#since I don’t have the time/seriousness to do a writing group or class or anything

[micamicster]

I do mainly see writing as like a fun hobby i pursue when the impulse strikes me but i really do always want to improve! So because this is a blog im thinking about my writing goals for this current project:

Try to pull back and be more ambiguous when writing metaphors etc try not to state things so directly

Reduce the amount of like, buffer words, like she thinks or she feels. We’re in her pov we already know this is her thinking

Try to make my protagonist interesting without relying on her being funny (why didn’t I just write a funny protagonist?? what was I thinking!)

[channiedotcom]

late night gaming

i.n x gn!reader – fluff ; gamer!jeongin ; college au 

word count – 1.1k

a/n – i’ve been hoping to write something like this ever since i found out that i.n plays overwatch… it’s one of my favorite games and i like to imagine how fun it would be to get to game with him (and the other members of skz of course) also lmk if y’all would be interested in a pt 2! 

Late into the night, bluish-purple light seeps under the doorway of your bedroom. Every now and then, flashes of varying colors find their way into the mix. Your fingers move swiftly over your keyboard and mouse as your character turns in-game, taking shots at the enemy team. The payload is so close to creeping into the final point when–

Your character falls to the ground. You’ve been eliminated by fnncfx on Widowmaker. You hit your desk lightly with your fist, frustrated. “How did they even hit me? I swear I was behind that wall in time,” you mutter, watching the kill feed. You sigh and continue, exiting the spawn and getting back into the fight. Less than a minute later, it happens again. The same fnncfx gets a headshot, taking you out once more, just as quickly as you rejoined the battle.

The more it happens, the more frustrated you feel. Hoping to end the infuriating cycle, you switch to Sombra. If they’re going to keep targeting you, it’s only fair you do the same! You track down the Widowmaker and swiftly eliminate them. Within seconds, a message pops up in match chat:

fnncfx: counterswap? kinda weird

You roll your eyes and choose to ignore it. The game goes on for another minute or two, and you help your team by eliminating the Widowmaker at least twice more. As the timer runs out, your team finally completes the objective, and the word “Victory!” plasters itself across the screen. Before the game ends, you notice a small string of messages in the match chat:

fnncfx: ggs, except sombra fnncfx: i know ur mad i kept killing you lol

In a fit of frustration, you click on their profile and press the “add friend” button. You don’t really need to, but you want to talk to them and explain yourself. Almost as soon as you do, they add you back. You invite them to your group, eager to express your frustration. They accept and join in.

“You know I had to switch characters so you would stop eliminating me, right? You didn’t have to be such a jerk about it,” you huff, leaning towards your monitor.

There’s a pause. You stare at your screen, face illuminated by the glow. Why aren’t they responding yet? Did something go wrong?

“...Is this y/n?” he finally says, breaking the silence. As he speaks, your heart drops into your stomach. You recognize that voice instantly. It’s Jeongin– the cute guy from your math class. What is he doing playing this game? How did you end up in the same lobby? Your mind races. You’ve admired Jeongin from afar all semester- he’s the one you glance at in class, hoping he’ll notice you. And now here he is, in the same game, talking to you. Getting lost in your own thoughts, you almost forget to respond.

“I- uh- yes, hi! Oh my gosh, I didn’t- I didn’t think I’d run into you in this game! I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t come across as rude or- or anything…” You stumble over your words, your voice trailing off as you put your face in your hands. You feel like you’ve seriously messed up.

He laughs.

He laughs.

You look up, your face warm. Despite the circumstances, you can’t help but think about how absolutely cute that sounded.

“I didn’t know you played this game, that’s actually pretty cool,” he says, his voice reminding you of liquid gold. It sounds warm and soothing, just like how you remember hearing it in class. 

“Yeah, I’ve had it for a while. I don’t play much stuff like this, but I guess this game is just different.” You shrug, leaning back into your chair a little bit. Knowing he isn’t upset as of this moment brings you a bit more peace. 

“Would you maybe… want to play a few games as a duo?”

Your eyes light up. He actually wants to play with you? He wasn’t going to ditch you immediately? 

You don’t even wait a moment before giving him a confident “That would be amazing!”

The two of you play through a few matches and do rather well, especially since he’s quite good at the game. You both find yourselves having a great time, giggling at the characters who seem to have no idea what is going on. You work together to take down enemy team after enemy team, barely losing any games.

After some time, you can hear him let out a sharp sigh. “I hate to do this to you, especially because I’m enjoying this so much, but I think I have to get going. My roommate Felix says he needs me to run it back in some scrimmages; I forgot I told him yesterday that I’d help out with that. I hope that’s alright…” He goes quiet, clearly disappointed to have some prior commitment. 

You frown, but aren’t too surprised. Of course someone as talented as him would be on some sort of gaming team. “For sure, that’s okay! I still had a great time; I would love to do this again, if you’d be down for that.”

“Yeah, totally! Why don’t you write down my number, and I’ll text you when I have time to do this again.” 

You can feel your face turning red at the idea of getting his number. This is someone you’ve admired from afar all semester, and now he wants to talk to you more. You feel like you’re in the clouds right now, your head spinning. 

He tells you the digits of his phone number and you swiftly enter them into your phone, then send him a text so he knows yours as well. 

“Okay, well you have a goodnight, y/n! It was great talking to you.” You can hear him smiling on the other side of his screen, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s blushing too. After he leaves the group, you log off out of the game and turn off your computer. You stand up from your chair and fall back onto your bed, wrapping yourself in the sheets. Giddy laughter escapes as you kick your feet in excitement. The thought that the most attractive boy in your class just gave you his number swirls in your mind, like a dream you never want to end. It still feels so surreal that he seems to at least tolerate- if not actually like- someone like you. As you hold your phone close to your chest, you slowly drift away into a deep sleep, dreaming of what could come of this newfound friendship, or maybe something more…

[flurry-of-stars]

𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻, 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Idol! Nikolai x Idol! Reader

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒

Idol AU, pre-established relationship, secret relationship

⚠️ 18+, mature content ⚠️ Jealousy, smut with plot, public groping, cunnilingus, fingering, grinding, unprotected sex, praise, pet names, dom/sub undertones.

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A chuckle rumbles in his throat as his fingertips trail further up your arm, towards your delicate shoulder, His hand massages it tentatively as he teasingly whispers, “So feisty~ But you know I’ve always loved that about you.” “I knew you’d get jealous~” 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 7.4k (𝒜/𝒩: I forgot I had this draft from April so I decided to finish it up. I had more planned for this AU but we'll see (//▽//) Fish in a Birdcage gave me a reason to write something spicy--)

𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 ♡

“Okay girls! Take a five minute break and then we’ll be moving on to the next routine!” The choreographer claps his hands twice before turning away, walking away from the stage.

Your eyes trail him as he disappears past the crew preparing everything for tomorrow night and towards your manager. You sit down, wiping rolling sweat off your forehead as your fellow Everglow Angelics idols also sit down. You hear one whine, “My feet are killing me. We’ve been going at this since five in the morning!” You identify the voice as Makayla’s without even looking over at her. She was the youngest of the group. “I didn’t even eat anything before I left my apartment,” another whines as she lays on the stage. “Do you think we can get away with getting delivery?” “Unless you want to piss off Simon again, I suggest you don’t Cecilia.” A fellow idol warns as she walks around, passing everyone water bottles. You crack the cap on yours, the cool drink refreshing you as the conversation goes on, “We only have a few more routines left, then we can head out for the day.” “You forgot Nadia, they also want to do a full dress rehearsal,” Makayla says without looking over. “And we have to sit through the boy's routine too.” Cecilia scoffs as she fights with the cap on her bottle, “Like seriously? We won’t even be here after they usher us off stage.” “I thought it was just to decide who’s being partnered with who?” You inquire. Cecilia sighs and shrugs. “Apparently not,” she grumbles. She turns her attention to Nadia again, whining again, “What if we get delivery from that seafood place? The one that just opened up on the other side of town?”

“Lydia’s allergic to shellfish,” Nadia replies calmly, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. Lydia silently nods as she rubs her shoulder. She always was the quietest of the group. She flashes Cecilia a teasing look, “And besides, we all know you’d never order seafood.” “What! Yes I would--!” As the conversation goes on, your gaze drifts towards Simon, your manager, dressed in an expensive grey suit, and the choreographer. You see another man walking up to them.

You recognise him instantly as one of the idols from the male group. Eli. You narrow your eyes, trying to read his lips. But alas, that was a talent you’d yet to perfect. Simon nods a few times, though you notice the way his brow furrows in irritation.

Whatever Eli asked about, Simon wasn’t happy about it, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. But he seems to get his way as he leaves with a grin. You’re about to follow him with your gaze but you see Simon getting closer to the stage, a large smile that doesn’t reach his eyes plastered all over his face. You whisper to the girls, grabbing their attention. “Ladies, may I have your attention for a moment.” He calls in a loud voice. Though you and your fellow idols wince, you put those acting classes to good use.

Sweet smiles adorn each of your faces as you share glances of ‘Oh god, here we go’ with each other. His feigned smile tugs slightly, as if adjusting itself back into place. He continues, “Due to some complications with your fellow idol group, we’re going to decide the pairings for tomorrow night now.”

As Simon says this, footsteps echo on the stagefloor, causing you to look back. Joining you onstage as expected is the male idol group Simon also manages. “So let’s deal with this quickly so you lovely ladies can get back to work, alright?” He grins wide for a moment, but it swiftly drops as he steps back, his hand cupping and running over his chin.

You stand up, your heart fluttering a little as you roll the water bottle between your hands.

You hear him pairing off the others first; Makayla with Eli is the first pairing you hear. You wait quietly as the other girls are paired off, your heart fluttering as you realize who you’re going to be paired with. “And that just leaves—” You squeak in surprise as your wrist is grabbed, hand lifted as you’re spun, your water bottle slipping out of your hand. Then you’re dipped. Heat rushes to your cheeks as a strong hand holds the small of your back, your heart leaping as you see an all too familiar smirk and a pair of gleaming, mismatched eyes, “—Us~” Nikolai Gogol.

The most beloved of the male idol group and the non-official leader, as dubbed by the fans. Quite frankly, you couldn’t blame them. Especially not when you had your own private box of merch hidden away at home. Even dressed in simple clothes, as he was now, you could feel yourself swooning. Or maybe that was just because his black shirt was so tight, you could see his muscles through it-- He tugs you back up into a standing position, his hand practically gluing itself to your waist as the other girls giggle. You swallow slowly, trying to calm down.

After all, there wasn’t anything wrong with how you were being held. Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest as you hear Simon continuing to talk as he walks the length of the stage, “—So for this concert, Eli,I want you to pick Makayla up—” You lose focus on the discussion, a hushed sound escaping you as you feel Nikolai’s hand slyly grope your ass for a split second. You huff under your breath, “Kolya, behave.”

“What~? I didn’t do anything,” he replies in a quiet tone. God, that accent of his made your knees shiver instantly. His hand finds its way back to your waist, tugging you closer. You whine, feeling the heat of his body against yours. Simon is still discussing plans for the concert with Eli and Makayla when you feel his hand sliding under your skirt this time for a fraction of a second. The tease. “Nikolai,” you sternly whisper, earning a cheeky giggle in return. His hand moves with the speed of a snake, latching itself back onto your waist. It feels like there’s a fire forming in your cheeks as your grumble, “Are you trying to get us caught? If Simon sees us—” “He won’t, songbird,” he whispers to you, his warm breath caressing the lobe of your ear. His hand caresses your waist a little too intimately as he places a swift kiss on your ear. It's fast, soft...teasing. “I don’t want to risk it even slightly,” you grumble, your body trembling under Nikolai’s touch. You chew on your bottom lip, watching as Simon begins talking to Nadia and her partner for the concert.

“You saw how he reacted when that delivery guy so much as flirted with Cecilia. Could you imagine if he found out about us?” Nikolai snickers, teasing you with each caress to your waist, “He isn’t going to catch us, songbird. I know what I’m doing.” His hand dips to your hip, giving it a squeeze, You whimper as your heart leaps. You can practically feel it throbbing against your ribcage.

“Don’t fly too close to the sun, Icarus,” you tease, voice slightly stern as it trembles slightly. You feel his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt, almost as if he’s contemplating teasing you further, another deep, throaty chuckle escaping him. “Then tell me you don’t want me to touch you like this,” he purrs teasingly. You can feel his eyes gleaming as he watches you like a predator, waiting to pounce on its cornered prey.

He’s waiting to see if you give him the green light. He wants to hear you give me consent. But unfortunately, you don’t plan on granting his wish today. Sternly, you mumble, “Do not touch me intimately where our manager or the public eye can see.” You huff, feeling his large hand pause on your waist. You hear him clicking his tongue a few times.

Then, as another chuckle escapes him, his hand returns to your waist, loosening its grip slightly. “Your wish is my command, songbird~” You frown. Why does he sound so smug all of a sudden? You knew Nikolai well enough to know when he was up to something.

The only question was what. ★★★

A cascade of glittery stars and confetti explodes from over the top of the stage, the crowd erupting into a cacophonous roar of glee and applause. Beams of bright gold and white slowly change direction, from pointing at the crowd to focusing their attention to the girl group of pop idols on the stage as the last of the fog evaporates. A fresh layer of sweat runs down your forehead as the backing track ends, raising a hand to swiftly swipe it away before the cameras can catch it.

The puffy, short princess dress you wore shimmered gold under the hot stage lights, despite being made of a pure white material, the small sparkles embedded into the skirt sparkling elegantly. But even in a short dress like this, you were melting under the intense heat of the stage lights, on top of the past three hours of non-stop performing some of the most intense dance routines your group had learnt while still being expected to sing in an unwavering voice.

You look at the other four girls with you, all wearing similar styles of Princess dresses, just in different colors. They all looked just as exhausted as you. There was just one more part of the show to go. It was the part of the show a majority of the fans were waiting for. It was one of the biggest reasons why so many of your fans were always so desperate to get their hands on tickets, even if it meant paying resellers thousands.

Someone from backstage begins handing you the glittery microphones to pass down the line, which you do so with practiced ease. The idol on the far end, Nadia, is dressed in a longer, lilac colored dress. She speaks up, her voice warm and sweet. “Is everyone having a great night?” She asks sweetly, holding her microphone up to the crowd. A wave of noise erupts back at her, a sea of glow sticks of each of their member's corresponding colors going up. She smiles, teasingly speaking into the microphone, “I can’t hear you~!” You grimace, keeping a forced smile on your face as the crowd's screams grow louder. You can hear chants for your name and the other idol’s names in there as well. Even a few ‘I love you’s’. The squeals were the ones that split through your skull the worst.

You can already feel your head thumping as the idol in the middle, Makayla, in her sleeveless dress in pink, steps forward. “We’re so happy you all enjoyed our show! We genuinely cannot thank you enough for coming out just to see us tonight!”

“But it’s getting late,” Lydia, the idol to her left speaks up, sounding more downcast. Her light blue dress has the longest sleeves and skirt. With every move she makes, she shimmers faintly. “So it’s time for us to bid you adieu!” The idol beside you, Cecilia, chimes in, sounding much more upbeat and cheerful in her pale yellow dress. Her hands and neck are adorned with jewels that shimmer and sparkle, almost blinding you as you look at her. You can feel your heart pounding as you smile out at the wild crowd. You notice every glow stick that’s shining white in the crowd as though they would be your own personal beacons, calling out just for you, screaming their support with each waggle and wave.

You take a deep breath. Your words would be the cue for the tech guys. Smiling widely, you speak happily into the microphone as you and the other girls prepare to wave to your beloved fans, “We love you all and can’t wait to see you again--!” Just like that, the stage lights go out. Your idol group begin acting panicked, each one speaking over the other as you hear the excitement growing in the crowd, notice how much more frantic the glow stick waves have become.

You hear heavier footsteps rushing onto the stage as your group's frantic words grow. “Wha--!” “Watch the dress--!!” “Where are you putting those hands--!!” It was all part of the performance. The fans were exhilarated. You could hear their loud, excited screams and cheers already, and even saw a few fans bouncing up and down in place out of sheer excitement of what was about to happen. As you feel a gloved hand snake around your waist as planned, your heart flutters as you continue putting up a fake fight, faking your annoyance until the lights come back on at the call of one of the other girls. When your eyes meet the male idol that has your wrist, you quickly realise he isn’t the man you were expecting. You blink, looking up at the debonair idol before you hear an all too familiar chuckle behind you. You turn to see Nikolai, the one you were expecting to be holding you. Except he’s holding Makayla. Almost cradling her in his arms. Your throat grows tight instantly as your heart squeezes, as though a boa constrictor would be coiling around it. His outfit was flashy and loud, despite the outfit only consisting of shades of black and white. Anytime the stage lights touched him, numerous parts of his outfit would twinkle and sparkle, from the rhinestones above his eyes and along his little top hat to the stars decorating the inner fabric of his elegant, checkered patterned overcoat. It billows behind him as he holds up your fellow idol, a charming smirk on his face. The crowd explodes in loud cheers and cries. Glowsticks turn from the colors of your idol group to the color of theirs.

The vast crowd screams the names of the male idols, many jumping as they scream. Others shaking their glowsticks so aggressively you’re almost expecting them to go airborne and knock someone out.

For many fans in the crowd, this was the whole reason they came to this show to begin with. You watch as he continues holding your fellow idol, taking her microphone from her as he speaks into it. When he speaks, his Ukrainian accent is smooth like melted butter, making a shiver run down your spine, “Quiz time~! Is it time for the party to end, dear audience?” He holds the microphone towards the crowd, earning varying degrees of response. Screams of no in varying degrees, along with many, many fans screaming their love as if this would be their last chance to do it. You wonder for a brief moment how they’re still able to scream after doing it for three hours straight when the voice of the idol with braided white locks breaks you from your thoughts. “Correct answers~! In fact, I think we’re just getting started!~ Riiiight~?” His mismatched eyes gaze at the other male idols, never once grazing your form. You feel your heart squeeze more as the other male idols cheer in agreement, much to his delight.

His smirk grows and you swear, you see his hand caressing the waist of the idol girl in pink. “Then I say we send these gorgeous ladies on their way and we continue the show~! Come along now, shoo, all of you~!” You gasp as the idol holding your wrist begins gently tugging you towards the curtain. You can hear the others creating a scene, as was expected, telling you and the other girls to head home for the night as your fellow idols whined and resisted. But you couldn’t find it in your heart to perform right now. Not when you’d just witnessed Nikolai holding another woman, regardless if it was an act or not. Once your group has been shooed backstage, pushed away with a few playful teases tossed in for good measure, you hug yourself gently as you walk to the dressing room, frowning deeply as the scene plays over and over in your mind.

The way he picked her up. How he held her. The position of his hand on her waist. The next track starts, the music booming off the walls, thumping loudly in your mind. But your mind was only focused on one thing right now.

You look up, noticing the other idols talking between each other, complaining of their exhaustion.

It isn’t a big deal, you try and tell yourself. It’s all part of the allure of the act. It’s what made rumours spread and caused the names of both idol groups to constantly be front page news every week. You were just taking things too personally.

And yet the more you dwell on it, the heavier your heart grows. Taking a few quick steps, you catch up to the others. “Makayla, can I ask you something?” The woman in the pink Princess dress looks up, smiling warmly as she stops in her tracks. You notice the exhaustion in her smile however, so you decide to cut to the chase, “Eli was suppose to pick you up on stage, wasn’t he?” Makayla looks at you curiously, her hands delicately working on taking her hair down from the intricate way it had been styled, “Yeah, he was. I’m not sure what happened but it’s not a big deal. Nikolai picked me up with no trouble at all.” She sounds genuinely astonished. “I had no idea he was that strong until tonight.” You swallow, feeling a lump forming in your throat. Nadia steps forward, a small grin on her face, “Oooh did you get to touch his muscles, Myka?” Makayla giggles, “He was holding me like a Princess, Nadia. It was hard not to!” The ladies giggle amongst themselves before she gives a sigh. No one has noticed that you haven’t spoken in these past few minutes, “It’s a shame our manager gave us that strict no dating rule. I would ask him out in a flash.” “It sounds to me more like you’d ask him straight into your bed,” Nadia replies teasingly, causing both women to start laughing again. That constricting feeling around your heart grows. You feel each painful thump your heart makes as you try to keep calm, your throat feeling so painfully dry. Excusing yourself with a sweet smile, you run to your dressing room before it gets too much. It didn’t mean anything. It was all part of the performance. It was just an act.

So then why did you feel like crying? ★★★

You slump onto the sofa in your townhouse, huffing as you lick a freezing blob of your favourite ice cream off the spoon. Some old rerun for a show is playing on the television but you’re not paying attention to it. It’s been a few days since your last onstage performance. You and the other idols were on break for the next few days before you would be heading to France for a special photo shoot in Paris.

A well known fashion designer wanted you and your fellow idols to wear her latest designs for her in her upcoming fashion show, so she was bringing you to Paris for the next week on an all-expenses paid trip. You were looking forward to it, as much as you could at least. Your heart twists in your chest everytime you look at your phone screen and notice Nikolai still hasn’t messaged you.

Your heart twists painfully as you toss your phone aside, grabbing the tub of ice cream, and devouring a few more scoops with a heavy sigh. Whatever. You didn’t need him. You should’ve known he was just treating you like an easy fling. It was really your fault for-- The phone chimes happily. You practically toss the tub of half eaten ice cream aside, diving for it. Your heart flutters with excitement...before that excitement is stomped on like a roach. It was one of the other idols messaging you. Cecilia [6:05pm]: Heyyy, do u think u can help me with smth? Cecilia [6:06pm]: Can u resend me that email our manager sent us all last week? Cecilia [6:07pm]: U know, the 1 with our schedules 4 our Paris trip? Cecilia [6:08pm]: I mstve accidently deleted it. I wuld be soooo g8ful if u sent it 2 me! ♡ You sigh, flopping your face into the plump couch cushion. Of course it wasn’t Nikolai. Stupid you for getting your hopes up like that. You groan loudly into the cushion before lifting your head, typing back. Me [6:10pm]: Sure C. I’ll send it ASAP. Cecilia [6:11pm]: Ur the literal best! I’ll buy u something while we’re in Paris to ty! Cecilia [6:12pm]: Wine? Macaroons? Watever u want, just name it n I’ll get it!!! There's a brief flicker of warmth in your heart as you smile at your phone. You drop it, leaving it on the sofa as you begin making your way upstairs to your study. It was modest, mostly because most of the shelves were empty aside from a few random books you read as a teenager and a few candles and other random ornaments you received as gifts from family members who didn’t know what to get you. You still had the same desktop computer you used as a teenager too. It was slow but until it loaded its last webpage, you’d keep using it. The door creaks as you open it.

Hopefully, you’d saved the file she was talking about into your important folder. Your hand reaches out, gliding across the light switch when a hand suddenly grasps your own, tugging you close. You cry out in surprise, your heart lunging into your throat as Nikolai pulls you in, his hand squeezes yours while the other finds its way around your waist.

He pulls you close. Very close, so that your bodies are touching, “Finally,” he chuckles, his hand moving to caress your wrist. “I wondered when you’d head upstairs.”

You’re frozen for a moment. When did he…? He must’ve used his key to sneak in while you were in the shower earlier! As you calm down, your brain finally catches up.

Then you try and pull away from him, huffing, “You’re lucky I didn’t punch you for startling me!” You can feel that constricting pain rising in your chest as you try to pull away from him. But he doesn’t let you go. A chuckle rumbles in his throat as his fingertips trail further up your arm, towards your delicate shoulder. His hand massages it tentatively as he teasingly whispers, “So feisty~ But you know I’ve always loved that about you.” He leans in, his warm breath caressing the side of your delicate neck.

A shiver that you try to deny runs down your spine as he whispers against your rapidly beating pulse. He smirks at you as he leans up, whispering directly into your ear. His words make that imaginary dagger in your chest twist in deeper, “I knew you’d get jealous~ But you can’t be mad at me; I was just doing as you told me~” Your face becomes hotter instantly. You grunt as you try and push him away, but Nikolai still doesn’t let you create any distance between you two, “What nonsense are you rattling on about?” You reply, scoffing at him.

You hated the fact that he could read you like a book sometimes. You hear him chuckle again as he places a fleeting kiss on your earlobe. “Oh, I know you know what I’m talking about.” His voice rumbles in his throat like a deep purr. His hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck, your chest pressing flush with his.

You can feel his heart beating against your own as he continues teasing, “I saw the way you grimaced on stage when the lights came back on and I wasn’t the one holding you. You know...” “...When you saw me holding that girl up~ ” Your heart squeezes again. You scoff, sounding more furious as he finally lets you push him away, “No I didn’t. You’re just making things up.” You walk away from him, heading over to your computer. You don’t sit down yet as you boot up the system, waiting for the old device to switch on. Your mind reels back to that moment in the night when for just a second his arm had wrapped around the waist of Makayla. The way his hand tightened around her before the performance continued and you were all ushered off that stage.

But that’s all it was. Part of the act. None of it was serious. It wasn't part of the routine but there was always a possibility that plans were changed. And yet you knew that touch had never happened before with any other fan or fellow idol. Nikolai was touchy but there were boundaries in place. Boundaries that he rarely pushed, unless intending to tease you. He was always respectful of any boundaries you put in place.

Which meant– You jump as the computer suddenly blares to life, the welcome page popping up. As you’re typing in your password, you gasp as you feel a pair of strong hands caressing your sides, sliding under your blouse to touch your delicate, sensitive skin.

You bite your lip as you feel the warmth of his body as he presses up against you, your fingers gliding across the keyboard as you focus on what you’re doing.

“You don’t have to hide it,” he cooed against your back, his hands trailing to your hips. “I think you’re quite adorable when you get jealous like this~” His hands slide further under your blouse, his firm fingers caressing your soft stomach as you whine, hands trembling on your keyboard. “K-Kolya, I’m trying to do something here,” you grumble, trying to focus. His fingertips slide under the bottom of your bra, finally earning a soft moan from you. With a devilish smirk, he begins gently teasing your nipples, shushing you softly. “You’ve been working so hard all week.” He leans in, his warm breath caressing your ear as you writhe faintly in his touch. “Why don’t you let me help you relax and take your mind off that Matilda girl, hm~?” Nikolai calling Makayla the wrong name made you feel a bit better. You groan as he gropes your breasts with more intent now, his large hand caressing and squeezing eagerly, his thumbs fondly brushing against your hardening nipples.

Your back arches into him as you pull away from the computer. But within a second, one of his hands moves to your upper back, pushing down. “Stay.” His hand caresses your back and breast, both trailing down to your hips. His hands begin to move further down your body, causing your legs to part the slightest. A deep chuckle rumbles in his throat as he sees your body reacting on its own as a smooth purr escapes him, “Good girl…” His hands slide your skintight shorts down. A satisfied noise escapes him as he notices the panties you’re wearing, “Aww baby…you’re mad at me but still wearing the panties I got you for our anniversary~? How precious~” “I didn’t wear them for–” Before you can finish giving him sass, you gasp as he gently smacks you on the ass. You cry out, more in surprise than pain as he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Now, now. There’s no need to lie, baby.” He coos softly, one of his hands snaking around to your stomach. His hand slips into your pretty white lace panties, brushing against your slit.

You lift your head, moaning again as it dips further in, his fingers stroking and rubbing against the delicate flesh as you squirm softly. His voice is an amused, yet near predatorial purr. “So be honest with me, yeah? You were jealous of that girl–” His fingers caress your growing wetness even more intensively now as one digit moves to rub your clit. You give a small, high-pitched cry as you lean over your desk more, your hands finding purchase wherever they can.

Your hips wiggle softly as he grasps your hip with his free hand, holding you steady. “--Jealous that I touched her waist like that. What did your pretty mind think, hm? What sort of wild things ran through your imagination?” “K-Kolya…” You breathlessly whisper as you try to think straight. Heat begins pooling in your stomach as you can feel your body getting hot and needy. "Come on, my pretty little songbird." He purrs against your throat, his tongue darting out, running along your madly beating pulse. Your breathing grows heavier as his slow caresses grow just a touch rougher, prompting more whines from you, "If you want me to keep going, you have to tell me the truth." You whimper, hands clutching at your desk, eyes closing in a desperate attempt to keep the truth in. But all it takes is one caress, faster than the rest to make you gasp, "Y-yes! Yes, yes, y-you're right!" "Say the words, songbird~" He teases, his finger rubbing at your clit to give you the incentive you need. "I-I was jealous! J-jealous of Makayla!" You blurt out, your legs squirming slightly as you whine needily. “Good girl, oh so good girl, fuck baby, you’re already so wet for me,” he purrs, leaning over you to nip at your earlobe. His fingers move faster for a moment before he pulls back, suddenly dropping to his knees and encouraging you to spread your legs.

You can feel the near desperation in his touch as he suddenly pulls your panties down enough to expose your soaked cunt. Like a starved man, Nikolai wastes no time getting in close. His tongue rasps and licks hungrily at your wet pussy, making you cry out softly, your grip tightening on the desk. You can feel vibrations rolling off his tongue as he groans into your pussy, your taste and scent intoxicating him like a drug. His hands squeeze your hips, holding you still as his tongue slips into your pussy. Your back arches as you throw your head back, a moan of pleasure slipping from your lips. “Kolya!! Oh fuck!!” You cry, shaking against your desk softly. You lay your upper half back down on your desk, hips jerking back faintly to meet each thrust of his tongue as you moan and whimper against your desk as he fucks you with his tongue.

After a few thrusts, it snakes back out, his tongue flicking at your clit as one of his fingers takes its place. Your squirming grows more desperate as you near the edge of release. One of your feet lifts, shaking faintly as you try to hold on. Heat and pleasure surge through your sensitive body as you writhe, left at the mercy of the idol.

You can feel his digit thrusting, probing and spreading you open as his tongue laps at your clit. Then, suddenly, he begins sucking on it. Just like that, you feel that tight coil in your stomach releasing. You tremble as you climax, your moans echoing in your study as you give Nikolai what he is seeking. He laps every drop of your release up, savouring your sweetness like it would be a blessing from a higher power.

Pleased groans escape him as he squeezes your hip, pulling back to growl against your inner thigh, peppering it with little kisses and nips, “That’s it, that’s my good girl, god you have no idea how good you taste…”

As you pant and try to catch your breath, you push your body up slightly, opening your mouth to speak only to feel two of his wet digits slipping into your mouth. You groan, tasting yourself on his fingers as a dirty shiver runs down your spine. You obediently suck and lick his fingers clean as you hear one of his hands fumbling with his belt buckle behind you as he chuckles right into your ear, “Well…now you do~” Suddenly, a familiar jingle fills the air between heavy breathing and soft moans. Nikolai clicks his tongue, grabbing his phone. He answers it, pressing his cheek against his phone to hold it in place as he talks.

You hear the instant his belt buckle hits the floor with a satisfying thump,  “Make it quick, I’m busy with something.” His fingers slide out of your mouth, covering your mouth with his hand instead as you hear him speaking on the phone still, “Mhm…well what’s the time now…” He pauses, then replies, “It’s barely gone 6:30. I have plenty of time to finish my business here.” You groan into his palm as you feel his hard, throbbing erection rubbing against your wet slit. You close your eyes, shuddering as he teases you with his cock while speaking into the phone in an irritated tone, “The dinner isn’t till 9pm, why is it–” He gives you one hard thrust. “--such–” And another. “--a big–” This time, the tip of his cock nudges against your clit, making you whine against his palm. “--deal?” He grunts softly. You can practically hear him rolling his eyes as he pulls back, continuing to grind on you roughly. He clicks his tongue, groaning, “Fine. I’ll be there at 8.”

Before you can even think of asking, you hear his phone thumping softly against your desk before he grabs you by the hips, yanking you back. You shudder as his hand slips from your mouth, grasping your hip tightly, his nails digging into tender flesh as he sits back on your office chair, the plush cushion making a soft sound as he sits back, making you straddle his lap, his hard cock poking between your thighs. He pulls you in, back pressed flush against his chest as he breaths against your fluttering pulse, “You heard that, baby. I can’t stay and play with you for as long as I wanted to.” His hands run up and down your hips, squeezing your waist, his nails caressing your soft tummy as you whimper. He presses a heated kiss against your neck as he purrs into your ear, “So let’s enjoy each other, yeah~?”

He bites into your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance, slipping in with one fast thrust. The moan that escapes you is louder than you intended it to be. You feel his hands squeezing your waist tighter, a low growl of pleasure escaping him as he quickly nips at your tender neck, a shivering groan escaping him as he hisses against your neck, “Fuck…yesss. Just like that, my little songbird. God, you take me so fucking well..” He places swift nips and kisses along your neck as you whine, your hips finally starting to move as you realise Nikolai isn’t going to take action.

You lift your head, moaning softly as you feel his hands moving back up your body as if worshipping every inch of your skin with his touch and mouth. They slide under your blouse, back under your bra. He squeezes your breasts roughly, pulling you tight against him. You lean your head back, resting it gently against him as you ride him. The leather squeaks softly, the chair rattling a little as Nikolai’s grunts and groans fill your ear. His warm tongue slides against her neck, moving up to your ear, where he nibbles on your earlobe, his hands squeezing your breasts like they’re his personal stress relievers.

Pleasure floods every single one of your senses as you feel sweat starting to bead on your brows as carnal desire fills your veins. You can hear Nikolai huffing, groaning as he keeps ghosting nibbling bites and sensual licks along your ear and neck, his teeth tugging your earlobe as his fingers twist and pinch your nipples.

A strangled moan escapes you, his sudden actions making you rock a little harder on his cock, desperate and hungry for more of him. You whine as you feel his lips kissing the corner of your mouth as he whispers in a low voice. “Oh my~ Is someone feeling a little needy, are they~?” You gasp at how swiftly his hands move across your body, one snatching a handful of hair with its tight grasp, the other grabbing your hip, stopping your movements.

He chuckles darkly, lust dripping off his voice as he whispers, “Let me help you, my little love~” In one swift movement, you're pressed back against your desk, chest flush with the hard timber as you feel your boyfriend taking control. You cry out at the sudden, ravenous tempo he sets, his hips slapping against yours with reckless abandon. If you were hungry for more, then Nikolai was starving. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your office as he keeps a firm grip on your hair, tugging your head back just enough to press his lips to yours in a searing, dominating kiss.

His tongue slips inside your mouth as you moan, his tongue swirling against yours as he slams into you animalistically, causing you to almost sob into his mouth. His cock thrusts deep into you, each thrust sending jolts of intense pleasure through every part of your body. You’re panting heavily as he breaks the kiss, your heavy, hot breaths intermingling as he lets go of your hair at last.

He pulls back, hands splaying across your lower back before they grab on tight to your hips. He grunts loudly, holding you firmly as your desk begins to shake and rattle, sending items toppling to the floor as you cling on for dear life. “K-Kolya!! Kolya!!” You cry out, panting heavily. Drunk on pleasure and reaching your tipping point, you frantically gasp, “G-gonna cum!! G-gonna–!” A deep chuckle rumbles in Nikolai’s throat as his hand snakes between your legs, taking the chance to quickly massage your clit roughly, yet quite sloppily, making you scream at how suddenly it happens. Intense waves of pleasure crash over you, your knees quaking as Nikolai’s hips jerk and stutter for just a moment as your cunt clenches around him, squeezing him tightly, tipping him over the edge at the same moment as you. He spills into you as breathless gasps escape both of you, your heavy inhales and exhales filling the room now as your lustful dance reaches its climax.

You lay against the desk for a few moments, trying to compose yourself as your knees threaten to give out. Before they can, you feel Nikolai helping you up, making you sit on your office chair. You would have to clean the mess, but for now, you focus on catching your breath. You can feel Nikolai nuzzling your hair as he murmurs, “Fuck baby…it’s been too long…” “You did that…on purpose…” You finally pant. Nikolai raises an amused brow as he listens to you, “You took Eli’s place...just so you could make me jealous...” A low purr of amusement escapes Nikolai as he keeps nuzzling your hair, breathing in your sweet perfume as he whispers in a teasing voice, “What do you mean, songbird? I was just following your request to not touch you in front of people~” His hand runs through your soft locks, running down so his fingertips can caress your back. You shiver as he pulls back, cackling softly. He leans towards your desk, opening the drawer with a soft sigh. He grabs a few tissues to clean himself up, passing a few to you as he speaks in a slightly annoyed tone, “I’d hoped we could enjoy ourselves for the entire night but–” “--There’s a dinner Simon wants you to attend,” you nod as you stand, cleaning away the mess on your chair. “It doesn’t start till 9 pm but he wants you there at 8.”

You pause as you finish cleaning. You toss the used tissue into the bin under your desk as Nikolai begins fixing his appearance. “Is it important?” A low hum escapes Nikolai as he fixes his ruffled shirt once he buckles his belt back up. His tone is more carefree now, despite how annoyed he is at having his evening interrupted, “It’s likely a publicity stunt. You know that one up-and-coming actress? The one that everyone's talking about?"

You grimace; you already knew where this was going. You nod, causing Nikolai to run a hair through his messy fringe, his hands elegantly freeing his hair from its braid, his snow white locks cascading over his shoulder loosely...Fuck. Even that was hot. He continues speaking as he grabs your comb from your desk drawer, “Well…the boss wants us to be friendly with her. Or, rather…he wants me to be friendly with her.” He combs through his fringe, tidying it up before moving on to his braid. “You know how it is–” “So he says none of us are allowed to date publicly, but he’ll throw you at any female idol or actress when it benefits him,” you bitterly reply as you get dressed. You hear your comb hit your desk as Nikolai approaches you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his loose braid falling apart momentarily. “Songbird, you know this is all part of the job.” His mismatched eyes gleam with an apology unspoken. He tugs you closer, embracing you tightly.

Your arms snake around him as he hugs you close to his body, his hands caressing your back as he murmurs, “It’s all just business. If we’re seen with someone like her, our names and faces will be everywhere. We’ll be the talk of the city. Brand deals, more modelling opportunities.” You grumble into his chest, “I think your group has already made it far enough without needing to cosy up to some big shot actress…” You feel Nikolai’s body shudder against yours, a groan escaping him as he squeezes you tighter. His breath is hot on your earlobe as he whispers in a raspy voice. “Fuck baby...you know what to say to get me all riled up again…” He breathes heavily in your ear and you know it’s taking his all to not bend you over your desk again and fuck you until you’re nothing but a sobbing mess beneath his hands. Taking a deep inhale, Nikolai pulls away from you. Then he presses his fingertip to your nose, catching you by surprise. He flashes you a grin. A warm, affectionate grin, “But I assure you, this is just business, so don’t go getting your panties in a twist~” You huff, trying to swat his hand away but he pulls back quickly, cackling softly. You tug your shorts back up, fitting them back into place, nose held slightly high, “You owe me for this.” As he opens his mouth to speak, you interrupt him as your arms cross over your chest, “And I don’t mean sex or gifts or a vacation overseas.” His gaze turns more curious, more serious as he studies your features. His grin becomes a curious smile as he tilts his head at you, humming curiously, “Then what does my little songbird desire?” You’re quiet for a long while, hesitating to ask for what you truly want. You squirm in place, fiddling with your fingers. A faint heat rises in your cheeks as you reply, “I want to go on a proper date.” His mismatched eyes widen, then slowly soften as he sighs a little, “Songbird, you know we can’t be seen—” “Please.” Your sudden plea makes him pause in his tracks. His eyes stare into your own, watching as yours tremble. You’re begging with him, pleading for him not to say no, “I know we can’t be seen in public. I know we’d be risking our careers but—”

You gasp as he suddenly places a finger over your lips, gently silencing you. He leans down, bringing his voice to a soft whisper, his beautiful emerald and sapphire eyes gazing into the depths of yours, “I’ll figure something out, okay?” He stands back up straight, his hands moving back to swiftly braid his hair back up, “But I really do need to go, songbird.” You pout a little, watching as he prepares to head out for the night. Before he can, you reach out, grabbing his arm. He blinks, looking back at you as you lean up, giving him a parting kiss on the lips. It’s quick. It’s sweet. Pure. “I love you.” You whisper. He chuckles as he reaches out, ruffling your already messy hair. “I know you do, now come on. You know what’ll happen if I keep boss man waiting.” He pats your head a few more times before he slips out of your study, disappearing into the night. You frown a little as you watch him leave, lifting a hand to bite your nails anxiously.

You weren’t okay with what your manager had planned for your boyfriend tonight, but at the end of the day, you knew there was nothing you could do about it.

18 + divider by @/zeenmrala

Musical note divider by @/strangergraphics-archive

[vampyresovereign]

Hi hi hi!! <3 <3 <3 I love your account and your music hcs for the characters especially Savanaclaw thinking about Jack listening to Ice Cube and Eazy-E is so funny to me to imagine. KDot too oh yes <3 If requests are still open could I ask for a GN!Reader as his gym partner. Kinda like he thinks MC is so weak with bones like jelly so he tries to motivate us to work out with him... Even if we suck at it haha!~!

YES QUEEN/KING OF COURSE ILL WRITE THIS FOR YOU!! I honestly was kind of scared cause I thought i put TOO much unnecessary thought into what everyone's music taste might be (like you could tell i was geekin out over music ngl) so I'm really glad you liked the headcanons. mb this took so long, here's your request<3333 -isa<3

Pairing: Jack Howl x GN!Reader Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Quick Synopsis: You accompany Jack on a little trip to the gym, inspired by a snarky comment from coach Vargas. Tags: Use of Y/N, reader is not Yuu, no specific physical description of reader, reader is embarrassing as hell but it's okay cause Jack is patient with them, might be inaccurate/i've never been to a gym

-

“Alright everyone! Class is over, get out of my face!” 

Coach Vargas practically screamed from the middle of the field. You watched, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the freshly cut grass as your fellow classmates grabbed their brooms, walking and talking in groups on their way towards the locker rooms.

Maybe it was because the weather forecast advised sunscreen since it was over 80 degrees, or maybe you were just stressed out from other classes, but something made phys ed today much harder than usual. 

You were startled when the coach suddenly appeared behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Your endurance is getting stronger, L/N,” He started. “But you still have a long way to go.”

“What do you mean, coach?”

“Well, for starters..” He removed his hand from you, taking a second to lift his arm and flex the bicep in front of you, as you raised an eyebrow.

“..You know, something many don’t know about broom riding is that most of your energy actually concentrates in the arms. You need to be able to balance yourself and hold onto the stick, y’know? And to be honest with you, kid..”

He pointed towards your arms.

“That’s something we need to work on, don’t we? Hit the showers.”

You shouldn't have taken that comment so seriously, coach was known for being pretty vain and shallow when it came to physical appearance. But unfortunately, he had a point.

You constantly skipped leg day and couldn't lift a dumbbell with more than 3 plates.

Though you were dwelling on it, you decided to try and put those negative thoughts away. Your next period was lunch, and you had even more stressful classes to deal with after that.

Lack of muscle was the least of your problems at the moment.

As you walked towards the cafeteria, lagging behind another random group of people, you spotted a familiar pair of fuzzy white ears in the crowd, walking the opposite direction.

You felt your eyes spark in recognition, immediately calling his name out.

"Jack!"

Jack's eyes widened, ears pointing up for a few seconds in surprise. He walked towards you, scratching his head. "Hey Y/N, what's up?"

"You know the cafeteria is that way, right?"

It was then you noticed the giant duffel bag slung across his right shoulder.

"I know. I'm not goin' to lunch."

"Why not?" You inquired.

"Decided to hit the gym at around this time from now on 'cause it gets way too crowded after classes are over," He said.

"So.. You're just not gonna eat anything?"

"Of course not," He scoffed. "I got a few protein bars and shakes in my bag. I'll be fine."

You hummed in response, you had totally forgot that working out was Jack's whole thing. As he adjusted his bag, an idea suddenly popped into your mind.

"Hey, can I join you? I kind of wanna try exercising for a little bit."

He looked at you, slightly shocked. "For real? You never seemed interested before."

"Well, I guess I wanna try something new today. How about it?"

He placed a finger on his chin in thought, before placing his hands on his hips.

"..Sure, I guess."

-

Before the two of you headed to the gym together, you each went back to your respective dorms to grab comfortable clothing.

You didn't know what exactly to wear, so you settled on an old tracksuit you hadn't worn in the seven knows how long.

When you walked in, there were obviously some people there, but you had strolled past them and followed Jack into the section where the bench presses and mats were, suddenly feeling nervous.

Jack very quickly got to work, setting his bag down next to a random bundle of equipment, and adding about 5 plates to the light dumbbell.

You stood next to him awkwardly as he leaned his back down on the bench, wondering if this came off as creepy.

He glanced at you as he sat the dumbbell to rest, raising an eyebrow. "You know, there's a set right behind you, right?"

"..Oh. Sorry, this is my first time here, I'm just kind of trying to figure out what to do through you," You blurted out, a wave of embarrassment washing over you.

You moved to the set he had just mentioned, which also happened to be directly across from his, grabbing pretty much the same amount of plates on the way there.

You held back a grunt as you held all of them in the palm of your hands, wondering what the hell Jack was eating to be able to carry this amount effortlessly.

You leaned back on the bench, trying to replicate the same position you saw Jack in as you curled your hands around the base of the dumbbell. Taking a deep breath and lifting it up, you were good for about 4.5 seconds.

"Fuck!"

The realization of how heavy the equipment was immediately crushed down on you, literally. You dropped the dumbbell on your stomach, curling up and holding onto your belly for dear life when the instrument fell on the floor.

You heard Jack get up from behind you to assess the incident.

"The hell happened?" He asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"I don't know how you do it, man."

He grabbed the dumbbell from off of the floor, sighing. "Y/N, beginners don't start with this amount. It's kind of common sense."

"It looked simple when you did it.."

"Yeah, because I've been honing these skills for years." Jack removed about 2 plates from each side of the dumbbell, handing it back to you on the bench. "Here, try to lift it now."

You nodded, proceeding to do as he said.

"..Still heavy, but do-able."

Jack smirked.

-

You spent the rest of your time at the gym attempting to try a little bit of everything with Jack at your side, teaching you what to do. You felt a little bit bad that he used up all his training time essentially babysitting you, but he assured you it was no big deal.

The only problem was that when your time to train together was up, every single part of your body felt sore. Even your eyes.

Jack let out a laugh, a rare thing, and slapped you on your back.

"This was a great sesh, wasn't it?"

You stumbled a few paces forward from the impact of his hand. "..I would say yes, but I still gotta go to my afternoon classes after this."

"Hah. You better get used to the grind, we're doing this tomorrow. And the rest of the semester, actually. Breaks are on weekends."

You stared at Jack like he had three heads.

"Don't look at me like that. We're partners now. No turnin' back," He grinned.

You awkwardly laughed in response, excited to hang out more with Jack and expand your muscles, but not too excited about the process anymore.

i don't even like jack like that but this was very fun to write. apologies again for the wait gang. -isa<3

[luke-hughes43]

Hey!

So this is my first time writing something and then publishing it so I'd love feedback. All I ask is that you be nice about it pls! Hope you like it!

Background: You and Luke have been best friends since birth and you both are freshman at the University of Michigan. You have had feelings for him since you were 15 and always thought that he didn’t reciprocate them so you never told him. One night, at a party thrown by the hockey team, everything between you and Luke changes.

This is best friends to lovers and there’s a bit of jealous Luke.

Y/N’s POV

So Luke invited me to some party that the upperclassman were throwing to celebrate the win they got tonight. Told me to bring my roommate, Kathryn (I call her Kat),  who has become my best friend. We show up at like 10:45 and quickly find a drink. After that we go off to find Luke.

We find him with a couple of his teammates. I smile when I see him and he returns it. He says, “Y/N/N you made it!”

“I always do when you ask me too. Great game tonight.” I say with a smile. He smiles and pulls me in for a hug. I graciously hug him finding comfort in his arms like always. 

Kat pulls my attention, “Hey, lets go find our girls. I think I saw them in the living room. You can flirt with Luke later.”

“Fine. I’ll see you later moose.” I flash a smile at him. He smiles back and releases his hold on me before I head off with Kat. She asks, “When are you gonna tell him how you feel?”

“I’m not. He’s my best friend. I’m not gonna ruin that.” I say.

She sighs and drops the conversation. She’s been trying to get me to tell him since we got a little too wine drunk one night and I blurted out that I’m in love with him. She drags me over to the rest of our friend group that always gets invited to hockey events. 

We all just start dancing and having a good time together. I volunteer to get everyone new drinks. I grab everyone seltzers and we just keep having a good time. Some guy that I recognize from my econ class comes over, I think his name is nick, and starts flirting with me. 

“Hey gorgeous.” He smiles. I smile back, “Hey. It’s nick right? I think we have econ together.”

“We do. You are the one always asking and answering the questions from the professor. Really smart girl.” He says with a smirk on his face. He puts his hands around my waist and steps a little closer to me. I smile up at him getting a little shy, “Well thank you.”

“You here with Hughes?” He asks.

I shake my head, “No. He invited me but I’m here with my friends. Why?”

“I always see you around with him and everything. I like knowing how tough the competition is.” He says striking at me some more which makes me confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“How about you let me take you out sometime and I show you what I mean?”

“Ok sure.” I say smiling at him. He’s a pretty good looking guy and since Luke isn’t interested I might as well move on. We start having a conversation about our class together as we know that we have it in common. Luke comes over and interrupts, “Hey can I borrow her for a sec? Thanks.”

He doesn’t give either of us time to respond before he’s pulling my by the arm away from Nick. He gets me upstairs and alone. He looks pissed off and angrily says, “What the hell were you doing down there?”

“Talking to Nick?” I say like it’s obvious. He snaps back, “You were flirting with him!”

“Ok and?”

“Do you seriously not see why I’m upset?”

“No. Why should I? All you did was drag me away and get mad about me talking to him. That’s all you’ve done since we got to school Luke, get mad at me for talking to other guys.”

“It’s because I love you Y/N!”

“What?” I say confused. 

“I love you Y/N. I have since were like 14 or something. I never thought that you would feel the same so I never said anything but it’s killing me. I’m in love with you and I have been for years. I can’t keep watching you flirt with guys over and over again.”

“Luke…” I start but he cuts me off, “I get it that you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry that if I just ruined everything but I love you and you deserve to know and…” 

I cut him off by kissing him. It takes a second to register in his head what’s going on but once it does, he’s pulling me close to him. My hands go the back of his neck and I start playing with the ends of his hair.

Eventually we pull away for air and we’re both breathing heavily. I say, “I love you too Luke. I have for a while.”

He smiles and kisses me softly, “well then, I guess that only leaves room for one question. Y/N L/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

“I’d be honored to.” I say with a smile. 

We kiss one last time before going back to the party. He leads me back down while holding my hand. We head over to his friends and I stay tucked into his side as his arm is wrapped around my shoulder holding me close. My eyes scan the room for Kat and she gives me a look that questions what happened.

I smile and nod at her which is all she needs to put the pieces together that I finally told him about my feelings. She smiles back and jumps a little bit which makes me laugh. My attention is pulled back to the guys when I hear Dylan Duke, Luke’s best friend and roommate say, “Looks like hughesy finally made a move. Only took you 4 years.”

The guys all start giving Luke shit about waiting so long and it causes me to blush and hide in Luke’s chest. He tightens his grip on me and says, “alright alright. We get it, I waited a while to tell her. Can we move on please?”

The conversation gets changed and Luke just rubs his hand up and down my back. I stick with him the rest of the night with a smile on my face, finally being with the boy that I’ve loved since I was 15.

[iiitsnotbase]

28 Arlo/Auggie?? (Maybe modernish au?)

This takes place in my college AU, 6 months later than were we are now!

Arlo had her head on Auggie’s chest, listening to him breathing in and out. Auggie looked down at her, and the hole in her hand. Since meeting her in the kitchen, the hole had never seemed to bug him, like it had bugged everyone else she had ever met. Ever the inquiring mind, Auggie had asked once what had happened. Arlo had given it in the briefest of terms. For now though, she lay with her head on his chest, listening to his breathing. 

“Arlo.” He said, “Please.” She sat up and looked at him, eyes wide and sad. “I have to go.” She leaned down and kissed him, softly on the mouth, then his cheek. “You are extremely distracting,” He said, smiling. She smiled right back at him. The sunrise cut across his eyes, making them shine emerald green, more so than they already were. Arlo also had an early-morning class today, so it wasn’t unnatural for her to be up at this hour. It wasn’t unnatural anyway, she thought, lifting her nightgown over her head. 

“Are you excited?” She asked absent-mindedly. She had never really thought of her back as beautiful before, but Auggie staring at it, dry-mouthed, was one of the finest sights she had ever seen. She turned her head over her back, and he remembered himself. 

“Very. I can’t wait to go back and tell them all the fancy words I’ve learnt. Like…” He struggled for a word he didn’t know. Arlo was still shirtless, silently enjoying the attention Auggie was giving her. “...Hm.”

“Hm?" She repeated, slipping on her undergarments and shirt. She knew she was running Auggie’s few, but something in that was exciting to her. Having some power, even if she, realistically, had none. “Something wrong?”

“Nah.” He said, “Just wondering how I got so lucky.” Arlo smiled and gave him her hand, which he took and kissed gently. “Seriously, what did I do to deserve you?” She smiled and looked down. 

“You’ll drive safe, right?” She asked. “Don’t do anything reckless? And you’ll come back.” She said. The last part wasn’t a question, it was more of a statement. You’ll come back. You won’t leave me. You’ll be back. 

“Course. Charlie and Howard would kill me if I didn’t.” He said, laughing. At the look on Arlo’s face, he knew this ran deeper. Her fear of abandonment was like a well-worn jacket, and she wore it well, most of the time. This time she just stared at him, the fear evident on her face. “Arlo, I swear. I’m gonna come back. I’ll call you when I get there, yeah?” She laughed, “And every day while I’m there.” Arlo nodded, content with the plan. She pulled on a skirt for the day. “Want me to walk you to class before I go?”

“Dressed like that?” She asked, looking at him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

“I thought you liked me without a shirt on?” 

“I do, but I like it.” She leaned over and kissed his head. Auggie hadn’t known Arlo had a jealous streak in her, but he grinned. 

“I’ll put a shirt on.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

if anyone wants to play the game is send me a candela duo/trio/group (platonic or romantic) and a number from this list and I'll write it!

[samcarpentersgirlfriend]

hii, can you please do a liv mckenzie x fem!reader headcanon? like, an enemies to lovers where liv doesn’t like reader at first, then slowly falls for her. thank you sm <33

thank you for the request, writing for liv is so fun <3 hopefully this is what you wanted!!

ENEMIES TO LOVERS HCS || LIV MCKENZIE X READER 𖤐₊˚.

warnings: swearing, fem!reader, mentions of reader wearing makeup, a little bit of chad bashing but it’s just for story purposes… I love him i promise <3 I’ve never done enemies to lovers before so sorry if anything feels off or rushed

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ �� ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

- the funny thing is, nobody even really remembers why you and liv are seemingly incapable of getting along together.

- all anybody knows is that innocent conversations within the group slowly divulge into petty arguments between you and liv, snarky comments exchanged constantly.

- for example, one time, a conversation about where everybody wanted to eat quickly turned into a utterly unrelated spat.

- “liv, did you even listen to a fucking word I said just then?”

- “no, because every word you say is stupid!”

- “wow, harsh. how long did it take you to come up with that one, hannah montana?”

- “you know, I’m not stupid. maybe if you got off of your high horse and stopped judging me for once-

- “why should I, when you make it so easy! besides, if you want to talk about judgemental…”

- chad and wes think the two of you’ll work it out eventually, tara doesn’t understand why you can’t just be real friends, amber thinks the bickering is completely entertaining (and instigates most of the time) and mindy thinks you both just need to make up (and make out).

- from why you can tell, liv thinks you’re a prissy, pretentious know-it-all.

- and from what liv can tell, you take her for a shallow party girl with more mini-skirts than brain cells.

- you both try your hardest to avoid each other, but seeing as she was dating chad and tara had been your best friend since you’d moved to woodsboro, so were forced to run in the same circle - because why should one of you have to make new friends just to avoid her?

- but it seems the universe just seems to hate the two of you - because you were forced together constantly.

- you have to sit next to eachother in chemistry and art, and you both live practically right next next door to each other- meaning you walked the same route and, when wes would offer to give you all a ride home, you’d be huddled in the back seat with liv whilst everybody else got dropped off first.

- and you mean huddled; you’d be so close that your legs were touching and you could smell her perfume (it was infuriatingly perfect and reminded you of strawberries and summer and warmth - not that you’d ever tell liv that, though).

- when she’s feeling particularly annoying, liv has a habit of flashing you her most shit eating grin - mostly because she knows it irritates the living hell out of you.

- seriously, most of the time, you want nothing more than to wipe it straight off of her face.

- “liv, I swear, if you don’t stop that right now…”

- “what are you gonna do about it, huh? we both know you’re not gonna stop me- that would require little miss princess to lift a perfect finger!”

- but fine, whatever. she could be as immature as she wanted - you weren’t going to rise to her bait - except from all the times you did, obviously. you regarded yourself as being better than that.

- arguing over partner work in class, and making sure liv knew when you’d scored higher than her in a test.

- really, it was just all pettinesses - but in your defence, it was always liv that started it (at least, you think it is - nowadays, it’s rather difficult to keep track).

- one friday night, when the rest of your family was out of town, you’d thought you’d invite a few people over.

- though, of course, when chad and mindy were involved, a few people turned into practically half of the school.

- seriously, your house was filled to the brim with people you didn’t even recognise - which meant you inevitably bumped into someone and, just your luck, spilt the entire contents of your drinks down the front of your shirt.

- and aw, damn it, you’d liked that shirt. so you were forced to go upstairs in an attempt to find something else to put on - except, when you open your bedroom door, the last person you expect to see is liv mckenzie.

- a crying liv mckenzie, nonetheless, sitting on your bed as mascara runs down her pretty face. and as bad as it sounds, a part of you is tempted to pretend you saw nothing and creep back down to the party, stained shirt and all.

- the thing is though, deep down, you know that it wouldn’t be right - no matter how much you and liv tended to disagree.

- you uncomfortably shuffle beside her as she looks up from her spot on your floor, all teary eyed.

- “shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude in your room. I can go-“

- liv apologising to you is never a good sign, so you catch her arm and slowly urge her to sit back down, imploring what’s wrong.

- “it’s chad! he fucking dumped me- he says there’s somebody else! you know what, I bet it’s tara- I’ve seen the way the look at each other! god, how could I be so stupid?”

- and, oh. you though chad and tara were a little touchy-feely, but you’d never suspected it was like that. and you’d definitely thought chad had more decorum that to dump liv at a party for one of her best friends. god, what a moron.

- you tell liv exactly that - albeit a little awkwardly - and she gives you a smile at that. a real smile.

- “you really think he’s a moron?”

- “yeah. moron, asshole, whatever you want to call him- that was totally shitty of him! and you deserve better than that - better than him.”

- so you change your shirt and sheepishly, you offer to help liv fix hey ruined makeup. and when your fingers brush against her skin as you apply a fresh layer of concealer to her face, you definitely don’t feel jolts of electricity run down your spine. you don’t.

- but you do go to bed that night, after everybody else has finally left, replaying that rare, real smile on a loop in your mind. and you try not to think about what that means.

- and after that night, you make more of an effort. you really, honestly do.

- because when you aren’t too wrapped up in yourself to notice, you realise that liv doesn’t exactly have it easy within the group, what with mindy and amber’s apparent dislike for her as well as your own.

- and sure, she was irritating at times, but that didn’t mean everybody had to call her out on it, right?

- you don’t magically get along immediately - how could you, after months of pointless arguments? - but you seemed to have forged a civil, unspoken agreement; you were the only ones who could insult each other now.

- and even then, insult was too harsh of a word - the jabs became more light hearted, and you slowly found yourself often laughing in retort instead of being on the immediate defensive.

- as much as it pained you to admit it, you start to find yourself often having actual, genuine fun with liv.

- which somehow, happens to lead to the pair of you spending more one-on-one time.

- and before you know it, you’re suddenly going to the mall together, picking out clothes for yourself and each other.

- you find yourself visiting to a lot of museums too, because as it turns out, liv has a total interest in all types of art - and god, who would’ve expected that? maybe you, if you’d actually taken a chance to get to know her when you first met her.

- you start to notice a lot of things about her that you never had in the past: the way she pouted when she was confused, the way she fiddled with her jewellery when she was nervous, and the way most of her necklaces were completely handmade.

- the more you found out about her, the more you wanted to know.

- the first confession between the two of you comes when you were hanging out in a cafe near your houses.

- “you know, I never really hated you,” liv randomly says into the quiet as you take a long sip of your milkshake. “I thought you were annoying as hell, but I never hated you. we just irritated each other- that’s the way it always was with us.”

- you take a second before you speak yourself. “you know, I don’t think I ever really hated you either. hell, I can’t even remember why I was supposed to dislike you in the first place.”

- the realisation is so stupid that you can’t help but laugh, and suddenly, everybody else in the place is staring at the two of you as you giggle over the ridiculous nature of it all.

- by then, the two of you are inseparable. liv even seems to be getting over chad, and she doesn’t even flinch when she sees him and tara holding hands.

- you know the two of you have really bonded when amber comments on your newly discovered friendship, saying how weirdly quiet it is without the bickering and that she wishes you’d hate each other again.

- you both pointedly ignore that comment - well, liv does give her the finger, but that’s neither here nor there :)

- the real confession - rather ironically - comes in the place where you realised that liv mckenzie wasn’t as bad as you’d thought she was; your bedroom. you’re both sprawled out on the bed, legs messily intertwined, as liv flicks through some shitty magazine and declares that she’s found a makeup look that she wants to try out on you.

- “come on, it’ll be funnn!” she promises, and she looks so adorably desperate that you can’t help but give in to her.

- and before long, you find yourself fully vertical on the bed, with liv somehow ending up practically straddling you as she paints your eyes and lips a bright pink .

- “stop moving,” - she warns, so close that you’re breathing in that perfume or hers again. you take a breath, and if fills your lungs once more. “seriously!” she says as you stir, dragging a thumb slowly across the bottom of your lip. “see, you’re smudging it!”

- you don’t care about that, though. it doesn’t even cross your mind. no, instead you’re too focused on how you can see the brilliant blue of liv’s eyes perfectly from this angle, how her pretty pink hair tickles your throat as it spills over her shoulders. how soft her lips look from down here.

- you’ve barely even registered what you’re doing before you’re suddenly leaning up, your lips pressed against hers in an instant. you know she’s not expecting it, what with the way her body tenses up and she all but drops the brush in her hand.

- and no. you’ve gone and ruined it all, you’ve kissed liv and why would you do that because she’s never going to talk to you again and you didn’t even know you liked her like that and-

- and she’s kissing you back, and it’s absolutely perfect. it’s everything you’d never known you were missing in life, and you can’t help but wonder that if you hadn’t wasted all that time arguing, you could e been doing a hell of a lot more of this a damn lot sooner.

- but you just promise yourself you’ll have to make up for all of that wasted time <3

- when you walk into school the next day, hands interlocked, amber nearly throws up, tara gives you a cautious thumbs up, and mindy - well, mindy said it was just a matter of time, and declared that wes owes her 15 bucks.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

(had to insert THE iconic wlw reference pic I was thinking of when I wrote this)

[a3mtls]

Main Story: Act 11 - Acting On My Own / Episode 2

Note: Reminder that this is machine translated. Anything highlighted in orange or has [?] next to it, did not translate properly. I will try my best to make it simple for readers to understand. If there are any mistakes, kindly point them out. I’m always open to learn and receive help!!

—

[not proofread]

Act 11 / Episode 2 - With Two Brushes

第11第2話 - ふたつの筆で

Tsuzuru: Hee, so this is Masumi’s university.

Izumi: Tsumugi-san and Tasuku-san also went to university here.

Tsuzuru: The atmosphere is quite different depending on the university.

Izumi: …..Don’t you think, we look out of place? What should I do if people think I’m suspicious.

Tsuzuru: We have an entrance permit, so it’s okay.

Masumi: You look like you could be my classmate.

アンタは俺と同級生でも通じる。[?]

Izumi: Masumi-kun your eyes need a lot of correction, but thank you.

Masumi: My campus life with you….. We’d be in the same faculty, taking all the same classes, joining the same clubs, and walking together everyday…..

Tsuzuru: That’s the life of a stalker. Anyway, isn’t that where the cafe terrace is?

Masumi: Don’t shrug it off. This is important.

Izumi: Ah, it looks like it. I wonder if Madoka-kun has arrived yet.

—

Madoka: Hello.

Izumi: Did we make you wait? I’m sorry.

Madoka: No, I came a little earlier and was working on some ideas.

Tsuzuru: About Hakkaku-san’s concept, what did you think after reading it?

Madoka: I was excited.

While maintaining the profound and grandiose style that grandfather was known for, the characters are filled with catchy sci-fi elements….

Tsuzuru: That’s right! It’s suited for everyone, and it feels like it’s seriously aiming for the Fleur Award.

Madoka: I’m excited to be able to talk about this.

Masumi: GODza’s scriptwriter helping us with our script, it’s like (1) sending salt to the enemy. Is that okay?

Madoka: I have gotten Kamikizaka-san’s approval.

He readily agreed to the idea, thinking it would help me improve as a scriptwriter.

I wasn’t able to talk much with grandfather, whom I admired, while he was alive, so I’m happy to be able to experience his thoughts and feelings through his writing.

As always, I will do my best, please continue to support me.

Izumi: Same to you, please continue to support us.

Well then, let's start by taking a quick look at Hakkaku-san's concept. Tsuzuru-kun, can you do that for us?

Tsuzuru: Yes. The story is set in space, and the protagonist travels through space, meeting different people in search of his roots.

In addition to the cult group that are villains in the story, there are four major groups…..

They are, Space Pirates, Treasure Hunters, Space Police and People from a certain planet.

Hakkaku-san was probably, trying to apply them to the Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter troupe. It was not specified which group was for which troupe though…..

Izumi: It’s definitely a good idea to split the groups for each troupe.

Tsuzuru: Madoka-kun, what image came to mind for each group?

Madoka: For the treasure hunters, an image of nii-san chasing triangles came to mind.

When I watched the +3Ghosts! performance, I felt like the Summer Troupe were also on a treasure hunt to find irreplaceable things in their daily lives.

Tsuzuru: I see.

Izumi: Pirates might be an option, like with the Sky Pirates, but treasure hunters might be a better fit for the summer troupe this time.

Tsuzuru: Then, since there seems to be a lot of rough action for the space pirates, the Autumn Troupe might be a good choice.

Izumi: Naturally, most of the characters surrounding the Space Police are adults, so having the Winter Troupe perform would be a good choice for the story.

Madoka: I agree.

Masumi: …… [staring at kantoku lol]

Izumi: Um, Masumi-kun, are you listening properly?

Masumi: I always listen to every single word you say.

Tsuzuru: You’re only listening to Director. Don’t you have any opinions?

Masumi: Not really. I’ll leave it to you.

Tsuzuru: I thought you’d say that.

Masumi: …..However, there is someone I can think of for the lead role.

Tsuzuru: Yeah. Me and the Director too.

Izumi: From the first time I read it, an image came to mind.

Masumi: As I thought, we are one and the same.

Tsuzuru: You’re ignoring me!

Madoka: Hehe.

Tsuzuru: Then, we'll solidify the plot in that direction and divide up the writing.

Izumi: Ah, by the way, is it okay to announce that the original idea for this performance was by Hakkaku-san?

Madoka: I will check with father, but I don't think there will be any problems. When we held the “Traces of Dreams” performance, we announced that it was his posthumous work.

Izumi: At that time, so many fans were sad and mourned. I think, everyone will be happy when we announce it.

Tsuzuru: Since we're the ones writing it this time, there's a lot of pressure to see if we can live up to the expectations of Hakkaku-san’s fans.

Madoka: I would like to do my best as a way of giving back to the people who loved my grandfather's work.

Tsuzuru: You’re right. We’ll have to give our best.

Madoka: However, I am a bit worried that if we were to turn the idea into reality, it would end up being quite a long story.….

Izumi: About that, I have an idea so don’t worry.

—

Sakyo: First and second part?

Izumi: Yes. I thought that would be the best way to turn Hakkaku-san's idea into a Mankai Show.

Sakyo: It's quite difficult to make a sequel performance a success.

People who haven't seen the first part won't watch the second part, and if they don't like the first part, they definitely won't come see the second part.

Thankfully, the ticket sales for the new MANKAI Company's performances are doing much better than before.

Are we able to properly deliver the story to the people who want to see it…..

Izumi: …..

(Indeed, there is no way to deliver the second part to those who missed the chance to see the first part...)

Tsuzuru: Um—is it possible to stream it?

Izumi: Oh, yeah!

Tsuzuru: I think it would be easier to watch both the first half and the second half if we did live viewing and live streaming, like we did for the Showdown ACT.

Sakyo: Certainly, with the current momentum of the theater company, it might be possible to make it a success.

Izumi: In that case, the person you can rely on is…..

Sakyo: Mizuno Enterprise.

Tsuzuru: Hold on, i’ll contact him. [?]

ちょっと軽く相談してみます。

…..

*phone call ringing*

Mizuno: Woah—

Tsuzuru: Ah, Mizuno?

*crashing sounds*

Mizuno: …..Yes. Mizuno speaking.

Tsuzuru: Hey, I heard a really loud sound just now, are you okay?

Mizuno: I’m okay. A few things sort of….. Everything’s fine.

Tsuzuru: It doesn’t sound like it’s fine though. There’s something we’d like to discuss with you. I’ll hand it over to the director.

*explains situation to mizuno*

Izumi: That sums it up….. Can I ask for your help?

Mizuno: Yes, ofcourse! Please, let me help you!!

—

previous △ masterlist △ next

(1) sending salt to the enemy 敵に塩送

i didn’t understand what this meant so i looked it up and apparently it’s a japanese proverb or old saying—helping an enemy in distress.

[jammie3132]

Sir Knight and Prince Charming, Ch. 3

So...I haven't posted here in a while (DUH) and it looks like a lot of things have changed. Since I'm pretty confused, I'm just going to post this here like this. What I am going to do is put the link to AO3 ( at the bottom) because I don't remember if I posted the first 2 chapters. My timeline is all whackadoodle and I'm going to need more time (and a lot of wine) to go through that mess. Wish me luck!

THURSDAY…EXACTLY 2 WEEKS LATER

Santana stared at the 3x5 cards on the push-pin board in her office, uncertain of what to do with this new clue.

**June Dolloway cancels B’s Showcase & Met Gala**

Granted, it couldn’t be helped. Her sister-in-law broke her hip and she was going to France to take care of her. But, since June and her bad directions/wrong number brought Sir Knight into the picture in the first place, anything June related had to be included on the Blaine Board.

But where?

Trouty was in Kentucky for the twins’ birthday which meant it fell on her shoulders to get some answers. Seriously, it did, and this time it wasn’t for fun like when she figured out Berry’s sleazy ex was a gigolo. Ok, yes, she originally thought drug dealer but tomato-tomato. What bugged her was it only took 3 hours to solve that mystery and 2 weeks later she was no closer to figuring out what caused the change in Blaine.

He hadn’t left the basement in over a week. In one way this was completely understandable. Afterall, the place was called Blaineland.

None of them (even those who lived there) had ever been in the basement. Mercedes constantly reminded the group the record label declared it off limits and she wasn’t going to piss them off. Then the Andersons bought the brownstone and wanted some pictures of the furnace.

Everyone was stunned by what they discovered but Blaine fell to his knees and sobbed like a baby. The whole thing was a state-of-the-art recording studio with a baby grand piano and 2 lounges, one being a home theater and concession stand with a movie theater popcorn machine!!!

This was all amazing but not leaving the basement included Blaine’s classes at NYADA. Yes, he arranged excused absences for earlier in the week because he didn’t know what his state of mind would be with Tuesday being the one-year anniversary of the shooting at McKinley.

You say school shooting and people are a bit more understanding.

Today was Thursday…no classes but he flat-out stated he wasn’t going to his Song Writing Workshop tomorrow.

Damn it! She’d fallen down a rabbit hole yet again. Stay focused, Lopez! Back to the beginning, or what Blond Chameleon (dork!) believed was the beginning.

**Sir Knight=Sebastian Smythe?**

This never felt quite right. Don’t get her wrong, her psychic Mexican-third eye was screaming the SOB was somehow involved.

The only thing she couldn’t get past was Blaine’s insistence his Knight in Shining Armor couldn’t possibly be Slushie Smurf. There’s a sadness behind the denials. A sadness Blaine’s expressive eyes couldn’t hide, at least to her. How come she seemed to be the only one who saw it?

Wasn’t Blaine supposed to be the oblivious one, not his best friend and boyfriend?

Hummel kept insisting whatever was happening was no big deal. The day after the Thursday from Hell, Blaine met with his song writing professor and it didn’t go well. In fact, it went so badly the professor told him if he didn’t fix his assignment by the due date, she’d have no other choice but to fail him.

**Song Writing Fail**

She pulled off the card and moved it to align with the Sir Knight card. This made more sense to why Blaine practically moved into a music studio.

Well, that and the fact his old room was now her office/temporary bedroom and his new room was part of the remodel.

But the meeting with the professor happened on Friday which meant it couldn’t be the catalyst for Blaine’s change. Too much crap happened the day before, especially some events she believed hadn’t been given enough attention due to their (*cough* Sam’s) Sir Knight focus.

**Kurt’s temper tantrum saying Blaine was responsible for his getting kicked off the photoshoot**

**Kurt talks to Chinese Food delivery guy, has a complete 180 attitude change and apologizes for earlier behavior**

**Kurt never explains what happened at Vogue or what caused the attitude change**

Rachel (accidently) mentioned something about Kurt having to sign a big NDA agreement for the photoshoot but, of course, didn’t know details. Did everyone at Vogue have to sign an NDA? If so, there was no way to get information there. But what about the delivery guy? What did he say to flip Hummel? Should she go try to talk to him?

Should she add all this to the board?

She was still deciding when her phone rang. Looking at the clock, she remembered Pamela had scheduled a call at this time. But from the ringtone alert it wasn’t her but her husband.

That’s weird

“Hello, Mr. Anderson.”

“Good morning, Santana. How are you?”

“Um, a little confused. I was expecting Pamela so we could finalize the schedule for tomorrow’s demolition and the start of the remodel on Monday.”

The Andersons hired her (temporarily) to handle Pamela’s ridiculous (and constantly growing) To Do List. Blaine and Sam had too much on their plates, especially when it was announced Sam had won the role of Mike in the Magic Mike Musical.

She still couldn’t believe she caught Rachel’s reaction to the news. It was even better when Artie put the video on a loop (with cut ins of Sam doing his body rolls) and set it to music…Pony, of course.

Anyway, one day after she went (verbally) Lima Heights on one of the contractors (who Blam believed was mobbed up) the temporary title went away. Now she’s the Andersons’ personal assistant/house manager and unofficial Blam babysitter.

It was the best job she’d ever had and not just because she’d been fired by both Yeast-I-Stat and the diner (long story). Charles calling had her worried. He must have picked that up from her tone. “Santana, everything’s fine. Plans changed and Pammy left for LA this morning to see Cooper. You’re doing a great job. Better than we dared to hope.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Wait… “When you say plans changed, does that mean the record label got the judge to void the sale of the brownstone?”

His laughter made it clear that wasn’t the case.

“Nope. Like I said all along, it’s not mine and Pammy’s fault the producer who was supposed to live there funneled 3 million dollars from the company to build a studio and no one noticed. And even though the paperwork isn’t completely finalized, enough of it has been. It also helped we purchased the place in cash, as is, expedited closing at the label’s insistence.”

“As is being the important part. Right?”

“Smart girl but the label being the party to insist on the fast closing didn’t hurt. The judge did admit my getting the contracts pushed through in less than 24 hours tied his hands. It usually takes around 30 days to close on a property.”

“Not your fault you’re good at your job…whatever it is. It was fun watching the people from the label heads explode when they realized how badly they screwed up. But, Mr. Anderson, you haven’t said what the change of plans are?”

“Turns out you are not the only one who believes I’m good at what I do. The parent company of the record label offered me a job running the non-talent portion of the label. You know, the boring stuff. I’m flying into NYC in the morning to listen to what they have to say. Since today is Thursday, can you tell Blaine I’m coming? Sam told me you’re now the gatekeeper for emergency contacts and I’ve learned my lesson about interrupting his Blaine Time.”

This is your job…this is your job…this is your job

You love your job…you love your job…you love your job

“Yes, of course I’ll tell Blaine. Do you want him to call you?”

“That’s not necessary. My appointment/interview is more of a business lunch so I’ll call him afterwards.” There was a pause, but she could feel he wasn’t finished. “Santana, tell me the truth, at least as much as you’re comfortable telling me without breaking Blaine’s…I mean…it’s just, how is he doing? Sam said the anniversary of the McKinley shooting hit them all harder than they realized it would. Then June Dolloway cancelled his Showcase…”

“You know why she did that. Right?”

“Oh, yes. My mother fell and broke her hip last year. My brothers and I all took turns caring for her so, as a son, I completely understand. As a father, I’m worried about the ramifications for my child.”

A father who gives a damn, even after all the crap that happened when his child came out as gay. Must be nice.

“I do know he has a meeting with Carmen Tibideaux at NYADA next week, but otherwise he really hasn’t said anything. Remember, he only found all this out yesterday.”

“He’s not talking to anyone? I know Sam’s in Kentucky but not even Kurt? And what about that new friend of his…the guy he calls Sir Knight?” WTF? How does he know? “Sam told me the two of you have been trying to find out who he is.”

I…AM…GOING…TO…KILL…HIM!!!!!

“You know Sam. No way his Superhero alter ego can pass up on a mystery.”

“He said maybe there was a tie in with the Warblers. Pammy says Blaine tried to keep his friendships with them even after what happened with his eye but after the steroids everything fell apart.”

That was new. Ok, maybe Sam wasn’t going to die. Plus, Charles was referring to the Warblers as a whole and not one particular Warbler who nearly blinded his son.

“We did think there might be a connection to the Warblers but don’t see how it would connect back to June.”

“June?”

“She gave Blaine the wrong number which turned out to be Sir Knight’s. But our research didn’t go anywhere because neither of us knew any of the Warblers’ full names.”

“Having those names is important?”

“Can’t cyberstalk someone if you don’t know their name.”

They did know the name Sebastian Smythe. Why hadn’t they just Googled the ass? What an epic fail.

She blames Sam, or even better, Blond Chameleon.

“True, but please try to not call your research cyberstalking. Let me get ahold of Pammy and see what she can do, if anything. And Santana, thanks for helping look after my boy. Something’s going on and I don’t want Blaine falling back into the depression he was in last year. Pammy and I still haven’t forgiven ourselves for not catching on sooner.”

After their goodbyes ended, she started to write down all the new information Charles gave her. Right when she pinned the last new 3x5 card to the Blaine Board, an email alert from Pamela popped up on her computer screen. In it was her log-in and password to the Dalton Parent Portal. She’d just gone online and confirmed it worked.

After all this time? Blaine left Dalton nearly 3 years ago. You’d think a fancy private school would have better cyber security. Reading further, Pamela explained alumni bios were listed by graduation year. No graduation, no listing, and yes, that included Blaine.

Again…so why did Pamela’s log-in and password work?

Bios would include the college the alumni currently attend. Since the majority of Dalton boys usually wound up in the Ivy League, at least one of Blaine’s old friends should be close to the NYC area.

The email also contained a list of names to concentrate on. She almost fell out her chair when she got to the final name.

Sebastian Smythe

Even with that mind-blowing development, she knew going through the Dalton site could take hours. She’d have plenty of time for research tomorrow when the kitchen and bathrooms were being ripped out. The best thing to do was to stick to her original plan to try to find the delivery guy from 2 weeks ago.

There was something she had to do before she left.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she was surprised to see Blaine at the theater’s concession stand and not in the studio.

At least he’s eating.

“Hey Hermit, it’s Blaine Day. Go to a park and sit under a tree like you usually do.”

“Hermit? Isn’t it Hobbit?”

“Not after this week.”

“Santana…”

“Hey, it’s your fucking life. Do what you want. I just thought you’d like to know your dad called and is going to be here tomorrow for a meeting. If you don’t want him asking more questions than he already will, get some sun on your face!” As she quickly planned a dramatic exit for emphasis, she calmed down long enough to suggest “Call Sir Knight, or text, whatever.”

“I can’t.”

WTF???!!!

“What the hell do you mean I can’t? You’ve been communicating with the guy non-stop for 2 weeks. I’m still in awe how you convinced Hummel to give you a pass on the whole Klaine texting is cheating bull-shit.”

“It’s not a big deal. We agreed to end our chats. He left the country for work, or his grandmother is sick, or both. I don’t know. He said he’s going to be extremely busy and knew I needed to focus on my Showcase, although, that’s not a problem anymore.”

“When? When did you guys break-up?”

“We didn’t break-up and does it really matter when it happened?”

“Blaine…”

“Santana, it’s not like we were friends. He was a wrong number.”

From the look on his face, she knew Blaine was lying. Even in that short amount of time, Sir Knight had become important to Prince Charming. “Call June and ask her what the hell’s going on. We all know that so-called wrong number wasn’t random.”

“She’s in France taking care of her sister-in-law. I’m not going to bother her with this. Sir Knight is gone, so you and Sam can stop your not-so secret mission to prove he was Sebastian which I told you wasn’t possible in the first place!”

3 HOURS LATER

She let herself into the brownstone and proceeded to her office, ignoring the overwhelming desire to go to the basement and check on Blaine. No way he’d gone to a park.

Even though it was barely 1PM, she decided to change into comfy clothes. The best perk of her new job was getting to move out of the loft and into the brownstone. She didn’t care if it was going to be under construction for the next month. Had to be less annoying than Hummel and Berry’s constant bitching. And it’s not like she couldn’t escape if she wanted. Blaineland was completely soundproof due to the studio and home theater.

Sitting back at her desk, she checked her messages. She had one from Sam but if she had a guess he wanted the breakdown of what happened with the delivery guy…Ray. She didn’t even bother to read what he sent and sent one of her own reminding him to spend time with his fucking family. He’d be back in a few days and they’d fix the Blaine Board then.

It wasn’t that she was pushing Blond Chameleon out, he’d just be laser focused on the Sir Knight/Prince Charming (non) break-up. She’s 100% certain Kurt’s Thursday from Hell behavior was the key to all this and her trip to Manhattan only reinforced her beliefs.

Everything went better than she hoped. Not only was Ray working, he remembered her as a friend of Kurt’s (his words…not hers). The first thing she asked was if he knew who sent the food to Blaine. He said he had an idea but was curious why, after 2 weeks, she came all this way to ask.

She had prepared for this.

Her story was that Blaine knew who sent the food but won’t tell anyone. He did say all of them knew/at least met the person from high school. It was beginning to drive them crazy so she and Blaine’s other friends, other than Kurt, turned it into a bet to see who could solve the mystery first. She pulled out a $100 bill…

Still had no idea how to put bribe money in the petty cash ledger but had a feeling the Andersons would be fine with it.

“I’m willing to pay for information.”

The flashing of money brought others over to “help”. They all agreed with Ray when he said, though he couldn’t confirm it, the food had to be sent by the talent or someone in their entourage. The reasoning being unless it was Isabelle Wright, who all agreed it wasn’t, the Vogue employees working the photoshoot couldn’t afford the dinner(s) sent to the brownstone.

And while the NDAs were no joke, and Vogue employees were extremely careful with what they said in public, each of her new buddies had overheard bits and pieces about that night.

It was to launch the new face of a famous fashion house, and the person being shot was a guy. Also, he was an unknown who’d been discovered when a model went AWOL at one of last season’s Fashion Week runway shows in Paris. A friend of a friend (something like that) called this guy and begged him to do it even though he wasn’t a model. The rest was history. One girl added she overheard there was something else going on with the guy, something bigger, like maybe an acting role.

She thanked everyone and pulled out two more $100 bills for them to split as they saw fit. Then she took Ray to the side and asked how much of this information Kurt had. He told her the one thing he told Kurt was the talent sent the food to Blaine, not that it was only a theory. Then he reminded her Kurt had to know a lot more than any of them but wasn’t saying anything due to the NDA.

Must be one hell of an NDA.

She put all this new info on 3x5s cards but after pinning them to the Blaine Board she found herself at a crossroads. Everything was ready for the contractors’ arrival in the morning. There were no more errands to run. She could go down and watch a movie.

Relax and clear her mind of all things Blaine Anderson.

Who was she kidding? The reason she’d allowed herself to get tangled in this web in the first place was so she didn’t have to clear her mind. If she did, she might have to start dealing with the fact Dani dumped her by leaving a letter at the diner for when she returned from Iowa. And how that bitch Brenda found it and convinced the staff to do a routine to Taylor Swift’s We Are Never Getting Back Together as she handed her Dani’s letter. And how she punched that bitch Brenda and had the choice of being fired or having the cops called.

And how in the letter Dani asked her to tell Kurt Elliot had gone to Nashville with her, completely blowing up Hummel’s band. While she could somewhat see Dani in Tennessee the Glitter Rock Vampire made zero sense.

And couldn’t she have asked Berry who still worked at the diner? Who knows, maybe she left a letter for Rachel asking her and that bitch Brenda did something with it. She managed to keep all her other evil plans secret from her then roommate.

Stop it! She needed a distraction and even though she scheduled her Dalton website research for tomorrow, it wouldn’t hurt to check out the one surprise name on Pamela’s list.

Getting on the site was ridiculously easy as was finding the alumni lists. Assuming Smythe graduated the same year as Blam (although she would’ve sworn Blaine was a Senior, not a Sophomore, when they met) she went to 2013. He wasn’t there. That didn’t make sense. Was he still at Dalton?

She put Smythe into the home page search engine and the only things that popped up were Warbler competition videos (the last being last year’s Sectionals) and articles about the LaCross team from the previous year. All mentions of Sebastian end there. Did he leave Dalton before he graduated? Oh crap! Did he have something to do with the steroids? Both Sam and Blaine said there was no proof he was and the Warbler who ratted them out never mentioned the former captain.

*Ding…Dong*

Oh, thank God! While she wanted a distraction, she could see getting lost in this rabbit hole for hours and she had an early wake-up time.

Reaching for the doorknob she prepared herself for Kurt and whatever drama he’d twisted into an emergency to get her to call Blaine for him. She was pleasantly surprised to instead find a beautiful woman with a radiant smile and a killer body.

Not the time Lopez

“May I help you?”

“Are you Santana?”

“Yes…and you are?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought Sam told you I’d be stopping by. My name is Annabelle and I’m one of his manager’s assistants. I’m here to pick up the packet he left so we can get his tax and union paperwork filed before he officially begins work on the musical.”

“He didn’t…wait, he sent me a text but I assumed it was for something else. You don’t look like a serial killer so if you want to come in while I check, you’re more than welcome. Warning though, there’s nowhere to sit because remodeling begins tomorrow.”

Annabelle smiled a smile Santana was trying really hard not to read into. “I’m definitely not a serial killer, although my primary client might disagree. I have threatened him with bodily harm on more than one occasion.”

“Sorry, sounds like a douche bag.”

“No, he’s not, more like an annoying little brother. But I’ll never tell him that.”

“Ok, now I can totally sympathize but at least you don’t get a 2 for 1 like I do with Blam. I’ll be right back.”

As she tried to not look at Santana’s ass as the beautiful woman went to what she assumed was a home office, Annabelle took in her surroundings. There was a rumor going around that one of the major music labels had millions of dollars embezzled by a producer to build a studio in the brownstone they bought for him. In addition, they didn’t find out until after they sold the place.

The guy who bought it was some sort of genius and had a judge agree anything attached to (even just screwed into the wall) the structure was included in the as is purchase price.

Since everyone in the NYC entertainment (not just music) industry thought the CEO of the label was an asshole they were celebrating still unknown man as a modern-day Robin Hood. And while the odds this being that particular brownstone were astronomical, she was still going to ask.

“I got ahold of Trouty. Yes, he did send a message, the one I ignored, so here you go.” Santana handed over an envelope, both women going out of their way not to touch the other’s hand. “He also said his manager wanted to know about the study system Blam developed back in high school to help his dyslexia.”

“You keep referring to Blam. Who is that?"

"Sam and his best friend. It’s like they have one mind so it’s easier to give them one name.”

“Would it be possible to get his number so I can talk to him on how to help Sam?”

“He’s in the studio in the basement. Maybe Hermit will actually leave it if he knows it’s to help Trouty.”

Hermit? Trouty? Annabelle only cared about one word “Studio? There’s a studio in the basement?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty sweet. We found it when the Andersons bought the place. Hold on, I’ll have to send a text. The whole level is soundproof.” Santana watched as Annabelle turned into a cartoon character with as wide as her eyes got and how far her jaw dropped. “Is something wrong?”

“Holy Shit! The rumors are true?”

“Rumors?”

“The brownstone with the studio!! How the guy who bought it screwed the label out of millions of dollars. He’s a fucking legend!”

“My dad didn’t screw anyone out of anything. It’s not his fault the label had such shitty bookkeeping.”

Annabelle turned around and went straight back to cartoon mode. She’d recognize that guy anywhere. “Blaine Fucking Anderson.”

“Excuse me. Who the hell are you to call me that?”

Santana was put off as well. Things had been going great until that moment. “Annabelle…”

It was Blaine’s turn to turn into a cartoon character. “Annabelle? Annabelle who works as an assistant to an entertainment manager?”

Their guest still wasn’t talking and had gone so far as to put her hand over her mouth. Santana quickly came to the conclusion she was the only one with no idea what was happening. “Blaine, why does Annabelle’s name and job matter?”

“Because Sir Knight had someone like you who took care of shit for him but she was his manager’s assistant and her name was Annabelle. Joey, the driver, knows where I live but he didn’t know my name.”

“Blaine, I’m sorry…”

“Are you here to spy on me under the pretense of taking care of Sam? There’s no reason. Sir Knight left the country and told me he’d be too busy to chat so it would be best if we stopped.” Then it dawned on him. “How do you know my name? Did you do some sort of research on me?”

Santana huffed and threw up her arms in frustration. “If she did and got your name, she’s much better than me and the Blond Chameleon. We still have no clue who Sir Knight is. How did you figure it out? Is it because the driver guy had Blainer’s address?”

Annabelle pulled back her hair, obviously a nervous habit, and shook her head. “You don’t understand. I could lose my job for the little bit I’ve already accidently said.” She looked away from Santana to Blaine and saw the same pained expression on his face that she saw on Sebastain’s when he left for Paris. Yes, he was worried about his Nana but she knew it was also for the loss of his Prince Charming.

She had no idea why he cut Blaine off when he needed his friend (love of his life) the most. He had an international phone plan. Screw it! The jerk needed her too much to have Benny fire her.

“Sir Knight knew you were Blaine Anderson the second you called him the first time. You obviously hadn’t changed your number in years.”

Blaine and Santana grabbed each other’s arms as a means to keep balance. It was a bad time not to have any furniture to hold on to. “I haven’t changed my number. The Ohio area code should have been the first clue” Blaine said as he tried to remember his first conversations with Sir Knight. “But he had changed phones recently to a private line.”

“Yes, and I set it up with only the 22 contacts he was allowed to keep. Evidently, he later deleted his parents and put you in himself…under the name Killer. It looks like you both figured it out but if you’re looking for confirmation…Sir Knight’s name is Sebastian Smythe.”

“Damn it! The Blond Chameleon is going to be an even bigger pain in the ass once he finds out he was right all along!”

AO3

[flowtus143]

Slightly Erotic Fiction I Wrote For Grad School

So, I’m enrolled in an online grad school program. Since we don’t meet for class like you would at a traditional campus, we have to respond to a weekly writing prompt and post our response to a forum made for our class. After posting, we have to reply to at least three other students prompts with a substantive comment. Doing this is supposed to replicate the experience of being in class with other students, sharing your ideas and responding to theirs. In other words, it’s a participation assignment. If you’ve ever been to college, you know showing up to class isn’t enough. You have to participate in classroom discussions.

For one of my classes, we had to post about two concepts we learned about that week (discriminative stimuli and motivating operations). So, I decided to have some fun with it and write some slightly erotic fiction were I included an explanation of the concepts. Yes, I actually turned this in. And yes, my classmates and professor loved it. Of course they did. School can be so dry and boring that any time anyone tries to shake things up, even a little, it’s always greatly appreciated.

Anyway, I thought I’d share it here. Enjoy! And bonus points for anyone who actually knows anything about the concepts discussed below.

—

I thought tonight would be an ordinary night. Maybe studying or completing assignments for school. Or talking with friends in our group chat about whatever fleeting topic held our attention. Hell, maybe I would’ve went to bed at a reasonable time, for a change.

This is no ordinary night. Tonight, I am here. Caught in this moment. Enthralled with his presence…

“Here we are. 5th floor. Hope walking up the stairs in those heels wasn’t too tiring for you” he says, smiling gently as he looks toward me.

His name? Aiden Holland. We met a Freedom Park a few days ago. Chloe loves it when I take her for walks around the fountain trail for a walk. We happened to run into Aiden during a morning jog. He was pleasant to talk to with his friendly, charming, yet serious way of speaking. So, we agreed to meet up in the future. Pretty boy, through and through. Cleanly shaven, well-kept hair, fairly tall with a lean build. He definitely dedicates a few hours a week at the gym. The way his button-up clings tightly to his chest shows off his efforts.

“I’m fine!” I reply, attempting to mask my exhaustion with cheeriness. “Though, it would be nice to take a load off.”

“Of course. Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable.”

I don’t know what he does for a living, but it must be lucrative. His apartment is spacious, with furniture arranged beautifully, framed pictures and paintings lining the walls, and a variety of plants sitting outside on the balcony. His kitchen even has a mini-bar. Barstools and all.

“Would you like something to drink, Evelyn?” he calls out.

“Hmm…what do you have?”

“The way I see it, you have two options: water or something better than water.” He opens the cabinet above the bar, revealing an assortment of alcoholic beverages.

“I’ll take something better than water…”

The crimson liquid flows gracefully from the bottle to our glasses. Calera Pinot Noir. Much better than the Barefoot I have at home. He motions for me to join him at the bar.

“Evelyn,” he says as I make my way over. “I have a question for you…”

Before I can respond, he softly takes my hand in his. Almost instinctively, I gently squeeze, rubbing my thumb over the back of his hand. He pulls me in closer. I stumble forward, only managing to catch myself by pressing my other hand into his firm chest. Our gazes lock, the seriousness of his voice is only outmatched by the intensity in his eyes. He pulls me in closer. And closer. And closer…

He moves his face down, brushing past my hair, bringing his lips closer to my ear. A bead of sweat trickles down between my shoulder blades, almost reaching the small of my back before being absorbed by the red dress that drapes my quivering body. My pulse quickens. My breathing, sharp. His breath warms my ear and neck as he passionately whispers his question to me…

“Do you know what a discriminative stimulus is?”

His words sends chills down my spine and I stand there, motionless. Silent. I lean upwards, standing on the tips of my toes, bringing my lips to his ear.

“Enlighten me…” I utter, weakly, yet sweetly.

He releases me and begins pacing around the kitchen. “A discriminative stimulus is an antecedent stimulus that who’s presence evokes an operant behavior that has been reinforced in the past. Another way to think of it is the discriminative stimulus signals that reinforcement is available.”

“Kinda like seeing an opportunity and taking it?”

“Exactly, according to page 130 of a book published in 2016, written by a man named Miltenberger. Funny name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I reply through my laughter. “a little silly.”

“Aiden? Could you demonstrate an example of a discriminative stimulus? For me…?”

He smiles coyly. “I’d love to. But, I’ve already demonstrated an example earlier.”

“Oh yeah?” I strut slowly toward him, stopping a few feet away, leaning on one of the walls of the dining area. “You expect me to believe you’re that smooth?

“Well, think about it. When I asked you if you wanted a drink, that was an antecedent stimulus that indicated your behavior may yield reinforcement. In this case, your behavior was answering my question and the reinforcement was receiving a drink.”

Damn, he is that smooth. I’m actually studying a similar topic in my class.

“So, do you know what motivating operations are, Aiden?”

He turns to face me and leans forward. “Enlighten me…”

Cheeky bastard. “According to authors Cooper, Heron, and Heward’s book published in 2020, motivating operations are conditions that impact how…desirable…a particular reinforcer may be. Motivating operations can be broken down into two types, establishing operations, which makes the reinforcer more appealing, and abolishing operations, which does the opposite. Page 373.“

“As intelligent as you beautiful” he remarks. “But, make sure you don’t confuse the two concepts. Both discriminative stimuli and motivating operations come in the form of antecedents and have a relationship with reinforcing consequences.”

“Of course, Aiden. But discriminative stimuli only signal the opportunity for reinforcement while motivating operations alter how powerful a reinforcer is. But, you’re right, it’s important to have a strong grasp of these concepts. A professional could use this knowledge to understand why people engage in certain behaviors or use them to teach new ones.”

“Well said, Evelyn.”

“Thanks. But, now I want you to give an example of a motivating operation.”

“I have the perfect example for you. Coming up five flights of stairs, especially in those shoes, is exhausting, no?”

“Obviously.” I retort as I begin to slowly take them off. His eyes track every motion, watching silently as I undress. He’s been calm and cool this entire time, but now, he’s getting excited…

“You were saying?” I say, attempting to shift his focus back to the conversation.

“So, being fatigued would encourage you to seek rest or something to help you rest.

“In other words, walking up the stairs made the wine even more enticing? I see…”

He falls silent again. He watching, almost waiting. What discriminative stimuli is he picking up on? What are his motivating operations? A girl can only wonder.

“Now that we’re done talking about how badly I want wine, maybe we should finally enjoy the glasses you poured earlier.”

He chuckles. “Agreed. And then what?”

“Well, I suppose that depends on what we’re both motivated for…”

References

Cooper, J. O., Heron, T. E., & Heward, W. L. (2020). Applied behavior analysis (3rd ed.). Pearson.

Miltenberger, R. G. (2016). Behavior modification: Principles and procedures (6th ed.). Cengage Learning.

[purplesurveys]

1645

Grease

What clique were you in in high school? Eh...cliques aren’t really a ~thing here. People had their own friend groups but that was all there is to it; the cliquish it ever got was the fact that there were kids who were popular because they were rich and went to parties, and kids who were popular because they were part of a high school band.

Would you liked to have lived in the 50s? I enjoy my freedom and rights now, so...no. It’d be cool to experience some facets of the 50s, I guess? like being present for Audrey Hepburn’s heyday and wearing pretty printed dresses, but otherwise I wouldn’t want to stay in it.

Did you go to prom? How was it? Yeah, because attendance was required. It sucked, just like I thought it would.

Moulin Rouge!

What is your favorite cover of a song? Paramore’s cover of Passionfruit will always be up there.

Have you ever been to France? Nopes.

Have you ever been in love with someone who was fatally ill? I haven’t.

West Side Story

Are you Puerto Rican? No. Who is your favorite character from Romeo and Juliet? I barely remember the story and the characters anymore but I think I took a liking to Mercutio if my memory serves me right? Maybe I found his lines funnier than the others’? I have like 97% no clue/memory whatsoever lol. Shakespeare wasn’t a topic I particularly enjoyed and I managed to get through my classes by quietly using the No Fear versions and hoping I wouldn’t get caught.

Have you ever been to New York? I haven’t.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

What’s your hair color? Black, but right now it’s dyed a faded brown.

Do you own any diamonds? Nope.

Have you ever been on a cruise? To where? Yeah, it was an East Asia cruise that started in China and went through Japan and South Korea.

Chicago

What is your favorite kind of liquor? My mid-20s self is content with just a nice, fruity cocktail. For the most part you can’t really pull me to take a shot anymore.

Have you ever been to jail or prison? For what? I’ve visited one for a journalism exercise/homework, but I’ve never been sent to one myself.

Have you ever been to Chicago? No but I would loVE to.

My Fair Lady

Is grammar important to you? Depends on the context. I wouldn’t be policing in my personal time but I do take grammar a lot more seriously for work since we write like 70% of the time.

Have you ever received or given a make-over? Other than for grad shoots where I got considerably made up, no.

Are you English? Nope.

Mary Poppins

Have you ever been a nanny or hired one? We’ve had househelp before, yeah. What do you do to make cleaning more enjoyable? I like turning on music or a video to play in the background.

Do you know anyone who works at a bank? Yeah, a few batchmates from high school and mutual friends from college.

RENT

Do you know anyone who is HIV+? I don’t.

Are you behind on your rent? I don’t pay any.

What is your sexual orientation? Asexual.

Hairspray

What is your favorite brand of hairspray? I don’t use hairspray.

Have you had any best friends or SOs who are a different race than you? Nope.

Have you ever been on TV? As far as I know, no.

The Sound of Music

What are a few of your favorite things? BTS, chicken sandwiches, and dogs.

Are you Catholic? On paper yes, but I abandoned the faith a very long time ago.

Are you German? Nope.

Jesus Christ Superstar

Have you accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior? In the past.

Have you ever been to a desert? I haven’t.

If you could ask Jesus for anything, what would it be? Nothing.

Rocky Horror Picture Show

Are you engaged? I am not.

Who did you lose your virginity to? An ex.

Do you know any trans* people? Yes.

Little Shop of Horrors

What is your favorite kind of plant? Not a very big fan of plants tbh.

Do you like your dentist? Sure!

Have you ever donated blood? No, I’ve always been underweight to be permitted to do so.

Across the Universe

What is your favorite Beatles song? I don’t have one.

Who do you know that’s gone off to war? ;__; Does Jin count

Have you ever been in a protest? Yes, a handful ones in college.

Mamma Mia!

What is your favorite ABBA song? I don’t have any. LOL I am so not the target audience for this survey hahaha oops.

Have you ever been to Greece? No.

Do you know your biological father? Yes.

Les Miserables

Are you French? No.

Do you know anyone who has committed suicide? Yes.

What is the poorest you have ever been? Pandemic.

[pntedstr]

Parking Lot Phase

Based on the songs Circa 2015 and Rainbow Bap by Jaden Smith

Pairing: badboy!jisung x Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst

Au/Tropes: high school, strangers to lovers

Word Count: 12.5K

Warnings: swearing, jealous Jisung, car sex (kind of), dom jisung?, reckless driving,

a/n: this took me months to write because i kept forgetting about it. The ending was really rushed and i may or may not rewrite it. Its also not proof read so forgive me

As cliche as it is, Jisung was the boy that every adult figure in your life told you to stay away from.

Your Parents, Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Teachers, hell even the bus drivers.

Every day he dressed head to toe in black, the only color being a few pops of red stitched into his leather jacket.

Every single girl in your high school class wanted him and he knew it.

He always teased the girls with long looks and a sweet smile from across the hallway, luring them into him.

Needless to say those same girls were usually found crying in a bathroom stall two weeks later.

Jisung, however, went on with his life, laughing and smiling with his friends like he hadn’t just ruined some poor girl’s self esteem.

Jisung usually hung out with a group of seniors,

Renjun, Jaemin, Donghyuck, and Jeno.

They all dressed and acted the same way...

Like dicks.

However, you assumed they weren’t that bad since your best friend Chenle was often found prancing around with them.

Chenle stuck out like a sore thumb around those boys as he opted for casual streetwear.

Although Chenle usually spent his school hours with the boys, he always made sure to eat lunch with you.

He didn’t want you to feel left out, you were his childhood best friend after all.

He was never going to leave you.

However, he was seriously contemplating it as he stands in front of you with furrowed eyebrows and a slacked jaw.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Chenle questions carefully.

Jisung had just been gifted his first car by his parents yesterday and all of Chenle’s friends were going out off campus for lunch.

They were begging him to tag along but Chenle refused to leave you alone.

His friends agreed to let you come along too.

But Chenle didn't think for a second that you would decline.

“Lele, I'm not getting in a car with a bunch of random ass guys just so you don’t have to feel guilty.” You told your best friend.

You look over Chenle’s shoulder, noticing Jisung along with the rest of his clique were waiting impatiently by the school entrance.

Jisung coolly swung his car keys around his pointer finger with a bored look painted on his face.

“Random guys? They’re our classmates, y/n.”

“Still strangers to me.”

Chenle sighs, throwing his arms up in frustration

“It’s fine, Chenle, go hang out with your friends and I will stay here and eat my lunch. “ You smile tightly at him. “Alone.”

Chenle scoffed, fully knowing that your statement actually means ‘go hang out with your friends but if you do I wont speak to you for a whole week’

The two you had been in so many petty arguments before; He knows better.

You slam your locker door, preparing to turn away from him until a voice called out to the two of you.

“Hey,” Jisung says from down the hall. “Meet us outside whenever you’re done with....whatever”

The rest of the boys surrounding him nodded along and quickly followed him out of the door.

Chenle took this time to wrap his arms around your shoulders and pull you into a tight hold.

“Y/n, please, I will do anything. This is a brand new Maserati we are talking about here,” Your best friend pleads.

You contemplate for a second.

“Maserati?” You raise an eyebrow.

Chenle nods his head frantically.

“You should’ve started off with saying it was a Maserati.”

“Don’t tell me you’re agreeing to come because its a Maserati.”

You shrug and link your arm with Chenle’s.

“I didn’t take you for the gold digger type”

“I’m just a sucker for sports cars.”

You smile and watch as a wide grin spreads against your best friend's face.

“I’m so glad you’re coming because i don’t think i would have been able to handle you not talking to me for another three weeks.”

You scoff softly, “so you were actually going to leave me”

“Its a Maserati, babe,” Chenle says, leading you to the school’s parking lot.

You weren’t going to lie,

The closer you inched to Jisung’s car the more nervous you got.

Chenle could sense this and squeezed your arm softly.

Finally the the two of you stood in awe next to the sleek black Maserati.

The windows were tinted so dark that you couldn’t see anything inside.

So it shocked you a little when the back door was pushed open from the inside, nearly hitting you in the leg.

The boy you know as Jaemin, pops his head out of the door with a bright smile adorning his face.

“I was hoping you’d say yes,” The boy says out of context.

The comment kind of startled you, you weren’t expecting to have to interact with them so soon.

You were hoping they’d just ignore your presence and do what they usually do.

Without letting you question him, Jaemin slides back into the car.

You notice the lack of space in the back seat.

Looking up at Chenle, you ask him where would you sit.

Once he gets in, the backseat will be full, leaving you with nowhere to sit.

Jeno and Jaemin hastily offer you a place on their laps but you not-so politely decline.

Instead you sit down into the seat that originally was supposed to be Chenle’s before pulling your best friend into your own lap.

He complains the entire time but you refused to be the person to sit on anyone’s lap.

With Jaemin next you, he uses his charming smile to convince you to rethink your choice for the ride back.

"Don't pretend like you don't want to," He says barley above a whisper.

But not low enough to where Chenle couldn't hear it. "I can hear you, Jaemin."

The ride is surprisingly fun, everyone seems to chat with you easily including renjun who was seated in the passenger seat

The only person who didn’t speak to you much was Jisung.

But it was fine you enjoyed the attention that renjun, jeno, Donghyuck, and jaemin were feeding you

Soon enough, you guys were parked at a local diner.

The boys rushed out of the car before Jisung could even come to a complete stop.

Chenle whines as donghyuck and Jaemin quickly place themselves at your side.

Jaemin threw his arm around your waist while Hyuck’s arm rested around your shoulders.

“How can someone so pretty be friends with Chenle,” Jaemin joked

“I was wondering the same thing,” piped Jeno

Renjun laughs. “I think we all-“

You didn’t even notice the smile that was stretching to each side of your face or the giggly feeling that rested below your belly.

Chenle had been the only friend you ever really had.

So being around so many people who clearly enjoyed your presence, filled you with so much joy.

You kind of felt guilty for all of the assumptions you had previously made about them.

Entering the diner, the boys headed for the largest booth in the the back.

You were sandwiched between Jeno and Renjun with Jaemin and Chenle across from you and Donghyuck and Jisung on the ends.

Jisung still hadn’t spoken a word to you.

You nearly let it get to you, but you were quickly taken out of your thoughts as Jeno started pointing out the best items on the menu.

He had somehow convinced you to try something called the ‘Gut buster’.

It was the largest breakfast burrito you had seen in your life, but also the tastiest.

Renjun had spent his time, spoon feeding you deserts and asking you to rate them.

He held his hand underneath your chin and guided a spoon that's over flowing with chocolate desert. "Open up."

You were definitely going to be sick from all of the sugar he had you inhale.

“This is basically just Y/N being on a date with five guys,” Chenle seethed as he watched the boys interact with you.

You open your mouth to protest but you’re immediately cut off by Hyuck.

He grabs your hand across the table, squishing Chenle against Jaemin in the process.

“No she’s just on a date with me, right babe?”

You try to stutter response as the boy rubs his soft finger over your knuckles but everyone beats you to it.

They argue loudly about whose the better ‘date’ which only ends in you guys getting ugly looks from everyone else in the diner.

You tried to hush them and tell them they were too loud, but with Jeno yelling in your ear and Chenle trying to pry hyuck’s hands off your own, your voice got washed out in the madness.

“Don’t you kids have class?” One of the waitresses shouted at you from across the counter.

All of you scramble for your phone to check the time.

“Shit,” Jisung curses, standing to his feet.

The 7 of you realize that you’re super late for class. (20 minutes late to be exact.)

You guys quickly finish what ever you have left and pay for your food

You tried to pay for you own but Renjun quickly pushed your hands down and pulled a few crisp bills from his wallet

“You never pay for my food,” Chenle pouts

Renjun only stuffs his wallet back into his pocket. “Pretty privilege I guess,”

You guys move as fast as possible, all scrambling to find a seat in the car.

Chenle got booted from the back seat and was forced to take the front as Renjun found his way to the back.

This time around you found yourself perched on Jaemin’s lap, while your legs laid haphazardly across Jeno’s.

Throaty laughter and giggles could be heard from the backseat as Jisung sped through lanes of traffic.

The boys notice this and make comments on his reckless driving.

You notice him rolling his eyes but what you don’t notice is how Jisung stares at you through the rear view mirror every time he gets a chance.

When you get back to school it’s drizzling so you all scurry inside.

You guys are a little over 30 minutes late to your class but you don’t mind that at all.

You were just happy that your class wasn’t too far from the entrance.

Chenle, however, had class on the other side of campus so he left the group with a ‘see you guys later’

Renjun was right behind him.

Jeno, Jaemin, and donghyuck parted as their classrooms came into sight.

By the time you got to your class room, Jisung was the only one left walking with you.

It was silent between the two of you.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say.

He looked down at you, eyes grazing over your pretty face

“For what?”

You didn’t think this through.

You shuffle on your feet. “For letting me hang out with you guys, i guess.”

“And for walking me to class.”

He chuckles, showing off his smile for the first time that day.

“Technically I’m not walking you to class. My class is this way too.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Then thank you for letting me hang out with you guys.”

“Of course, I loved being a 7th wheel.”

“Oh really?” You say, cocking your head to the side. “You didn’t deny being on a date with me earlier,”

“I didn’t speak to you the entire time,”

“I never said you were a good date.”

The two of you laugh softly before the air between you suddenly became quiet again.

“Well,” you start, “this is my stop, hopefully we can hang out again sometime.”

Jisung nods, “Right, yeah, maybe so.”

He scratches the back of his neck and rocks softly on his heels

You take note of his stance, finding it cute in a way.

Not knowing what to say next, you push open the door to your classroom, bidding Jisung goodbye with a small wave

Once you’re out of sight Jisung visibly relaxes

“Right, yeah, maybe so?” He mocks, repeating his earlier response to you. “What the fuck was that,”

Jisung had been trying to find a way to talk to you all day, but he didn’t want to come off like his friends.

Unlike them, he had actually known who you were before Chenle mentioned you.

The two of you had one or two classes together and he often found himself staring at you when he became bored with the lesson.

It was no doubt that you were beautiful and he found it interesting how you made no effort to make any friends or branch out.

He thought you were just shy but after today he could tell that you were far from shy.

Jisung had been wanting to approach you for so long but he wasn’t sure how to, with Chenle always clinging to you.

He let out a deep sigh and shook his head clear of any thoughts concerning you as he laid eyes on his classroom.

Its needless to say that each one of you got scolded for being late.

You luckily escaped with no punishment.

However others were not so lucky

Others including Jeno, Chenle, And Donghyuck.

They all got after school detention.

Usually Chenle walks home with you after school but with him gone, it was just you.

The drizzle from earlier had turned into a full on storm. Lightening broke out across the sky and was soon followed by a loud rumble of thunder that resulted in shrieks from some of your fellow female classmates.

You sigh.

You could have probably gotten Chenle to call his parents to pick you guys up, but he was stuck in a class room, probably apologizing to said parents through a text message for getting detention.

Your dad wouldn’t be able to leave work to pick you up.

You were just screwed.

You stood idly by the school’s front doors, watching as the rain padded hard against concrete.

Students dashed for their cars, shielding themselves from the rain with anything they had.

These were the times where you wish you knew how to drive.

“You aren’t planning on walking in that, are you?” A voice calls from behind you.

You see Jisung’s reflection in the window of the entrance. “I did for a second,” You turn around to face him. “But now that you’re here, I think my prayers may have just been answered.”

Jisung smirks, shifting onto his right leg. “I wasn’t offering you a ride,”

“Don’t make me beg.” You pout, tilting your head.

He rolls his eyes. “Come on, Let’s go,”

You watch as Jisung shrugs off his infamous leather jacket and holds it over the two of you as a shield.

As soon as he opens the door, he breaks out into a sprint with his hand pressed to your upper back.

If you weren’t so focused on not slipping you would have been overthinking his gesture.

Jisung used his key pad to unlock his car door and quickly opened the passenger side door for you to slip into before running to get into the drivers side.

He plops down inside of the car, throwing his jacket to the back seat and ruffling his slightly wet hair

Your eyes raked over him, finding the wet hair look attractive on him.

He leans back into his seat, lolling his head to the side to meet your gaze.

“Staring now, are we?”

You scoff.

Yes

“No, I’m waiting for you to start the car up because I’m wet and freezing”

With a cocky smirk on his face, Jisung cranks up his car and begins to pull out of the parking lot.

The rain is visibly becoming heavier and you are slightly worried if Jisung would be able to drive in it.

“Am I just supposed to guess where you live?”

You roll your eyes, “I live a little past the diner we went to earlier,”

“Great, I was heading that way anyway.”

The ride was quiet, nothing but the sounds of heavy rain pounding down on the vehicle

It seemed like the further you guys drove, the heavier the rain got.

“Can you even see.” You ask the boy.

“No, actually”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything.”

“I was trying to look cool, like i knew what i was doing.” He jokes.

“Pull over somewhere. Let’s just wait until the rain calms down some.”

“The diner should be coming up soon, we’ll pull in there.” He says while nodding his head.

You agree with him and relax into your seat.

Your eyes constantly flicker over to Jisung’s frame.

You couldn’t deny just how attractive he was.

You wanted to be mad at yourself for being in the position you said you’d never be in, but you couldn’t.

Not when jisung was here, left hand gripping the stirring wheel while the other toyed with his bottom lip.

‘Any girl would be going haywire with a sight like that’ is what you tell yourself.

Jisung pulls into the deserted diner parking lot, parking fairly well to say he couldn’t tell where the parking spaces were.

Shutting off his car, he leans back into his seat and uses his hand to push his hair back from his forehead.

It took everything in your being not to stare at him.

Goosebumps started to form on your arms.

“I’m cold,” You told him, rubbing your hands together

“That’s too bad,” He started, tilting his head towards you. “I’m hot.”

Indeed

You roll your eyes and turn away from him with an obvious grimace on your face. You did this whenever you weren’t getting your way with Chenle and he usually gave in after a few seconds. You were hoping it would work with the boy on side of you.

Jisung, however, just scoffed before reaching into the backseat.

Suddenly something that was rubbery and wet was thrown into your lap.

It was Jisung’s jacket that he used to shield the two of you at school.

“This is wet,” You complain before throwing the jacket back at him.

He throws the jacket back at you. “Beggars can’t be choosers,”

“It’s going to make me colder than I already am.”

“The inside isn’t wet. Just put it on before i take it back.”

You hesitate for a second before ultimately deciding to put it on. “Only because I’m cold.”

“I think it’s just because you wanted to wear my jacket.” He jokes.

“Please, this thing fucking smells.”

It didn’t

“Then take it off,” Jisung says, reaching for the sleeve of said jacket.

You move your arm away from him. “No, you just basically begged me to wear it and now you’re trying take it away. Make up your mind.”

“Begged you?”

“Begged me.”

He shakes his head at you, shoulders jumping as a soft laugh ripped through him.

“You’re annoying,” He teased

“You’re no better.”

A smile plays at the corner of your lips as you look out of the window, enjoying the sight of the rain.

“This rain really isn’t letting up at all, huh,” Jisung says, kissing his teeth.

“Doesn’t look like it, but i don’t mind.”

“You like the rain?” He asks

You hum.

“Why?”

“I dont know i just do. Why do you not like the rain?”

He ponders for a second. “It makes everything too gloomy, for my taste.”

“Gloomy can be pretty though.”

“You can’t do anything in the rain.”

“Thats not true. You can do a lot of things. Its a perfect time to catch up on sleep, listen to your favorite songs, watch your favorite shows, eat your favorite food, have ice cream-“

“So the rain is an excuse to be lazy.”

You give him a blank stare before turning your head back to the window. “No its an excuse to chill and take part the activities that make you happy.”

Jisung hums and nods. “I think I understand what you mean.”

He’s quiet for a second or two. “One of the things you mentioned—eating your favorite food and having ice cream.”

“Yeah,”

“Well, this diner has a drive thru.”

You smile at him, understanding what he he was suggesting.

Jisung pulls out of the parking spot he was in and makes way toward the drive thru.

The two of you both try something new on the menu and pair it with a milkshake and fries just in case you hated what you ordered.

While the two of you ate, you chatted about cars, school, your friends, and just about any random topic you could come up with.

You didn’t expect to laugh so much, especially with jisung since he didnt speak a single word to you earlier.

You guys stayed in the parking lot until nightfall with full bellies and drooping eyes.

The rain had lightened up two hours before but the two of you were to caught up to realize.

“It’s going on 8:00, I think we are good to go.” He told you, beginning to pick up the remaining trash you guys had from your food.

You couldn’t deny the tinge of sadness you felt, knowing that your day with jisung was coming to an end.

The ride to your place was fairly short. Jisung knew the exact route to your house, considering the fact that he also lived in the same neighborhood.

Your neighborhood was fairly large and had multiple streets so it wasn’t surprising that the two of you hadn’t crossed paths.

“Try not to look so sad,” he teased as he opened your door to let you out of his car.

“In your dreams, Park, I’m ecstatic to finally be home.”

The two of you walk side by side towards your doorstep, not uttering a single word until you were finally face to face with your front door.

“So I checked the weather and i saw that it’s supposed to rain for the rest of the week.” The boy says as you began to strip from his jacket.

You raise an eyebrow at him, signaling him to continue.

“So maybe you could ride with me after school for the week until it clears up.”

It was obvious that he had been working up the courage to ask you that, as he began to rock on his heels like he did once before at school.

“Just say that you want to hang out with me again, Jisung,” You tease, leaning in and pressing his jacket to his chest.

He smiles, casting his eyes away from you an towards the empty street. “Maybe...”

“Say it.”

He rolls his eyes before taking his jacket from you and guiding you towards your door. “Don’t be annoying, go inside.”

“Fine.” You laugh, pushing your front door open, “Goodnight, Jisungg,”

The boy waved you goodnight and then made a dash for his car. As you closed the door you could hear the sound of Jisung and his expensive car speeding off into the night.

Chenle didnt let a second pass before he was ringing your phone. He had been peeking out of his bedroom window, where he had an amazing view of your front yard.

You hesitated to answer your phone, knowing well what he was calling about

“Hello?”

“UM,HELLO? DID I JUST SEE YOU GET OUT OF THE CAR WITH PARK JISUNG?!”

you roll your eyes and quickly skip up to your bedroom before pulling open your curtains. From across the street you can see Chenle, standing in a similar position.

Phone pressed against his ear, he puts his hand on his hip. “Do you know how worried I was. I thought you got kidnapped on the way home.”

“What made you think i was kidnapped.”

“I sent you 1000 messages and when i got no response, i tried to knocking on your door and still got nothing. I’ve been watching your front yard for hours now; I was two minutes away from calling the cops, Y/N.”

“Instead of asking anyone if they had seen me?”

“I did, I asked Renjun and Jaemin, thinking they may have walked you home but they said they hadn’t seen you and that they left with sungchan.”

“You’re cute when you worry, lele.” You watch as your best friend frowns and closes his dark blue curtains. You giggle. “Come over, I’ll make you dinner and tell you all about what happened while i was with Jisung.”

He peeks through the curtains. “What kind of dinner.”

“Whatever you want,”

“Fine, give me a second, to take a shower. Im spending the night,”

Before you could protest, the boy hangs up and closes his curtains completely.

30 minutes later, Chenle was walking into your house with an overnight bag slung across his shoulder.

You kept your promise to him and made him exactly what he wanted. Which happened to be a weird pasta recipe that he found on tiktok.

Following the recipe wasn’t hard for you at all considering you often had to cook for yourself due to your dad’s work schedule.

While you and chenle feasted on the pasta, you told him all about your day with Jisung

Patting his full belly Chenle began to speak. “So do you like him?”

You open your mouth to say ‘no’ but for some reason the words never come out. You can’t like Jisung, you only known him for a couple of hours.

However, in those few hours, he had proven to be the complete opposite of your assumptions.

“Well do you?” Chenle questions again

“N-no.” You shake your head and reach for your drink that sat on the coffee table.

Your best friend stares at you for a split second, searching you for a sign of uncertainty.

And boy did he find too many signs.

“Well,” He starts off, “If you did like Jisung. I would tell you that it isn’t smart to get involved with him.”

“And why not?”

“We all know why, Y/N.”

the two of you stare at each other and you’re the first to look away.

“Thought he was your friend,” You grumble.

“He is, but you’re like a sister to me. And believe it or not, I actually care about your feelings.” The boy says, grabbing a hold of your free hand.

You roll your head to the side, a smirk playing on your lips. “Just kiss me already Chenle.”

“funny,” He chuckles. “But don’t say it again, I almost threw up.”

You roll eyes. “Let’s clean up and head to bed; I have an exam tomorrow,”

The boy nods and begins to follow your lead in cleaning.

The next morning, you and Chenle are awoken by the sound of your father’s voice.

“Zhong, I thought I told you five years ago to stop sleeping in my daughter’s bed,” The smile, he was wearing could be heard as he spoke.

Both you and Chenle groan and shield your eyes from the sun that was pouring in through your window

“I could chastise you some more,” your dad continues, “but I think I have other things to worry about. Like the boy that's wearing a leather jacket, driving a badass Maserati, and asking for my sweet child.”

Your head perks up immediately. “Jisung’s here?”

“Is that his name?”

You don’t listen to the rest of your dad’s morning banter and hop out of bed quicker than you ever had before.

“Chenle, get up, get up, get up.” You tell your friend, pulling him up by his arm as you gather your outfit for the day.

You quickly brush your hair and teeth before heading down stairs with none of your school supplies with you.

Thankfully, Chenle was trailing right behind you with your backpack slung over his shoulder.

When you make it outside, you catch sight of Jisung and your dad standing next to each other.

You couldn’t tell what they were saying but from the way they were staring at Jisung’s car, you could tell that it was the topic of their conversation.

Jisung looks up as he hears you approaching, a smile still planted on his face until he catches sight of Chenle.

He tried not to let his smile falter but he had failed miserably. He can only hope you didn’t notice it.

You did.

“You didn’t say you were coming by this morning,” You say and Jisung steps toward you.

“Well you didn’t exactly give me your number or anything last night.”

“Um last night?” Your dad pipes.

“Yeah, Jisung brought be home yesterday since it was raining.”

Your dad doesn’t say anything but you can tell he’s impressed with Jisung.

“Well I’ll let you guys get to school,” Your dad says, “I assume I’ll see you again this afternoon, Jisung.”

The three you get into the car and head to school.

Chenle fell asleep in the backseat, leaving you and Jisung to your own devices.

He made small talk with you, telling you how your dad made him nervous upon first sight.

“I thought I was at the wrong house,” He had told you.

He nearly asked you why chenle was there but he decided against it.

Once you you got to school, you met up with the rest of Jisung’s friends.

All 7 of you hung out before the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the first class of the day.

The day went by slow, the only entertainment being your lunch period.

Today the rain had started a little bit before lunch so the boys stayed in the cafeteria with you.

Instead of eating the school lunch, they raided the vending machines that were stationed in the corners.

The 7 of you got weird stares due to the chaotic nature of the group. You were definitely the loudest table in the building.

You tried not to notice how close jisung was to you the entire time.

His shoulder was practically pressed against yours.

You weren’t the only one who noticed though.

After lunch, jisung walked you to class, much like he did the day before. The only difference was that it wasn’t awkward between the two of you at all.

When it was time for dismissal, you found him waiting for you next to the door.

He already had his jacket off, ready to shield the two of you from the weather.

When you asked about the other boys, he said they had sports practice and that chenle called his parents.

In reality, Jisung told the boys they couldn’t ride him so he could be alone with you. They complained and rolled their eyes but let Jisung be and found themselves bothering Sungchan instead.

He didn’t miss how Chenle seemed to be genuinely annoyed.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care though.

The ride went just as it did the day before.

The two of you pulled into the diner and grabbed some food before munching down on it while having a conversation.

You learned a few things about him.

His favorite color is green.

He has two older brothers and a little sister.

He has a cat named Christmas (named by his little sister)

He hates the corn dogs from the diner.

He makes good grades.

He wants to paint his nails but doesn’t know how and doesn’t want to go to a nail tech to get them done.

And more little things like that.

You guys chatted until 8:30 before Jisung brought you home. This time he remembered to get your number.

The next three days were the same thing.

He picks you up for school that morning, You have lunch with the boys, he walks you to class, he waits on you after class, it rains, he drives the two of you to the diner, you get food, chat in the parking lot, and then he takes you home.

Every night you walk into your house with a goofy smile on your face that Chenle definitely teases you about.

“That’s not very ‘I don’t like Jisung’ of you,” He would say through the phone.

He was right.

Even though you hated to be that girl. You couldn’t help but to fall for Jisung’s charms.

When the two of you are alone, he never fails to make you a bumbling mess when he compliments you, or twirls a strand of your hair around his finger.

Not to mention the way he stares at you when you’re speaking.

“Stop staring, weirdo,” Is what you would tell him before breaking eye contact.

A smirk would slowly etch into his face before he responds with. “I can’t,”

For the weekend, you invite Chenle over since he was complaining about not being able to see you all week.

You arranged a movie night for the two of you.

Chenle brought all kinds of snacks and drinks with him, and wore his pajama set that also matched yours.

With snacks sprawled all over your bed, you and Chenle climb under your blankets and immediately indulge in the sweets as Percy Jackson begins to play by on the tv.

Chenle couldn’t help to notice how you had left your phone sitting in your lap, instead of on your dresser like you always did during movie night.

Not even two minutes later, he realized why.

Your phone lit up every other minute and you didn’t waste a second before picking it up and typing a response to the person messaging you.

Chenle rolled his eyes and shook his head.

This went on for 30 minutes before Chenle found himself reaching for the remote and pausing the movie.

You almost didn’t notice the lack of sound in the room as your fingers quickly typed up a reply to Jisung, but with Chenle’s hard glare on you, you couldn’t help but to notice.

“What?” You ask, slowly bringing your phone down to your lap.

“Who are you texting? They must be pretty damn important to be interrupting movie night for.”

You scoff. “Chenle, we’ve seen this movie a thousand times.”

“That’s not the point.” He says, a look of annoyance written clear as day on his face.

You can tell that he’s genuinely upset as your best friend moves to sit up straighter.

“This was supposed to be our night, but instead you’re here texting Jisung, The person you’ve been ignoring me for all week.”

“Chenle...” You say softly.

“I get it, you like him,” He starts, focusing his attention on the Twix wrapper in front of him. “But I was here first. I’m your best friend and I won’t let you push me aside to become some lame background character in you and Jisung’s weird ‘strangers to lovers’ love story,”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Yes! It’s exactly what this is about. It’s like I never see you anymore and I hate it,”

You sigh and sit your phone down on your bedside table before wrapping your arms around Chenle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize just how much Jisung and I had been hanging out. I promise to make more time for you.” You tell him. “Starting now, I’ll turn off my phone and you and I will start this movie from the beginning and pretend Jisung doesn’t even exist.”

You feel him chuckle beneath you. “You don’t have to go that far. I know you’ve been dying to tell me all about these little rendezvous you and Jisung have been having.” He looks up at you. “I’m all ears.”

For the rest of the night, your phone was disregarded and the two of you chatted, mostly about you and Jisung but also about Chenle and the things going on in his life.

Needless to say, the two of you had a better understanding of each other and their feelings.

Chenle spent another night at your house and went home Sunday evening

Monday morning, Jisung was at your house bright and early. Your dad welcomed him inside and let him wait in the kitchen for you.

Once you were done getting dressed, you and Jisung headed off to school.

You didn’t say much because you were tired but that didn’t stop Jisung from asking you why you suddenly disappeared for most of the weekend.

“Why? Were you worried about me Park Jisung?” You tease.

He doesn’t look at you, and instead keeps his eyes trained on the road.

He was waiting on an answer.

You roll your eyes before resting your head on the window. “I was with Chenle.”

“Hm. Chenle.”

You don’t notice how his hand ever so slightly tightens on the wheel or how he just barely pressed his foot down harder on the gas.

He doesn’t bring it up again and neither do you.

Once you get to school its the same old same old. Except you and Jisung spend lunch alone in his car, Feasting on vending machine snacks.

The two of you sit in his back seat, facing each other, with stupid smiles on your face.

“You know I’ve never been in my own backseat before. It looks weird back here,” He says, looking around his backseat in disgust.

You pop a piece of chocolate into your mouth, letting it melt in your cheek before speaking up. “Don’t be mean to Trixy. Everything about this her is beautiful.” You say while petting the seats of the car.

Jisung grimaces. “You named my car Trixy?”

“Yes, Trixy is a sexy name and this is a sexy car.”

He scoffs. “Not sexy enough. Im thinking about having my dad redo parts of the interior. I’m thinking green.” He says leaning back.

“No, do red.”

He shakes his head. “That’s tacky,”

“You never like any of my ideas,” You whine.

“Maybe if they were good ideas.” A chuckle glides through his lips as he looks over at you.

You’re rolling your eyes at him before placing a gummy candy into your mouth.

Jisung doesn’t say anything and only watches as you tilt your head back and let out a soft hum in satisfactory.

“I’m not sure which one I like better, chocolate or gummies.”

Jisung isn’t sure what he’s thinking of or what happens in the next few seconds, but as you bring your eyes to meet his, he finds himself pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You’re not shocked by the kiss at all. Whether Jisung knew it or not, most of his attention was on your lips. They were the focal point of his line of vision.

He must have started to come to his senses because you could feel him starting to pull away from you.

You knew he would start apologizing right away, and although flustered Jisung would be a hilarious sight to see; you had finally gotten a taste of him and you didn’t want it to end.

Before he could utter a word, you tangle your fingers in his dark hair and push your lips back against his.

He deepens the kiss, not asking for permission as he lets his tongue push past your plushy lips.

The kiss was definitely sloppy but something was telling you that Jisung liked it that way.

He moans into your mouth and allows his hand to rest on your thigh.

Jisung thanks god that you were wearing a skirt. He used this opportunity to push his hand further up your leg until your skirt had risen up and his hand was placed firmly on your waist.

You could feel him slowly pushing you back until your back rested against the car door and your head was up against his window.

Your legs were split and resting on either side of the boy.

You felt a little embarrassed to have Jisung pressed against your middle but he was clearly enjoying himself as he softly rocked his hips against you.

He hands trail back down your thighs to grip the meat of them.

The kiss got rougher.

Jisung bites and licks at your lips, not letting you dominate him for a single second.

You whimper underneath him, feeling yourself shrink down further into the door.

You can’t help how your hips subconsciously buck against the bulge that was forming his pants.

He finally pulls away from you, but only so the two of you could catch your breath. He chuckles darkly as he stares down at you.

His finger traces shapes on your thigh and he begins to trail them to your inner thigh.

Your heart hammered against your chest as Jisung’s finger finally made it to where you wanted it most.

“Jisung,” you moaned out as he presses a finger to your clothed clit.

He bites his lip at the sight of your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. He presses down harder on the tiny bud, giving it a few more rubs.

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” Jisung coos.

Your hands grip his jacket. “Touch me, Jisung.”

“I am touching you, Aren’t I?” He teases with a knowing smile. “You want more?”

You nod your head. “Yes,”

“Hm?” He says, pretending he didn’t catch what you said.

“Yes, Jisung.”

He chuckles before swiftly moving your panties aside and pressing two cold digits to your sensitive clit.

You choke on your breath for a second as he circles his fingers skillfully before relaxing under his touch.

You whimper, moan, and whither around underneath Jisung but he doesn’t let up.

“You wanted it so bad,” he growls in your ear. “Take it,”

He nips at your jaw as you throw your head back, making sure to leave a bright bruise in his wake.

The way you moan his name only fuels him.

“You want more, princess?” He whispers into your ear.

You can’t form an answer but with the way Jisung’s finger began to tease your hole, you knew he had already made up his mind.

However, before Jisung could go any further, the sound of a fist wrapping against glass broke the two of you up.

Jisung yanked his hands away from you and looked towards the direction the sound came from.

Outside of the drivers side window stood Jeno.

For a second, Jisung’s heart had dropped to his ass, thinking Jeno had saw everything the two of you were doing, but then he remembered the dark tint of his windows kept anyone from being able to look inside of the car.

He sighs before pulling away from you.

You quickly fix your skirt and stay silent as you watch Jisung.

He rolls the back window down, only enough to where his eyes and nose were visible.

“What do you want?” He asks Jeno, trying his best not to sound annoyed.

“Why are you in the back seat?” Jeno immediately asks.

“Y/N and I were eating back here,”

“Ah, why are you only cracking the window down to your nose?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions?” Jisung snaps. “Did you come out here for a reason?”

You can hear jeno click his tongue.

“Yes,” the older boy says. “Class starts in about two seconds,”

“We’re coming. Don’t wait up,” Jisung says quickly before rolling the window back up.

You could see the confusion on Jeno’s face through the window.

“Way to not be suspicious,” You tease.

“Whatever,” Jisung grumbles before pulling you into a kiss.

The kiss is slow and gentle and only last for a couple of seconds before Jisung is pulling away.

His thumb traces over your cheekbone. “I wasn’t too rough earlier, was I?” He asks softly. “I can get a little carried away sometimes,”

You smile up at him. “You definitely surprised me,” you say, causing his face to heat up. “But I liked it.”

“Maybe we can finish up later,” He whispers before kissing you one more time. “As of now, we need to get to class.”

The two of you exit Jisung’s car, leaving all of your trash from lunch still sitting on his seat.

You fumble with your skirt, smoothing it out and making sure that it didn’t look too out of place.

“Stop doing that, it looks fine,” he tells you before reaching for your hand.

Your eyes lock on your intertwined fingers.

Jisung had never been the type for any kind of pda. Whether it was as simple as holding your hand or fidgeting with your fingers.

He seemed to notice you staring. “Are you okay with this?” He asks in a soft voice.

You look up at him and tilt your head. “Yeah…it’s just, you never do stuff like this. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this,” You say, gesturing to your hands. “I’m perfectly fine with what we were doing before.”

Jisung stops walking and turns to face you with his had still wrapped firmly around yours. He didn’t look at you, instead he looked at his feet and let his hair shield his eyes.

“I really care about you, Y/N. Like a lot.” He starts, “And for you I’m willing to step out of my comfort so that everyone else can know.”

Seeing Jisung like this was too overwhelming for you. Your heart ached and you wanted nothing more than to take him into your arms and hug the life out of him.

However, instead you settled for a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Let’s get to class.” You tell him, squeezing his hand.

He smiles at you before guiding you into to school.

After that day, you and Jisung began spending more and more time alone.

Before school, During school, after school, even at your house.

Your level of intimacy only progressed.

Jisung often kept his hand resting on your inner thigh or knee while he drove.

He would pull you away from classes just to make out with you in an empty class room.

Not to mention, the antics he got into during lunch.

The two of you hardly ever got to eat as Jisung usually opted for bringing you to a release with his tongue during that time.

You hadn’t told chenle what you and jisung had been up to lately, but it wasn’t hard for him to guess.

It was difficult to miss how swollen and red your lips were after lunch. Or how Jisung’s car seemed to always be parked in your yard.

Chenle didn’t have to ask what the two of you were up to.

You would tell him when you were ready.

And you did, eventually.

It was a normal day for you,but instead of leaving with Jisung like you usually would, you told Jisung that you’d be walking home with Chenle.

He pouted and tried to convince you otherwise but after you explained how long it had been since either of you hung out with your friends without one another, he gave in.

You were right, Jisung couldn’t recall the last time he had hung out with his friends, save for the late night gaming sessions.

He took his time to invite them out. They asked if you were coming too.

Jisung expected them to jump with joy when he told them no but instead the pouted and grumbled while getting into his car.

“You’ve been hogging her to yourself this entire time and then you have the nerve to invite us out without her.” Is what Donghyuck said to him.

Meanwhile you were dealing with a disgusted Chenle.

He gagged and grimaced as you told him what you and Jisung had been getting into when you were alone.

“Spare me the details, please,” He said before covering his ears.

You circle your eyes at how dramatic he was being.

“This is corruption at best,” He joked, “In the school parking lot, Y/N, Seriously? And more than once at that. I mean, I’m not judging you, but what if you had gotten caught.”

“We were careful,” you shrug, “-ish.”

Chenle chuckles before shoving his hands in his pockets.

It felt good to be walking through nature and breathing in fresh air instead of the strong smell of Jisung’s car air freshener.

You and Chenle always took the long way (that still wasn’t considered long) home. The route led you through the children’s park and past the old creek that the two of you used to play at as kids.

“So I take this as you and Jisung are now official,” Your friend says with raised eyebrows.

You’re quiet.

Chenle stops and looks at you. “Y/N.”

“Well...” You start, “Not quite.”

He sighs.

“We just haven’t talked about it yet,” You say.

He starts walking again. “That’s the problem, Y/N. Jisung isn’t the type to commit,”

“Who says I’m looking for commitment.”

Chenle scoffs, shaking his head.

“Chenle, I don’t want to fight about Jisung every time we talk. Can we please just change the topic.”

He nods his head.

For the rest of the walk, the two of you chat about random things, falling back into the your old routine.

Eventually Chenle brought up the end of the school year.

The year end had almost slipped your mind.

You didn't realize how long it had been. Your days had just been blurring by.

It was had to believe that you and Jisung had only known each other for two months, It felt like much longer.

“Are we still going to summer camp?” Chenle asked.

“I’m still thinking about it, but I’ll have my answer before summer.”

Chenle nods, not pressing the topic. He already knew why you having to think it over.

The two of you had been going to summer camp for years now.

You’ve only missed one summer since you had been going. But that was only because Chenle’s dad brought you two to a resort that summer.

It wasn’t long before you and Chenle made it home.

Instead of going straight home, Chenle came over to your house.

You two started on your homework, helping each other out on what you didn’t understand.

Soon, drowsiness got the best of you two. So you put away your homework and decided to take a short nap in your room.

The nap lasted longer than what either you had intended. The only reason Chenle had woken up was due to the ringing of your cellphone.

The sound didn’t wake you up, so Chenle took it upon himself to answer your phone— without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?” Chenle said, voice groggy with sleep.

Jisung was a little surprised to hear Chenle instead of you and couldn’t help but to feel a little annoyed. ‘’Chenle?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s Y/N.”

“She’s right here.”

There’s a pause.

“Okay so give her the phone.”

Chenle rolls his eyes. “She’s asleep.”

“So wake her up.”

“No,” If Chenle was being honest, he was being purposely difficult. He could have woken you up, but he didn't feel like listening to you and Jisung flirt with each other. “When she wakes up, I’ll let her know that you called”

Jisung lets out a deep sigh. ‘It’s about to be 11 o’clock.”

“So then, she’ll call you back in the morning.”

“Chenle.”

“Jisung.”

‘What are you still doing at her house anyways.” Jisung asked, clearly annoyed with the boy beside you.

“Well I was sleeping before you called.”

The jealously in Jisung had made itself present as his heart rate began to pick up and his palms began to sweat.

“Listen, Jisung, she’ll get back to you soon, trust me. Goodnight,” Chenle said before hanging up.

Jisung chuckles to him self in disbelief before tossing his phone on his bed.

Jisung didnt know why he was so jealous. Deep down inside he knew that you and Chenle were just friends.

But he also knew that Chenle knew you better and longer than he did.

He knew that you trusted Chenle with your life and with every fiber of your being. And that annoyed him to no end.

Jisung had been in your room before, you had a whole drawer and your dresser specifically for Chenle. It had spare clothes, deodorant, and even hair products.

Jisung was beyond jealous but he couldn’t let you know that.

But sometimes it was hard to keep his composure.

The next morning Jisung woke up to a text from you.

‘Walking to school with Chenle, see you when we get there.’

He was annoyed already.

He drove to school alone for the first time in weeks with nothing but the radio playing

in the background.

When he got to school, he spotted you and chenle along with Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun and Donghyuck standing around Sungchan’s car.

He noticed Hyuck’s arm thrown around your shoulder.

A surprised gasp left Donghyuck’s mouth when he felt Jisung fling his arm from around you.

You gave Jisung your own surprised look as he replaced your friend’s Arm with his own.

“You could have just told me to move.” Hyuck said, rubbing his wrist.

Jisung ignored him.

“That was mean,” You whisper to the boy.

He shrugged. “His arm shouldn’t have been there anyways,”

You wanted to press the subject a little further but you concluded that it was no big deal. It wasn’t the first time that Jisung had woken up in a foul mood.

Not too much later, the bell rings, signaling the start of 1st period.

Everyone says their goodbyes before heading to class.

Jisung walks you to class, and leaves you with a long kiss on your lips

You’re baffled for a second since Jisung never kisses you in school but you don’t complain.

When lunch comes around you opt for lunch with the boys instead of lunch in Jisung’s car.

Jisung pouted on the way to the cafeteria, huffing and groaning.

He made sure to sit as close to you as possible.

When the rest of the boys came in, Chenle sat on the other side of you.

Both you and your best friend didn't miss how Jisung slid his arm around your waist and let his hand rest on your thigh.

You tried to shrug his hand off, thinking he sat his hand there on accident, but he only gripped your thigh and grazed his fingers over your inner knee.

“What are you doing?” You whispered, trying not to bring the other boys’ attention to what Jisung’s hand.

However it was hard for them not to notice. The table was hardly concealing anything.

“I’m not doing anything,” He said, face stoic and unmoving

Truth be told, you didn’t really care that his hand wad there, but it wasn’t like Jisung to do anything like that.

The furthest pda went with him was hand holding.

Either way, PDA or no PDA you didn’t mind but it did make you wonder.

After lunch, he walked you to class per usual.

When dismissal came around, Jisung was right there waiting.

He didn’t give you time to acknowledge him before he was taking your hand into his and walking you out of the building.

You call out his name as you struggle to keep up with the pace he was walking at. Any faster and he’d be dragging you.

When you finally made it to his car, he opened the passenger side door and gestured for you to get in.

You slid into the car slowly but silently, curious about why he was acting so weird.

Jisung closed the door behind you and jogged over to the drivers side.

Usually he would give himself time to adjust, fixing his mirror, turning on the air for you, or taking off his jacket.

But he didn’t this time. Jisung pulled out of the school parking lot immediately after sticking the key into the ignition.

He didnt even bother to put on his seatbelt.

The car ride was silent the entire time.

You side eye Jisung, waiting for him to say something or make a move but he doesn’t. He only stares at the road, following the same route that you always follow.

You pull out your phone, shooting a quick text out the boys, asking if something was up with Jisung.

Chenle was the only one who responded.

‘Yeah he’s been off all day’

Jisung pulls into the diner without you noticing.

“What do you want,” he asks you

Its silent.

You ignore his question. “Why are you being so weird today?”

He looks at you with a confused expression. “What are you talking about?”

Jisung knew exactly what you were talking about.

“The excessive touching, giving the guys weird looks?” You say. “Whats up with that?

Jisung shrugs. “I don’t know, what do you want to eat?”

“So there’s no reason behind it,” You say, ignoring his question again.

“No. Plus, why are you complaining about me touching you?” His face crinkles in annoyance. “You never mind when Chenle or Jaemin do it.”

“I'm not complaining, i'm just asking. You never do things like that, Jisung, so its weird”

“It’s weird?”

“Not weird but there’s a difference between you and chenle doing it.”

“What’s the difference?” He challenges with raised eyebrows.

“Chenle has always been overly affectionate-“

“Chenle isn’t your boyfriend.”

“Neither are you, Jisung.”

The boy scoffs and shakes his head

A crack of thunder rips through the sky, breaking the deafening silence in the car.

“Its about to rain,” you say rubbing your hand over your hair. “Take me home, please.”

“Why? so you can invite chenle over and you guys can be affectionate together,”

“I can’t believe how immature you’re being right now. If you were jealous, you could have just said something.”

“I’m not your boyfriend, Y/N. What did you want me to say.”

Rain begins to pour down on the windshield.

“I don’t know, maybe, ‘im jealous of my own friends and your best friend who you’ve known since diapers.”

Jisung is quiet.

“Just take me home, Jisung.”

“No,” he mumbles

“No?” You ask, being sure that you heard him right. “Jisung, take me home.”

He doesn’t listen, and instead stares down at his fidgety hands.

“Jisung!”

A deep, agitated sigh leaves his throat before he reverses the car and pulls out of the diner faster than he pulled in.

Thank god for your seatbelt.

“Slow down,” you tell him as he speeds down the slippery road.

“You want to go home, so I’m taking you home,” he says emotionless.

“Jisung the roads are wet, you need to slow down before you get us hurt.”

Jisung ignores you, allowing his driving to become more reckless.

“Jisung, seriously, stop.” You say sternly

His hands tighten on the stirring wheel before he finally stomps his foot down on the break.

A scream is released from your mouth as your body is thrown against the car door.

The sudden stop caused the car to spin 80 degrees before coming to a complete stop.

Jisung’s breath is ragged and his eyes were wide, as he stares down at the stirring wheel.

The sound of you unhooking your seatbelt is what brought him from his daze.

Without a word, you push open the car door.

“What are you doing?” He asks, voice weak.

He’s met with the door slamming in his face.

He can see your silhouette through the heavy rain. You duck your head and hug your arms around yourself while walking away from his car and in the direction of your neighborhood.

He contemplated going after you but decided against it. Instead he pulled out his phone and dialed the first person he though of.

“Chenle,” You said through the phone. You had been walking for a little over 4 minutes and the rain just kept getting heavier.

“Hello?” He said loudly

“I need your help.”

Jisung made it obvious that he didn’t care that you had gotten out of his car as you had watched him drive past you two minutes ago.

You had explained what happen each to chenle on the phone and he demanded that you stay put until he got there.

You listened, staying in that very spot. Thankfully the road was empty so you didn’t have to worry about cars not being able to see you through the rain.

Not even a couple minutes later, you spot a blue car that you recognize as Chenle’s dad’s.

Chenle jumps from the drivers side and walks you over to the car.

Once inside, Chenle turned up the heat for you and checked you for any injuries.

“Are you okay?” He asks repeatedly.

You nod your head. “Thank you for coming, you got here fast.”

“Yeah, i came as soon as i could.”

The rest of the ride was silent as you focused on getting warm and not thinking about Jisung.

Once Chenle made it to your house , he walked you inside and told you to take a shower while he grabbed food for the two of you to eat.

Quietly you went to the bathroom and drew yourself a shower.

You dressed in mismatched PJs and sulked to your room where you found Chenle resting on your bed.

He sat up immediately upon your entrance.

Neither of you said anything at first.

“Um, I couldn’t find anything in the kitchen so I ordered pizza.” He told you.

You nod you head and sit next to him. You couldn’t help how the tears welled up in your eyes.

Being next to Chenle reminded you of just how much time you had spent with Jisung and how many times you had defended him.

After hearing you sniffle, Chenle sighs and wraps his arms around your frame.

“Im sorry, Chenle.” You apologize through tears.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

The next morning you woke up later than intended but it was the weekend so you didn’t care.

Chenle wasn’t next to you when you woke but you assumed he just went home.

You stayed in bed for a few minutes before you were interrupted by voices coming from your living room.

You thought it may have been your dad’s friends but the voices were way too loud for that.

You groan and get out of bed before jogging downstairs.

You’re met with 6 pairs of eyes.

Chenle, Renjun, Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck sit spread out across your living room while your dad sits on the coffee table telling some elaborate story.

They stop talking upon your entrance.

The five boys greet you with bright smiles.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had so many friends.” You dad says.

Apparently the rest of the guys tracked your house down after finding out what happened between you and Jisung.

Jisung had tried to confide in them last night when he had got home, but they had only been upset with him by the end of the call.

They begged Chenle for your address and then showed up as early as they could.

No one mentioned anything to your dad and told him that you were just feeling under the weather.

Your dad got everyone in the kitchen and let them help make your favorite breakfast.

You spent the day hanging around the house with your friends and watching your dad interact with them.

It was easy for your dad to get along with them, it was like having a house full of sons.

Chenle and Jeno were the only ones with with a present father. So it was easy for the rest of the boys to find joy in hanging out with your dad.

When they left, they pouted and asked your dad if they could stay but he declined and told them to come back the next day.

They did.

Bright and early Sunday morning. They really had absolutely nothing to do.

You weren’t complaining though. Having them around, constantly providing entertainment, kept you from thinking too hard about Jisung.

You had almost forgot about the situation, but when nightfall came and you were in your bed alone, memories of him began to play through your head.

You missed everything about him.

You contemplated forgiving him and letting things go back to normal but it was obvious that Jisung had his own problems to work out.

That night you fell asleep with a racing mind.

The next day you woke up to the sound of your dad knocking on your door telling you to wake up.

You didn’t rush to get ready and instead took your time. When you were done you had gone downstairs to see Chenle waiting on you.

You kissed your dad goodbye and began your short journey to school, not looking forward to it.

Once you and Chenle made it on campus, a text from your dad came through.

‘Jisung came by this morning. He looked upset. Did the two of you break up?” It read.

You roll your eyes at the words “broke up”

‘Jisung and I were never dating’ you reply

The once empty school parking lot filled with loud, chatty students ..including your friends.

You didn’t get to talk to them for long though, when you saw an all too familiar black Maserati pull up, you made and excuse if why you had to leave.

You decided that the best thing to so was avoid him.

You had somehow managed not to run into him at all. You began to think he was avoiding you too.

It hurt to think he didn’t care.

However, you had been proven wrong.

On your way to lunch, you were pulled into a classroom by a random hand.

You were shocked because you weren’t expecting it but you weren’t surprised to see it was Jisung.

He closed the door behind him before taking small steps toward you.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks softly.

“Is that really a question, Jisung?” You fold your arms over your chest. “Maybe you should start with an apology instead.”

He sighs and run his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry Y/N,” he says, closing the gap between you two. He slides his hands over your arms. “I really fucked up. I was upset and reckless and I could have seriously hurt the both of us. Please forgive me.”

Your silence scares him.

You shrug his hands off. “Im not upset about how reckless you were being. You were acting completely out of character that night, Jisung. Getting jealous over Chenle out of all people. Not only that, but getting so jealous that you almost crash your car out of anger.” You say not realizing that your voice was raising slightly.

Jisung didn’t look at you and stared at his feet. He couldn’t look at you.

“And the worst part is that you left me there. Stranded in the rain.”

“You jumped out, Y/N.”

“Right, and you left me there.” You scoff. “I had to call Chenle to pick me up, Jisung. You left me there with no resolve.”

He looks confused for a second.

“Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

“Y/N-“

“Look Jisung, you clearly have a lot of things to figure out at the moment. And until you do, i don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Jisung could feel his heart crumbling. He couldn’t bring himself to say a word. He had never experienced anything like this before.

Before he could even think of anything to say, you were already out of the door.

His chest ached and his eyes watered. He tried to stop the tears from falling but it was inevitable. Hot salty tears glided down his cheeks like they had done when he was younger.

You fought the urge to to go back to Jisung and take back everything you had just said and headed straight for the cafeteria.

Your lunch table was full of your friends.

“What took you so long?” Donghyuck asked as you sat between him and chenle.

“I got held up by Jisung,” you say with a tight smile.

The table goes quiet.

“Did you guys make up?” Renjun asks breaking the silence.

You shake your head

They look between one another with eyes full of pity.

You sigh. “You guys can go to him. He’s somewhere around the old art room.”

They all nod and thank you before scurrying from their seats. All of them except for Chenle.

You look at him with raised eyebrows.

“I don’t think he would appreciate seeing me right now.”

You smile sadly. “You’re probably right.”

Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, and Donghyuck all jogged over to the old art room, praying they find their friend still there.

They did.

Jisung sat in a empty desk with red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks.

Jaemin was the first one to approach him, resting his hand on they younger boy’s shoulder. Jeno was right behind him.

“Wanna skip?” Jeno asked softly, as if he was scared to break the silence.

“Yeah,” Jisung rasped out after a few moments.

His friends pat his back as he picks up his book bag and follow him from the classroom to his car.

Jisung cried a few more times that day, letting his friends comfort him.

His heart had been broken for the first time ever and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Jaemin had told him the story of his first heartbreak in hopes of providing Jisung with some kind of advice but it had only resulted in the both of them being sad together.

You on the other hand were ignoring your feelings by hanging out with your best friend like you usually did before Jisung came into your life.

of you mentioned him and spent the day binge watching anime.

For the next few weeks Jisung didn’t show up for school. according to Chenle,the boy only showed up to collect his work and that was all. The only time Jisung came to school consistently and for the entire day was during finals week.

Eventually summer comes around and and you still hadn’t talked to Jisung, not even during your friends graduation.

Your senior year was the same way, without Jeno, jaemin, Donghyuck, and Renjun it was just you and Chenle. Jisung was back in school but you hadn’t heard from him or seen much of him.

Chenle would check on him every once in a while but their friendship wasn’t the same.

Even though the rest of the guys were attending college (save for Donghyuck, who was taking a gap year) they still made time to visit you and Jisung. However, they never updated you on him because they assumed you didn’t want to know.

However, half way through your senior year Jisung and Chenle rekindled their friendship and began to hang out a lot more.

Jisung found himself always asking about you and your well being. He missed you more than anyone knew. After your ‘break up’, as everyone likes to call it, Jisung couldn’t bring himself to move on. He wanted to make things right but it was clear that he was the last thing on your mind.

That was the most painful part for him.

Graduation came and went and you were accepted into the only college you applied for: The local university.

The university that all of your friends attend because its closest to home.

The one that you assume Jisung also applied to.

It’s been about a year since you’ve talked to him. You think about him a lot and how things could have turned out.

Summer is coming to an end and in less than a week, you will be moving into the dorms of your university.

Your dad was out getting food for you and Chenle as the two of you cleaned your room and packed up your items into a suitcase.

He had been helping you pack and clean since 7am and it was now 3pm

Tomorrow you would be repeating the same process but at Chenle’s house.

“I think we should take a break,” He says, folding a shirt neatly into your suitcase

You stretch and push yourself up from the floor. “Yeah you’re right, dad should be here in a little bit with the take out.”

You fall back on your bed, relaxing against your pillows while Chenle stays seated on the floor, back pressed against your closet door.

“How’s Jisung?” You ask Chenle for the 5th time this week.

He rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you call and ask him Y/N”

Your stomach churns at the thought.

“You’ve been asking about him a lot lately. Do you miss him?”

“I don’t know. In the back of my mind I want him to reach out. I want him to try to mend things like he attempted to a year ago.” You pause. “But, I’m not sure how I would even react to that.”

Chenle nods. “Do you think about forgiving him? You never really talk about that night or mention it at all.”

“It wasn’t that traumatic to talk about. I was scared, yeah but I’m fine. It doesn’t like haunt me.”

He laughs. “Well it haunts me. As your best friend I was terrified getting that call. I wanted to strangle him but I was glad that he called me.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“My dad was confused when i snatched the keys off the counter and took off but i had no time to expla-“

“Wait you mean when i called you,” you say correcting his mistake.

“Well you both called me. Jisung’s called me first though, thats how I got there so fast. I was already in the car by time you called.”

You sit up from your bed. “You never told me that, Chenle.”

“Well, I thought you knew,” he says, leaning back on his palms.

You scoff. “No, the whole reason i was pissed at him was because I thought he left without a care in the world for my well being.”

“Don’t try to make him seem innocent now, he still left you there, Y/N.” He says. “But then again he did say he thought you would be too scared to get back in the car with him. He still should have made sure, I actually made it to you and that you were safe.”

This new information makes your head spin. Chenle made good points but he also made some of the anger you felt toward Jisung dissipate.

All this time, you thought he had completely abandoned you and left you on your own that night.

Chenle was right when he said Jisung should have stayed to make sure you were okay.

However, knowing that he called Chenle gave you a little hope.

“I’m gonna go get some water,” you tell your friend before getting up from your bed.

Jogging down the stairs, you hold your phone close to your face as you search your block list for a specific name.

Your finger hovers over the contact labeled ‘Jisung 🖤’ for a second.

This is pathetic you think to yourself.

It was obvious that you were waiting for the perfect reason to message Jisung and forgive him, even after all the time that has passed.

What pulls you out of you daze is the knock on your door. You shake your head and pocket your phone. “Coming dad,” you call, assuming that your dads hands were too full with food for him to open the door.

When you pull the door open, you’re met with pretty brown eyes that don’t belong to your father.

There stands Jisung, fingers fidgeting with his car keys while stares at you with the same gaze from a year ago.

You wondered if he could hear your heart pounding.

“Hey…” he says. “It’s been a while. Wanna take a drive?”

[scarletwinterxx]

saying we're too young to stay in love - yangyang imagine

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2022 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author!

“I heard he studied in Germany for a few years”

“Oh yeah, I heard that too. I also heard his family is really rich and he can speak like 4 languages”

“But he has a girlfriend though”

“Says who?” one of the girls defensively asked back, school gossip will never be unavoidable. One way or another, people will always find something to talk about. 

You can’t help but snicker under your breath. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop in their conversation, they just happen to talk really loud

“I just heard, word has it they’re actually childhood friends” bestfriends 

“and they’ve been together for like a while now. He takes her everywhere” 3 years and counting, and yes he always invites you when his family goes on trips and vice versa. You’re convinced both of your mother’s already have your wedding planned out since you were born. 

“Then how come I haven’t seen her? Maybe they broke up” the girl who was acting a bit defensive earlier asked again. 

Just then you felt your phone vibrate

Yangbaby: what do you want for lunch?

You: I’ll have what you’re having, can I have coke zero though?

Yangbaby: copy that, I’ll get you dessert too😘

You smile at your bestfriend’s text. No amount of rumors or naysays will ever make you doubt him. He has never given you any reason to. Even now, hearing those words up close and in person you didn’t feel the need to clarify anything. 

Not that you owe them an explanation. 

Gathering your stuff on the table, mind already excited to have lunch with your bestfriend. 

“Maybe I should ask him out” were the last words you heard from behind you but you didn’t say a word, walking out of the room ready to spill the tea to your bestfriend

When you got to where Yangyang was waiting, he already had your lunches out. “Were you waiting long?” you asked him, taking the vacant seat beside him, he knows you’d rather sit beside him than across. Smiling over at you before giving your food. 

“No, here’s your lunch mi’lady” he jokes

“Thank you, kind sir. So how was your class?” it’s his first year in this campus, finally he caved in and transferred to your campus. Even though you both promised you won’t be the type of couple that has to be together anywhere and everywhere, he still ended up enrolling at your school. 

It also happens that this place offers a great music program that he’s interested in, but mainly he’s happy he got to be closer to you. 

“Good, I’m invited to host a mixer and I have this production assignment I have to do outside campus”

“Sounds like you’re having fun” you’re not worried about him having a hard time adjusting, Yangyang is a very extroverted laid back guy, you leave him for five minutes at a party and you bet he’ll be bestfriends with someone by the time you get back. 

“Told you it was a good idea to transfer”

“As long as you’re happy with your decision then I’m happy too” you tell him seriously, he smiles warmly at you. Even now, even after all these years his smile still makes all the butterflies in your stomach flutter away. 

“Oh I have something to tell you before I forget”

“Spill the tea, sis” he indulges you, you are indeed without a doubt the best of friends. 

“There’s this group of girl in my class, they were talking about you”

“Were they cute?” you glared at him, your boyfriend just laughs at you then gave your nose a pinch

“Kidding, go on continue with your story”

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. They were talking about you, well about us. Turns out it’s still a mystery who you’re dating” he laughs at your reaction, you weren’t mad or annoyed. 

“I literally bring you everywhere with me”

“That’s what they said! Oh my gosh, maybe you do bring me everywhere. Do we really spend that much time together?”

“Not enough so it seems, if they don’t know who you are. We were literally making out at that party last Friday” that earned him a pinch on the side 

“What?! It’s true, where’s the lie in what I said?” he asked back, securing both of your hands in his to stop you from pinching him again

“Does it bother you?” he asks, this time his tone more serious

“That we made out?”

This time he’s the one glaring at you, “No, I would be offended by that but I could tell you enjoyed it just as much”

“Moving on, what was your question again?”

“Does it bother you that they were talking about us?”

“No, why would it? It’s not harming me or you, as long as they respect boundaries then I don’t have a problem with that. I have no control over people who talk about other people”

“You’d tell me if it bothers you, right?”

You nod at him, he lets go of your hand then tucked a strand of hair that fell on your face “You’re still the cutest girl for me”

“I knew it, you have a crush on me”

“Since 3rd grade, thank you for noticing” he retorts, turning to face front again. He feels you hug him sideways, kissing him on the cheek. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I had a crush on you too”

[illuminiscentboba]

HQ boys standing in front of you when you fix your top/cover period stains

feat: asahi a, bokuto k, tsukishima k, kyotani k & yaku m.

genres: pure fluff and crack lmao

warnings: red stain because of period (fem reader)

a/n: it’s actually my first time writing for some of these charas and so I’m worried kyotani bestie might b a bit out of character but it was v fun writing for these babies <3 feedback is appreciated !

part two

ASAHI:

it’s after he notices the uncomfortable look on your face and your struggling that leads him to casually step in front of you while replying to daichi

or so he thought, what everyone else saw was him inching toward you while carrying conversation with the captain.

You expected him to pass by but when he remained you realized what he was doing and began to properly fix the straps

He’s so patient and he lets you take your time and you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing since his back is straightened to his full height, an intimidating sight on the court…that and both him and daichi have their eyes on the confused second years in case things go wrong 🤧 

he really doesn’t expect anything in return and so when you thank him he’s pretty chill about it.

after that time, every now and then you would go to him when your outfit decides vengeance and he’d be so touched and happy that you trust him and would be extra determined to make sure that your entirely invisible behind him

(he takes his job seriously I take no objections), especially when clueless first years or teasing third years approach to ruffle the ace. 

BOKUTO:

Our pure responsible baby was going about his day chatting cheerfully with akaashi when noticing the bright red stain on the back of your pants hurried over to you

although you had a few classes together and he saw you around a lot but wasn’t very close with you, he still didn't think twice before heading to you and saying hi

“so, uh, not to freak you out or anything but I think that you're having a leak? Or leaking?  anywho, I don’t remember what it’s called but” he slips off the sweater he wore over this blazer and you let him wrap it around you

he’s so kind and would probably help u out before you even asked and offered to walk you to your class, entirely forgetting his conversation with Akaashi who was first confused then unfazed with his friend’s abrupt behaviour 

he would also say hi to you more in the halls after that and he’s so nice and friendly about it that you don’t even feel embarrassed especially when Konoha asks how he knows you and he exchanges glances with you, smiling as he goes “that’s our little secret.”

TSUKISHIMA:

you were having trouble adjusting your top in public and since you guys were outside with the gang for a field day over the break, there weren’t any washrooms in sight

and so when the neckline sags low again before you could ask shimizu for help and turn away from the group, you were confused when tsukishima stepped in front of you squaring his shoulders

He tried to maintain his standard neutral expression as some of the members noticed what he did and you gratefully fixed your top securing the straps and neckline as he waited

you were surprised that he didn’t tut or abruptly ask if you were done like, acting like he didn’t want to help u lolll the tips of his ears turning red was the most obvious crack in his composure

he shot a glare at hinata and kageyama who were smug at the sight of tsuki out of his comfort zone and helping people his frown deepens when he notices sugawara holding in his laughter too

when you finished, you couldn’t help but tease him “what a gentleman”

He rolled his eyes stepping away from you, “shut up” but hid his blush both tired of your top slipping and tired that he kept noticing it slipping 😳🤧😂

bonus: yamaguchi noticed what his friend did and stood with his back facing you to cover the other side even tho no one is there but he wanted to help out too

cue the competitive first year squad and second year squad performing a protection squad around you telling you to take your time even after you’ve finished 😭😂✨

KYOTANI:

you aren’t exactly close with kyotani but have had decent interactions during class and by the gym and kyotani bestie kind of sucks at communication so if anything he probably saw you talking to your friends when he noticed the bright red stain on your skirt

which led to him mentally was formulating a plan on how to tell you without embarrassing you.

or that was the plan, until you suddenly started walking and so he followed you, giving you enough space while standing behind you so that people behind you wouldn’t be able to see.

our boy is glaring at everyone that looks from almost all directions like students? Harsh glare Teachers? Narrows his eyes at them

Iwa-chan and oikawa walking past you guys? Sending a quick nod to Iwaizumi before resuming his bad boy rep. & intense glaring

when you notice everyone’s weird looks, you turn and see him freeze several paces behind you and when ask why he’s doing that he gets all sort of nervous and mumbles “you had a period stain and I didn’t want you to be embarrassed”

what a whole king, you ended up laughing because knowing how much attention his bright blonde hair, tall frame and sharp glare caught, and his glare before he noticed you turn around, that he really did his best to make sure you were comfortable

he wordlessly offered you his sweater and you thanked him for it :) 

bonus: he starts blushing after you wash it and return it to him because now it smells like you but is now aware that if he wears it to the gym he will not be able to live it down (becomes an at home sweater)

and so he when it’s time to wash it, the soft prickly boiyo becomes all pouty until you he notices you the next day having wished you brought your own hoodie during this cold weather and sees him holding out another extra sweater that he just happened to have in his backpack, totally not preplanned or anything 

(essentially him trying to court you with sweaters and it’s working) :)

YAKU:

The last person you expected to find with his hands on his hips and chest puffed to hide you adjusting your top was yaku

Especially considering you were taller than him/not that much shorter than him in the first place. 

To yaku, it was the effort that counted and in the short moment of fixing your top he became a top tier bodyguard aiming a kick to the unsuspecting lev who came over to ask if you guys wanted snacks.

“Yaku, you’re literally shorter than me.”

“Short, I suppose. But hot, manly and reliable? That I am.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling until you agreed and he started blushing, trying to act unruffled by the compliment.

I feel like he’s the type to help everyone but helping you makes him go :DD >:))✨

He tells you that if you’re having trouble with your top that you can wear his track suit sweater and his heart goes 📈 when he notices you wearing it later looking more comfortable and cheerful than before 🥺

Bonus: (alternate scenarios for tall & short readers)

he glares when lev is like how come y/n can call you short and he’s like cuz you’re short too (rip)

or you claim that it’s because you’re his favorite and the group expresses various reactions of betrayal, shock, and heartbreak when he struggles to deny it 🤧😭😂😂

◎ masterlists

◎ request status: open !

a/n: if the text starts duplicating please let me know :)

[palbabor-writes]

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

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

Words: 12,857

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

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

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

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

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

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

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

Ugh, why is this so stressful? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s watching you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

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

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

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

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

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

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

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

Wait. Sexy? 

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it’s those eyes of his. 

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

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

“Did you need something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

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

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

God. 

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

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

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

No. No, no, no, no. 

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

God fucking damn it.

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

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

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

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

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

“Gimme the paperwork.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N). 

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

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

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

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

“Something came up.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, yeah. But–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. Didn’t you just…  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank God.

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what? The cell… ah–” 

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

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

“I said, answer me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is the cell membrane?” 

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

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

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

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s try another.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a faint clicking sound. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hold still,” he commands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[enhabot]

𝗹𝘂𝘃𝗯𝗼𝘁. ─  22 [ thank you. ]          𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕. 630 ──────────

you spot sunoo almost instantly. he’s sat down on the usual rusty, swing set the two of you used to play on after class was dismissed. he sways bath and forth. you perch yourself onto the neighboring swing, silently observing him.

“i thought that you’d still be at the party." he finally looks up.

“no, i left after you did.” sunoo stands up, making his way across the small playground. he glides his hand against the chipped paint on the slide’s ladder, and notices that the 'yn, jake, hee + ddeonu was here!' he engraved with sharpie is starting to fade. “remember when you pushed me off of this thing?” he asks. you subtly laugh at the memory, “yeah, you had a bruise on your cheek for a week! that was hilarious.”

sunoo grins and you find yourself smiling, too. sunoo's smile was always contagious; once you saw it, you’d automatically start beaming too. you wish that he would smiled more, he always seems so down these days. "yeah, that was pretty funny."

sunoo doesn't speak for a few moments. it's almost as if he's carefully choosing what to say. "yn, i need to tell you, something." the wind whistles quietly in the background.

"what's up?"

"yn." he deeply inhales, and breathes out ever so slowly. "do you remember that night we snuck out to watch the sunrise near the harbor during senior year?”

"what about it?”

“yn, i’m in love with you. i've been in love with you ever since then.” what?

“sunoo—“

“no, hear me out first.” you gaze at sunoo but he averts your eye. something inside of you shatters into millions of shards. your heart plummets to the darkest pit of your stomach. how could you have not noticed? how could you be so oblivious?

how could you hurt sunoo without even realizing?

“i know that you like jungwon, and frankly, i’m pretty sure that he likes you too.” he plasters a bitter smile across his face. “i want you to be happy, yn. that’s why i’m telling you this. it’s so i can finally give up and move on,” he concludes.

sunoo shifts his weight from foot to foot. “you don’t have to give me an answer; i already know what it is. for now, i think that you should give me some space. i need time, yn.” you sit there, rendered unable to say anything. for the first time, you truly felt helpless. the thought of losing sunoo genuinely shakes you to the core.

“sunoo, is this really what you want?” he nods. you crumple.

the world is cruel. the way that destiny works is so cruel. you can’t help but to scrutinize yourself. perhaps, if you reciprocated sunoo’s feelings he wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

“yn, i know what you’re thinking about right now. it’s not your fault.” sunoo finally looks you in the eye. although he’s smiling, there’s something melancholic about his expression. maybe it’s because his eyes seem to lack its usual brightness; you can’t quite put your finger on it. “trust me, i just need time.”

you nod, slowly. “i understand. i’ll wait for you, sunoo.”

“oh, and yn?”

“yeah?”

“please don’t give up on, jungwon.”

“sunoo, how could you even say that right now?” plump, hot tears roll down your cheeks. even in this moment, sunoo still vouches for your happiness.

“i said things that i shouldn’t have to him at the party out of jealousy. i was being stupid.” sunoo turns away and you feel incredibly hollow. “i failed to realize that i can’t choose who you fall for. neither can you, yn.” he tucks his hands into his pockets.

“it’s your heart that guides you in the end.” with that, sunoo walks away and leaves you alone with your thoughts.

thank you, sunoo. thank you for liking me.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆.    ever since the day you accidentally screwed over yang jungwon’s course selection during freshmen year, you were pretty sure the guy disliked (if not absolutely hated) you. after several failed, uncomfortable attempts to get jungwon to forgive you, you settled that it would be much easier if the feelings remained mutual. thus, you avoided him at all costs! you treated him as if he had something along the lines of a nasty case of the bubonic plague. surprisingly, it went pretty well… until you ended up seated next to yang jungwon in a cramped lecture hall. oh boy, did i mention that you also have a group project to do with him? ah yes, these next three weeks will be fun.

𝗮𝗻.               i nearly cried while writing this chapter. this was seriously so heart wrenching :( 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁         @xoxojayd3n @cosmiclele @echelhoops @chimiesspeach @yjwooon @yangyanghq @lumixen @instahann @sleepy-paws @plshhhhhhh @ncityy04 @n1k1tty @wonionie @youreverydayzebra @reallysmolrenjun @strawberryyukhei @studioreader @clear-colour-hair @alo-ehas @hobistigma @notrosemary @sunysunoo @whoe-dis @jayparkfromenhypen @k1ttyl1x @mikaa7 @ivswonie @ghjasksdk @enhyseob @jungw8ns @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @jooreneeee @april1538 @creamkwan @tlnyjoong @yenart @shotasgf @uhhalexwashere @ilyaera @lyra8 @wonietree @shawkneecaps @raindropsandroses1107 @curryramyeon @rikibae @jaemsluvr @jakesahi @papiibuprofen @milkycloudtyg [ closed ] ────────── [ 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘃. | 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁. | 𝗺.𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ] ───