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evilmenenjoyer · 4 months ago

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Punishment

Pairing: professor Hwang In-ho x student fem!Reader

Summary: You find a creative, albeit unconventional way to get out of the trouble you're in at university.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sexual content (minors dni), age gap (legal, reader is implied to be in her early to mid 20s), spanking, corporal punishment, masochism, power dynamics, crying, unresolved sexual tension.

–––

You can tell something’s off the second you walk through the door, when your cheerful “Hello, Mr. Hwang!” is met with a short, courteous “good evening” from the professor.

It’s not rude. It’s not even particularly harsh. It just lacks the usual warmth you’ve come to expect from him, the tiny smile on his lips that always greets you.

Being called to see the strict Mr. Hwang In-ho after class usually meant bad news, leaving most students nervous about what they could’ve done wrong. But not you. You’ve lost count of how many times you stayed in this classroom for hours after class was over, discussing a book he had assigned for class or literature in general. Some days you’d help him grade tests and homework, when you noticed he had too much work on his back. And some days, the ones you cherished the most, you’d talk about things unrelated to class or literature – politics, your interests, your personal life. His personal life.

Saying you were smitten with him was the understatement of the century. You tried not to pay much attention to the crush you developed on him, hoping it would go away if you just ignored it for long enough, but it only seems to be getting stronger.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask, closing the door. It’s generally frowned upon for a student to be alone with a professor with the door closed, but Mr. Hwang never objects. The fact that he’s willing to bend the rules for you pleases you a little too much.

“Yes.” His tone is the same as before, not softening now that it’s just the two of you. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you wonder what is it that’s got him in such a bad mood, if something happened in his life. “I have something to show you.”

He pulls out a piece of paper, setting it on his desk facing you. You approach, your footsteps slightly more hesitant than usual around him.

“Do you recognize this passage?” he asks, pointing to the highlighted paragraph.

You lean in to read it, an analysis of the similarities between classic English and South Korean literature. You recognize it immediately.

“I wrote it. That’s from my latest assignment.”

“Yes.” He’s still not looking at you, rummaging through a pile of papers. Did he not like the assignment? The thought alone upsets you. You worked so hard on it; not only for the sake of keeping your straight-As, but also to impress him. Maybe even more so to impress him. “How about this one?”

He sets another sheet of paper in front of you, one of the paragraphs highlighted in his same blue marker.

As you read it, your stomach immediately drops. It’s your paragraph, almost word-by-word, with a few differences that are too minor to even count.

“This is from Emily Jones’s paper. I believe the two of you are friends.”

You want to find Emily and strangle her. You told her to change stuff and not just copy from you. Did she really think someone like Mr. Hwang wouldn’t notice? That he’d just let it slide?

“I was the one who wrote the original,” you say. “I didn’t–”

“Oh, I know that. I’m very familiar with your writing style, and Ms. Jones isn’t nearly as gifted as you. I knew something was wrong the second I read it.”

You could play the victim, say Emily copied from you without your knowledge, but you know instantly it wouldn’t work, not with Mr. Hwang’s dark eyes right on you. Even when you’re not in emotional distress, the man can read you better than anyone else.

“I’m sorry.” You lower your gaze in shame. “Emily needed help, and I– she’s in the same exchange student program as I am, I know how much she needed the grade.”

“You could’ve helped her study, not let her copy off you.”

“There wasn’t a lot of time. She came to me last-minute.”

He sighs. “Well, I will have to fail both of you.”

“What?” It should be expected, but the words still sting. He knows how hard you work for your good grades. “But my essay was good.”

“It was great. Worthy of an A, if only you hadn’t helped another student with plagiarism. In fact, both of you should be reported for it.”

“Mr. Hwang, please.” Your eyes are practically begging him for mercy, the pitch of your voice getting ever so slightly higher as your desperation grows. “I can lose my scholarship and my spot at the exchange student program. Do you want me gone?”

You can see something flash across his eyes – regret, maybe, or perhaps that warmth you’ve been missing since you walked in here –, just for a split second before they’re back to normal, even more hardened than before.

“Cheating was your choice, not mine. You should’ve thought of the consequences.”

“What if– what if I wrote a new paper?” you bargain. “For half the grade. I can get it done in just a couple of days!”

“The paper is not the point. The point is how my most promising student would waste her talent to help a classmate cheat, and betray the trust I put in her.”

The praise doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it fades away so quickly, like trying to hold on to smoke.

“It was a mistake. One that won’t happen again.”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. ____.”

You watch helplessly as he gathers the papers and organizes them back into a folder, the muscles of his arms tensed. He looks angry, but also upset. Disappointed. That sends you into an even bigger panic than a bad grade, or the potential of losing your spot at this university. It grows inside your chest, overwhelming, prompting you to say possibly the worst thing you could’ve come up with in this situation.

“What if I just take a whooping?”

He pauses. For a moment you’re both silent, still as statues as you process your own words, what you just asked for. Heat rises to your face so fast it makes you dizzy.

“What?”

You want to run away from this classroom. You want to go to the airport and take the next plane back to your country, classes and scholarship be damned.

However, now the words are already out, hanging heavy between the two of you. You can’t just back down, show him you spoke without thinking. You force yourself to nod, praying to the gods of every religion you know that your cheeks aren’t red enough that he can notice it.

“Yeah. It’s a good punishment,” you say. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not allowed. And because we are not in the 1930s.”

“You know in a lot of places corporal punishment in schools is still legal.”

“And Seoul isn’t one of them.”

“Please, Mr. Hwang.” You lower your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to rush to the surface. “I know what I did was wrong. But I’d never– willingly betray your trust. I just want to get my punishment, and for things to be back to normal.”

Above all, you want him to stop looking at you like he is right now. Like you’re just any other student, like he doesn’t admire you for your passion and intelligence. Like you haven’t been spending almost every evening after class with him instead of hanging out with your classmates, trying to make friends your own age. Like you don’t mean anything to him.

Mr. Hwang regards you for several long moments. You try to hold his intense gaze, to figure out what he’s thinking, but both tasks are impossible.

“Would you really put yourself through that for a grade?” he asks.

You shake your head slightly, but that stubborn determination doesn’t leave your eyes. “It’s not just a grade.”

His respect for you. The friendship you two have tentatively built over the past few months. That’s what you truly fear losing.

The seconds tick, stretching for so long it feels like torture. It’s so silent in the room you wonder if Mr. Hwang can hear how fast your heart is beating in your chest.

“Okay,” he says finally, sharply. “Fine.”

“Really?” You’re unable to keep the surprise from your voice, from your face, even though you try.

“If you think you can take it.” Something about his voice as he says it, the low baritone of it, sends a new rush of warmth to your body; this time descending directly between your legs.

“Of course I can.”

No, you probably can’t, and you’re well aware of that. But his words sound like a challenge, and a feeling claws at your chest – perhaps your pride and stubbornness, or simply embarrassment, or something else entirely that you’re not sure how to name – stops you from taking the words back.

“Alright then.” He gives a short nod, and you’re unsure if it was meant for you or for himself. “Bend over the desk.”

Why is it that a simple order for him makes your insides twitch like you’re about to pass out? Your legs shake as you take a step closer to his desk, looking down at the papers and folders neatly on top of it. Drawing in a breath, you bend your upper body down until your elbows touch the dark wood.

It’s only then that you notice your compromising position. Emily had joked with you about how the length of your skirts had gotten shorter with every visit to Mr. Hwang, and today’s pick was a plaid skirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination as it was. With you bending down like this, you can feel the fabric follow the movement, exposing even more of you to the professor.

The noise of his belt being removed only makes it worse. You shut your eyes, trying not to picture him letting his pants drop to the floor, trying not to think about how much you wish this is what was happening.

“Are you ready?” he asks, giving you one last chance to back down. You should take it.

You shut your eyes and nod your head. "Yes."

There’s a whistle in the air, and you let out a gasp as the first blow lands across your ass. Fuck. You’d seen it coming, and the fabric of the skirt absorbed much of the impact, but it still spreads the first hints of pain over your skin. Another blow directly under the first one, exactly where it should be. You clench your jaw, your mind flying back to childhood memories, to the last spanking you received at eleven years old – well over a decade ago, and yet you feel much more helpless now, a third blow of the belt making you jump in your spot.

The next one breaks the pattern, hitting on a diagonal angle right on top of the other three. It’s harder than the others too, sharper, slicing even deeper into your already stinging skin. You cry out, unable to hold it back, unable to catch your breath in time not to cry out again when the belt comes down on your ass one more time.

He sets a rhythm of harsh, punishing blows. They’re precise and calculated, deliberate, like he really means each and every one of them. Of course he does – when Professor Hwang sets his mind to something, he doesn’t quit until the job is done, down to the littlest details. And right now, he seems intent on making sure no spot of your ass is left untouched by the belt. He gradually picks up speed, until you’re unsure when one strike ends and the next begins.

It fucking hurts. It hurts so bad you don’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed when the fabric of your skirt slides up and out of the way, leaving your bottom and your underwear exposed to him.

The pain is even worse when the leather belt makes contact with your bare skin; sharp and blazing hot, like he’s setting fire to you. You’ve bitten the inside of your lip hard enough to draw blood, but that doesn’t stop the sounds being ripped out of you, whimpers and cries and something that sounds way too close to Mr. Hwang’s name.

He pauses, his breaths heavy behind you. You collapse against the desk, elbows no longer strong enough to keep you propped upwards. With your ear pressed against the surface, you can hear your own heard that thumps wildly inside your chest, all your senses concentrated into a single point in your body.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks.

His tone isn’t judgmental, but your mind still echoes his words from just a few minutes ago: if you think you can take it. You’re not giving up now.

“I’m fine,” you snap, way too breathless for the statement to have any real impact, although your stubborn defiance is certainly there. “Just fucking finish it.”

His hand, warm and broad, finds its way in between your shoulder blades. He leans in, puts his weight into it, keeping you firmly pressed down over the desk. For some reason, your instinct isn’t to squirm away but to push into the heat, but you can’t move much one way or another under his grip.

“Then stay still.” His voice is so much closer to you, making you wish you had the strength to lift your head up and chase for his eyes.

Half a breath after the words are out, he strikes you again; this time with his other hand.

You sob and buck against the desk, the legs of it scraping against the floor. You can’t tell if his palm is better or worse than the belt. The pain isn’t as biting, but it’s broader and warmer, sending more fire into your already burning flesh. And it’s then that you realize you’re pushing into it, arching your back as best as you can, tilting your ass up to meet the assault. Basically offering it on a silver platter, presenting it to him and his ferocious, punishing hand.

And you’re wet.

You can feel it soak your panties, so much that you’re sure Mr. Hwang will be able to see a wet spot on them if he looks for it. Humiliated tears rise to your eyes, leaving you in a tumbling sob, desperately seeking relief but not wanting this to ever stop.

“M-Mr. Hwang.” The next strike hits you way too close to your core, the tiniest bit of friction that feels like heaven. You hiccup another cry, tears falling down and pooling over the smooth surface of the desk. “Please, I–”

You don’t even know what you’re pleading for anymore, but the word continues to leave your lips, over and over. His fingers come down hard over the sensitive spot where your ass meets your thighs, and you wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you – if he knows you’re on the brink of an orgasm just from this, that if he touches over you even for one second it might be enough to push you over the edge. He keeps going, alternates between one cheek and the other, his open palm covering as much skin as it can.

His hand travels down lower once again, warming your thighs to the same blistering heat as your ass. “God,” you breathe. You hadn’t noticed how hard your fingers are gripping the edges of the desk, your knuckles white, as if holding on could somehow save you.

He pauses again, and you can’t tell if you’re relieved or disappointed. You feel yourself throb inside your panties, wet and hot and neglected.

“Count them,” he orders.

You wince as his hand hits a sore spot, on top of skin that had already been hit too many times. “O-one.”

He lashes again and again.

“Two, three– fuck! F-four– fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t count anymore.” You’re unable to think straight at this point, unable to do anything other than cry and feel and want.

“God,” he sounds wrecked as well and you can’t understand why; you’re the one who feels as if you’re fighting for your life. He watches you, and you can’t decide if you’re embarrassed at your own state, the tears on your face and your ass that’s probably bright red by now, exposed to the professor, or if you’re too desperate for a release to think about that.

“It’s okay.” His hand lands on your hip, but doesn’t strike you again. It only caresses, his touch feather-light and delicate, a stark contrast to the harsh blows. “You did good.”

The light touch is enough to make you moan, breathing a deep sigh of relief. His touch feels unintentional, like he’s mesmerized, not fully aware of what he’s doing as he simply as he tries to ease the sting from the spanking. But when he drops down to press a kiss to the back of your shoulder, his body heat enveloping you – that can’t be accidental.

You lean into his touch as best as you can, and that’s when you feel it; something hard press against your core through layers of clothing, his cock a perfect, undeniable point of heat against you.

Both of you let our a simultaneous moan when you rub yourself back against his length. You want nothing more than for him to split you open, to push into you without a warning, without giving you time to adjust. Not that you’d last a long time, but you’d let him keep thrusting into you, having his way with your body until he was satisfied.

His hand slides under your bodies, inside your underwear.

“In-ho,” you sigh, a weak sound.

The sound of his name seems to pull you from whatever trance he’s stuck in. He stops, fingers just inches from your clit, like he’s only just realizing he’s on top of a student in his classroom. You try to lift yourself up, to rub against him again, but he doesn’t move.

He pulls away from you, and you feel like you could cry again in sheer desperation. Instead, you just stay there against the desk, wondering what the fuck just happened.

After a few moments, he lifts you up gently by the arms, turning you around to face him. He smooths out your sweater, but he doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

“You can go now, Ms. ____.”

You look at him in disbelief – first at his face, then at the tent that’s still very much apparent at the front of his pants.

“But–” you stammer. “Don’t… don’t you want me to–?”

He’s back in professor mode, organizing his papers that had turned into a mess. Still not fucking looking at you. His hair, usually neatly combed back, is now all over the place, and he looks like he’s about to break down himself.

“I’ll take care of the… assignment issue,” he says. “Go back to your dorm. It’s getting late.”

You don’t dare to disobey, even when tears rush to your eyes once again. Maybe it was all just about the assignment to him, and you got it all wrong. Or maybe – the thought hurts before it’s even fully formed in your mind – he regrets everything you’ve done.

It’s a short walk to your dorm, and you’ve never been more grateful that your roommate is not around. You throw yourself into your bed, hissing as your ass lights up in pain. It brings up all the memories back at once; the crack of the belt in the air, his warm hand stinging on your skin, the outline of his cock pressed against you.

You’re still soaked when you bring your own hand past your skirt and into your panties, not bothering to actually take them off. Two fingers slide inside, instantly finding a spot that melts your insides and makes you clench around yourself. Your other hand grips your own hip, intensifying the pain there.

“Mr. Hwang,” you moan, just to say it out loud. Your thumb brushes over your clit, just a hint of a touch and you’re gone, coming so fucking hard around fingers you do your best to pretend are his instead of yours, just at the thought of him doing this to you.

You come down slowly, so dazed you can barely open your eyes, but it doesn't bother you. Your ass has gone from searing hot to a dull, lingering ache, sure to keep you hurting for days to come. Good. You fall asleep thinking about it, thinking of his voice and his hands on you, trying to live in those moments for as long as you can.

#hwang inho x reader #young il x reader #the frontman x reader #hwang inho x you #the frontman x you #squid game x reader #lee byung hun x reader #my fics

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lovegoodlane · 7 months ago

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Pursuing the Prefect- 3

3.7k words

Warnings: mentions of sex, teasing, oral sex [female receiving], fingering

Summary: Fred and his prefect continue to grow closer, but their relationship grows tense when he suggests a public date (soft Fred, dom (ish) Fred)

Author's note: Here's another part! I'm trying to build up a storyline in case y'all want this short fic to continue. Enjoy <3

Link to part 1, part 2

----

Another week at Hogwarts had passed. You had spent a bit of time with Fred, sneaking kisses in empty classrooms and even spending Saturday night curled up on a blanket at the quidditch pitch. It was nothing official yet, but you were enjoying getting to know him.

It was already Thursday. The weeks were passing by in a blur. As a Sixth Year, you were focused on studying as much as you could before taking the entrance exams for an Upper School program in potions. It was difficult to get in, so you spent much of your free time cramming as much information into your brain as possible.

You walked to dinner with Cho and Beatrice, chatting about the Winter Ball coming up next month. Beatrice had been talking your ear off about Oliver Wood for the past week, and she was hoping that he would ask her to be his date.

"He's so dreamy," Beatrice swooned. "If he doesn't ask me to be his date, I might use a curse on him."

"Do you talk about anything other than Wood?" Cho snapped, clearly annoyed.

Cho's relationship with Cedric Diggory had been on the rocks. She had a bit of a jealous streak, and watching other girls fawn over Cedric got on her nerves. They'd been arguing about it nonstop for the past month.

"Cho, leave her alone," you said defensively. "She's allowed to be chuffed about Wood. You were the same with Diggory. I get that you're brassed off, but that's not Bea's fault."

Cho glared at you, huffing. She knew you were right. "Who are you going with? Seems like Adrian is your only option," she said, veering the conversation topic away from herself.

"I'm definitely not going with Adrian," you said empathically. "I don't need to have a date, I'm not worried about it."

"Maybe Fred will ask you," Beatrice teased, nudging you. "He seems pretty fond of you."

"I'd rather go to the ball with a toad than Fred Weasley," Cho asserted.

"Godric Cho, pull the stick out of your arse, will you?" you said, clearly irritated with her.

You still hadn't filled Cho in about your situation with Fred. The only thing she would do is make snarky remarks and tell you that it's a bad idea. She was too worried about her squeaky clean reputation to see any value in associating with the Weasley twins. It pissed you off.

"I think I'm actually going to skip out on dinner, I'll grab something from the kitchen elves later. I want to get a start on my Potions assignment," you said as you had reached the Great Hall.

It was just an excuse to not have to sit through dinner with Cho. You could barely stand her recently, and taking some space felt like a good decision.

Beatrice squeezed your hand in a goodbye, and Cho only shrugged and rolled her eyes. You turned to head for the library, wanting some peace and quiet after dealing with Cho's attitude.

You were only paces from the library when you ran in to the Weasley twins.

"Hey birdie," Fred greeted you. "Heading back into your abyss?"

"My abyss?" you questioned.

"The library," he said matter-of-factly. "They should give you a cot so you can sleep there, would save you a trip to your dormitory."

"Have you two even seen the inside of the library? Or do your pranks occupy too much of your time?" you asked, crossing your arms and jutting out a hip. You raised your eyebrows at them expectantly.

George chuckled, enjoying the attitude that you were hurling at his brother. Very few people had the guts to stand up to Fred.

"You can show me if you'd like," Fred retorted, stepping closer to you. "Though I can't promise that I'll be much interested in doing homework, if you know what I mean."

You bit the inside of your cheek. These flirty showdowns were routine between you two, but somehow it was more embarrassing when someone was watching. Like George. But that didn't mean that you were going to let Fred win.

"I would be willing to tutor you again, Merlin knows that your grades need it," you said, closing the space between you and Fred. You reached for his tie, playing with the end. "It'll cost you, though."

George cleared his throat, an attempt at reminding you two that he was still there. It didn't matter though, both of you were locked in to this battle.

"Name a price, darling," Fred muttered, his hands ghosting underneath your robes and finding a place on your hips.

You looked up at him, trying to soften your gaze to appear innocent. You were going to put the nail into his coffin.

You stood on your toes so you could whisper in his ear. "I keep having a dream where you bend me over a desk in Potions class. That sounds like a sufficient payment to me."

You nipped at his ear before pulling away, grinning at him sweetly as if you hadn't just whispered something filthy in his ear. Fred stared at you, a slight blush in his cheeks in response to your words. He still wasn't used to your boldness.

"Are you two going to shag in the hallway or what?" George piped up, causing his twin to turn around and give him a slap to the chest.

"We were on our way to dinner. And I am still very hungry, in case you have forgotten," George said, directing his last sentence at Fred. It was a not so subtle reminder for him to keep things moving.

"Did you have dinner already?" Fred asked after giving George a glare.

"No," you responded. "I was going to get something from the kitchen elves later."

"Then why don't we do that," Fred proposed. "George, you can go on to dinner. I'm sure you won't miss me."

George shrugged and offered you a wave before he headed off in the direction of the Great Hall. You hadn't been intending to spend your evening with Fred, but you could think of worse things you could be doing instead. Like sitting through dinner with Cho.

"The kitchen elves love me," Fred said sarcastically. "You'll have to do your prefect sweet talking to get them to hand over the goods."

——

After getting some sustenance from the kitchen elves, you and Fred ended up back in his dormitory. He wanted to show you the music player that Hermione had gotten him for his birthday last year. It was Muggle technology, and he found it incredibly fascinating.

"What is it called again?" you asked as you settled onto his bed. You propped yourself up with a pillow, waiting for him to work the music player.

"I think Hermione called it a record player," he replied, fiddling with the machine. "You have to put these records on it to make it play music."

He held up a few of the records in his collection. To you, they just looked like big black discs.

Fred finally settled on a record and put it on the machine, adjusting the volume. It was something you had never heard before.

"This is from a band called Mother Mother," Fred explained. "Hermione says that they're pretty edgy."

He finally joined you on the bed, leaning up on the wall behind him. You both sat there listening to the music for a bit, content without conversation.

"I've been wondering..." Fred started, looking over at you.

"Oh no," you teased. You jokingly put your head in your hands.

"I haven't even said it yet, you git," Fred replied, pulling your hands from your face. You grinned at him, and he grinned back.

"I wanted to know how you started dating Pucey in the first place," he said.

You breathed out. You knew that Fred was curious about your relationship with Adrian. Everyone at Hogwarts knew that you were dating last year, and it took most people by surprise when they found out that you had broken up.

"Adrian's dad is my dad's boss," you answered. "We've gone on holiday together every year since we were kids. The summer before 5th year, he suddenly fancied me. That's pretty much it, I guess."

"That's it?" Fred questioned. "You didn't put him through trial after trial like you're doing to me?"

He flicked at your thigh, emphasizing his teasing.

"Adrian was different. I was younger then, less experienced. And no one had been interested in me before," you said.

"There's no way that can be true," Fred said, adjusting his position on the bed. "You've always been pretty. I'm sure lots of blokes have fancied you."

"If they did, none of them told me," you replied, letting out a dry chuckle. This topic was a bit of a sore spot for you. You had always felt like you weren't pretty enough, as you hadn't drawn the attention of the boys like some of the other girls at Hogwarts. But this insecurity subsided a bit as you got older. Who needed attention from a boy when you could have good grades?

You and Fred sat in silence for a moment. He seemed to be thinking about what to say next.

"Of all of the blokes at Hogwarts, you chose a Slytherin?" Fred asked, half joking and half serious.

You slapped at him. "I don't care what House someone is in. I dated Adrian because he fancied me, and I was tired of all of my friends having boyfriends. Adrian is smart, and he's good looking. And whether you like to admit it or not, he's cracking at quidditch."

"Cracking is a bit of an overstatement," Fred replied. "Did you even fancy Pucey then?"

You shrugged. "I liked the companionship. We had always been friends. It wasn't difficult to turn it into something more. And I wanted to keep up with everyone else at Hogwarts who was snogging and shagging anyone they could get their hands on. Adrian felt like a safe option."

"So it sounds like you never really liked him," Fred said, leaning his head on your shoulder.

"I liked him, but I didn't love him," you answered. "He really loved me. And I still feel bad about that. But I just....my heart wasn't in it."

"Is that why you broke up?" he asked.

"Part of it. He wanted things to get more serious. Slytherin pureblood families are really intense about dating and marriage, and he wanted to consider next steps. I wasn't ready, and I wanted to focus on academics," you said. "I didn't want to break his heart. And I know that he still really cares about me, but I'm not cut out for a life like that."

"What, you mean that you don't want to be the next Narcissa Malfoy? I can't imagine why not," Fred teased, poking at your side.

"Shut it," you replied, slapping at his hand. "I'm not made to be a pureblood trophy wife who pops out perfect pureblood babies. I want a career."

"That makes sense," Fred said. "You've got enough brains to do anything. So what would you want to do?"

"I want to go to Upper School for Potions," you said. Every time you talked about it, it sounded far away and impossible. "I don't know where I'll go from there. I could make potions for hospitals. Or maybe I'll teach, I'm not sure."

"You'll be cracking at teaching," Fred said, a smile stretching across his face. "My marks in Potions were way better when you tutored me."

A slower song started to play from the record player, and Fred popped up onto his feet. He extended a hand toward you.

"Dance with me?" he asked, giving you a wink.

You tried to fight the smile that started to spread across your lips, but it was too late. You accepted his hand, wiggling off the bed and joining him.

He guided you to the center of his dormitory, placing one of your hands on his shoulder and holding the other. His hand found its way down to your waist.

You began swaying together to the music. It was a bit awkward and clumsy at first, but after a bit, it felt romantic.

"Do you have a date to the Winter Ball yet?" Fred asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know," you teased him, squinting your eyes and scrunching your nose.

"I would actually, because I'd like you to be my date," he said.

"I'll have to think about it," you replied, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an easy "yes".

"What, do you need a grand gesture?" he asked, squeezing your hip. A lopsided grin was on his lips.

"The only thing I need is time to think about it," you replied, cocking your head slightly at him.

You leaned your head onto his chest, finally closing the small gap between the two of you. You stayed like this for at least one whole song.

"Birdie?" Fred said, a question clearly on the horizon.

"Yes, Fred?" you replied, your cheek still pressed against his chest.

"We don't have to talk about it if you're not ready, but it's something to consider," he started.

"You're making me nervous," you said, pulling back so you could look up at him.

"No, it's nothing to be nervous about," he soothed. "I wanted to talk about next steps. Y'know, what you're comfortable with and what you're not."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"Well....we seem to have a comfort level. We snog, mess around a bit. But I wanted to see how you feel about anything more," he said. "And I don't want this to feel like I'm pressuring you, I want to know so I don't overstep."

You could feel your cheeks heating up. Talking about sex in any context made you feel a bit flustered. At least Fred was being polite about it.

"Uhm...well...I'm not sure," you answered. "It feels like a big step."

"I know, birdie," Fred said, his hand moving to your back to rub soothing circles. "There's no rush. I want us to be able to talk about these things if we're going to keep seeing each other."

"Right..." you said, still feeling a bit sheepish. "I just...Adrian and I had sex, but that was only after he said that he loved me. I'm not sure that I'm made for casual hookups like some other people are."

"And that's absolutely okay," Fred replied. "I don't need to shag to know how much I like you."

You looked up at Fred. He was staring at you with those soft eyes again. His patience and willingness to communicate only made him more attractive to you.

You put your hands on either side of his face, standing on your toes to kiss him. His hands found your waist, pulling you in as close as possible.

Your kisses were sweet, and it felt like Fred was reassuring you that he didn't just see you as a shag. His feelings were genuine and his intentions were pure. Well....pure might not be the best word, but his intentions were good.

Your hands found their way down to his shirt collar, and you tugged at it. You pulled him back towards his bed, pushing him back onto it. You straddled him like you had the very first time you were in his dormitory.

He kept kissing you, his hands wandering up your thighs. Everywhere he touched felt like an electric shock, and you were dying for more.

"Freddie?" you said, interrupting your make out session.

"Yes?" he replied, a tad breathless.

"I need you to eat me out," you commanded, looking him dead in the eye.

Fred smirked. "Your wish is my command, birdie."

He flipped you on your back, propping your head up on his pillows. He resumed kissing you, biting at your lower lip while his hands gripped at your thighs.

Fred worked his way down, undoing your tie and unbuttoning your shirt in what felt like seconds. Your cheeks flushed as he took in your light pink bra. You hadn't considered that Fred would see you bra when you put it on this morning, otherwise you would have chosen something different.

"Pink? I love it," Fred commented with a smirk. He kissed along your collarbones and down to your chest, leaving a love bite between your boobs.

He made his way down to the top of your skirt. "I think the skirt is going to stay on this time."

His words were enough to make you want to clench your thighs together. He could feel your body tensing in desperation, so he graciously positioned himself between your legs.

Fred kissed along your thighs all the way down to your knickers. His fingers played at the waistband.

"You still want this?" he asked.

"Please Freddie," you whined.

He pulled your panties down your legs, tossing them onto the floor next to the bed. He worked your skirt up just a bit so he could see what he was doing.

Fred's tongue darted out, teasing you. You almost yelped, gripping onto the sheets to try to keep it together. You were so desperate for him that it felt embarrassing.

His tongue worked around your clit, purposefully avoiding where you wanted him most. He loved the whimpers that were coming out of your mouth. He knew exactly how desperate you were.

Fred squeezed your thigh with one hand and brought the other to your clit, rubbing circles with his thumb. His tongue worked its way down to your entrance, and your back arched off of the bed in response.

"You like that, darling?" he asked, pausing for a moment.

You only nodded in response, unable to get any words to come out. Fred resumed, his thumb playing with your clit and his mouth teasing your entrance.

He pulled his mouth off of you, dragging a long pointer finger down to your entrance.

"Is this okay?" he asked before going any further.

"Yes. Please," you answered, burning for his touch.

Fred's finger teased along your entrance before finally pushing it into you, a whine escaping your mouth. He worked it in and out slowly, kissing your thighs and leaving love bites.

"More please," you begged, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach.

Fred obliged, plunging another long finger into you. He picked up the pace, and you were rocking back and forth to meet his fingers.

A number of profanities fell from your lips as you chased your release. Fred was admiring the sight in front of him, relishing in finally having his fingers inside of you.

"Such a good girl for me," Fred murmured. "So gorgeous like this."

You moaned in response, so close to your release. Fred's fingers had found the trigger spot inside of you, and he pounded against it again and again.

You finally finished, your back arching off of the bed. Fred slowed his fingers, working you down from your high. He kissed the inside of your thigh.

"Fuck, you're perfect," Fred commented, admiring your form as you tried to catch your breath.

He kissed a trail down your thigh, nipping at your hip bones. He left another love bite just above your hip bone. He loved marking you up, and secretly, you loved it too. His marks were nothing that you couldn't conceal with a glamor charm when needed.

Fred returned to your center, licking a stripe from your entrance up to your clit. You groaned at the overstimulation.

"Think you have another one in you?" Fred asked, massaging your thighs with his hands.

"You're going to be the death of me," you replied, ruffling his hair with your hand.

"That sounds like a yes to me," he smirked, placing one more kiss on your thigh before returning his attention to your clit.

He alternated between sucking on it and playing with it with his tongue, driving you absolutely mad. Your nails dug into his scalp, urging him for more.

"Fuck Freddie," you whined.

You pulled at his hair, causing him to groan into you. Your hips started to buck up to meet his mouth, trembling at how sensitive you were after your first orgasm.

Fred was determined to make you finish again. One of his hands wandered up to your chest, sneaking under your bra. He pinched and played with your nipple, forcing moans and whimpers out of your mouth.

"Freddie...so close," you breathed out, struggling to form words.

Ten more seconds was all you needed to find your second release, trembling and whimpering as you finished. You panted in disbelief at the boy who was able to get you to finish twice. You had a hard enough time finishing once.

Fred kissed along your stomach, working his way back up to your mouth. He finally kissed you on the lips, and you gripped at his hair to pull him even closer.

He pulled back, grinning at you. "Good?" he asked.

"Don't even," you slapped at his shoulder, giggling at him.

His head came down to rest on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

"I want to take you out on a date," he stated, nuzzling further into the crook of your neck.

"Where?" you asked, still playing with his hair.

"There's a Hogsmeade trip this weekend, how about then?" he said, picking up his head to look at you.

"I'll have to think about it," you replied.

"You are going, right?" he asked, sounding almost confused.

"Yes," you answered. Not a single Hogwarts student would want to miss out on a trip to Hogsmeade. Not even you.

"Then why not?" he asked, pushing the issue.

You readjusted so you could sit up. Fred sat up too, putting his back against the wall behind his bed.

"I haven't told all of my friends about you yet," you admitted. "Spending time together at Hogsmeade would make us look like...well, a couple."

"And you have a problem with that?" he pressed on, sounding a bit hurt.

"No, well....I just like how things are now. It's private. It's just you and I without other people getting into our business," you said with a shrug.

"So you don't want people to know that you've been seeing me," he stated, turning his head so he wouldn't have to look at you.

"No, Fred," you replied, reaching for his hand. He pulled it away. "I'm just not sure that I'm ready for something so public after Adrian. I need a bit more time."

"You're willing to sneak around and hook up in my dormitory but you can't be seen with me at Hogsmeade?" he said, now very clearly upset.

"Fred...." you trailed off, trying to find something to say. You agreed, it did sound that way. But you just weren't quite ready for a public commitment. The whole school would be buzzing, and you liked to remain out of the spotlight when it came to gossip.

"Please, just go," Fred said, still refusing to look at you. You sat there frozen for a minute, absorbing his words. You quickly dressed yourself, pulling your robes on and grabbing your back pack.

You headed for the door, turning over your shoulder before you left. "I'm sorry, Fred," was all you could say before turning the knob and walking out.

----

Next part

#smut #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fic #fred weasley smut #fredweasley #harry potter #the weasleys #weasley twins #Fred Weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #wizarding world

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sugarverse · 7 months ago

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𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

thirdyear!izuku x bitchy!black reader

synopsis: Izuku and you are forced to work together for a midterm project, and you're bent on not helping the nerd finish it.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: words like slut, cumdump are used to be degrading but nothing too far out oc, a petty slap on the cheek and thats about it? could possibly also tag as dubcon just in case, enjoy!

Izuku has known you since a little before joining uni. He was invited to move in early under the honors program along with Katsuki. Other groups who were also invited to join early were fall athletes, greek sororities and fraternities, and people in majors that take longer than 8 years to finish. As if an academic rival, hotheaded, bully from younger years wasn't enough.. you came along.

You had always had a class or two with him. Whether it be preliminary classes or your third year science credit. He doesn’t know why you don't like him, always calling him names just loud enough for him to hear or purposely shutting the door on him in pouring rain.. but the day he saw you at the buffet talking and laughing with Katsuki? His life was over. You made it hell. He thought you were so pretty when he first saw you.. but you were just such. a bitch.

Katsuki didn't have the same timed honors classes but slept in the same building. If he really wanted to avoid him, he could go to the library or study in one of the cafes. Then again there was the rec center.. or he could stay with a friend, even. But you. He couldn’t avoid you. No matter how hard he tried.

He'd catch himself staring at the door until you came in, seeing your hair done in different styles and colors but still be so gorgeous. you could pull everything off. there was also this shiny pink lip gloss you started wearing.. It frustrated him how much he thought about how soft they’d feel against his skin, He's never pined after a girl this long. Sure he's had girlfriends over the years, but you lingered in the back of his mind. And you thought of him like dirt under your BAPEs.

You were hardly ever late, walking in a few minutes before class starts to set up your computer, drink if you decided you wanted one that morning, and switch your music playlist over. The class itself was pretty easy, not too many essays or homework assignments. It was more projects and group discussions than anything, which was probably the only real frustrating thing about this class. As the last few people struggled through the door, the professor started writing on the board.

MIDTERMS.

fuck.

“This is the last project before midterms. you will be graded on..” You drowned him out, rubbing your temples as the mention of midterms came up. Another fucking project? Are you serious? Honors kids never really learned to.. well. play, very well with others. Mostly stuck up kids were pretty disconnected from real life because their mommies and daddies paid to get them into the dorms and therefore, classes, with average Bs and Cs. The other half of the class had their heads so far up their asses there wasn’t ever a moment they weren’t passive aggressive or came off in an ‘i’m right you’re wrong’ tone. The class let out a groan everytime he announced some dumbass idea like this but he still continues. what the fuck is my life??

You sigh to yourself, rubbing your lips together as you begin to pick at the little jewels on your nails. Was it worth it to just do the entire thing by yourself so you aren't depending on anyone? No reason to get docked another few times because someone can't finish their half. This shit was pointless. The frequent ice breakers were pointless. You knew most of these people already and-

“Mr. Midoriya and Miss L/n, Miss Teller and Miss Barnes, Mr. Andrews and..” Once again you drowned out your professor's words, eyes darting over to Izuku who was staring at your teacher gobsmacked. He could feel his face burn, jaw slightly slack before shutting it nervously. He glanced over at you to see if you had been paying attention, smiling at you and giving a small pathetic wave.

You squinted daggers at him, biting the corner of your mouth before giving a sympathy smile and turning to the assignment on the laptop. I guess it wasn't too horrible.. realistically I can make him do the work and spend the time doing more important work like studying for my major..

the mumbling, the stuttering, always staring, always being the first to leave for a quiz. it wasn't until you saw his name over and over again that it was a real problem. try hards are annoying. lucky for you, this one's a pussy.

As class ended, you packed your things and headed towards the door to leave. Izuku quickly caught up with you, snaking his way through the crowd of people leaving the lecture hall. “Where'd you want to um.. to meet up? Or when-”

you cut him off before he could go spouting at the mouth. “Not worth the effort, I have more important shit to do over the next few weeks than work on some lame project. Do it for the both of us, We both know you have nothing better to do.” You continue walking away from him and onto your next class.

He stands for a moment, sighing and flatting his lips together. It shouldn't be too hard to do..right?

He debated. this. repeatedly. He really didn't want to bother, but he needed your help. He had shit to do this week! Laundry was piling up, he hasn't been going to the gym as frequent, other classes and midterms on top of the project. But every time he tried to confront you about your attitude, you have some comeback or degrading thing to say.. You bat your dumb long lashes and smack your lip gloss against your lips. He hated how fast he gave up arguing back.. it made his pants a little too tight and his eye twitch from hell. However, he was not doing this by himself. He had a rough week as it was and he's tired of letting you push him around.

He knocked on your door the Sunday before it was due, listening to you shuffle around your room before opening the door in some short shorts and one of those girly tank tops with a small bow in the middle. He couldn’t help but stare at your bare collarbone, used to seeing your name littered across it with gold jewelry before his verdant eyes quickly averted themselves back to your sharp gaze. Before he could stutter out his reasoning for being there first, or even say hello, you spoke.

“What is it?” You scratched the top of your bonnet, yawning quietly. You slip a hand under your shirt to scratch at your stomach, watching the flustered man in front of you watch your every move just to dart his attention somewhere deeper into your apartment. “If it’s about that stupid project, i’d rather rot in hell than work with you.”

“It’s due tomorrow y/n, can’t we just get it done? I’ve done more than.. I wanna say seventy percent of it? But I have a life too you know-” He’s cut off by your laughter, watching you turn and head back to your couch. You left the door open for him to come in if he was really serious. which was a pretty low chance that he was. you guys have played this game before.

“That’s a really funny joke, izuku. ‘I have a life’, ha!” you tease, plopping onto your cushions and grabbing the remote.

“I know you have nothing better to do than school work, if you’re so close to done, finish it. I already made my own, virgin.” you fibbed, you started your own, but of course this was the one project you needed to genuinely depend on someone else. you unpaused your show, waiting to hear him shut the door in defeat.

Izuku stood in the doorway for a beat, pinching the bridge of his nose before walking in. He respectfully took his shoes off at the before shutting the door roughly behind him.

“Can you please.” He heard his voice begin to rattle with anger, taking a deep breath in and sighing before speaking once more.

“Can we just get this project done? Please.” The straps of his bag burned into his hand as he gripped it with vigor. He tried his best to control himself, watching you flinch at the shut of the door but at least he had your legitimate attention.

“Please stop making this harder than it has to be.” He stared down at you, his tone slowly fixing itself. He didn't want to be an asshole.

But he was serious. You weren't scared, but you did kinda feel bad. Normally picking and poking didn't make him too upset. He was pretty used to it by now. He sounded actually upset for the first time in a long time. You felt something in your brain tell you to finish this stupid thing, motioning to set up at the dining room table. you watched him set his bag down, listening to his anything but quiet muttering. “Thank you for not being a stubborn bitch, y/n..”

oh??

oh???

“What did you say?” you turned your television off, tossing the remote on the couch before storming over to him.

“Speak up. You got somethin to say in my fucking apartment then say it to my face, Loser ass bitch.” He was sitting down with almost everything out on the table, looking down into his bag to grab a few more things out from the bottom. You slammed your hand on the table as you spoke, the other hand resting on your hip as you tilted your head to the side. You wanted to see who the fuck he was talking to.

“I said,” He turned his body to face yours, face burning red from irritation with a prominent look of annoyance on his face. “Thank you for not being a stubborn. Bitch. All you have done the past few weeks is make it incredibly difficult to get something done that I know we can do in two days. Stop making this harder than it has to be. I’ve seen you on about every story any. time. Theres some fucking party. You have nothing better to be doing than sitting down and working.”

“What a fucking weirdo, you stalkin’ me now, Izuku? Nothin better to do than look for me on niggas snapchat?” You swipe the papers he set up off of your dining room table like a cat, not caring how close to being set up he was.

Come to think of it. The only parties you really went to were the ones Katsuki and his friends threw, the last two had been a tailgating party and someone's birthday but..

You smile, lowering yourself to be eye to eye with him. Your words came out dripping with honey but still so sour. “Is this because I hang out with ‘suki? You jealous I got my mind on someone other than you and making your life miserable, wimp?”

Your voice died out in your throat as he stood up, snatching your jaw hard enough to establish he meant business. You felt yourself trip forward slightly from a little tug, his blush pink lips twitching as if they wanted to smirk instead of looking so mean.

“Mention him or say one more thing about how im a ‘loser’ or a ‘virgin’ again, and i'll make you forget how to walk. Keep it up, y/n. I am not in the fuckin’ mood for your bitter. shit.” He watched your facial expression change, praying his hard on wouldn't poke your thigh as you two stood incredibly close to each other.

He was far from wimpy looking.. six foot four, athletic build, and freckles covered his face. He was attractive, smart, just never hung out with the people you hung out with. You knew that. But it didn't stop the names, or the picking. He never really tried to stop you, maybe when you'd take it too far but more often than not he'd just sit and look at you and.. well, listen.

You bit your bottom lip softly, blinking a few times before staring up at him with half lidded eyes. “Take the bitter taste from my mouth then.. Talkin’ a lot of game for someone who looks like he’s gotten pussy maybe, twice in his life?” The confidence in your voice had definitely faltered, It’s not like you haven't imagined riding this dummy until the sun came up. Hes just so fucking annoying. it would be incredibly satisfying to watch his damn near virgin ass cream under you. you just weren't expecting him to be so..

Shoving his lips against yours and mumbling your train of thought, Izuku pulled you close before snaking a hand down to grope your ass. You yelp in response, tangling your hand into his messy green curls. He walked you backwards until your legs nudged against the couch, hands roaming to touch what they could of your skin. He's wanted to for so long.

You slide next to the arm of the couch, whining softly when he pulls his lips from yours. He motioned down to the floor, watching you grab a pillow from the couch and set it under your knees. Finally speaking again, He starts untying his drawstrings. “I don't wanna hear anything out of you, we clear?”

“crystal, in fact, anything for-”

smack!

“What part of ‘I don’t want to hear anything out of you’ don’t you get? Is it too hard for you to comprehend?” He mocked your pout, continuing to speak as he tugged his joggers and boxers down to his knees. “Fleshlights don’t talk. Especially after how you treated me for so long.” He mumbled the last part, tugging his clothing down to his mid thigh.

Your eyes teared up from shock, not pain. He didn't hit hard, but it did leave a small sting on your cheek. You felt your back straighten, looking up at him with pleading eyes before muttering out a small apology.

is that how quick you'd give yourself up? He thought to himself, pink tip now sitting in front of your lips as it glistened with pre-cum. is this how easy it was all along? “Stick your tongue out. Too late to be sorry.”

You slide your tongue out slowly, staring up at him as you blinked the tears out of your eyes. he almost felt.. bad. was he being too mean? he tapped his tip against your tongue a few times, watching you move forward on your own to take him in your mouth.

...maybe not mean enough.

He positioned his hands behind your head, making a makeshift ponytail before pulling you closer to his groin. He stared down at you, letting out a small groan before sighing in relief. He began to guide you along his cock dreadfully slow, watching your eyes fill with tears. He let out a soft chuckle.

“Ah.. for as much as I hear you run your mouth, your pretty good at shutting the fuck up too. Use that tongue too, slut.” He let out a few moans under shaky breath, smirking and leaning his head back. You let your jaw go slack so he could use your throat how he wanted, trying to focus on the most important thing. breathing. Tears stream down your cheeks, trying your hardest not to gag against his cock.

“Gonna cum on your face..so y-..you’ll remember this and how fucking disgusting you really are.” He rutted into your throat sloppily, pulling away after you tapped his thigh a few times. He watched spit drip down your chin, hand going to rub his thumb over his tip.

You gasp to catch your breath, putting a hand on the ground and the other on your chest. Saliva had dripped down to your shirt, letting out a few coughs. You rub your tears away, wiping your chin. "Who knew someone like y..you could be so big n mean.." You look up at him, feeling the release of your hair.

“Suck my dick like I showed you and I won’t have to be mean.” His face was red and sweaty, cock twitching in his hand from the coolness of your apartment. You nod, moving your hand to help you keep up with such a messy pace he had.

You whimpered, hearing him degrade you even further. He called you a free use whore, a cumdump.. noticing the way your thighs clenched together before hovering a hand behind your head. He watched you quicken your pace, a whiny moan leaving his mouth when your tongue swirled over the nerves in his tip.

He shivered, breath getting shaky before pulling away from you to finish over your lips and watching the mess cover your face. His hard-on twitched as he let out a sighing in somewhat relief. there's no way that he was still going, right?

“Get on the couch,” He said in a calmly, panting and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He watched you scramble to get up, sitting on the couch and attempting to clean your own face before feeling him snatch your jaw up into his hand.

“Ready to finally do our fucking work? or does your slutty cunt want attention now?” He laughed at how disheveled you looked, feeling the wetness under your chin leak onto his hand.

you blink the tears from your eyes, trying to stutter out your response before he spoke for you. “Dumb Whore. Bet you do. You get to cum on my fingers first,”

You let out a whine whether volintarty or not, seeing his lip twitch into a small smirk. “What? My fingers aren't enough?” He moved ro rub at your clit, classused fingers pressing against you in slow circles.

“Whine all you want, You don't deserve anything more than my fingers.” He growled out, standing between your legs and opening them wider with his own. How embarrassing, to be folded up on the couch by someone you ‘hated’ so bad.

“Be lucky if I let you cum at all.” He tugs your panties to the side, dipping two fingers into you and curling them a few times. “Holy shit.. You’re soaked.” He spoke half in genuine shock and astonishment, half to degrade you. He lifted your leg to rest on his hip, pulling your panties down just enough to where he could rub your clit with his thumb and slid his fingers back in.

You squeak, knee nudging into his side as you twitch and squirm against his fingers in pleasure. They were thick, curling and poking at that spot deeper than you thought they'd go. He still looked irritated as ever, but there was definitely also a look of admiration in his eyes. He seemed to be focusing, moving his fingers faster before making a scissoring motion with his fingers.

It was a lot, cocoa-colored eyes trying to blink the tears away that wouldn't stop forming in your eyes. “iii...izu!!” you plead, back pressing even harder into your couch as he basically climbed on top of you to finger fuck you. “It’s too muuuch- sensitive!” you tried pushing his hand from your clit only to be met with his other hand pinning it next to you.

“I bet kacchan doesn't do this to you.. Make you feel this good..” And there was that constant muttering under his breath. It wasn't hard to understand it when he was in such close proximity to you, but maybe he assumed you couldn't hear him. was he really boasting to you or himself..?

no. he was jealous. you concluded, deciding to run your mouth a little, a small smirk forming onto your plump lips. you haven't done anything with katsuki and it wasn’t really on your list to fuck community dick. but if that's what izuku thought, so be it.

“M.. makes me feel be..better!” you struggle to say, feeling him pull his fingers from your sopping cunt. you feel the knot that had been building up so quickly start to dissipate, an annoyed huff leaving your lips in response. His smirk turned into a disappointed frown, gritting his teeth before letting your wrist go and pinning your knees to your shoulders with, frankly, big hands.

“I’m gonna hit your cervix till you’re shaking,” He stated, lining his tip up before sliding into you with one big thrust. you felt your thighs ache, the warmth of his cock making you shiver. you felt full, closing your eyes tight and pushing at the arm that pinned your legs down. you wanted to hold onto him, bite, do anything to calm down how good it felt. It was overwhelming in the best way.

He slammed into you, pulling back slowly just to slam even harder into you. His lips curled back into a smirk, watching your body jolt and moving his arms to rest on either side of you. He felt you embrace him, legs trying to wrap themselves around him. He smiled into your shoulder, thrusting faster into you.

“iiizuuu.. nnghh.. h-hah please..” you pleaded, clenching around him. “ ‘m s.. ngh sorry. ‘M sorrryyyy, izu.. I am!! “ your nails raked down his shirt, gripping onto the fabric as your eyes began to roll back in pleasure.

“Now you’re sorry?” He asks into your shoulder, pulling back to move your heels onto his shoulders. He gave slow thrusts, staring down at you and your attempts to catch your breath. you nod as if your life depended on it, feeling your orgasm get closer and closer.

He moves a hand to rub over your clit quickly, watching you writhe in pleasure before continuing to thrust into you. You were seeing stars.. so much so you ended up squirting on his t-shirt. He laughs a bit, breaking into a moan as he pulls out of you. He jerked the tip of his cock for a few seconds, cumming and ruining your shirt in return.

Letting out a worn out but soft sigh, Izuku sat next to you tiredly. you try to blink yourself back into reality, feeling gross with all of the different.. hormones. That happened to land on you and your clothing. “If you ruined my c..couch you get me a new one, nerd..” you huff out, sitting up and leaning onto his shoulder.

He leaned his head into your touch, hand wrapping around your waist. “Do you want my help to the bathroom so you can clean off?” He also needed to, but knew no way around your apartment and wasn't exactly gonna just leave you like this to search for one.

you nod, leaning into his bicep as he helped you towards your bathroom to strip you both of your soiled clothes. The project could wait another hour or so, right?

©if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

have a good day/night/whatever!

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mothdruid · 1 year ago

Text

All the Work

pairing: art donaldson x patrick zweig x afab!reader

summary: you are Art's tutor, Patrick is a bad influence and always crashes your tutor sessions. but today you're more than okay with it.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, oral sex (female and male receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, pet name (princess and baby), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n: finally! some challengers fic!! these two have moved into my brain and refuse to leave! I hope you all enjoy!! @gretagerwigsmuse here you go babes (this is barely proofread btw, so sorry)

When you offered to tutor Art Donaldson you thought that would be it. You hadn’t been expecting his nosy and obnoxious friend. They felt like polar opposites when you looked at them. The soft and reserved Art, who seemed to be careful about the words he said to you and texted you. But Patrick was careless and all consuming, a wildfire engulfing everything in it’s path. If Patrick was at the apartment while you were there no studying got done. Art would simply shrug and just offer a smile before joining Patrick in whatever nonsense he was doing.

Which was currently happening, both downing beers and watching animal planet.

Art and Patrick were on the couch, Patrick’s arm thrown over the back with Art leaning towards him but leaving a small amount of space between them. As much as you wanted to just call it quits and leave you didn’t, something kept you in the apartment, a gravitational pull of sorts. Instead you remained at the kitchen table, books and papers that you and Art abandoned still covering it.

You only started paying attention to the program about half way through. It was about mating rituals for some animals. Patrick had something to say about every single one, Art chiming in every now and then with a joke or to agree with Patrick.

“Can you imagine that shit?” Patrick took a swig of his beer, “Dancing around and putting on a show to get laid, that’d be embarrassing.”

Art chuckled at his comments. You simply rolled your eyes.

“Isn’t that what you guys already do?” You added.

“She speaks!” Patrick teased, turning around to face you.

His arm was still across the back of the couch, his bicep flexed a little. Art simply rolled his head back to try and look at you, blonde curls moving against his forehead. You looked at them, noticing something different in their gazes, something that made your insides churn and warm.

“Isn’t that what you two play tennis for? Look good and strong so people fawn over you?”

Art looked over and smiled at Patrick, who was currently putting on his best ‘deep in thought’ look. Patrick eventually clicked his tongue and gave you a boyish grin.

“Yeah, I guess it is. Right, Art?” Patrick looked over to Art, grin still wide.

“I- I don’t know if I’d say that,” Art murmured loud enough for you to hear it.

“Come on now, Artie,” Patrick took a drink of his beer, “tell the girl what she wants to hear. We play tennis for the ladies, not because we enjoy it or anything.”

There was a bite in Patrick’s voice that time, one that you blamed the beer for. Art was only on his second beer, but Patrick was probably on his fourth or fifth. You rolled your eyes once more, turning to try and focus on the assignments once more. You hated the way that Patrick was able to crawl under your skin, find that one spot that always got your anger bubbling. But then Art would be there later, when he walked you to your car apologizing, telling him that he won’t let it happen again, even if you know it’s a lie. When you peaked back at them Art was leaning into Patrick, who was whispering something into his ear. You looked away, not wanting to become more frustrated with the situation.

“Hey,” it was Art this time, “come sit with us, forget the homework.”

Art was practically hanging off the back of the couch now. His chest was pressed to the cushions, arms hanging out while making grabby hands towards you. Patrick’s arms were out of sight now, only his chin resting on the back of the couch. They seemed to have traded personalities at that moment, Patrick looking small while Art was begging for you. You stared at them for a moment, eventually letting out a huff and a ‘fine’.

Art and Patrick high fived while you were walking over. They scooted apart a little, leaving just enough space for you to fit between them. It wasn’t a lot of room, your thighs touching both Patrick and Art’s. Heat was radiating from them, seeping through your skin to melt and entangle with the heat forming in your body. The concoction was already intoxicating and you had only had a sip of their body heat, nothing more. Patrick slid an arm across the back of the couch, leaning in a little closer to you. Art cradled his can of beer in his lap, also leaning in a tiny amount closer to you.

“Can you imagine that?” Patrick’s voice got low.

The program that was on had started talking about animals who had a more carefree mating style. Hyenas, Bonobos, and many others. Animals who engaged in polygamy and more. It was currently talking about the Bonobo, a primate that happily engaged in orgies, threesomes, and even more at times.

“I’m not sure,” you started, “it seems like a lot of work.”

The concoction of heat was rising up through your body. Patrick looked at you with a little smirk, not a devilish one like he normally did. Art’s hand grazed your thigh, grabbing your attention from Patrick. All your annoyance from before had melted away when you saw Art’s eyes. There was only a small ring of blue around his blown out pupils. The back of his fingers continued to ghost over the material of your leggings, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. It was trance like, hypnotic blue eyes with the rhythm of his fingers. The heat of Patrick’s breath ghosted over your neck now. You weren’t sure when he had moved your hair to expose your skin.

“What if we did all the work instead?”

When you turned to Patrick his nose grazed your cheek, lips incredibly close to yours. You could barely make out the color of his eyes with him this close, a glimpse of a bluish green color was all you could make out. One of his hands drifted up your shoulder, his fingertips ghosting up in a similar manner to Art’s but along your neck. Patrick’s touch was scalding hot, turning that bubbling heat inside of you into something more explosive.

The kiss was sloppy, Patrick’s tongue pushing past your lips immediately. You could taste the cheap beer and a hint of cigarette on his tongue. His hand cupped the side of your face as the rhythm continued. You leaned a little further into Patrick, his free hand moving to cup your chest. Your right hand grabbed at Patrick’s thigh, needing to ground yourself in the smallest amount. At the same time, Art’s hand started to knead the meat of your thigh, gently guiding your thighs open at the same time.

A whimper left you, Patrick consuming and silencing it. Art’s hand had found the apex of your thighs, rubbing against your clothed cunt. The sensation spurred you to kiss Patrick with a bit more force, your breast pressing tightly into Patrick’s hand. Art continued to send muted waves of pleasure with each roll of his wrist. Your hips started rolling to meet Art’s movements, wanting more and more. You broke away from Patrick, turning to meet Art’s gaze again.

“Art,” you whimpered.

Patrick had already attached himself to your neck, eyes watching the two of you. You reached out with your left hand for Art, him immediately moving forward to meet it. Your lips collided with Art’s while you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. Your other hand had found its way into Patrick’s dark curls, tugging lightly as you let him continue to lap at your skin. Your body moved in tandem with the two of them.

Patrick moved a little behind you to let your back meet his chest fully. The hand you had in his hair slipped down to the hand kneading your chest, covering it and mimicking his motions. Patrick’s other hand moved down the side of your body, pulling up the hem of your shirt to expose some skin for both him and Art. The hand between your thighs moved up, fingertips grazed your skin. Patrick’s hand left your breast, fully grabbing your shirt and pulling it further up your torso. That was when the kiss broke. Art’s lips slightly agape as he stared at you, eyes flicking between you and Patrick.

“This okay?” Patrick whispered, pulling your shirt further up.

Art’s fingers spread over your skin, eyes trained on you. You kept your eyes locked with Art’s as you grabbed both of Patrick’s hands, guiding your shirt up further and exposing your bralette to them. Patrick chuckled and finally rid you of your shirt completely. After tossing your shirt to the side, Patrick cupped both of your breasts and tugged on your nipples over the material. A moan escaped you at the sensation of the flimsy material pinching into your nipples under Patrick’s fingers.

“That’s it, let it out,” Art encouraged.

You pushed against Patrick’s grip again, arching your back and pushing your ass back into his hardening cock. You hadn’t realized the feeling of his cock on your lower back and ass immediately, having been so caught up in your own pleasure. Patrick let out a groan when he felt you grind your ass back into him. Art’s cheeks were flushed as he sat there and watched the two of you.

“Fuck,” Art groaned. He grabbed at his own hardened cock, jerking himself off over his shorts.

Patrick’s lips grazed the skin of your shoulder for a moment, only for him to bite the strap of your bralette and guide it down your shoulder. The hand for that mesh cup pulled it down, exposing your tit fully. Art’s mouth was on your tit immediately, tongue caressing and flicking your hardened nipple. Moans fell from your lips, Patrick’s cheek on your shoulder as he watched Art and guided your other bralette strap down.

Blue eyes were staring up at you, or maybe they were looking at Patrick. As you watched Art lav at your sensitive bud, Patrick’s hand came around to thread through Art’s hair, tugging lightly on the blonde curls and earning a moan from him. The vibrations from Art’s moans went straight to your cunt, making it flex and tighten to nothing more than the simple sensation and sounds.

“Look at you two,” Patrick groaned, “so fucking hot.” With those words Patrick tugged on Art’s hair a little rougher and pinched your free nipple.

Art let out a whimper that time, not expecting such a harsh tug that time. You brought one hand up to Art’s hair, covering Patrick’s with your own. Slowly your hand drifted down and rested on Patrick’s wrist. After giving a quick squeeze you started guiding it down the side of Art's neck, eventually pulling it towards your center. Patrick got the hint and chuckled.

“Use your words,” Patrick growled into your skin.

“Touch me,” you whimpered out.

“Where?” Art murmured against your tit.

That’s when you felt Art’s fingers dip below the sides of your waistband.

“Touch my pussy.”

“That’s it,” Art smiled at you and started to remove your leggings and underwear.

As soon as you were bare Patrick’s fingers dove between the lips of your cunt, finding your clit immediately. Art finished removing the fabric from your ankles and pushed your legs apart, bending down to press kisses to the inside of your thighs. Art was trailing up the inside of your thighs, Patrick’s fingers continuing the movements on your clit. Both of their names were starting to fall from your lips, a gasp coming from you when you felt Art’s tongue drag over your slick cunt and roam around Patrick’s fingers. Patrick moved his hand from your tit to your hip, trying to keep you from bucking too wildly. Art’s hands slipped around your legs, keeping you even more in place for him to lick at you.

“Fuck,” Patrick groaned while rolling his hips into your ass.

Art’s tongue slipped below your clit, pushing into your entrance and lapping at the juices flowing from your. The two of them sat there worshiping you in tandem. It wasn’t long before you were falling apart for them, coming on Art’s tongue and Patrick’s fingers. Patrick stayed circling on your clit for a moment, slowly drifting lower through your folds to meet Art’s mouth. You watched with shaky breath as Patrick pushed his glistening fingers into Art’s mouth. Art groaned around them, keeping them in his mouth as Patrick guided Art back up to the both of you.

Art’s mouth was glistening when he came back up to the two of you. Your chest was still heaving, trying to regulate itself after an orgasm of such magnitude. The both of them had taken notice of that, meeting each other’s lips instead of yours. You laid there resting against Patrick’s chest as you watched them make out. It was messy, Patrick’s tongue diving into Art’s mouth to taste you. They were both moaning and groaning over your taste.

You let out a whimper to let them know that you were ready for them. It caught Art’s attention, him breaking the kiss with Patrick. Patrick didn’t let up though, trailing open mouthed kisses down Art’s jawline and neck. Art brought a hand up to your cheek and pulled you forward meeting his lips and letting you taste what was left of you on his tongue.

Patrick leaned back from the two of you for a moment, pulling off his own shirt and then finally unclasping your bra. Once both were removed he pressed his bare chest to your back. You rolled your hips back into his while reaching forward and cupping Art through his gym shorts. Patrick mouthed at your neck and shoulder, hand coming around to rub at your sensitive clit.

“I need your mouth,” Art groaned into your mouth.

You pushed up off of Patrick and moved to lay Art back against the couch. Art started taking off his shorts and boxers before your fingers even moved to the wrist band, signaling how eager he truly was for this.

His cock was prettier than you imagined, a sparse amount of sandy blonde hair framing it. You cupped his balls first, rolling them lightly and listening to his groans. You helped position Art’s legs on either side of your knees, making it easier to bend over and take him in your mouth. Art gasped the first time he felt your tongue on the soft skin of the head of his cock. You kept rolling his balls in your hand and you took him further into your mouth. Patrick could be heard moving around on the couch behind you. That’s when you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance and hands on your hips. With a moan you pushed your hips back, an urge to get Patrick to fuck you.

It was an overwhelming sensation for a moment. The thickness of Patrick’s cock was splitting you open, all while Art’s cock was heavy on your tongue. Art groaned as you took him deep into your throat unexpectedly, the tightness of your throat spurring him to thrust up a little. You moaned around him as Patrick pulled back for a moment, only to thrust forward with force. Patrick’s thrusts were pushing you further and further forward onto Art’s cock. Small gagging and gurgling noises started to come from you, drool forming around your lips. Art’s hand moved to your hair and tugged you off him for a moment.

“So fucking greedy,” Art growled. He gripped his cock by the base and tapped it on your tongue, which you happily held out for him.

“Greedy is right,” Patrick thrust a little harsh, “her pussy is so fucking tight, meant for this.”

Art guided you back onto his cock. You moaned at the taste of him on your tongue once again.

“Wanna fuck that pussy too,” Art thrust up into your mouth as he spoke.

Patrick let out a cross between a whimper and groan before he pulled out. A hand moved from your hip to the back of your neck, tightening and pulling you up off Art’s cock.

“Go on, princess, let Art fuck that pussy.”

Even though you were more than happy to be in the position you were in, that pet didn’t send thrills through you. You shot a dirty look to Patrick over your shoulder, earning that devilish smirk from him. Patrick leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“Go on, baby,” Patrick whispered to you.

Art was lightly pumping his cock when you looked back at him. A rosy flush was covering from his cheeks to his chest, which matched the red tint that his waiting cock had. You moved your legs on either side of him, planting one on the floor due to lack of room on the couch. There was barely any time to line Art up, his neediness getting the better of him. Within mere seconds of positioning yourself above him he was thrusting up into you. Art didn’t have the same girth as Patrick, but his cock still felt heavenly inside of you. And he didn’t let up.

Thrust after thrust you were a moaning mess above Art. Your hands were scrambling to find purchase on his chest. Each thrust was hitting that perfect spot inside of you. The leg that you hand on the ground was starting to shake, the ability to balance starting to allude you. Patrick moved up behind you, snaking his hands under your shaking legs. Patrick used some of his strength to take on some of your weight, allowing you to relax a little.

“Fuck!” Art groaned as you felt his abdomen tense below your touch.

Art pushed his hips tightly to where you were connected, rutting desperately to feel closer. Hot cum filled your insides, your walls clenching tightly around Art. You could feel that Patrick was still hard against your ass, reminding you of what was still to come. Art’s breath was coating your chest as you leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. During that motion Art’s cock slipped out of you, to which was quickly replaced by Patrick’s.

Patrick’s grip was tight on your hips, almost as tight as your cunt on his cock. Patrick groaned as he watched his best friend’s cum leak out of you and coat his dick. You could barely hold yourself up anymore, Art letting you rest on his chest. Patrick leaned over you, his chest covering your back once more. His thrusts were starting to become more harsh and forceful. He pressed a few kisses to your shoulder before leaning forward and meeting Art’s lips once more. After a few more thrusts both you and Patrick were coming.

The three of you laid there in a pile for a while. Patrick was softening inside of you, but still keeping both his and Art’s cum safe in you while placing kisses on your shoulder. Art was running a hand up and down Patrick’s shoulder and back. You were trailing your fingers around on Art’s chest. The program on TV had changed by that time, now showing something shark related.

Patrick hesitantly moved his hips, his dick slipping out of you. A shuddering breath left you at the feeling of their cum starting to drip out of you. You didn’t even move when you felt a shifting on the couch cushion, Patrick getting up to track down a washcloth. It felt relaxing to actually just lay there against Art, finally not having to fully focus on anything.

When Patrick returned he cleaned you up as gently as he could, or at least that was what he claimed. Art pressed a kiss to your forehead before you got up, swiping the wash cloth from Patrick. After cleaning yourself you softly wiped Art’s cock clean, then turned and cleaned Patrick’s too. Patrick stole the washcloth and took it to the bathroom again, returning to find you and Art still in the nude and cuddling in the same position. Patrick simply moved into his former position with his chest to your back. Patrick tossed the old knit blanket on the back of the couch over the three of you. All of you just watched the shark program in silence for a moment, Patrick breaking the silence.

“Hope that wasn’t too much work,” he said quietly.

Art let of a huff of amusement.

“Not when it’s the two of you.”

#patrick zweig #art donaldson #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson smut #challengers smut

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 1 month ago

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[5:09 pm]

(cw: f!reader, hurt dog, vague description of a snake bite)

tagged! @severeanxietyissues

There weren't very many days when the guys of Nu Chi Theta just relaxed however they wanted. No partying, no hosting people, just enjoying the warm sun and the fresh breeze. Fratboy!Taeyong sat back in a lawn chain in the front yard, feeling more relaxed than he had all week. He had all his assignments turned in, he was ahead on his homework, and his brothers were quiet. If he opened his eyes, he'd find a few of them in the yard with him or around the house, finding things to keep themselves busy and quiet. Johnny and Jaehyun were grilling for dinner out back, Jungwoo and Doyoung were inside baking some kind of dessert, and Taeyong really couldn't bring himself to care about anything beside food right now. This was his new version of paradise.

Paradise that was interrupted by someone shouting, hurried footsteps, and barking. He pried his eyes open just in time to catch a blur of brown and black fur and someone in an all blue outfit chasing after the blur. Right into the backyard.

The brothers sitting around him all sat up, looking confused, but only Taeyong sat up and decided to follow. He jogged right past Johnny and Jaehyun, who was standing frozen with tongs in his hand and staring right into the far corner of the yard. Where you and a dog were.

Taeyong approached slowly, listening to your soft coos as you kneeled to the right of the dog a few feet away with your head downcast as you spoke, "hey baby, hi. You're okay now. I'm not here to hurt you."

Your eyes snapped up to Taeyong, your voice still calm but firm, "he's scared, approach from the side and keep your eyes down."

Taeyong didn't argue and followed your instructions without question. It was quiet, save for the quiet panting and whining of the dog. Occasionally, the scared dog would growl or bare his teeth, but you weren't deterred. "What happened to him?" He asks you softly.

"I saw him limping around campus and his paw looks infected. I tried to approach him, but I scared him instead," you explain lowly.

Taeyong nods, "poor guy."

The two of you sit side by side for a while, calmly and quietly making small talk while you both give the dog time to relax and come to you. Taeyong learns that you're in your final year of an undergrad veterinary program and that you love animals. You tell him all about the pets you have at home and the animals you've helped save through your internship at a local clinic. He finds that the excited twinkle in your eyes when you talk about animals has his heart racing, just a little bit.

The dog inches forward slowly, sniffing around the two of you before he whines and lays his head in your lap, clearly tired from running and his stress. "Such a good boy," you coo, petting behind the dog's ears.

Taeyong holds his hand out for the dog to sniff and smiles when he feels the wet tongue on his skin. "Hey, I'm Taeyong by the way. This is my frat house," he introduces himself with a shy smile.

"Nice to meet you Taeyong," you smile as you shake his hand, "my friends call me Bug."

Carefully, you lift the dog into your arms and begin walking back toward the open gate. Taeyong stops beside Johnny and snags a few pieces of meat for the dog. The dog snaps it up happily, his tail wagging in your arms as you laugh and smooth a hand over his fur.

Taeyong takes a look at you and the dog, feeling his heart skip a beat at the sight of you smiling at the dog sweetly and the happy dog in your arms. His eyes catch on your shirt and his eyes widen in panic, "oh my god! Are you alright? Is the dog fine? Why is there blood?!"

"Huh?" You ask, looking down at yourself in confusion before your eyes crinkle up in a smile, "oh! Yeah, we're good!"

Johnny coughs, eyeing you warily, "do mind giving an explanation for the blood on your shirt, please?"

You giggle in what Taeyong can only assume is excitement, which he didn't think anyone would feel when talking about a bloodied piece of clothes. Your eyes are shining with elation, "I helped birth a set of twin calves earlier!"

Taeyong feels his heart soar. You love animals, you're pretty, you're kindhearted, and you have the cutest giggle he's ever heard? He might go out and buy a ring right now.

"Just uh, willy nilly?" Jaehyun asks as he feeds the dog some more of the meat.

"Oh no, silly!" You laugh again. Taeyong finds himself smiling unconsciously at the sound as you continue, "one of the vets at my clinic got called out to a farm for an emergency delivery and I tagged along. It was totally awesome!"

Johnny and Jaehyun's eyes dart over to Taeyong, looking at the look of pure wonder on the frat president's face as he looks at you. They both recognize the look well and smile at each other. Jaehyun's elbow knocks Taeyong's, "hey bro, aren't your fish having some kind of issues?"

You perk up as Taeyong panics, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find something to say. You speak first, "I can help! I've been helping the doctors at the clinic with their aquatic cases. Please?"

The dog in your arms pants happily and his tail wags even harder. Is it possible that this dog is rooting for the two of you too? Taeyong gulps but smiles, nodding jerkily, "feel free to come by whenever. I'd appreciate the help and your expertise."

You squeak happily, accepting the wet kisses on your cheek from the dog, "I'll be here tomorrow morning! Bye!"

You trot happily back out of the backyard with an obstructed wave as you leave. Taeyong stands breathless and staring at the same spot where you were just standing.

Johnny chuckles, plating the last of the food before he claps a hand on Taeyong's shoulder, "you know, I'm pretty sure I saw her climb that oak tree in the middle of campus to save a nest of baby birds. Then again, she was about 30 feet in the air and I was focused a little more on the firefighters swarming the trunk."

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his president's shoulders with a teasing smile, "I heard that she did a hike a few years ago and saved the professor from a rattlesnake bite. She used a huge stick to get the snake away and then carried the professor down the hill on her back. It was totally sick!"

Taeyong nods noncommittally as he gulps, "I think I just fell in love."

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leowithyou · 2 years ago

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turtleshelf · 2 months ago

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I need more fics about the batkids school lives and from the perspective of their teachers and I need them now. Fuck it, put some of them on IEPs, I think that shit would be so good.

Give me Damian where when putting him in school, Dick and Babs have to fudge some (not completely inaccurate) diagnosis' to get him put on an IEP and in the behavior classroom so he can have social skills education literally built into his day. So that he has a small classroom setting of other kids with their own problems so he doesn't feel so singled out by his own like he would in gen ed classes. Him slowly integrating into not just American society but also into interacting with kids his own age with the safety net of the behavior classroom and teachers that are literally designed and trained for kids who lose their composure and lash out to fall back on. He's disliked or written off by most teachers as a behavior case, but there's are a few who hold a soft spot for him, he likes to gift them art.

Give me Jason on an IEP because of how much school he missed when he was homeless, being given the tools and resources to catch back up to where he should be. Show him being quiet and keeping his head down trying to catch up. The first time he gets in a fight he was defending a younger student, he cries in the office afterwards, and privately none of the staff can really blame him even if they do have to follow through with a consequence for the fight. Show him reserved and jumpy when health class moves into their unit about drugs, he comes in with Bruce the next day to talk to the principal and is excused to the office with a alternative assignments until they move onto their next unit. Teachers tend to like him, and they're always a little surprise when he gets into fights.

Give me Dick in an ELL (English Learn Language, program for students learning English) program that allows him to slow down and get a grip on the basics of the English language. Give him accommodations that translate his assignments into a language he already knows, so he doesn't have to spend hours attempting to translate his homework and then translate his answers. Show him being reserved at first, then popular and smiley and kind until something ignites his short fuse. Show his growth of the short fuse getting longer as he gets better control of his emotions and learns time and place. Teachers don't know what to make of him, sometimes it's like he's a completely different person day to day. He's got this little troublemaker smile that tilts dangerously on his lips before a fight, his teachers think he's either going to run the world or destroy it one day.

Give me Steph whose school has to go on lock out because her father who doesn't have custody shows up and attempts to check her out for the day. Give her fidget toys and break passes. Show her spitefully doing assignments for teachers that don't like her so well that they have to give her an A: "Oh you think The Great Gatsby is the best book ever written? Here's my essay on why it's the worst book ever written and should stop being taught in schools." The arguments are sound, her writing is flawless, her sources are bulletproof. Most teachers don't have much of an opinion on her, she just another popular girl to them, but there are a few that are with her during the father debacle, who saw are angry and sad and scared, who hold a soft spot for her.

Give me Tim who keeps his head down and turns his work in late on crumpled and stained papers, but it's all flawless work. He shows up after three days absent with deep circles under his eyes and a shallow smile and explanations for his absence that are just sound enough that they can't poke any real holes in them, even if most don't believe him. He's friends with the rowdy, popular kids but he's always careful to keep just to the sidelines of their trouble so he never gets taken down with them in consequences. His teachers whisper about the disorganized genius who they hope gets himself together, because he could do great things.

Give me Duke who's snarky and quick thinking, but comes in some days quiet and with a far away look on his face. His best grades are in PE and it drives his teachers crazy because he's smart enough to honor roll if he ever put the effort into his work, it just doesn't seem to interest him. Give him accommodations that he can't be cold called on in class and never has to present presentations because he doesn't do well being the center of attention. He's always fidgeting and looking at the clock like he has somewhere better to be, he disappears to the library every lunch.

Give me Cass, who nobody can seem to really pin down. She's so startlingly unobtrusive that her teachers often forget she's there until she's standing right infront of their faces. She doesn't talk and from her writing it's clear that she's not familiar with English even if she can get by. The first time anyone hears her voice, Bruce picked her up from school early and she bounces over to him calling "Dad" before giving him a hug, the office staff feel a ripple of shock travel through them as they realize that it's not that she can't talk it's that she doesn't. She gets pulled out of classes for ASL tutoring, but not speech therapy which causes a few raised eyebrows after the revelation that she is capable of speaking. She looks at people with this intensity that makes them feel like she's looking straight through them and most teachers won't admit it, but it freaks them out.

Give me batkids with preferential seating accommodations so they never have to sit somewhere they feel exposed and unsafe. Give them early transition accommodations so they're not caught in the crowded halls during passing periods. Give them phone accommodations, so they always have a direct line to Bruce/Alfred/their siblings. Give them extended test taking accommodations, because once you've literally defused a bomb or raced across the city to stop a murderous meglomaniac doing things on a time constraint is just, not good.

For angst, give them teachers/subs who "don't believe in accommodations" and put end up putting the batkids in bad situations. Give them panic attacks when their accommodations are violated.

Give me teachers gossiping about the batkids and their odd quirks in the office or during their planning period. Give me first year teachers who flounder trying to figure those kids out and veteran teachers to just can't make heads or tails of them. Teachers marveling about how they can all be so alike while sharing absolutely no DNA. It becomes common knowledge that Bruce Wayne is a little less "Brucie" than he'd like the media to believe, but hell that's his business, and he seems to be doing alright by his kids. Give me haggard parents Bruce and Dick getting called to speak with the principal, or in IEP meetings, or at parent-teacher conferences.

Idk I just feel like this is a really untapped market we could be writing for here and I love outsider pov fics so much.

#They're all so fucked up #those kids have so many issues #i love them #batfam #batkids #batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #tim drake #duke thomas #dc comics #dc #fanfic prompt

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junplusone · 3 months ago

Text

soft spot for you ; lee jihoon

SUMMARY. jihoon has a soft spot reserved just for you.

PAIRING. lee jihoon x gn!reader

GENRE. fluff, friends to lovers (idiots to lovers), college au (they're seniors), soonyoung horanghae agenda, mildly ambiguous hopeful ending, just wholesome things

WARNINGS. language/swearing

WORDS. 2.51k

NOTES. here's a short little piece lol - if you couldn't tell i'm obsessed with soft spot by keshi... according to airbuds i listened to it like 64 times yesterday oops. also dedicating this to @ppyopulii my resident woozidan love you jay!! ok it's like 6 am for me rn so i'm going to sleep after posting goodnight (or goodmorning i suppose) enjoy reading!

TAGS. @mochacoda @ppyopulii (dm or ask to join!)

PLAYLIST. soft spot - keshi / the cutest pair - regina song

There has never been a time where you did not know Lee Jihoon.

Or if there has, you don’t really remember it. It’s always been you and him, a package deal; always two halves to the whole, no questions asked. The two of you could not be more different, but even so – everything is just so easy when he’s with you.

“Ji, can you pass me the gummies, please?”

Soonyoung watches as Jihoon wordlessly brings the bag of gummy bears over to you, picking out the pineapple ones he knows you like.

“You don’t give me candy,” he sulks, homework lying forgotten on the table.

“You are annoying,” Jihoon tells him, “and you also haven’t gotten a single bit of work done since you’ve gotten here. Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?”

“Well, I did the math and I could theoretically pass this class even if I get a 50.”

“At the rate you’re studying, I doubt even that’s possible.”

That gets a preoccupied laugh out of you. Jihoon smiles – he knows you’re listening, even as you type away at your laptop. You always have an ear out for anything he has to say, you hope he’s learned over the years.

“You have no faith in me,” Soonyoung grumbles.

“Correct.”

The exchange has you smiling to yourself quietly, because anyone with a brain and two eyes knows that Jihoon cherishes his dear friend very much, despite the harsh words.

Tough love, you like to call it, also having had to deal with Soonyoung’s questionable decisions multiple times before.

The clock hits midnight, and it still feels like you’ve made little no headway on your assignment. Soonyoung is currently knocked out, head leaning against his chair, and Jihoon is scrolling on his phone absentmindedly like he has been for the past hour.

“You know you can leave, right?” you whisper to him. “You literally have no reason to stay here.”

He blinks, eyes tired from staring at the screen all day. “You’re here.”

“That doesn’t necessarily extend to you,” you point out, giving your laptop screen a disdainful look. “You’re not the one doing this god awful project.”

Jihoon leans closer to squint at the document you’ve got pulled up, his hair brushing against your cheek. “Is this for that one systems programming class?”

“Uh-huh.”

“This looks awful,” he remarks.

“You’re not helping!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, patting your shoulder comfortingly. “I think they have a new professor teaching it this semester. I don’t recognize the dude’s name, either, but we probably had it a lot easier.”

“Great. I’m going to drop out of college,” you groan.

“And leave me here with Soonyoung?”

You consider it for a moment, wrinkling your nose at the sleeping man across from you.

“Good point.”

Jihoon sighs, placing his phone down on the table and looking at you with a concerned expression on his face.

“I wish you hadn’t drank all that coffee earlier. You always get wired and end up not sleeping for at least sixteen hours.”

“That was the point,” you huff, editing a line of code. “Ji, if I cave and sleep now, I might literally fail all my classes.”

He frowns at you. “Sleep is a necessity, and you’re treating it like a luxury. You’re just as bad as Soonyoung.”

“Now that’s a comparison I didn’t think I’d ever hear,” you say, amused.

Even between your deflections, though, you know that Jihoon is right. You’ve started to notice the dark circles around your eyes lately, the little signs that you’ve been pushing yourself a little too hard.

And yet, you simply can’t. Stopping now is like throwing a wrench into the gears of your carefully planned out life. You know Jihoon knows that, too.

“Just be careful,” he tells you, glancing away indifferently. “Don’t want you to go and die out of sheer stress before you can even graduate.”

“Are you saying I won’t even make it to the end of the semester?”

“Well, not like this.”

He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the time you stay holed up in the library, but he doesn’t leave either. You eventually give up trying to get him to go home and get some sleep, but you can’t say you don’t find some type of comfort in his presence, either.

It has always been this way. You will always look out for each other.

It’s a staggering two in the morning by the time you finally get to shut your laptop. You wake Soonyoung gently, though Jihoon tells you not to.

(“Just leave him here, he probably won’t wake up until noon, anyways.”

“We can’t do that, are you insane?!”)

The trudge back to your apartment is silent, the weight of a sleepless week on all of your shoulders. The boys insist on walking you back to your place, and you gratefully accept their company on the walk back.

Jihoon stops you right before you head into the building, propping open the door with his shoulder. Have his arms always been so… prominent?

You raise your eyebrows when he slips you another packet of gummy bears. “What’s this for?”

“Sustenance,” he says, and there’s that rare smile on his face again, one you only really see at times like this, when he’s just talking to you. His eyes always crinkle at the corners, forming crescents, and there’s something so heartwarming about his happiness when it spreads to you, too. “I picked up extra. For tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Ji.”

“Yeah, whatever,” comes his chosen response, but the gesture stays with you long after that. You end up leaving it on your desk with the rest of your things, and when you wash up the next morning you find it lying there, hastily forgotten in the rush to get under your covers.

It’s early, and the morning light is shining through your window. You rip the bag open, popping the first piece into your mouth, and the familiar flavor of pineapple floods your tongue.

“Soonyoung, please.”

“You know, I’m with him on this one,” you pipe up, enjoying the scene unfolding in front of you right now. “It can’t hurt to do it for like, two seconds.”

Jihoon looks genuinely distraught at just the thought of doing Soonyoung’s tiger pose, even for a quick selfie. It’s almost funny, almost.

“This goes against all my values and morals,” he states stubbornly.

“You just hate me,” Soonyoung complains, trying to get a good angle with his phone. It’s lovely out today, and you thought having lunch outside in the courtyard with your friends would be a nice way to destress from the week you’ve been having.

This, however, might be accomplishing just the opposite.

“Come on, you can horanghae for one photo,” you coax him gently. “Just let him have this one, okay?”

He scowls deeply, folding his arms. “No.”

“Jihoon.”

He manages to hold your stern gaze for all of five seconds before looking away, rolling his eyes.

“Fine,” he mutters in defeat as he brings his hand up to his face, and Soonyoung cheers. “I better be compensated for this.”

You frown. “You can only be compensated for emotional or financial distress.”

“My point exactly.”

The fiasco is more or less over with by the time you’ve finished your sandwich, with Soonyoung promising to never let that selfie see the light of day on social media. The sun is high in the sky, and the warm weather has you feeling more like yourself than you have in a while.

Soonyoung plops himself down beside you as you click through an email on your phone. He observes you silently, occasionally glancing towards Jihoon’s retreating figure going to fetch water bottles from the trunk of your car.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask after a while, not moving your eyes from the screen.

“You two are so weird,” he remarks pensively. “I’ve known Jihoon as long as you have, but you get all the privileges that no one else does.”

You look at him curiously. “Like horanghae privileges?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he agrees, laughing, “but it’s everything else, too. You know what I mean.”

You do know what he means. You can’t say you’ve never questioned it before, either; the unspoken words sometimes hang in the air, suspended like a weight that hasn’t quite dropped yet.

But to even question it puts a lot of things on the line, and you’re not ready for that. So you just let it go, words dissolving on the tip of your tongue.

“We’re just friends,” is your very anticipated answer. Soonyoung only chuckles lightly at your response.

“You always say that, but I’ve seen that man genuinely almost break his neck looking at you every time you laugh,” he points out, and you can’t even refute it. “I’ve seen it all, so many times. I literally can’t possibly be wrong.”

And shit, if Soonyoung isn’t right, if he hasn’t said exactly what has been on your mind when you let it wander. But just the thought of that is frightening, and it’s enough for you to smack his shoulder playfully, deflecting again.

“Don’t be silly,” you chide him, trying to change the subject. “Maybe you’re just infinitely more annoying than I am.”

Soonyoung laughs out loud at this. “I thought we already established that!”

“For once in your life, you’re actually correct,” Jihoon calls out, approaching your spot with water in tow. “I can’t remember the last time I had a moment of peace with you.”

“You love me,” Soonyoung teases, accepting a bottle. Jihoon rolls his eyes, but the small smile on his lips gives him away.

The rest of the day flies by so quickly between their bickering and the endless chatter that follows. You wonder why you haven’t done this sooner, barring exam weeks and important deadlines. Lately things had gotten so hectic that you hadn’t spent much time with either of them.

“Hey, that’s cheating!”

“No, this is allowed! It’s literally the rules!”

It’s every day with these two, you can’t help but think to yourself as they argue over an UNO play, cards lying forgotten on the gingham picnic blanket.

And in truth, you would not have it any other way.

The day your thoughts start to boil over, it rains like there is no tomorrow.

“Fuck.”

The word drops from your mouth as you glance out the window, met with the torrential showers. Across from you, Jihoon’s got his headphones on, focused on an assignment he’s been trying to do for the past few days.

You take a long sip of the coffee he’d brought you earlier. The taste is warm and familiar on your tongue, and you wonder how he got it down exactly, whether this is a step out of the ordinary for him or not. Ever since that day in the yard, Soonyoung’s words have done nothing but haunt you.

The seconds tick by as you watch him quietly, taking in his features and mannerisms. Amidst the familiarity is the feeling of a new emotion unfolding, and to name it scares you like nothing else.

“Wow, I think my eyes are burning,” Jihoon announces abruptly, leaning back in his chair. The exhaustion is evident in his face – you could count on one hand how much sleep he’s gotten over the last few days. “I can’t wait to never take an exam again.”

“Like the workforce is any better.”

“At least there won’t be any of this, though.”

“Yeah, but taxes, bills, all of that stuff,” you list off, “there’s a bunch of hard things that we don’t need to worry about just yet.”

“Oh, I guess you’re right,” Jihoon accepts, yawning as he glances back at his screen. “We grew up so fast, didn’t we?”

You nod in agreement. “Scary. I really don’t feel equipped to start adulting.”

The silence that follows only makes you feel the weight of your statement even more. The two of you sit there like that for a while, watching the rain fall rhythmically on the road outside.

You don’t enjoy this kind of weather, but still, you have to admit that there’s something awfully peaceful about it. It’s as if the pit-pat of the raindrops syncs with your own heart, and it grounds you in a way.

“You know, you could call me for any of that stuff,” Jihoon starts, still gazing out the window. “I can’t guarantee being able to help, but we can figure these things out together.”

You look over at him, in part surprise and part fondness. “That would be quite the tall order from me,” you joke.

He just shakes his head reassuringly. “Nothing ever is. Not if you ask.”

“Aww, look who’s being awfully nice today.”

“Hey, I’m nice every day! Well, most days,” he corrects himself immediately.

“I think Soonyoung would have a lot to say about that, Ji.”

Jihoon’s lips are pulled into a slight pout as he furrows his brows at your words.

“I care more about what you think than Soonyoung,” he confesses, mouth open in a slight laugh. “Always have.”

You were going to say something, but now your throat is dry, the words gone from your mouth. It’s all so confusing; you can’t tell if this is supposed to mean what you think – secretly hope – it does, and it won’t do to give yourself false hope.

“Oh?” you just say instead.

“Thought you’d know that after a decade,” he adds, mildly amused. You can tell he’s trying to act as nonchalant as possible, but you see right through it. “When have I not had your back?”

You catch yourself staring into his eyes for a little too long, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. There is something there that feels a lot like a warm welcome home.

“Never,” you say hesitantly. There’s many more words you want to say, but they don’t come right now, still stuck in your mind.

Jihoon just smiles tentatively at you, and in that moment you understand everything that he hasn’t said – everything he hasn’t needed to say.

“Finish up,” he says gently, nodding towards your laptop. “I’ll buy dinner if you can get it done within the next hour.”

You laugh at that, knowing he’ll do it regardless. “Deal.”

Even so, you can’t help but steal the occasional glance back at him, meeting his eyes across the table ever so often. It’s so strange, so new, but so intimate at the same time.

You smile to yourself, barely concealing a giggle. Jihoon has returned to his work, squinting at the lines of code, but you know the two of you will have a nice long talk about this over dinner.

Whatever this is, you’re not sure – but it’s Lee Jihoon, and to you that means everything will be okay. If anything, excitement is what bubbles in your stomach, an anticipation for whatever more is in store for you.

The rain has ceased, and the sun is back.

God, you can’t wait to tell Soonyoung about this.

thanks for reading! i usually end up writing much longer fics so this was really fun, let me know what you think! love, hershey xx

#svthub #jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #svt jihoon #svt woozi #woozi #jihoon fluff #woozi fluff #woozi friends to lovers #jihoon friends to lovers #svt fanfic #woozi fanfic #jihoon fanfic #woozi fic #woozi one shot #jihoon one shot #hot off the press

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emmajacob03 · 6 months ago

Text

How to Overcome Writer’s Block During Assignment Deadlines

Writer’s block is a common challenge faced by students, particularly when assignment deadlines loom large. It can be frustrating and demotivating, leading to anxiety and a sense of helplessness.

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Understanding Writer’s Block

What Is Writer’s Block?

Writer’s block is a psychological condition that prevents individuals from being able to write or produce content. It can manifest in various forms:

Inability to Start: You may find it difficult to begin writing even when you have ideas.

Lack of Ideas: You might feel completely blank and unable to generate any thoughts related to your topic.

Perfectionism: The desire for perfection can lead to procrastination and an inability to produce anything at all.

Fear of Judgment: Worrying about how others will perceive your work can paralyze your ability to write.

Causes of Writer’s Block

Understanding the root causes of writer’s block can help you address it more effectively. Common causes include:

Stress and Anxiety: Academic pressures, personal issues, or fear of failure can contribute significantly to writer’s block.

Overwhelm: Facing a large project or multiple assignments at once can lead to feelings of being overwhelmed.

Distractions: A noisy environment or constant interruptions can hinder concentration and creativity.

Fatigue: Lack of sleep or burnout from continuous studying can impair cognitive function and creativity.

Strategies for Overcoming Writer’s Block

1. Set Clear Goals

One effective way to combat writer’s block is by setting clear, achievable goals for your writing sessions. This involves breaking down your assignments into smaller tasks that feel less daunting.

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Be Specific: Instead of saying “I will work on my essay,” specify what part you’ll tackle first, such as “I will write the introduction.”

Assign Timeframes: Allocate specific time slots for each task. For example, “I will write for 30 minutes on my introduction.”

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Establishing a regular writing schedule can help create a routine that makes writing feel more automatic rather than daunting.

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Block Out Distractions: During your scheduled writing times, eliminate distractions by turning off notifications on your devices or using apps designed to minimize interruptions (like Focus@Will).

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When faced with an overwhelming assignment, breaking it down into smaller steps can make it more manageable.

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Outline Your Assignment: Create a detailed outline that breaks down each section of your paper.

Focus on One Section at a Time: Concentrate on completing one section before moving on to the next.

Set Mini-Deadlines: Assign mini-deadlines for each section based on your overall deadline.

4. Embrace Freewriting

Freewriting is an excellent technique for overcoming writer’s block because it allows you to write without worrying about structure or grammar.

How to Practice Freewriting:

Set a timer for 10–15 minutes.

Write continuously without stopping or editing yourself.

Focus on getting ideas down rather than producing polished content.

This exercise helps clear mental blocks and often leads to unexpected insights that you can refine later.

5. Change Your Environment

Sometimes a change of scenery can stimulate creativity and help overcome writer’s block.

Tips for Changing Your Environment:

Find a New Location: Try writing in a different room, a coffee shop, or a library.

Create an Inspiring Workspace: Decorate your workspace with motivational quotes, plants, or artwork that inspires you.

6. Take Breaks

Taking regular breaks during writing sessions can help refresh your mind and prevent burnout.

Techniques for Effective Breaks:

Use the Pomodoro Technique: Work for 25 minutes followed by a 5-minute break; after four cycles, take a longer break (15–30 minutes).

Engage in Physical Activity: Use breaks to stretch, take a walk, or do some light exercise — this helps increase blood flow and boosts creativity.

7. Seek Feedback Early

Getting feedback early in the writing process can provide clarity and direction that may alleviate feelings of uncertainty contributing to writer’s block.

How to Seek Feedback:

Share drafts with peers or mentors who can provide constructive criticism.

Join study groups where members review each other’s work regularly.

Utilize platforms like AssignmentDude for professional feedback on specific sections of your assignments.

8. Utilize Writing Prompts

Writing prompts are great tools for sparking creativity when you’re feeling stuck.

Examples of Writing Prompts:

“What if I approached this topic from an entirely different angle?”

“How would I explain this concept to someone without any background knowledge?”

Using prompts allows you to explore different perspectives without the pressure of perfectionism.

9. Manage Your Time Effectively

Effective time management is crucial when facing tight deadlines that contribute significantly towards writer’s block due increased stress levels associated completing tasks last minute!

Techniques for Time Management:

1 . Prioritize Tasks: Identify which assignments are most urgent based upon their due dates; focus efforts accordingly!

2 . Create A Timeline: Develop timelines outlining key milestones leading up until submission dates! This helps visualize progress while keeping track deadlines ensuring nothing falls through cracks!

3 . Avoid Procrastination: Combat procrastination by setting specific times each day dedicated solely towards working on assignments — eliminating distractions during these periods enhances focus productivity!

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Maintaining motivation throughout the writing process is essential! Here are some strategies that may help keep spirits high even during challenging times:

Tips For Staying Motivated

1 . Set Clear Goals :

Define specific short-term long-term goals related what want achieve within field Data Science .

2 . Break Down Tasks :

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Additional Tips for Success in Writing Assignments

While we’ve covered numerous strategies already let’s delve deeper into some additional tips specifically aimed at helping students overcome challenges they may face during their assignments:

Understand Assignment Requirements Thoroughly

Before starting any assignment take time read through requirements carefully! This ensures clarity around what exactly expected from submission — avoid misinterpretations which could lead wasted effort down wrong path!

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Collaborate With Peers

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2 . Accountability :

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Embrace Feedback

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1 . Be Open-Minded :

Approach feedback positively view it as opportunity grow rather than personal attack — this mindset fosters continuous improvement!

2 . Implement Suggestions :

Take actionable steps based upon feedback received make necessary adjustments future assignments ensure progress made over time!

3 . Seek Clarification :

If unsure about certain points raised during feedback sessions don’t hesitate ask questions clarify how best address concerns moving forward!

Explore Advanced Topics

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Advanced Topics To Explore :

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Delve into supervised unsupervised learning techniques including decision trees random forests neural networks etc .

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Explore deep learning architectures convolutional recurrent networks commonly used image/video processing natural language processing tasks alike!

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Learn techniques analyze interpret human language allowing applications chatbots sentiment analysis text classification etc .

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Understand how cloud platforms AWS Azure Google Cloud facilitate storage computing power needed handle large-scale analytical workloads seamlessly across distributed systems .

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airybcby · 6 months ago

Note

*Pokes my head in through your window*

Good morning, I'm here for the 'More Than A Married Couple, But Not Lovers' event. I'll like to request 🍑+🧁 with Yukimiya Kenyu.

well good morning ! ( afternoon as this is posted )

a yukimiya kenyu peach cupcake :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° home is wherever you are

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — yukimiya kenyu x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood friends to lovers, their moms are also best friends, reader tries to deny their feelings for yukimiya

♡ synopsis — from the second you were born, your mother swore you were meant to marry her best friends son, yukimiya kenyu. maybe they'd accept just a fake marriage?

You and Yukimiya Kenyu had been attached at the hip for as long as you could remember.

Your mothers were best friends, bonded by years of shared secrets, inside jokes, and matching visions of the future. And somewhere along the way, that vision started to include you and Yukimiya—together.

“When they grow up, they’ll get married. Mark my words,” your mom would say with a wink.

Yukimiya’s mom always chimed in with a dreamy sigh, “They’re perfect for each other. Just look at them!”

You and Yukimiya? Perfect for each other? You’d laugh it off every time.

But no matter how much you tried to ignore their teasing, the words stuck.

The years passed, and the two of you became inseparable. From sharing homework to cheering him on at soccer matches, you were there for every high and low.

You knew everything about him—the way he hummed when he was deep in thought, how he needed his tea just right, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his dreams.

And he knew everything about you.

But no matter how close you were, there was always an unspoken rule between you: don’t cross the line.

When the marriage simulation program paired you together, you’d both burst out laughing.

“Of course it’s you,” Yukimiya said, shaking his head with a small smile.

“It’s like the universe is conspiring with our moms,” you joked, though your stomach flipped at the thought of living with him for weeks.

You didn’t expect much to change. After all, you’d been friends forever. This would be just like old times—right?

It wasn’t.

Living together was different.

For one, you started noticing things you hadn’t before. Like how he always smelled faintly of citrus, or how his hair looked when he stepped out of the shower, damp and a little messy.

And then there was the way he looked at you—so soft, so open, like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. This was just Yuki. He was thoughtful, sweet—he’d always been like this.

But the more time you spent together, the harder it became to convince yourself that your feelings were strictly platonic.

It all came to a head one evening.

You were sitting on the couch, flipping through the program’s assignments, when he spoke up.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unusually tentative.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about what our moms used to say? About us getting married?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Uh, sometimes. Why?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I used to think it was ridiculous, you know? Like, they were just joking around. But…”

You waited, holding your breath.

“But now I’m starting to wonder if maybe they weren’t entirely wrong.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Yuki,” you said softly, your chest tightening.

He looked at you, his expression both nervous and hopeful. “I know this is probably the worst time to say this, but I—” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I like you. More than just as a friend. I think I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”

Your heart felt like it was about to burst. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he admitted. “But now… I can’t pretend anymore.”

You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly his arms were around you, holding you close.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore either,” you whispered, burying your face in his chest.

The simulation ended a few days later, but your relationship didn’t.

For once, your moms were right.

And this time, you didn’t mind one bit.

i love yukimiya so much it's unhealthy

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

#★ · airybcbyy #airy posts #bllk #blue lock #airy answers asks :)#bllk x reader #yukimiya kenyu #yukimiya #kenyu #kenyu yukimiya x reader #yukimiya kenyu x reader #yukimiya x reader #kenyu yukimiya #blue lock x reader

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ofstoriesandstardust · 10 months ago

Text

i just want your love (twisters - boone)

a/n: whatever, you can pry this from my cold dead heads.

summary: You've been a bit busy with the start of your master's program and Boone is feeling just the teeny tiniest bit left out.

warnings: fluff, alcohol mentions, swearing, insecurities, i hate you theory, when i catch you theory, unedited i wrote this in like an hour and a half

word count: 1.8k

Now, despite popular opinion, Boone was actually smart.

While most people would’ve written him off as an uneducated, thoughtless hillbilly, Boone actually had a decent head on his shoulders. Reckless, yeah, loud and chaotic, sure. But he was the best editor the team had, swiftly cutting through b-roll and different angles, always putting on the best show for their viewers.

But academia was not and never had been and probably never would be Boone’s strong suit. He hadn’t even finished high school.

And when you had made the decision to go back to school for your Master’s you had warned him that it would be a huge time commitment on your end, that you wouldn’t be able to put as much effort or attention into your relationship as you had before.

Your first semester would be the Fall semester, right at the heart of the off-season. He had pledged to you that he would be the best partner to you as you made the adjustment and he had pledged to himself that he would do his very best to stay out of your way.

And yeah, sure, it was an adjustment for you. The long days were killer on you but he always made sure you had a lunch packed and a decent dinner to come home to (and if Cathy and Tyler were giving him tips and tricks and recipes on the side, no one needed to know). He had made sure to make himself scarce or at the very least quiet on weekends, hanging out more with Javi or Tyler and Kate, putting together more footage for compilation videos, and even picking up a new video game Javi had recommended to him. He was pretty sure even Dani and Lilly were sick of him hanging around their place, always bugging Lilly about Cairo and upgrades they could make, even though none of his friends ever had the heart to tell him to go away.

But this was killing him. He had been doing okay, because you usually spent time with him after dinner on the weekends or made breakfast with him and on Friday nights he could coerce you to curl up on the couch with a beer and takeout and watch a movie before you inevitably fell asleep with a piece of pizza in hand, forty five minutes into the movie.

But last night, a Saturday, you hadn’t left the office for dinner until an hour and a half after he had finished it and had stood in the kitchen only long enough to scarf down two helpings before disappearing to finish your homework. And dammit, he missed you. He wanted to curl up with you, you tugging your fingers through his hair, as he laid his head on your stomach and you told him about your day. He wanted to be able to finish editing a video and get your feedback on it before sending it over to the rest of the group. He wanted to tell you about the improvements he and Javi and Lilly were making to Cairo to get better footage and data from the drone.

So today, as you’re blinking yourself awake through your third sip of coffee, Boone declares he’s going to help you with your homework.

You raise an eyebrow at him, silent question in your look. He chooses to ignore it, silently proud of himself, thinking about all the time you’ll get to share with him if he finds a way to help you. Maybe he can read your readings to you as you take notes, or help you come up with questions for discussion, or edit through your reflection assignments for class.

A stack of paper lands in front of him and he glances up at you. You gesture to it silently as you take your seat, clearly waiting for him to “help”.

He gingerly picks up the packet, flipping over to the first page and is instantly overwhelmed by the words “empiricism” and “epistemology” and “temporal” and “postulates” and “discursive constitutions”.

“What in the fresh hell does any of this mean?” He mutters as he flips through it, confusion and embarrassment blurring the foreign words together in the face of the truth: He couldn’t help you with this. He wasn’t smart enough.

You snort into your coffee. “You tell me. You’re the one who said you could help.”

He lets the papers fall to the table, cheeks burning in shame. You falter, setting your cup down before standing up, wrapping your arms around him from behind. One of your hands combs itself through his curls, working out the knots that had formed while he was asleep last night.

“Baby, if I can’t figure it out, I don’t know how you expect to figure it out.”

“Hey.” He protests weakly, face growing even hotter in shame at the callout, twisting to pull away from you but your grip tightens.

“Easy, that’s not what I’m saying.” You say with a tug on his hair. “‘M saying it’s hard all-around and I’m familiar with this field. No wonder it don’t make sense to you. And maybe I shouldn’t have given you the theory, that shit’s meant to be hard, but I wanted to make a point.” He sighs, knowing you’re telling the truth. “Baby, tell me what’s going on.”

“I just-” He sighs, feeling like an idiot for even saying it. “I just miss you.”

Your hand pauses in his hair. “Boone, we talked about this.”

And you had. You had made it so clear to him that you would be busy, maybe too busy, and you’d understand if he wanted to break it off. But he hadn’t wanted to lose you and that fear had made him panic, promising things he wasn’t sure he could sustain.

And Javi and Kate had both warned him separately, the sacrifices grad school required, and even Tyler and Lilly had warned him that the crap he had put up with while they had been in school would be nothing compared to the long work and internship hours, class blocks, and homework loads of grad school.

But he wanted to be with you more than he cared about a couple of road bumps for a few years while you got a degree that would ultimately, hopefully, let you make a little bit more money to create a better life for the two of you. Not that he thought the life you guys had had before was bad, but if another degree and a bit more money in the bank made you happy, he’d back you in that effort, a hundred and ten percent.

And yet, he was starting to get the feeling that he was going to get left behind. You had complained to him that there were primarily men in your program, and while he had laughed with you at the idiot comments they’d make in class, he was starting to wonder if it would just take one connection with any of them for you to realize you could be with someone more your speed. Someone smart and someone who understands whatever fancy-pants words this author was using and someone whose schedules matched yours and would just be a better fit all around.

“Baby, you’re crying.” You whisper and to his horror, he realizes he is, face suddenly wet.

Before he can even do anything about it, your face swims into view as you sit on his lap. His hands immediately find your waist, the need to have you close persisting past the urge to pretend like nothing is wrong.

Your thumbs wipe away his tears. “What’s wrong, my love?” You whisper softly, concern etched into the lines of your face. He gives a pitiful shrug.

“I just think that- that maybe you need to be with someone better. Someone smarter, I guess. Someone who understands what the word postulates means.”

“I think if anyone who understands theory should legally be considered a psychopath.” Your face falls when he doesn’t laugh at the joke and you sigh. “Baby, you are plenty smart, even if it isn’t with this shit.”

“But what if you meet someone better there? Someone who can understand you?”

You give a sad smile. “Baby, you do understand me. And all those men are old or married or gay or extremely annoying. Or E, all of the above. I don’t want them.”

“But you want me?”

It doesn’t make sense to him. It has never made sense to him, but it especially doesn’t make sense to him now.

“Booney, of course I want you. How could I not?”

And well, he could think of one or two reasons. Or twenty.

“Booney, this has been one of the hardest adjustments in my life. But you’ve been so great through it, always making sure I eat and go to bed at a decent hour and do all my homework so I’m not waking up at odd hours of the night, stressed out of my mind. And it’s been really fucking lonely, being at a school where I can’t along with any of my classmates and I don’t know anyone else, but you’re always making sure I’m seeing the Wranglers for barbecue at least once a week, or catching up with Kate over coffee or going riding with Tyler. You’re making sure my head stays on, making sure I’m taking care of myself. And I’m sorry I haven’t been taking care of you in return.

“No,” He protests. “No, this is dumb shit, it ain’t-”

“It ain’t dumb shit, it’s your feelings, and I’m sorry I haven’t been paying attention. I’m gonna make more of an effort to try.” Once he nods, and you see the confirmation you’re looking for, you sigh, hands leaving his face. “Listen, I only got one chapter to read today, so let me finish eating and go do that, and then I’m yours the rest of the day. You can have me all day, although I should maybe shower at some point, cause I can’t remember the last time I took one.”

He offers you a watery smile. “You mean it? I’m not gonna be a major distraction? If you got shit to do, I- I understand. I can go over to T’s or something.”

You shake your head. “No, no. I mean it.”

“Can we just- just stay in bed the whole day? Watch movies or something?” He asks shyly. You nod, a grin growing.

“Sounds heavenly baby.”

He lets you go, maybe a bit reluctantly, as you finish your eggs before disappearing into the office, and then to the shower an hour later. He can’t help but join you, almost too pleased to have your undivided attention.

Later that night, as both of your phones are set on the nightstand on do not disturb, takeout containers strewn across the room, the Harry Potter films flickering on a forgotten screen, he nudges your cheek with his nose. “I fucking love you baby.” He whispers. “You’re- the whole world to me.”

You hum, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you too, baby. I ain’t going nowhere, nowhere in the whole world I’d wanna be then right here.”

#twisters boone #boone x reader #boone x female reader #twisters boone fic #twisters boone x reader #twisters #twisters fic

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