmin’s practice for the week… Yeah that sounds like a good idea.

Warnings: cursing as per usual, Chan being a bit of an asshole but it gets resolved don’t worry

Extra info: uni setting, Dino being assigned baseball is all because of the 231105 fansign where he was given a baseball jersey and glove, and I still don’t know how baseball works

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

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bangtanloverboys · 1 year

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life support // knj

summary - namjoon likes to think he’s the embodiment of the perfect example of a theurgists: positive and enthusiastic. however when his professor asks him to help tutor one of her secondary students, only then is that pushed to the limit

pairing - tutor!namjoon x neurodivergent!reader

genre - fluff; wizard 101 au

word count - 4.0k

warnings - dip’s made up lore, namjoon says one mean thing, thoughts of fraternization

guide - theurgy = life magic, divination = storm magic; marlybonian = british dog people; pigswick = another wizarding academy;

author’s note - last names for reasons. and this was a bit personal for me as i do have adhd and i struggled a lot with theoretical teachings. this is based off my own personal experience with school and having adhd, not everyone’s is the same

the seven schools of ravenwood

Best in class. That is how Namjoon has always been described ever since he was a novice theurgist. It came easy to him, with a glance at a textbook he could perform the spell in an instant. Life magic was simply in his blood. So when Professor Wu asked him to tutor some of her less than stellar students, he wasn’t surprised. It took a while for each of the other students to catch on, but one by one, he helped them understand the material and soon enough, they raised their grades. Namjoon’s track record was stunning, there wasn’t any student he couldn’t help.

That was until he met you.

Normally Professor Wu only offered tutoring for her novice primary school students; young theurgists that either did not grow up where magic was practiced or simply fell behind a few lessons and needed a bit of help to get back on their feet. Never before had he had to tutor a secondary school theurgist. But he was willing to step up to the challenge.

Pushing open the heavy oak doors of the Life School, he was greeted with the familiar sight of Professor Wu standing at the top of the platform. Standing right at the bottom of the stairs before her, was you, dressed in purple and gold. A diviner, Namjoon thought to himself. Life magic sat in between Storm and Fire, so one normally would expect a student of those primary schools would easily understand and excel at theurgy. He wondered what could be the problem.

“Ah, Namjoon!” She smiled as he approached you both. “Y/N, this will be your tutor; Namjoon Jadeshield. Namjoon, this is Y/N Raindreamer,” she introduced.

“Pleasure,” he greeted, holding out his hand for you to shake. You don’t shake his hand, only giving him a tight lipped smile. “Okay. . .” he dropped his hand. “What exactly are you struggling with so that I can help?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Professor Wu cut you off. “Everything, really. They’re supposed to start their initiate program, but unfortunately they must repeat their apprenticeship.”

Namjoon tried to hold back his shock. Failing the apprenticeship class? You’d have to repeat the whole two year process, probably never catch back up to your primary school level. “Okay. So how often shall we hold tutoring sessions?” He glanced between you and Professor Wu.

“Ideally every day after class,” the professor answered.

Your head snapped in the direction of her. “No!” Turning to Namjoon, you began to plead with him. “Monday, Tuesday, Thursday. I need Wednesday and Friday free. I have-“

“You know very well that any or all after school activities are suspended until your grades rise, Raindreamer,” Professor Wu tisked.

But you didn’t acknowledge her, only keeping your eyes trained on Namjoon. “I’m sorry, but Professor Wu is right. Until you have sufficient grades to prove it, no after school activities.”

As the words left his mouth, Namjoon watched in slow motion as your face fell. Like the world had crashed around you. Quickly, your face steeled and a frown was etched onto your features. “Fine.”

“Alright,” Namjoon nodded, wanting this meeting to be over and done with. “We’ll start tomorrow. Meet me outside the Commons Library? Sound good with you?”

“Yeah, fine. Whatever,” you huffed as you shouldered your book bag and left the school building, leaving Namjoon and Professor Wu alone.

“I swear, with a name like Raindreamer, it’s no wonder they have grades like this,” she sighed. “But thank you again, Namjoon. I know you’ll be a great help.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The following day, Namjoon waited for you just outside the Commons Library. He was there a full 10 minutes before you finally arrived. He opened his mouth to berate you for being late but words failed to come out at the sight of you; fresh scrapes and bandages covering any exposed skin.

“What?” You raised a brow at him.

“Are you- what happened?”

You looked down at the bandages before shrugging. “Fell.”

Whilst that didn’t feel like the full reason, Namjoon didn’t push any further, simply wanting to get the tutoring session along. You trailed behind him as he climbed up the final steps to the library, pushing open the doors. Namjoon waved hello to Harold, the old Marleybonian that served as the librarian, as he scribbled away in his ledger.

“This way,” Namjoon said to you as he walked down the theurgy wing. Other life students, dressed in robes of greens and browns, were seated at the tables that were strategically placed alongside the tall bookshelves. He made his way over to his usual table, it sat right between the initiate and journeyman textbooks. Granted those might be a bit out of your range, but perhaps it could serve as a bit of motivation to help you move forward.

Placing his book bag down, he looked at you, straggling along still. A bit further than he would’ve liked, but you were soon catching up. Your eyes were trained on the books as they flew across the shelves, rearranging and reorganizing themselves. There was a small smile etched into your face as you watched the books and scrolls float about, reminding Namjoon of a child on Christmas. Clearing his throat to gain your attention, he watched as that smile faded away, back into a look of displeasure. You picked up the pace, taking the seat beside him.

“Professor Wu didn’t give me any specifics as to what you need help with. So are there any particular parts that you need help with?” Namjoon asked as you pulled out your scrolls and text books.

“Everything, I guess. It just. . . doesn’t make sense. I can’t figure out how to get from Point A to Point B,” you explained.

“So conceptualizing it?”

You blinked at him. “I- uh, I guess that is one way to put it.”

“Okay, that gives us a starting point then.” He smiled at you. “So let’s go to basics. See if that can help.”

“Alright,” you muttered, learning forward as he began writing.

“So theurgy is a bit different than the other schools, when using magic we don’t summon or coerce the creatures into appearing. We breathe life into them through the Song of Creation. Are you familiar with that?” When he turned to look at you, you were staring blankly at the paper. He waited a few moments for you to respond, but you didn’t. Namjoon snapped his fingers twice, you jerked back to attention.

“Sorry, I- uh. . . what did you say?”

It was then when Namjoon realized how you were able to fail your apprenticeship so miserably and how you earned your last name.

You could not focus at all.

Every time Namjoon was going over spell casting and or creation, he would turn to you to check to see if you were following, only for you to have a blank look on your face or your eyes to be trained on the floating books again. Every time he would have to snap his fingers to regain your attention. On some occasions, he saw you scribbling away into a notebook. At first he thought you were actually taking notes, but anytime he tried to take a look at it, you shut the book in his face.

By the end of the second hour, when your session was coming to a close, you had finally managed to understand one spell. It was just a shield spell, so it wasn’t too complicated, but not enough for Namjoon to be satisfied with your progress.

As the two of you left the library, you were about to make a break for the right, no doubt returning to your dorm room in Ravenwood, but he quickly grabbed onto your wrist.

“What?”

“I want you to read over the History of Life Magic, chapters one through four. Just the basics, that should help at least a tiny bit.”

“You’re giving me homework?”

He blinked at you, caught off guard by the question. He’s always asked the students he tutored to reread certain materials, and they did so without question. “It’s not really homework, just helps to go over the material again,” he sputtered out in response. “I want to see you succeed and catch up in your secondary school. And reading helps.”

“Yeah, sure,” you huffed with a roll of your eyes, then walked down the pathway through the Commons.

Over the next two weeks, the two of you had fallen into a routine; every few days you’d be late by no more than 10 minutes to each session (how he had no idea, considering the initiate divination class would get out around your scheduled time) with fresh bandages, he’d try his damndest to help you understand the material, and then you’d part ways, heading off towards the right. And it was agonizing for Namjoon. You read at a snail's pace, mixing up the pixie and fairy spells, scrambling words and wand motions together. It wasn’t by lack of effort either, Namjoon could see you were trying, genuinely, but no matter how much reading he assigned you, nothing seemed to stick. You got one spell for every ten he went over with you. He simply could not believe how you managed to even get enrolled into Ravenwood in the first place.

When he expressed his frustrations towards Professor Wu when it was time for a follow up, she finally told him that you were a new student, only coming in within the past 6 months, after being kicked out of Pigswick for poor performance. He was shocked at the information, but it made sense. You were a troubled student and needed a firm hand. So he went to work, putting together another lesson plan that was more strict to try and see if that would help you at all.

It didn’t.

Barely a full session in, he watched as you failed to recite the proper incantations to summon a leprechaun, something you nearly had the day previous.

“What isn’t clicking for you?” He found himself asking you at the end of the session.

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean, why can’t you do this? This is basic theurgy, and you’re a storm student! This should come easy to you, right? So why are you struggling so much?” He felt like he was at the end of his rope. If he couldn’t teach you, then what hopes could he ever have about being a professor?

“I mean, it just. . . doesn’t. It’s hard to explain. . .”

“Well if you don’t figure it out, you’re gonna get kicked out from another school,” Namjoon muttered under his breath.

“What?”

He froze. He cringed to himself as he turned around to look at you, regretting even thinking the words. Once he laid eyes on you, he saw that same broken look he saw when Professor Wu said you couldn’t continue with your afterschool activities, only worse. Your shoulders sagged, and Namjoon swore he could’ve heard your heart break, shattered by him. Then your face hardened as you tightened your grip on your bookbag.

“Then I guess there’s no reason for us to really continue these sessions, considering I’m just gonna get kicked out anyways.” Then you turned on your heel and stormed off.

“Y/N, wait- I’m sorry!”

He wanted to follow after you, but he couldn’t find it in him to. He watched as you disappeared into the crowded Commons area, wishing he never even opened his mouth.

The following day after class, Namjoon made his way over towards the Storm School. You deserved an apology, Namjoon knew that. What he said was mean, and something he never should’ve said as your tutor. It was just his luck that his mastery class ended at the same time the Storm initiate class ended, giving him the perfect opportunity to find you and apologize. He eyed through the students as they made their way past him, on their own way towards their next class or any after school club. But he could not find out. He knew he had the right year, you were supposed to go into the initiate class this year, you were the proper age for it. Where were you?

Perhaps you stayed inside to talk to the professor, he thought to himself as he approached the heavy oak doors. Thunder boomed overhead from the gathering storm cloud that resided inside the classroom. It had been years since he’d ever stepped foot in the school of storm, the first and only time being from when he was trying to find a secondary school, all those years before he finally landed on balance.

Namjoon glanced around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of you but you weren’t in the room. Only Professor Balestrom resided in the classroom, standing on top of his desk as he gathered papers.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the school, clearing his throat to gain the frog professor’s attention. He turned on his flipper as the sound of Namjoon and bounced up to his full height of three feet.

“Ah! How can I be of service to you?”

“Hi, I’m tutoring one of your students. Y/N Raindreamer? They would be in your initiate class.”

A frown etched itself onto Professor Balestrom’s face. “Raindreamer is my student yes, but they’re not in my initiate class.”

“What?”

“Raindreamer advanced into the adept class about 3 months ago! They’re a brilliant student, one of the best diviners I’ve seen in a while,” he explained.

The information shook Namjoon to his core. You were an advanced student? But how could that be, considering your grades in theurgy? It didn’t make any sense. “I-I didn’t know that.”

“First time in my class, they struggled though. Came in on a reading day, which is everyone’s least favorite part of the curriculum. But as soon as we got to spell casting, they nearly blew the roof off this place!” The professor continued, leaping up in the air for dramatic effect. “They weren’t even here a week before I took them to the headmaster and demanded they advance to the journeyman course, only that was also too easy! They’re getting a real challenge in adept, I’ll tell you that.”

Namjoon couldn’t believe his ears. Here he was, thinking you were a walking failure, doomed to be kicked out of a second school. Only to learn that you were nearly two years advanced in your studies! “Oh. . . well, do you know where they might be? I do need to talk to them.”

Professor Balestrom looked at the clock on the wall. “Should be in the arena by now.”

“The arena?”

“Yes. The arena! They’re a duelist, did you not know that?”

Only then did it dawn on him that he never did ask what you wanted to do so badly that you wanted to schedule your tutoring sessions around it. Then he remembered what days you were late on, the fresh bandages you always had on. . . You were still dueling. Under the school’s nose too.

“Thank you, Professor Balestrom. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, of course!” The frog man called out to Namjoon as he all but ran out the door. As fast as he could, he made his way through the tunnels to the Commons and then to Unicorn Way. He pushed open the doors of the arena, the snapping of puppets and growls of different summoned monsters filled his ears as he approached Diego, the dueling master.

“A newcomer? Are you interested in learning the art of the duel?” The unicorn asked, raising a brow at him.

Namjoon shook his head no. “Sorry, I’m actually looking for someone. Y/N Raindreamer?”

“Ah, yes! They’ve been short on their dueling practice lately, but they’re in the next dueling chamber over. Come, I shall show you.” Diego led Namjoon down a hall towards an empty arena, where sure enough you were, dueling against a puppet.

He was blown away with the sight before him. You waved your wand with practiced ease and the creatures you summoned did your bidding with little to no struggle at all. It wasn’t at all how you were when he was tutoring you. How could you manage to do so good in one class that you advance two classes, but struggle to advance in your secondary?

“Pretty good, eh? Came in from Pigswick, good school and all but they don’t actually teach magic there. It’s all theoretical. But as soon as Raindreamer was enrolled here, and with a little help from your’s truly, they advanced in no time!” Diego explained as he and Namjoon watched you battle the puppet. “They come in here as often as they can, practicing all the spells they learn in class. See the scrolls?” He pointed off to the side of the dueling sigil where sure enough, were piles of spell books and scrolls, mainly of storm magic, judging from the purple lining. But Namjoon could see some greens in there.

You weren’t just practicing.

You were studying.

Raising your wand again, this time the life symbol appeared. Up until the last wave of your wand, it was perfect. You had twisted your wrist in the wrong direction, causing the spell to fizzle completely. You let out a curse as you stepped away from the sigil, the puppet standing still. You pulled open the life scroll, reading over it again, no doubt trying to find your mistake.

“You’re supposed to twist your wrist towards the right, not the left!” Namjoon called out to you. Your head snapped up in his direction, mouth open to probably yell at him. But you didn’t say anything, your eyes focusing on Diego behind him.

“He’s right, you were perfect up until that last move,” Diego confirmed as he trotted down the stairs towards you, Namjoon following after. “He was looking for you, I hope you do not mind I brought him here.”

“It’s alright, thank you, Diego.” You gave the unicorn a slight smile, who nodded before stepping away, giving the two of you some privacy. Once your attention was fully towards Namjoon, your lips pressed into a thin line. “What is it, Namjoon?”

“I wanted to apologize, what I said was out of line. As your tutor, it should’ve been my priority to build you up, not to tear you down.”

You regarded him cautiously. “Doesn’t change the fact that what you said really hurt. I did try, but studying like that just. . . it doesn’t work for me. Sitting there and telling me how to cast spells, I have to see and do it to fully understand. Do you get that?”

“Yes, I can see that now.” Namjoon stepped toward the pile of scrolls and books that you had at the side of the arena. Picking up the one that was open, he flipped through it. There were a bunch of notes and scribbles in the margins, he recognized the chicken scratch as yours but what you wrote were what he would go over and teach you in your tutoring sessions. “This is why you wanted those days off, so you could practice your spellwork and could try to actually grasp what you were learning?”

Slowly, you nodded. “I will admit, I did continue dueling, but without the proper amount of dedication to practice and study, it just. . . I couldn’t do it.”

“Then we’ll hold our tutoring sessions here.”

You looked at him in shock. “What?”

“If this is what helps you learn, then this is what we’ll do to help you,” Namjoon started, “I’ll tell Professor Wu about the change and reserve an arena with Diego. We can meet here instead of the library, does that sound good to you?”

“I- yeah! That’s- that’s perfect, thank you!” You said, beaming widely at him. It was the first time you actually smiled at him, and he was going to deny the little flutter he felt in his chest.

“Okay, so I’ll see you here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow!”

Just as he said, Namjoon talked with Moolinda about having you study via dueling.

“I don’t know, Jadeshield. . . they’re failing, and the rules are no extracurriculars unless a student is of a passing grade.”

“I know, but this is how they learn! I didn’t understand it at first, and that’s my fault. But they’re actually really smart! Did you know they’re two classes advanced in divination?” Namjoon countered.

Professor Wu was taken back by that knowledge, judging by the way her eyes narrowed down and focused on him.

“Please, just give them a chance.”

She was quiet, before placing her hooves together and nodding. “Very well. You may hold your tutoring lessons in the arena.”

Namjoon was so ecstatic, he would have jumped for joy. But there was one more thing that he had to ask. . .

Due to his meeting with the professor, Namjoon was running late to meet you at the Arena. He saw you were sitting on the grass outside the building, looking down at that book you would scribble in during your tutoring sessions, flipping through the pages.

“Hey!” He caught your attention as he approached you. “I have great news!”

Looking up from your book, you furrowed your brows together. “What?”

“I talked to Professor Wu and she gave the green light for us to do dueling tutoring sessions and she agreed!”

You jumped to your feet. “Really?!”

“Yes, and she agreed to something even better.”

“Spit it out then! Don’t leave me here in all this suspense!”

“If you test well enough on the next exam that’s in a few weeks, you can join the initiate program!” It took a lot of convincing on his part, and staking his whole career as a tutor on the line, but he was wrong to ever doubt you in the first place. He knew you could do it.

“You-oh my stars! Thank you!” Dropping your book, you threw yourself onto Namjoon, wrapping your arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly.

He stilled at the sudden contact, feeling heat rush to his cheeks. “You’re- you’re welcome,” he said, patting your back gently. He’d never been thanked in such a way before, usually a quick handshake or a smile. Never a hug.

As quick as you hugged him, you released your hold on him, smiling brightly at him. “Come on! Exam may be a few weeks away, but I wanna be sure I have everything right so I can ace this test!” You said, before racing inside the arena.

Namjoon stood back for a second, still feeling the heat on his cheeks. He took a step forward to join you, only to accidentally step on your book that you’d dropped. Kneeling down, he picked it up. Curiosity gaining the best of him, he took a peek inside. It was doodles and drawings of different creatures and spells, with little notes dotted along the sides. Still flipping through the book, he began walking towards the arena, but he stopped as he turned to a page that took him by surprise. It was a drawing of him, incompleted, but was very obviously Namjoon. He felt the heat on his face return, crawling up his ears too. Reading along the sides of the page, were your own personal anecdotes about him. Calling him all sorts of names, but also things he had said; Stuff from his lessons. You had remembered, you were trying. He just couldn’t see it.

“Ahem.”

Namjoon’s eyes broke away from the sketchbook, meeting Diego’s gaze. The unicorn said nothing, only winking at him as he tossed his head in the direction of the arena doors.

Breaking eye contact, Namjoon pushed open the doors, hoping you wouldn’t see the embarrassment on his cheeks. He spotted you almost immediately, talking with some other students he could only presume were your friends. Taking notice of him, you smiled at him again, and he swore he could see a twinkle in your eye-

No. No. No.

You had an exam to study for and he was your tutor. He couldn’t fraternize with you like that. However, he wouldn’t be for long if you ace that exam. . .

“Raindreamer, let’s go!”

#btsghostie #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #bts x reader #namjoon x gender neutral reader #kim namjoon x gender neutral reader #bts x gender neutral reader #bts wizard au #wizard101 au #neurodivergent reader #namjoon x adhd reader #wizard namjoon

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cutiedwaekki · 1 year

Text

MASTERLIST

here you will find each one of my fic!! moreover I bring you here to know how to send me a fic request according to what I write or not.

🧸 : fluff ☁️ : angst 🔥: smut ☀️: happy ending

REMINDER: MINORS DNI IT IS FETISH CONTENT

Link to : AO3

STRAY KIDS :

Light ! Camera ! Action ! Hyunjin have to gain some weight for a new role he have to play. But he end up gaining more than he should 🧸☀️

DR.Bang Where Jisung goes to the doctor for a health check up but it doesn't happen as planned 🧸🔥☀️

Life in farm isn't bad. Exhausted from his life in the city, Minho goes for a while to his cousin Felix who lives in a farm with his husband. He'll also meet the farmer next door Jisung who attracted him for his good humor and his chubby body pushing against his overalls 🧸☀️ PUPPY an interactive story for my one year on tumblr. seungmin, a lost hybrid finds himself adopted by Jisung, a somewhat naive student 🧸☀️ Intro ; part 1 ; part 2

Couvade syndrome

Where Minchan's having their first child but even if Minho is the one who carries the child, Chan also seems very invested and stressed by the news that he is developing a couvade. but isn't it a good thing in the end? 🧸☀️

CANDYLAND

halloween special fic ! the tale of hantsel and gretel except that here the siblings will be the twins will be embodied by Felix and Jisung and the wicked witch will be our dear Minho who will become a little too whipped to them both and their chubby figure 🧸☀️☁️

F.I.L.A (Fall In Love Again)

were Chan discover an big secret about Minho who went so far as to upset their life as a couple, is it good? bad? Just take a look at it 🧸☀️

Channies room

were Chan made a mukbang show for earn money. but as he continues his show, it's not just his wallet that's getting bigger 🧸☀️

GIMME A BIG BOY

If you know the song made my snl and sza you'll exactly know what this fic will talk about 🤭 🧸☀️

GREEDY

or were for an investigation , Changbin must infiltrate one of the largest mafia of Korea in order to obtain information on the suppliers but also the leader of this gang . Who would have thought that it was not only his mafia that was big 🧸☀️☁️

DWAEKKI GYM

or were changbin see all his friends getting chubbier day by day and want them to get back in shape .... but it doesn't goes as he expected especially when he realize that they don't lose any weight but also that he start gaining weight too ! 🧸☀️☁️

GOING CRAZY

when both are so in love with each other that they go beyong the limits without knowing the other do the same

Or more like a yandere x yandere 🧸☀️

MIXTAPE : OH

art! Nerd hyunjin having a big crush on the highschool jock Changbin but never confess to him. Years later they met again and his love grow bigger just like the ex jock waistline 🧸🔥☀️

Kind of magic

Or were Felix is a kind but inexperienced fairy who though that with a little help of magic he could easily make his cookies softer and rounder ... not making people who ate them soft and rounder 🧸☀️

Part 1 ; Part 2

DOMINO

Straykids won one year of unlimited free pizza thanks to the use of their song domino to promote the brand . Changbin intends to make this offer profitable and the members will help him with this... 🧸☀️

ARE YOU HUNGRY ?

were Seungmin start to take all the bad habits from Changbin and become in denial from his own weight gain 🧸☀️👔

CIRCUS

circus au! Jisung gets jealous of the new acrobat Jeongin an tries to make him gain weight for sabotage his show but it doesn't go as he planned

STUDY-EXAM-LOVE-FOOD

seungmin's grades are falling, so Minho his professor has a plan in mind, he would tutor seungmin and bring lots of treats, making seungmin gain weight. fortunately for the younger, seungmin knows minho's ulterior motive. the older liked bigger guys, so why not turn the tables and make his tutor fat ? 🧸☀️👔

BEAR HUG

Chan keeps hiding his body in oversized hoodies, so curious Felix decides to find a way to see what's behind those clothes. 🧸☀️

Hyunjin discover some cookies send by one of Felix's friend , but the more he eat and the fatter he get 🧸🔥(implied) ☀️

PIECE OF CAKE

Hyunjin is on a diet but Seungmin find the best idea to ruin it

CHERRY ON TOP

where when Felix go so oftenly in that restaurant more for the cute waiter than the food 🧸🔥

cookie case

3racha as the totally spies investigating on a mystery factory and their delicious cookies

Teddy bear

were Seungmin and Minho used to be chilhood friends but the oldest as a kid always made fun of the youngest for being chubby. But no worry , karma come and hit him

mr policeman

Where a Changbin overwhelmed by work follows the recommendations of his colleague Seungmin. But should he ?

dream come true

The prince Chan made a wish after another lonely night , wishing for someone to love him. Fate gave him 7 persons

santa ?

Changbin doesn't belive in chrismas in general , to remedy this he received a very particular punishment

taste

By using Seungmin's computer, Chan discovered his husband's fetish which soon became his too

moviestar

where Hyunjin, a talented actor, finds himself gaining weight for a role, which is far from displeasing his boyfriend Seungmin, delighted with the changes in his figure

BADTZ-MARU

were students at SKZ High School found a great way to learn math without the knowledge of their math teacher, Mr. Seo

domectic dwaekki

changbin's new life as a house-husband

fairytail

when the slightly too greedy fairy lets his greed take over

seasons of love

admire how with the seasons changing, Chan too

wolfgang

were werewolf chan make sure his human and mate Changbin is well feed for their pup

ITEM ; pt.2

who would have thought that with a special mod on the Sims 4, Felix would change his life and that of his boyfriend?

HUG ME

seungmin gains some weight after a break , and jisung's here to confort him

detective puppym

follow the adventures of detective seungmin seeking to solve the mystery lurking around the city. The Harem of Midas as some people call it

TOMOROW BY TOGETHER :

blue hour

They say that the blue hour is a memorable moment, let's see what will happen to them after entering this forbidden amusement park

SEVENTEEN :

an (almost perfect) party

when svt prepare a birthday party ... but nothing goes as expected

39♡

#cdrandomtalks #my fic #my fics #masterlist

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examcentrelondon-ecl · 3 hours

Text

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palbabor-writes · 4 years

Text

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow.

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito & @kugutsuu for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on.

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class.

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date.

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings.

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away.

Fuck.

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors.

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students.

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now.

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.”

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess.

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously.

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number.

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago.

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class.

Ugh, why is this so stressful?

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing.

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you.

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall.

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine.

He’s watching you.

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms.

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness.

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass.

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his.

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence.

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either.

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged.

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied.

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class.

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his.

Wait. Sexy?

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you.

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit.

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium.

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race.

Maybe it’s those eyes of his.

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed.

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.”

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips.

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon.

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares.

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs.

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.”

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare.

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God.

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade.

No. No, no, no, no.

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA.

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces.

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips.

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door.

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves.

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you.

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence.

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea.

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N).

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright.

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk.

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line.

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow.

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression.

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult.

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name.

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again.

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question.

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.”

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move.

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him.

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him.

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin.

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead.

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.”

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that…

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.”

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.”

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand.

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.”

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin.

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes.

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully.

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath.

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences.

Wait. Didn’t you just…

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed.

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter.

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice.

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back.

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips.

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs.

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold.

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing.

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?”

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more.

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless.

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you.

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–”

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements.

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis.

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N).

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet.

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright.

“What is the cell membrane?”

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain.

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance.

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer.

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you.

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin.

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.”

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips.

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior.

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine.

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus.

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision.

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather.

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait…

There’s a faint clicking sound.

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper.

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade.

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise.

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts?

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit.

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg.

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by.

“Hold still,” he commands.

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit.

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form.

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?”

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face.

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you.

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance.

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think.

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–”

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips.

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass.

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need.

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness.

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice.

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head.

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again.

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms.

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good.

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face.

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting.

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips.

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release.

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs.

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release.

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders.

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you.

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy.

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @libiraki <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here.

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #reader insert #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #bnha smut #9 to 5 collab #bnha degeneracy server #collaboration #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: teacher/student #tw: dubcon #tw: bribery

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jojoboisimagines · 4 years

Text

Josuke x Reader :: Promposal :: Ch. 3

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summary: A strange new transfer student has enrolled in Budogaoka High School. Josuke falls head over heels for her, but has a limited time to win her over before the school prom.

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Josuke didn’t even bother going after you after you had dashed into the classroom. Okuyasu had mentioned something about it being ‘his chance to bag you’, but he didn’t care. The only emotions he could process right now were embarrassment and a slight bit of sorrow. For both you and him.

Based on how you reacted, he could tell you were utterly uninterested or promptly humiliated by being seen with the letters. Either way, it was practically over, he thought. There’s no way you would go through all of those letters. The probability of them being trashed by the end of the day was high.

Jojo couldn’t help but to feel at least a twinge of disappointment. This was the first girl he had been interested in since..well since he entered high school. He tried to think of a positive, that being able to at least see you every day. Yet that became more and more creepy sounding the more he replayed it in his head

First period started without him even noticing. Now his mind was fixated on remembering what he actually wrote in the letter.

Something about... beautiful, piercing (e/c) eyes...how he wants a chance to get you to smile for once... pretty (h/c) hair (which was especially a compliment from him given his standards), and he couldn't forget adding that he liked how you were 'badass" for wearing heels multiple times. That was perhaps the only thing in the letter that wasn't cliche.

He definitely remembered at the end of the letter where he asked you to meet up with him on the rooftop after school if you were interested.

Contemplating if it was even worth it to go there anymore, he reckoned to pay attention in class for the moment, only a little.

His mechanical pencil clicked against the desk, the annoyance was still there in the back of his mind.

.::.

You had only skimmed over most of the letters. Some weren't even love letters, they were just presumably shy students complimenting you on your work in recent classes. One even offered to be a study buddy. Letting out a sigh, it would at least be fair to appreciate the penwork and thoughtfulness put in these letters. It had been an hour already, and you had gone through the majority of them.

Picking up another, you took it out of the envelope. It had a rather nice smell to it, as if a hint of cologne was spritzed onto it before it was sealed in. Nice touch, you had to admit.

Opening it, you started to read. This letter was more than two sentences like some, but still less than some others. The writing came off as surprisingly honest, almost even bringing a smile to your face for a brief moment. As you needed the end, you couldn't help but wonder who wrote it. Your (e/c) eyes were led to the bottom of the letter where their name was written.

...Josuke Higashikata?

Your mind went back to when you declined his offer to walk you home. Perhaps you had come off as a little too harsh, but you would've preferred to walk home yourself that day. Truth be told, your shyness had got the better of you in that moment. You weren't here to make friends, you were here for a learning experience.

Though your mom had told you to at least try and make some friends. The idea didn't appeal to you in the slightest, but you guessed this was an opportunity to do so, if any. He even bothered to put a place and time to meet him if you wanted. After school on the rooftop..

Carefully placing the letter in your binder (unlike the others, that you had shoved in your backpack) you silently agreed to it. Hopefully you wouldn't get cold feet like last time when talking to him. Considering his status in school, that'd be a little more than just 'embarrassing'.

.::.

It took a bit of convincing for Okuyasu and Koichi to let Josuke wait on the rooftop all by himself.

"We can wait behind the stairs!" Nope.

"We can hide beside the door!" Not a chance.

If there was any possibility of you coming up there, seeing his friends peeping in is on the list of last things he'd want to happen.

Hands in his pockets, he stared out into the distance. The top of the school really did give an ethereal view. Morioh's vivid yellow sky blending into a purple hue as the afternoon comes to an end. Students traveling in small groups on their way home. The trees blowing along with the gentle breeze, it was all such a sight to take in. He wondered if you chose Morioh to study on purpose. If you didn't like the school, he hoped you could at least enjoy the atmosphere.

Pulling back his sleeve, he caught a glance of his watch. It had been five minutes since he got here.

He let out a quick sigh, he hadn't given up all hope yet but if you were gonna come you could've at least showed up on time. Taking his favorite red comb out of his pocket, he straightened his pompadour.

A sudden creak and slam from the door behind him nearly made him trip out of shock and the comb would've fallen into the abyss that was the school's courtyard if he wasn't careful. A scowl on his face, he turned expecting Koichi and Okuyasu that had gone against his wishes and peeped in.

But it wasn't them. It was you. Nearly out of breath, looking like you'd topple over if you ran any further.

Muttering an 'oh shit' he quickly put his comb away and corrected his posture. What was that uncomfortable feeling on his features? Sweat maybe? The teenager rushed over to where you were.

"H-hey, are you alright?" He asked.

"I…am so sorry." You breathed out. "I didn't forget, I swear. I had to clean the classroom today and came up here hoping you hadn't left yet."

The way you looked into his eyes sent him over the moon on it's own. He hadn't got such a good look at your eyes before, but now he was sure they were beautiful. The two of you stood still for a moment, before he awkwardly cleared his throat. If the stare went on for any longer it would've killed him.

"S-so, uh..you got my letter?"

"Yes." Was all you answered. You had never been confessed to a day in your life, and you had no idea how to even approach a situation like this. Hell, it's not like anyone back home was interested in you.

"That's great!" He smiled. Something was charming about the way he pronounced that word. A smile etched its way into your face as well.

"Hey, I think that's the first time I've seen you smile!"

You felt your skin flush at that comment. It was something you heard often, but this time evoked a different feeling knowing it came from someone who potentially liked you. It was also something you didn't know how to react to. Were you supposed to say 'thanks"? Instead you only nodded.

"Wow, you're a lot more...shy than how I first pegged you as." Josuke acknowledged. You were a far cry from the 'cool girl' everyone knew you as from the first day of school. It was frankly sort of embarrassing. What if he didn't like you anymore? Why'd you even care if he did?

"Sorry." Was all you could think to say. Josuke's eyes widened, putting his hands up to reassure you that he meant no harm.

"What? There's nothing wrong with that! I'm actually kinda glad. You wouldn't believe how many asshole snooty chicks think they'd have a shot at dating me. Let alone trying to be friends."

"You thought I was an asshole?"

"N-no! You know what I mean! I mean not that I thought you were because of the other day but-" He stopped before he made it worse.

He took a breath. At least you weren't the only one nervous.

"Listen, I was just thinking we could..hang out sometime..as friends."

"...friends?"

"Yeah! Oh, and I could use some tutoring with my math homework." He came up with that one on the spot, but it wasn't untrue. The boy felt it was less likely you'd agree to that particular offer, but it was worth a shot.

The silence thickened between the two of you for a moment. It wasn't as tense as the first time, he could tell you were just thinking it over. His fingers were crossed behind his back just in case.

"Sure. I'm free tomorrow afternoon and Sunday." You simply responded.

"YES!" He chanted.

Out loud.

'..shit.' he thought.

"I mean---uh…" He snickered, breaking out into chuckles. Jojo really couldn't think of anything to cover that up. A smile found its way into your face as well as he laughed, shaking your head.

"Thank you so much for considering me! (L/n)-san!

"You can call me (y/n)-chan. I don’t mind."

Calling you by your first name. Something to brag about to the boys afterward.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow!" He swung his bag over his shoulder and began to walk past you.

"Wait, Josuke!" You called after him before he opened the door. He stopped, not turning around.

"Did you mean everything you said in that letter? My eyes, hair, and everything?" It sounded kind of desperate, but you needed to know. You could see a smile at the corner of his face.

"Yeah, every word of it." Josuke left out the door to head home for the day.

You could sleep happy tonight feeling more confident about yourself. Wouldn't hurt to keep wearing heels to school either..

#im evil i do this instead of working on reqs #jojo imagines #jojo headcanons #JoJo no Kimyō na Bōken #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Josuke Higashitaka #josuke x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #jjba imagine #jjba x reader

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drazzilder · 3 years

Text

A Hellish Encounter

By Drazzilder

Chapter 32: The Offer

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, it’s the moment we have been waiting for: an interview with Hellboy!”

The audience cheers and claps as the camera pans out.

“Good morning, it’s nice to be here.”

“Hellboy, I’m just going to get right to it: what’s it like having a demon inside of you?”

“Well, at first it was really rough but once you get to know him, he pretty chill. He did try to take over my body but after we got to know each other we became friends. I don’t know what I would do without him.”

“So, your saying he isn’t evil?”

“I wouldn’t put myself under that category.”

“Oh! Good morning, Zaheer! About (Y/N), what’s it like being inside of him?”

“I’m not really sure how to answer that. I guess it’s like a room that I can change as I want and I can influence (Y/N) but other than that, not much really. I do enjoy being with him and I’m proud of him.”

“Interesting. What about that new ability where you can come outside of Hellboy?”

“It’s nothing new but it takes a lot of energy to use, that’s why I’m staying in right now.”

“That’s alright. Now… the viewing audience really wants to know one thing, what is it like dating Endeavor!?” The audience makes a collective ‘oooooOOOOoooo!!’ In excitement at this question.

“Well, no one has ever made me feel the way he does. I really do love him. I never thought I would ever find happiness, let alone from the number 2 hero. We do have our ups and downs but we always make sure to communicate and never go to bed angry.”

“That sounds sweet, and is it true you meet at the crossing bombing?”

“Yes, I passed out after I stopped the bomb and he saved me. Since then, my life has only gotten better.” The audience awws.

“When did you start dating?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Oh, come on, tell me. You can tell me anything. I already know everything about you.”

“Wait, what?” You look up then see what’s wrong. The woman has been replaced with the smiling man. You stand up in shock and try to walk back but are stopped by a wall that appeared behind you. The audience is gone, it’s just you two now.

“I know your power. I created you, raised you.”

“YOU TORTURED ME FOR YEARS! How is that raising me?!”

“I gave you power, showed you your true potential.”

“You took everything from me! You Bastard!”

“I didn’t take anything from you that you needed. Family just holds you back.”

“But I love Enji, I love the children.”

“And they fear you. They don’t love you; they only want to think they love you so you don’t kill them. He knows how many you killed, how many lives you took. Just imagine if his children find out who you really are.”

“SHUT UP! Just shut up!!!” You begin to go on your knees, clenching your head to drown out his voice.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Enji starts shaking you to try to wake you from your nightmare. Not even his quirk is able to appease the dark visions. You are startled awake and see Enji’s face, inches from yours with concern all over it. He sees your eyes are glowing red and you try to speak but you cover your mouth and bolt to the bathroom. You open the toilet and start violently vomiting a glowing red liquid. “Damn it.” is all you say while getting sick.

“(Y/N), which one was it this time?” Enji says coming to the room with a bottle of water and a sympathetic look on his face.

“The interview….” you say between gags, gasping for breath. You manage to take a few sips of water from the bottle and you slump down against the tub, staring at the floor.

“Are you ok?”

“I think so…”

“I don’t think you are. This is the fourth time this month. Did your therapist say anything about this?” Coming to your side, he gently lifts you to your feet.

“He didn’t say much.”

“What do you think?”

“Zaheer says it might be a sign of trouble…. maybe something my mind is trying to warn me about.” You say as Enji lowers you to sit on the bed.

“Do you think he is out there looking for you.”

“I really hope he isn’t. I don’t know if I can handle losing you.”

“I’m never going to let anyone take you. Neither is Zaheer. Can we try to go back to bed? I don’t like seeing you like this and I don’t want you to be too tired going to UA in the morning.”

“Ok, just please do one thing for me.”

“Hmmm?” Enji wonders tilting his head.

You hug him tight and start to tear up a bit. He doesn’t have to think hard to realize what you are asking. He wraps his large arms around you and starts to heat up and whispers “Prominence Burn.” You sink into his embrace and calm down enough to fall asleep in arms. He just sighs and places you in bed and goes to bed himself.

In the morning, you are walking to AU. You are 36 and Enji will be turning 45 this year. It’s April now, a year before Shoto should be attending the school. Enji really is pushing the school to accept him but that’s not why you are going there today. Nezu asked to talk to both of you, but he didn’t say why. Enji says that’s just how he is normally but it still worries you what he is going to do.

As you enter the school grounds, students begin to stare with varying emotions on their faces. You don’t know which of you is causing it: the number 2 hero, the giant red demon, or you. Either way, it’s funny seeing the crowds of students in the hallways parting to let you move past. You see Midnight and she can’t help herself and hug you. She is the reason Enji was able to finally show his feelings for you, so you’re always happy to appease any of her actions. It takes a few minutes to get to the private office of Nezu, where you find him drinking tea patiently waiting for you.

(Y/N): “Sorry to keep you waiting, Enji thought he remembered where your office was.

E: “It was over 20 years ago, I thought I remembered. I do apologize for tardiness.”

N: “Don’t worry about it. I was just sitting here enjoying some tea. Would you like a cup?”

(Y/N): “As nice as that sounds, I just want to get straight to the point of why you called us here. I know it is not about Shoto, he can’t attend till next year.”

N: “Always so forward with you.”

Z: “He learned that from me.”

N: “Well then, I’ll just right to it. I have a proposal for you Hellboy. I wanted you to become a tutor.”

E: “I don’t mean to be rude to (Y/N) but he has no experience in this.”

N: “Let me explain. He has the ability to control people and their quirks.”

Z: “What does that have to do with tutoring?”

N: “Some of our students have a hard time reaching their true potential. Sometimes its mental, sometimes physical. When I saw you control Shoto at the festival and break him free of the demon’s control, I had an idea. What if you used that power to help students control their quirks?”

(Y/N): “I never thought of that. Honestly, I just did it in the moment, I didn’t even know I could control someone so completely. I thought it was only because of the spiritual energetic of the day. I can still do it but I need to make physical contact to gain that much control.”

E: “I don’t know about this. (Y/N) loses control sometimes and I have to be there to stop it.”

Z: “I can stop it too, but we need Enji’s quirk to stop him if things get too intense. Not even Eraser Head can’t stop him.”

N: “I have prepared all of the necessary steps to make this happen. I even have a room that can replicated the heat from Endeavor’s quirk to calm you down if needed.”

(Y/N): “I don’t know.”

N: “Why don’t we try a test run today. Try with one of the teachers. You have a connection with Midnight already, why not try with her.”

E: “I would feel more comfortable about that.”

(Y/N): “I’ll try, but if I don’t like this, I’m not doing it, got it?”

N: “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

After Nezu finishes the rest of his tea, you all head to a training room. Midnight meets you there and you both sit in the center of the room while the others stand against the wall. After a few moments, you both close your eyes and hold hands. After what feels like forever for Enji, Midnight’s eyes open. Her one eye is replaced with one of your black and red ones.

(Y/N): “I’m good.” You say from inside of Midnight

E: “Ok, that makes me uncomfortable.”

N: “Excellent. Try using her quirk. You can try it on Zaheer”

Z: “I didn’t agree to this.”

N: “We need a test subject and you’re the best one right now. Normally her quirk never works on you so maybe (Y/N) can make it work.”

(Y/N): “I don’t want to hurt her but I will try. Enji be ready if something goes wrong”

E: “Right” he says as his hands catch fire.

That moment you begin to pull at. Midnight’s suit to reveal some of her skin. A pink cloud starts to form from her skin and starts to pool around Zaheer’s face. He doesn’t look phased as he sneezes. That’s when you try to use her quirk more and start to push it. Blood starts to come from her nose as your concentration reaches its limit. The cloud starts to become more intense when Zaheer starts to look different. He starts to wobble a bit then suddenly hits the ground. You relinquish your hold on Midnight and return fully to your body. You rush to Zaheer who starts to come to as you put a hand to his face.

(Y/N): “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to make you hit the floor that hard.”

Z: “It’s alright. I know you were doing it for a reason and it did work.”

M: “Gosh, the energy flowing through me felt great, made me feel all warm and tingly!”

(Y/N): “I’m sorry I pushed your body that far.”

M: “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. I’m glad it worked.”

E: “Do you think this is a good idea to push students that hard. It might be too much.”

N: “With some tweaking we should be able to make it less of a burden on students’ bodies.”

(Y/N): “Can you at least give me a few days to think about it.”

N: “Just let me know your answer by the end of the week.”

E: “Thank you. We will be going now. You must be busy running the school.”

N: “You’re right about that, I have another meeting in a few minutes. Thank you for coming.”

All three of you leave and walk down the street together. Your patrol doesn’t technically start for another hour but you might as well get started now.

“What was it like inside of Midnight.” Enji asked with concern in his voice.

“It was strange, not crazy but strange. Not because it was her but being inside of another body, or at least control it. I can see and feel everything she does. I can read some of her thoughts but only what’s happening at the moment. It kind of feels like I’m dreaming.”

Z: “It sounds like the first time I was with you. But the more I fused with you, the more natural it felt and I could access your memories.”

E: “I don’t know if I like that. Does that mean the more you control someone, the more you possess them?”

(Y/N): “When you say it like that, I really don’t want to do this. I just like what I am doing now. The problem is that I think it is a good idea to help people. I don’t think doing one or two times with student is a bad thing but if I did it multiple times, I can see problems happening.”

E: “Let’s just think about it for the rest of the week, ok? I don’t want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable or puts others at risk.”

(Y/N): “Ok, now that that settled, can we go get something to eat. I can here Zaheer’s stomach from over here.”

Z: “Sorry, breakfast just wasn’t enough today.”

E: “You two are going to break the bank with how much you eat.”

You all laugh as you go save the day again. Nothing much happens the rest of the day but it feels good to help people. You still keep that offer in the back of your head as the day goes on, questioning if it is something that you should do.

Next Chapter

#A Hellish Encounter #endeavor x male reader #enji todoroki #endeavor #endeavor fluff #endeavor stan #endeavor mha #enji x y/n #enji x reader #mha enji #my hero academia enji

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oureuphoria · 5 years

Text

Worst of You - JJK 02

You meet him under horrible circumstances but that doesn’t stop you from developing a very abnormal and completely unsolicited crush on your local hot police officer™. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. Oh, and he has a lifetime’s worth of emotional baggage at 23.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know that you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2,083

Note: I am actually not American so if I depict the American school system, police system or any system incorrectly then I am really sorry!

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

You awaken from your not-so-graceful sleep only to see that it was 1:50pm and you had overslept. Oversleeping was very a common thing for you because you often forgot to set your alarms. You’ve trained your body to wake up at specific times from your unchanging routine which is why you were awake, minutes before your meeting with the goddamn Officer and very much not ready. You rushed out of bed with so much force that your self-induced blanket burrito rolled out onto the floor where you laid limply, regretting the brute force you had gotten up with. However, you didn’t learn anything from your mistake and continued with that same force towards the bathroom only to hit your bathroom door square in the face.

You made it on time, looking somewhat presentable (you tried your best in the compressed time limit). Alex offered you a ride which helped unbelievably because you were incredibly late. You speed-walked to the front counter wand asked the secretary where to go. She looks at you plainly and before replying with much annoyance. “Officer Jeon instructed me to refer a message to you. The perpetrator confessed to the crime late last night and the case has been closed, we will no longer been needing your time.” Oh. Your heart began to sting a little at the realisation that you will never see the officer again but the realisation that you were free overpowered the pain. You smiled while walking towards the door but your happiness was short-lived. You spotted the attacker, hand-cuffed. You locked eyes for the second time although they seemed a lot less manic.

He didn’t recognise you, that was clear enough but you knew you’d never be able to forget him and that thought scared you. Enough so to leave you frozen in the middle of the station. You stood there for what felt like an eternity before an officer shook your shoulder. “Are you okay?” You didn’t really look at her before nodding, a smile on your face as you thanked her a sped out of the building. You walked back to your dorm with only one thought on your mind.

_______________________________________________

Morning classes were a bore and you often found yourself reciting the entire script of a movie instead of writing notes. You looked concentrated and teachers never noticed so it never really harmed anyone, except your GPA of course. It had been just over 2 weeks since you became the hottest news on campus and it blew over quite quickly. The buzz was bound to return though because the student who was attacked, William, was set to return to school that day.

You were fired from your job at the store (because apparently hiring college students was problematic) which meant you had to spend your weekend tutoring privileged high schoolers instead. It was a Tuesday and you were at lunch when William approached you with a light tap on your shoulder, you removed your earphones from your ear and turned to face him but the moment your eyes landed on his face you could feel your lunch creeping back up.

You were too scared to approach him yourself so you left a get-well-soon card and a teddy bear for him at the hospital which you assumed was why he was there. “I just wanted to thank you for that night, who knows what would’ve happened if you didn’t call the police when you did.” You smiled but it was half-hearted. Your mind was filled with a quiet chant of ‘it should’ve been me’ every time you saw his face. “Honestly, it’s fine, I’m glad you’re okay.” You awkwardly gestured a thumbs up which was meant to be reassuring before you put your earphone back in and went back to your sandwich. Trying to shut up before you embarrassed yourself further ended quickly when he tapped your shoulder lightly again.

“I’m sorry to bother you again but I was kind of wondering, did you know him? You know the student who…” “No, sorry I didn’t.” You answered quickly because you wanted the conversation to be over as soon as possible but you might’ve come off as rude. You noticed a glint sadness in his eye, a need for closure, a need to know he did nothing wrong. “I don’t think he had a motive for doing what he did to you though. From what I know, you’re a nice guy, I mean your hospital room had flowers everywhere.” He chuckled a little before furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“You visited?” It was just then that you remembered that you had forgotten to sign the card. “Oh! Yes, I left a bear there it was pink, kind of ugly but it was the best thing the gift shop had. It was either that or a Giraffe that said ‘it’s a boy!’” You were rambling, you knew that much but you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. “Thank you, for everything…” “Y/N.” “Right, Y/N. Maybe we can get coffee sometime or something?” You gulped while in deep thought, you weren’t sure if you could ever make it up to him but you were willing to try. “Sure!”

Once he left, you stared back at your deflated peanut butter sandwich before poking at the stale bread. “Ah, fuck it.” You threw away your crusty sandwich and walked to the nearby cafe which you often avoided like the plague during lunch hours because it was bustling with students. That day was an exception, you needed carbs and you needed them stat. You walked into the cafe, ready to order cheesy fries when you saw him. Officer Jeon. You cursed under your breath and allowed yourself to stare a little. You knew officers often came here since it was around the station but you had never seen him there.

You were waiting in line while he sat down with 2 of his co-workers. You watched them pick up the menus and discuss what they wanted to eat. You were invested in staring until a loud voice startled you. “Next waiting.” That was your cue and you almost missed it staring at the Officer with obvious heart eyes. You held the little table number concoction in your hand as you made your way to sit in the far corner seat where you always sat. But you didn’t go as unnoticed as usual. The incident was still fresh news for the a few students even though it had been 2 weeks. Some students thought you were a hero while others remain confused because “does she even go here?” But the majority never really cared about you but stared anyway because that was the way society worked. You sat and slowly retracted into a small ball of dismal anxiety while you waited for your cheesy fries to arrive.

“Hey isn’t that the awkward kid that you questioned, Jeon?” The officer parallel to him asks loudly, clearly pointing at you which made you retract into the corner even further. “Oh yeah I saw her at the station, poor thing she looked so helpless.” To make matters worse, the woman next to him was the one who checked on you at the station. To top off the embarrassment, Officer Jeon turned around to look at you right when you accidentally smashed your toe on the edge of the table while trying to grab your bag. You winced and chanted “ow, ow, ow, ow,” until you abruptly stopped after realising you were being watched by 3 amused officers.

You managed a small smile and a wave before you grabbed your laptop from your bag and tried to distract yourself from the major discomfort you had endured. Everything went well for a collective amount of 37 seconds before the man you found intimidatingly attractive sat on the seat opposite yours. You peeked over your laptop a little because for some reason you believed that if you couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see you. However, his tall physique allowed him to clearly see you crouched behind the laptop screen. “Hey.” You feigned a smile and pretended to not be completely disturbed by his presence. “Hi.” You squeaked back before internally slapping yourself for sounding so timid but unfortunately your handbook on social interactions seemed to lack a chapter that covered ‘how to talk to attractive police officers who you are low key crushing on but can never be with for longer than 2 seconds without combusting into a nervous mess’.

“How’s everything going? I heard you visited the station looking a little scared.” You chuckled nervously, your laugh becoming slower and slower before dissipating into an awkward silence. “You see, that wasn’t me that was just someone who happened to look a lot like me. You know, me and my common face.” These were moments you wished you could forget because your communication skills were frankly astonishing. However, instead of worrying over your inability to make small talk, he laughed. Officer Jeon laughed at something you said and it was super fucking cute.

“You know Y/N, you’re really…unique?” You held back a snort as you laughed under your breath. “You seem so shy and timid but you looked like you were going to bite my head off at the station.” You started violently chugging your water down, this time for far too long because you didn’t want to reply. “Well, you see I was very…dehydrated? And you know what dehydration can do to someone.” You were never a very good liar which proved to be an important skill in times like such.

He curved his eyebrow at you questioningly but didn’t care to press further, soon after the waiter came with your cheesy fires. You thought it would be rude to eat in front of him so you just stared at the bowl quietly. “Aren’t you going to eat?” “Yeah I was just waiting for it to cool down.” You awkwardly crouched to slowly blow on your cheesy fries which just made him stare at you amusingly. “You’re a weird kid, Y/N. I’ll get going now, it was nice catching up.” You nodded before William crossed your mind. You lunged forward to tug on his sleeve to stop him from leaving. “Wait, do you think you could um, tell me what happened with the case?” “Meet me here tomorrow at 5 and I’ll tell you what I can.” And with that, he left.

“And thEN HE LEAVES, HE JUST LEAVES ALEX, DOESN’T EVEN GIVE ME HIS NUMBER, OR EVEN HIS FIRST NAME?!?” You angrily protested to your friend who was more interested in her phone than the conversation. “Hey, Alex, are you even listening?” Your question fell on unhearing ears so you yelled again to catch her attention. “Alex!” “What?” She replied, a little annoyed but she didn’t push further at the sight of your glare. “I’m sure he was just leaving then because he had to, you know, special police business or something. I bet he’s into you, you’re adorable.” She ruffled the top of your head and you smiled bitterly. Compliments from Alex were normally out of pity and she had a lot to pity you for. She was prettier than you, nicer than you and uncannily good at socialising. This generally meant that whatever boy you were into, was into her.

“Is he really that cute? I need to meet him.” “No! I mean, I don’t even know his name, it’s not important. Don’t waste your time.” Your abrupt exclamation made you feel a little guilty. You’d never voiced your insecurities with Alex and yet you held her completely accountable which was entirely unfair. “Oh, alright. So, what movie are we watching tonight?” Her attention was trained on her phone again as she asked the question. She looked up at you suddenly with pleading eyes and you knew exactly what she wanted. “Just go.” You waved her off with your hand and she didn’t hesitate before leaving you to go to her room. You allowed yourself to melt into the couch as you moped over spending another Friday night alone again. “Wait, Alex! Can I come with you?”

#jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts

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finding-the-daylight · 4 years

Text

Twilight Headcanon: Everyone is a Thriving Adult (part 2). This one will be focusing on the Cullen family (since I started by writing about Edward and Bella). Part 3 will be about the wolfpack. If there are any other specific characters you’d like me to add in to this au, let me know. Also, I am very flattered by the comments asking me to turn this into a fic. Y’all are so sweet and it’s so appreciated.🥺💖 However, I am not gifted at writing dialogue or in story format, so if any of y’all wanna take this and run with it, feel free. That being said, here we go. I’m putting it below the break because it’s long af. They’re a big family.

Carlisle Cullen’s backstory remains largely the same. The biggest difference is that he was the head pastor of a church and he had leading vampire hunts on his own for quite a few years. He had lived to be 40 years old, so as far as his society was concerned, he had already lived a good, long life (the average life expectancy was 35-45 years during this time). However, during a hunt, he was turned the same way he was in the og Twilight story. Waking up, though he was disgusted with what he was, he realized he had a tremendous gift - he was no longer limited by a short life. Despite his fear of what this may mean for his eternity and afterlife, he was determined to use all the time he had been given to help others. It took him about 100 years, but after he got his thirst under control, he began to practice medicine. Due to his vampirism, he was able to work with medical professionals from varying cultures throughout the world. This allowed him to create many medical breakthroughs that no mere mortal could. Often, research would be published under the name of a student-in-training he was working with as to protect his identity, but he continued to learn. Though he did feel lonely at times, he didn’t feel the need to create a coven of his own. He only began to when asked and when it became a personal matter. In present day of this au (where Edward and Bella have already met as mentioned in part 1), Carlisle and Edward consistently work together to bring about advancements in medicine. He is the lead doctor at Forks Hospital and he works with some of the most prestigious universities (under a pseudonym of course). He also donates large sums of money to help set up volunteer hospitals where patients in need can receive free healthcare (because healthcare ain’t cheap in the US).

Esme and Carlisle meet for the final time when she’s 40 and that’s when he turns her. In their time apart (she and Carlisle ran into each other several times throughout her human life), Esme began working and earning her own income. She worked as an artist and sold paintings. It didn’t generate amazing income, but it was good enough. On the side, she held writing classes and worked as a tutor. The last years of her human life were some of her best. She ran into Carlisle at the hospital where he realized she was sick. He then, with her permission, turned her. The two began to fall in love almost immediately and Esme didn’t mind being a vampire as she had lived a decent life (her loving husband [this is my au and nothing bad happens here let me have this please lmao] had passed on and her child had grown and moved out) and would now have eternity to accomplish even more.

Y’all already know about Edward, you got that in part 1. His mom asked Carlisle to change him when he was sick except he was 28 and not 17.

Rosalie deserved better and I hate basically everything about how she was written so this is my au. Rosalie’s parents were always trying to set her up with one man or another, but she wanted to become educated and live a life of freedom. She wasn’t opposed to marriage with someone she truly loved, and she liked the idea of a family, but only if it was with the right person. This led her to distance herself from her family and make friends with the neighbors two doors down. Rosalie was actually close to the Cullen family prior to Carlisle turning her. She and Edward got along cordially, she was 25 when they first met. There was no attraction between the two and Carlisle was well aware. At this point, all three vampires had extreme control of their bloodlust and enjoyed having the company of this bubbly human. She always had a smile on her face and viewed Esme as a second mother. During the day, Rosalie would sip tea and paint with Esme in the garden. Though she knew she would probably never end up working, she was always interested in Carlisle’s work and the two often studied together. After spending so much time with the Cullen family, Rosalie figured out what they were. She told them, and unfortunately, Carlisle had an upcoming visit with the Volturi. Aro, having his gift, demanded that the girl be changed. Rosalie was absolutely heartbroken, but trusted Carlisle immensely. She mourned her human life, but knew she would at least having a loving family after being changed. Thus when she was changed, she felt like she belonged in the family and it was never for Edward’s benefit. Though she didn’t exactly love being a vampire, she loved her family and that was what mattered most. This is also why she was so angry with Edward for bringing Bella around. As much as she loved the Cullens, Rosalie didn’t want Bella to be faced with the same dilemma. Had it been an option, she would’ve still chosen to stay human, but she’s nowhere near as upset as canon Rosalie because she enjoys the perks of her new life (unlimited education, being viewed as an equal by her family, supernatural abilities to help others, etc). AND when she was changed, it was because her family loved her and for no other reason.

Emmett’s backstory I’m also not really going to get into too much because I don’t know much about him as a character (we were robbed). Same thing though, he’s in the same age range as Rosalie. Emmett loved hunting and lived for the thrill of the chased. Aside from this, he studied biology with a special focus on zoology. The man basically loved studying how animals work. Rosalie found him after the bear attack and took him to Carlisle because she had never seen someone so hurt before. Carlisle rescued him and that’s that.

These are all of the backstories I wanted to touch on for the Cullen family. Basically I wanted to make life better for the characters and get rid of the sexism.

#Twilight #Twilight renaissance #my headcanons #shitposts

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save-the-spiral · 4 years

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Wiztober Day Eleven: Darkness

Welcome to day eleven of Wiztober! One character is pointedly not named. I don’t like writing down or coming up with deadnames for trans characters, it makes me extremely uncomfortable (though they are misgendered, it’s from the perspective of people who don’t know they’re trans, or the character themself doesn’t know they’re trans). My first time writing more about actual cultures, and also a trans femme character more in depth. Feel free to send an ask and correct me if need be. (ALSO. I can explain the names in another post. the intersection of culture and gender comes into play). My content warning are specific but! they need to be. Sorry if it’s awkward! some things would be specifically upsetting to me if faced with them out of the blue, and I’d like to note them.

Content warnings for perfectionism forced upon children from their parents, physical and verbal bullying, ableism (towards a ‘weird’, not openly autistic person), chronic pain mention (endometriosis), attempted murder, injury mention, and like, two lines of implied racism, though it could be interpreted otherwise.

(link to prompt list)

Quyen and Phuong Jade were close siblings. Born only a year apart, Quyen was a good older brother, going out of his way to protect his two younger siblings, but with a soft spot for his sister Phuong. In the beginning they were three sons from a good, ‘normal’, Vietnamese family, even with an adopted youngest child. Now Quyen, Phuong, and their younger brother were wizards, and not all of them were sons, and they had left their home on Earth behind years ago. They had all left their names as well.

Quyen chose Celyn, and Phuong went by Morelle, and they chose the last name Jade together. Quyen was thirteen, Phuong twelve, and their younger brother ten. This youngest brother didn’t get input as to their new last name, and his first name was already western, given by parents he never knew. He saw himself as an afterthought most of the times, the adopted baby to be taken care of as Quyen and Phuong acted like twins, mischievous yet hard working together.

Celyn was eighteen, now. He never faltered when responding to his western, fake name. He was a year ahead of Morelle, and yet she spent more time helping him with his homework in their study sessions than the other way around. Morelle was also taller than him now, a consistent point of good-natured ribbing.

He was still supportive and protective, though his brother had insisted on being given space in his moodier teenage years, now fifteen with a steady girlfriend and a need to prove himself. So Celyn gave him distance, checking in sometimes but always being pushed further away. Morelle insisted that their brother needed to find his own friends, find himself, because although he seemed ungrateful, he still loved his siblings. They had to. They would always be family.

Morelle was seventeen, and even more outspoken and strong than before. She still had dragged Celyn with her to (almost) every doctor’s appointment as she transitioned, genuine when she looked him in the eye and said she needed someone to know, and care. Celyn already cared, and he found rare books on the magic used to help in her transition, and left them in her dorm.

Celyn always loved rare books, and had a skill for finding them.

That, one could suppose, is as good a start as any, though it goes back two years ago.

Celyn had been given a tip by a grateful acquaintance about where he could find rare, even forbidden, books in Wizard City. Just had to have the right key, and go behind the right waterfall, and be prepared to pay the price if caught.

Since he was sixteen Celyn had been sneaking into Nightside, slipping between abandoned streets and alleyways in the dead of night, wearing a dark cloak, carrying a dagger, maybe being a bit too dramatic. He had found some of his best finds in empty houses and bookstores, and even once grabbed a tome from the library, though that felt too actually criminal for him to attempt again.

At first it was just extra reading material, he and his siblings were all great life wizards, but they could always be greater. They strove for perfection as children back on Earth, and even now without parents to scold them, they still felt a frantic need to be the best, the kind that left them pulling all-nighters and waking up in a panic over tests already taken..

Morelle was fifteen when she started tutoring a pretty girl in life magic. The girl was known around school as quiet to the point of unnerving, never getting social interactions right, so the myth wizard had been labeled as ‘weird’ by the majority of people and written off as smart but too freaky to befriend. Morelle, who looked at this girl and couldn’t help but blush, who found her intriguing now that she noticed her, was thankful she had been assigned to tutor her.

Morelle and Morae became quiet study partners after that. Morelle came to Celyn for help with her rapidly growing need to get to know the girl, to speak to her and find a way to connect where no one else had tried before.

Celyn decided to find some esoteric myth tomes for Morelle to give to her new friend. That was when he found a book on Shadowmancy.

He kept the strange, unique book, shoving it under his homework an interest to pursuit later. He passed on the myth spell books and Morelle came back later, gushing about how Morae was from Earth like them, though on the opposite side of the globe, and then she said more and more until Celyn realized it indeed was a crush.

Celyn met Morae. She was as quiet as rumors said, though there was a logic to it, and Celyn respected that. They both relished in a silent, calm environment, and both enjoyed having someone outgoing and wild like Morelle to pull them out from time to time. They rarely spoke, aside from Celyn giving Morae advice about wooing his sister, and Morae asking clarifying questions about Morelle and how to interact with others without coming off as always aloof, when in reality she was actually rather excited or happy.

Something Morae was startlingly quick to divulge was that she was in nearly constant pain, and kept a blank face as a habit so she wouldn’t scowl at everyone. Then, she would forget to smile. When asked further, she just shifted, pressing a hand to her lower back, and muttered that it was chronic, and even magic didn’t have a cure, so she took standard medication imported from Earth.

Celyn wasn’t one to adopt others as friends quickly. That was Morelle’s forte. But something about Morae opened up his heart, and while his brother pushed him away, he felt like he was gaining a second sister rather quickly. He answered Morae’s questions, he kept and eye out for interesting books Morae would like. He even picked up food for her to try, although she was quick to dismiss things with unpleasant textures, it was something he did to add variety to her life, as she admitted living by routine was soothing, but sometimes monotonous.

It was a month or so later that Celyn actually delved into the book that had gotten lost in his shuffle of books and homework. Shadowmancy was interesting. It spoke of other schools of magic Celyn had never heard of before, ones concerning the Moon, the Sun, and the stars. Some part of him burned with a cold resentment that such lost knowledge was buried in abandoned shops and homes, that it could have been lost to time, even though students would always be eager to discover and learn a new school. He had to know more.

As Morelle grew closer to Morae, Celyn fell into isolation, only studying for school, and for this new magic he had found. Months passed, and the only times he left his dorm were for class or seeking out more books in Nightside’s forgotten corners, then dropping off books for Morae and Morelle during group study nights.

Things progressed. Now, Celyn is eighteen. Morelle and Morae are seventeen.

Celyn would graduate in a few weeks’ time. Morelle and Morae had been dating for half a year, still tentative, barely doing more than some adventurous hand holding in public.

The world shifted when Morae showed up to one of Celyn, Morelle, and Morae’s group study sessions with a bruised face, and couldn’t speak. Morelle instantly went to her girlfriend’s side, emotional but trying her hardest to not raise her voice or cry herself.

Celyn sat there, watching it happen, and felt like he was grinding his teeth into dust. Anger surged, as if someone flipped a switch inside him, and his usual pleasant and sometimes coy demeanor became nothing. His face was devoid of emotion, his green eyes, something so different from his siblings’ plain brown, were dull.

He saw nothing but the shadows, and the shadows saw him. Life magic had no solution for this aside from soft words and healing spells. Shadow knew how to twist circumstances in one’s favor, how to change the game and make others regret.

Morelle told him the next day before a shared lecture. Morae had allowed her to confide in him, and so his sister told him that there were some very persistent bullies seeking a response from Morae. That they had been doing this for years, and were just now escalating to physical actions. After that day, he spent more time with Morelle and Morae, supporting them. She would show up to their usual meeting spots with a random bruise or two, insisting it was nothing. He was trying his best to remain calm and not lash out at the entire world for allowing harm to come to Morae.

Instead he watched, waiting, but still he felt tense. A bow string pulled past its limits, cold with righteous fury that must be sated eventually. He became less orderly, forgetting some of the last assignments in his school career, dressing in ink stained theurgist robes, no longer tying his hair back.

Morelle joked that they looked like twins more than ever, and Celyn grinned at that. Their sharp smiles were identical, and Celyn knew he could bring Morelle in on the only secret he had ever kept from her, if only from omission.

So on a night where Morae wanted to study on her own for myth school exams, Celyn invited his sister over. He showed her the books he had accumulated, hidden behind his driest, most boring textbooks. She was interested, downright fascinated, but only drawn to what Shadowmancy could do to make her a better healer and protector.

Celyn had been drawn the violence. He was always of the opinion that the best defense was a swift and ruthless offense. Morelle had a better sense of when to play fair, where he was more ruled by anger. He probably should have guessed what facets of this school she would find entrancing.

She knew this about him too, and vocalized it when she noticed how much fewer his books on healing and protecting were. Morelle simply teased him, smiling as if it was something as commonplace as her razzing on Celyn over his height. Celyn smiled back, and knew Morelle was better at predicting him than he was at reading her intentions.

Celyn even brought her along on a visit to Nightside, where she could scope out and pick books of her own, and they didn’t sleep that night. It was amazing, the adrenaline of a heist combining with the giddiness of their old mischief making them carry twin smiles.

They were not careful. They were seen.

Those who saw them knew who they were. Who their few other connections were. A distanced, adopted brother who was busy being dragged around by an overbearing girlfriend anyway, and wasn’t consequential. And then Morae, the same girl they had been harassing, that they were so keen on finally getting a reaction out of.

So that was how things came to a head. Threats were made to Morae about getting the only people who cared about her kicked out of Ravenwood. Morae was angry, very angry.

All her life, Morae had been passive. She was quiet, sensitive. A good girl back at home on Earth, who kept quiet and did everything asked of her, even when that meant failing school to take care of siblings, even when that meant smiling and pretending she didn’t understand the insults, even if she was fluent in English as well as her native Spanish. She was different no matter how silent she was, her large afro of hair and Vitiligo always easy to point out.

Then Morae was told she had to potential to be a wizard, to go learn fantastical things. She took the chance, because when she asked her parents, they said they didn’t care either way, and tried to guilt her, but she didn’t get that they were trying to guilt her, and so she just left. She cut her hair close to her skull, the texture finally no longer a constant pain just under her skin, and became a myth wizard.

And for years, she still acted the same. Quiet, passive. A good girl. Until she reached out and asked to be tutored in life magic. And she found someone worth being herself for.

Almost two years of being friends, almost six months of being girlfriends, and Morae had found her spine, confidence wrapping around her like a heavy, anchoring blanket. When threatened, anger rose up for the first time since she was very young. Anger made her fists clench around the strap of her school bag. It made her look up from her shoes. It made her pay attention and want to defend what was hers.

So Morae looked the bullies in the eye, standing at her full height of six feet, and scoffed. The eye contact was uncomfortable, but it was worth it for the bullies’ discomfort, as they noticed just how tall she was, how severe her face could look, even in the dappled sunlight outside the myth school. She told them she didn’t care, that they could bring it because nothing had worked yet, and she was getting bored.

Then she left, and within a minute she had interlocked her fingers with Morelle’s, and she kissed the girl on the cheek, spontaneous enough to leave them both giggling.

Morae told Morelle and Celyn about her confrontation that night when they were supposed to be studying, her eyes bright as she rambled on, open and honest and excited about this new development, as if it were idle yet juicy gossip, and not a serious threat.

Morelle knew Celyn was angrier than ever, though it was because he was scared, and he knew if they got caught it would be his fault. Morelle knew what kind of person Celyn was, and that her brother would take the punishment for the both of them if he could figure out how. And she wouldn’t let that happen, not when they could control the situation. In the past few weeks her studies in shadow magic pushed her towards thinking like this, and she found it very beneficial.

So Morelle, that night, told Morae about the school of shadow magic. Morae, who had already gone to the limits of her magical prowess mastering life magic alongside her first school of myth, was interested, but unable to learn it anyway aside from maybe a spell or two. Celyn, understanding what Morelle was going towards, helped her plan out what they were to do next.

What neither of them considered was that plans always fall apart the moment one comes in contact with the enemy.

And so this was where they were.

A day before graduation, and Celyn’s dorm was being searched after he was accused of attacking some students who may or may not have a reputation for bullying. He did attack the students, but it still felt unfair. Of course they found the shadowmancy books too, because Celyn didn’t exactly think things would get this far, and in his defense, he was eighteen, and thought a few stuffy textbooks would be a good cover for contraband. He was expelled, and then exiled, quickly and quietly. He was leaving through the Spiral Door before anyone knew what had taken place that morning.

Morae was missing. Morelle was frantic and looking for her, a lime green aura of powerful life magic fluttering around her, lighting up all the dark spots as she scoured everywhere one would expect Morae to be.

Someone, like a god damned serial killer, had slid a note halfway under Morae’s door sometime after Morae had searched her girlfriend’s dorm that morning.

It had just a location, and Morelle was on a warpath. If those who caused this, whoever Celyn had missed in his little vengeance mission, were still there, they would regret it.

Luckily for those people, they weren’t there. Morae was.

She had been thrown from the edge of Ravenwood, down into Nightside.

It was a gorey scene. If Morelle hadn’t been medically trained, she likely would have been unresponsive when faced with something so awful. She did all she could with her life magic, straightening broken limbs and bandaging open wounds, staring helplessly at obvious internal wounds. She even managed to conjure a stretcher, the fabric and wood a deep green, her magic too emotional to bother with proper colors as it glowed and levitated, illuminating Morae’s injuries in a sickly color.

Morelle ran as quickly as she dared, the stretcher following her, Morae’s breaths wheezing and shallow, filling the small cave entrance behind the waterfall when Morelle stopped for breath, in her mind trying to construct any plan.

There was no plan for this.

So Morelle walked out of the fine mist of water from the waterfall, using her magic to shield Morae’s body as the stretcher floated through. The busy students preparing for the graduation ceremony tomorrow stopped and stared from their places scattered about the Commons. Once shock turned to alarm, people began yelling and crowding around, more and more coming as they heard the others, and Morelle only got as far as the courtyard right before the tunnel to Ravenwood when she snapped.

Instead of lime green life magic, Morelle’s magic darkened. It became a forest green, still surrounding and shielding Morae, what little healing magic she had left being slowly fed into her body, trying not to overload her.

But around Morelle herself that forest green darkened further. She shouted for people to back off and clear the way, but still the crowd shifted, fellow theurgists offering their aid and conjurers offering faux sympathy after years of ignoring their peer, one of the best of them.

Then, ink falling into water, blood falling onto cobblestones, Morae falling into Nightside, Morelle’s ambient magic became a deep, unfathomable black. It absorbed light around it, filling out and circling like a predator, a deep chirruping hum of interest as it built a barrier.

Then Morelle’s shadow stretched, rising, holding a scythe she didn’t own yet. Shadow didn’t care for time, it knew who Morelle was.

And, as Shadow always does, it broke the rules.

There were limits to magic in healing, the potential to make magic spill over as if the wizard body was a cup and magic was water, and it was infuriating to many healers. Shadow could overflow, and still stay, all that magic anchored and solid, as if frozen and still rising, leaving bit by bit as the body absorbed it and truly healed.

Morelle’s hair rose, long black strands twisting and warping as she merged with her shadow, a sentinel and seraph in one form, armor clad in indigo and black, wings protectively curled where they became one with the barrier around her.

Next Morelle knew, she was in a daze, and it was the dead of night, and she was told of her expulsion, a key in hand as she entered the Spiral Door.

Next Morae knew, she was waking up as healthy as she could be, told of her girlfriend’s expulsion, and girlfriend’s brother’s exile. How those who were attacked by Celyn and those who she knew had thrown her off a cliff were getting off with no punishment for their bullying, or for their actual crimes of assault and attempted murder. And she was angry, and spiteful, but this time she was willing to wait for a better plan.

She would complete her last year of school in only months of time, and find her girlfriend. She would return to Wizard City one day, Morelle at her side, with a plan that wouldn’t fail.

So Morae smiled softly, if not a little tearfully, and quietly thanked the life student in the clinic who was known to rip up the homework of those he disliked. Morelle and Celyn had such interesting gossip from the secret hierarchy of life wizards.

There were many secrets in Wizard City. Morae would just have to find the right one to make Ambrose regret his choices. She would bide her time, but when the time did come, she would make eye contact no matter how painful, just to see that soft sparkle in Headmaster Ambrose’s eyes to fill with stark terror.

#wiztober2020 #writing #wizard101 #wizzy101 #wiz101 #w101 #morelle ravenhunter #morae ravenhunter #quyen jade #serpentine king #ocs #my ocs #wizard101 fanfic #wiztober #merle ambrose #i didnt expect this npc to be an asshole but. whoops i dont trust school authorities :)#like 100% feel free to come in my asks if i fucked up somewhere. this is un-beta'd only because i dont want to like. come at a friend #and be like HEY you're THIS MINORITY read my WIZARD101 FANFICTION

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