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pparadiselost · 4 months

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the death of a wallflower.

university professor hinata shoyo x university student fem reader your crush on the hot new professor gets out of hand. warning(s): nsfw, unhealthy relationship dynamic (teacher x student), named best friend oc, reader has an unnamed ex, pov change for one of the scenes, non-virgin reader, use of american university setting minors do not interact.

XX UNIVERSITY

XX SEMESTER

WEEK 2

“no, like, our new professor is seriously so hot. like, forget-your-shitty-ex kinda hot. ugh, just wait till you’re in class! you have to believe me!”

minnie’s words echo like the foreshadowing of some porno as you gather yourself outside of the classroom. leave it to your roommate and self-proclaimed best friend to describe the newest professor at your university as “hot,” when most of the faculty are pushing 70 and have the self-awareness of a brick. you honestly have no reason to be this nervous before lecture, but while it might be the start of a boring week two of the semester for your scholarly peers, it’s your first day.

it’s also just your luck to end up with the world’s most horrendous stomach bug right before the semester started. after a few heated email exchanges and a lot of heavy-lifting from minnie, your advisor and dean begrudgingly excused you from classes until you were feeling better.

and now here you are. you took the liberty of showing up to class just a few minutes early to try and talk to your professor to see what exactly you missed, and maybe find a seat. you assumed at this point everyone had their unofficial “official” seats, and you were praying that you could score one somewhere close to minnie.

whatever.

you shake your head like a dog to clear whatever doubts tumbling around in your skull. you’ve dealt with your share of mean professors before, and between forcing yourself to go to class and puking on the floor and dealing with whatever screaming gripe they’ll give you now, you had sagely decided the latter was the better option.

you brace yourself, and you tiptoe into the classroom.

the door squeaks open, and you shuffle inside, almost scared to see what’s on the other side of the door. the classroom is empty, unsurprisingly, and the fairly sized classroom zooms in on a central point: at the professor’s desk. a bag is slumped next to it, and some papers are placed into somewhat neat piles on the desk. a projector illuminates the blackboard behind with its default display.

“ah, welcome in! you’re early!”

you nearly jump out of your own skin at the energetic voice that greets you. standing a few paces from the desk is a young man, dressed crisply in a white button down and formal pants. your eyes crawl up his physique, trailing over the undone button at his throat and the sleeves tastefully rolled up to reveal his toned arms. they’re all classically handsome features, but nothing to write home about—nothing a quick swipe on tinder won’t satiate.

you step a bit closer. “uh- good morning… i’m a student in your class. i think i emailed you about this a while back, but i was the one that got really sick last week and couldn’t come in.”

you braced yourself for the tirade that you were so used to, the mountain of homework and make up lectures that were bound to be awaiting you. god, you weren’t some kind of study freak, but no one ever likes starting the semester on the wrong foot, especially when that wrong foot means making up a week’s worth of classes all across the board.

except the tirade never really comes. the man laughs, “so that’s who you are! gotcha, gotcha. well, i can say for sure that it’s much better to see you in person rather than the little yearbook picture i have on my class roster. um… minerva, was it? she said she’d fill you in on the notes that you’ve missed.”

you perk up. “yeah, minnie’s my roommate. and she’s helped me catch up the best she can.”

“awesome! it’s good to hear students helping each other. i mean, that’s what having classmates and roommates is all about anyway,” he continues. you can’t help but notice the charm in his voice, the light rhythm that makes it feel like he’s dancing with his words rather than rambling. “reminds me of my own roommate. tall guy. super awkward. only cared about volleyball. he had this god awful middle part that chased away any girl that remotely found him attractive.”

you fight back a small giggle. he was funny. “i’m glad to say that minnie isn’t anything like that. if anything, i’d say she’s the opposite…”

“oh?” your professor quickly quips. “bit of a boy magnet, is she? i’m just messing with you. but yeah, like i said, it’s lovely to finally meet you. if you have any troubles, don’t ever feel scared to reach out to me. i’d rather that i know what’s going on than to be left guessing, and i promise you whatever ‘stupid’ thing you’re worrying about, i’ve definitely done dumber in my own undergrad years. sound cool?”

your eyes trail upwards again, from the outline of his small waist and broad chest. your mind wanders momentarily, wondering what his workout routine must be. you gloss over his smooth face, marveling at the smooth skin and the sunshine-like smile that tickles his mouth. he really couldn’t be that much older than you, despite being a professor, and if you saw him on the streets, outside of this academic setting, you would have never guessed him to hold such a position of authority with a face this young. his eyes are just like yours, lively but with a tinge of timidness that invites you to probe a bit deeper, a bit closer. and his hair: it’s the most beautiful, sensual shade of sunset orange.

it isn’t like your breath is being taken away in one fell swoop. rather, it feels like he’s coaxing it from you, stealing it away subtly so that you’re left to lean in, fiending for it like a fish caught out of water.

your gaze meets his, and you’re shoved back down to the correct plane of reality. fuck—you were not about to be caught staring like a creep at your professor on day one on all days…!

you nod shakily. “it’s nice to meet you too, professor-”

“-hinata,” he finishes, beaming even wider at you. “although, i told the class they can call me shoyo if they want to. i’m still pretty new to the whole teaching thing, so being called ‘professor’ feels a bit weird.”

“ah,” your voice drops in volume a tad, “i’m personally more comfortable with ‘professor’, so i’ll stick to that, i think. if it’s okay.”

he holds his hand up in mock surrender. “totally chill. whatever rocks your boat. if you don’t have any more questions, then make yourself comfortable. i think minnie tends to sit… over there, if you wanna get settled down. i know you already got the notes from her, but i promise you didn’t miss much in the first week, so don’t sweat anything.”

“thank you!” you breathe, getting ready to turn on your heel and march to the area professor hinata pointed out. something inside your rib cage trembles as if shocked with electricity, an anticipation for a breath of fresh air that only the beginning of a new semester could bring. you don’t know what to call it exactly. it isn’t quite excitement nor is it giddiness, but a liminal middle ground in between all of it where dread, the need for poise, and opportunity intermingle.

“hey.”

you glance over your shoulder at the sound of your professor’s voice. your professor grins at you, and in that split second, at you alone. his eyes twinkle fondly.

your breath catches in the back of your throat.

“let’s have a good semester together, you and i.”

the brown of his irises feel as if they’re going to swallow you whole.

you tear your eyes away.

…

“sooooooooo,” minnie practically slams your dorm room’s door shut and corners you in the small excuse of a room that you call home while at school. her eyes are brimming with the mischievous glimmer that you know all too well, and she stares you down with the most expectant look on her face. “isn’t the new professor hot? exactly like i told you?”

you dump your bag on the ground, crawling into your bed and immediately finding your place under the sheets. it’s been a long first day for you, and despite feverishly praying to whatever divinity was up above that the rest of your professors would be as kind as professor hinata was, it looks like your calls went wholly unanswered.

you massage the slight ache in your shoulders. “i mean, yeah, he’s an attractive man, and i guess he’s pretty nice. but nothing super out of the ordinary.”

minnie sticks her tongue out, and she pretends to boo you. she huffs her chest out and plants her hands squarely on her hips, clearly not impressed by your review of the new eye candy she’s scoped out. “you’re no fun! i bet you’re only saying this because you’re still hung up about that pathetic scum of a human being you call an ex. c’mon! the best way to get over a shitty boy is to simply find another one!”

something inside your chest twinges with a dull ache, and you flop back onto your bed. “as much as i would love to share your optimism, i don’t think hopping from one boy to another will make me feel any less shitty about this breakup.”

“well, you gotta give me something to work with! and besides,” she sidles up to the side of your bed, and she leans in close to your face, as if she’s whispering a secret to you. “professor hinata isn’t a boy. he’s a man.”

you hold back the urge to throw a pillow at your roommate. you’re grateful that you have minnie to get you out of your own mind sometimes, but at the same time, she better be grateful that she has you to ground her to reality.

“he’s our professor, minnie!” you pretend to scold her, but you fail at holding back an exasperated smile. “i’m all for you homie hopping through whatever ligma sigma dickma frat you’ve got your eyes on, but faculty are strictly off limits!”

“hey, be nice to me!” she laughs back, reaching over to poke at your cheeks. “doesn’t professor hinata look super young though? like he can’t be that far off from our age. that doesn’t make it that bad, does it?”

you shake your head. “i don’t care how old he is! pursuing your professor is a huge no-no!”

“ughhhhh! i’m trying to find the silver lining for you here! i’d much rather you drool over your hot professor than mope around in bed over your ex all day, okay? besides, it’s not every semester that we get to have a class together AND have a professor that doesn’t dress like fucking paddington,” she groans dramatically. she’s basically swooning at this point, acting as if the notion of a new, handsome romantic prospect for her to chase after and you being disinterested is the end of the world for her. you’re used to this song and dance by now, and you know she’s being theatrical just to get on your nerves.

it’s funny to you. minnie has a talent for making you laugh over the stupidest things. you barely stifle back a giggle. “leave paddington out of this! the poor guy has done nothing wrong.”

“you get my point!”

you settle back into your cozy spot on your bed, snuggling into your sheets. you don’t want to open up the can of worms that catching up on homework would be just yet, and as fantastical as minnie’s romantic endeavors could be, they make for a good distraction from all the responsibilities you don’t want to face yet. she glances at you lovingly, her fingers drumming against your rackety bed frame.

“but you do think he’s hot, yeah?” she starts. you snort.

“i said i found him to be an attractive man but nothing special, minnie.” you chew over your words, and your eyes flicker up to the white expanse of your ceiling. your mind conjures up images of your new professor, and the relief you had felt when he had treated you so warmly.

he was such a sunny young man, and true to minnie’s guess, probably not that much older than you were. most definitely fresh out of school and figuring things out for himself, your quick interaction with him before class felt more like talking to a classmate or a teacher’s assistant at best, rather than a well-educated professor trying to test his craft and wrangle throngs of antsy college students. you liked talking to him.

“i’d say he’s more charismatic than hot,” you offer up. minnie guffaws at your answer, and it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“fine, fine, i get it! you’re not going to bite at whatever temptation i throw at you. that’s my roommate for you, always the toughest nut to crack,” she sighs and shakes her head at you as if you’re hopeless, but you know she means well. there’s nobody else in the world who would care for you like this, go this much out of her way to make sure you don’t feel alone.

it’s almost enough to dispel the thoughts of your new professor from your mind.

almost.

your heart softens around the edges when your mind pushes the image of him alone with you into your mind. just that one cadence, no longer than thirty seconds at most, when it was only the two of you in that empty classroom, with no other soul in the room to shield you from the incoming stranger wedging his way into your life—just you and him, caught in that suspended moment.

he’s still so beautiful in your memory.

“-anyways,” minnie’s loud voice jostles you from your thoughts. heat rushes to your face in embarrassment, as if you had been caught doing something bad red-handed. she doesn’t seem to notice, and you choke back your guilt on losing track of yourself over your new professor in favor of whatever minnie’s spouting next. she purses her lips in thought. “i’m feeling kinda peckish, so what do you say about getting takeout for dinner?”

“we have food in our fridge,” you curtly remind her.

she groans in utter defeat, flopping onto you over the side of your bed. “you’re such a goody two shoes! what in the world will ever get you to break?”

…

WEEK 4

what in the world, indeed.

you fidget listlessly inside professor hinata’s office. you’ve never seen him with glasses before, but a pair is perched slightly crooked on his nose as he clicks at the big monitors on his desk, probably pulling up whatever answer you scrawled out on the google form he had sent out a few days prior. you’ve always been a little antsy whenever meeting with a professor in general, but make it a mandatory one-on-one meeting with a certain professor that seems to make your heart act up and you’re vibrating so hard that you might as well cause an earthquake.

“so…,” he starts, skimming your response, “i really like what you wrote here. think you can tell me more about what you have planned for your final project?”

you lick your lips and swallow, and you’re suddenly aware of how dry your mouth is. “uh, yeah. i’m sure minnie’s already told you most of it-”

you stop dead in your tracks when professor hinata raises a hand, cutting you off. you pause, a prickle of dread swirling in your stomach.

he smiles apologetically. “sorry, i really don’t like interrupting students. but this is your final project, and i want to hear your ideas. not minnie’s. i know you wrote that you two want to do it as a pair, and that’s fine. but your ideas are just as valuable as yours are, and this time is reserved so i can pick at your brain, not hers.”

“r-right…,” you murmur. your heart flutters the slightest bit when you realize he’s paying special attention to you, but you shut any excitement down immediately. you were a goddamn adult and a college student. what kind of person would you be if you couldn’t hold it together around your professor, who 100% without a doubt saw you as a pupil? you mentally scold yourself for finding your instructor’s undivided attention appealing.

“like you said,” you start up, your voice still quiet, “i thought it’d be nice to do a joint research thing with minnie, and we wanted to focus on our campus’ experience with single versus shared dorm life. we figured something like that would be easy to find professional data for on a much larger scale, so we can compare and contrast with our own findings.”

he hums to himself. you keep your eyes fixed on a point on the wall behind him, not wanting your eyes to wander. it isn’t like professor hinata always comes to class impeccably dressed in a suit and tie or anything, but he also has a horrendously good sense of fashion that makes you instinctively shy away a bit. he’s dressed nicely today too: in a sweater with a white button down underneath that peeks over the collar of the sweater and what should be loose black pants that fit tightly around his thighs. you hate yourself for noticing these details.

“that sounds like a pretty solid plan to me. i like how far you’re thinking ahead. research like this usually takes a lot of time and energy, so it’s good to have a vision for what you plan to do at the end. do you have any thoughts as to how you’re going to collect data? i suppose reaching out to housing would help with pure numbers, but for tackling the more social and emotional parts, you’ll need to do that yourself.”

you’re keenly aware of when he glances towards you, his gaze burning into you like a magnifying glass held up to the sun. god, you shouldn’t be so on edge around him, and yet something about how casual he is with you and just how sweet he is with you makes you that much more stiff. you don’t dare meet his eyes.

maybe it’s that vulnerable intimate one-on-one that’s making you so much more aware of his presence, or maybe it’s the close confines of his office, but you know you’re going to waver if you make eye contact with him.

“minnie and i wanted to conduct physical surveys. we were planning on contacting the different r.a.s of each housing building and asking the school for the information to off campus housing managers. that way we can distribute questions as far as we can,” you recited stately. “we even considered maybe putting in a raffle reward for responses, which would incentivize people to actually respond instead of ignoring it.”

professor hinata whistles. “i’m impressed. you two have really thoroughly thought all of this through! you never fail to impress me with how much attention to detail you put with your schoolwork. i wish all of my students were as diligent as you were sometimes.”

you bite down on your tongue, and it takes all of your willpower to not let some kind of fucked up glee swell inside your chest. “thank you, professor. the idea was originally minnie’s idea, but i was the one that really did most of the work ironing out the kinks.”

he laughs heartily. “i can imagine. between the two of you, i can tell that you’re the more responsible one by a long shot. don’t get me wrong: minnie’s a wonderful student. but at the end of the day, it’s still you cleaning up her messes, isn’t it?”

“yeah,” you bashfully admit. you can’t even count the number of times you’ve been the one to pick her up from her drunken escapades or be the one to force her into bed after holding her hair while she pukes. as much emotional stability as she gives you, she does need a tad bit of mothering. “but she’s still a great friend. i couldn’t ask for a better roommate. we might have opposite personalities, but we balance each other out perfectly, i think.”

“that’s good to hear! it’s always nice to know my students are getting along. especially quieter ones like you.” he leans forward in his seat, almost as if he’s whispering a secret to you. “us professors aren’t allowed to have favorites, but it’s human nature to always root a little for the well-behaved underdogs.”

you swallow a bit more harshly. there’s a lump in your throat. you really, really need to do something about whatever you feel towards your professor, because you know deep down that it’s wrong to keep wanting his attention like this. he’s being friendly and watching out for you, because he knows you’re the plain mouse-like student amongst a sea of wild young adults carving their way in the world. he’s only helping you, only complimenting you because he’s genuine and wants to see you do well, and you’re hoarding that attention and craving it like a man starved.

“she’s done a lot to get me where i am right now,” you admit, wanting to deflect. “i broke up with my now ex-boyfriend over the summer, and she did so much to make sure i was doing okay. i know you probably don’t care that much about messy college student drama, but… she has my back until the end.”

he raises an eyebrow. “i don’t mind. trust me, professors love hearing about student drama as much as the students do. also if it helps me get to know you better, then it doesn’t hurt, does it? having more information, no matter how silly, is better than knowing nothing about you at all.”

“i mean, it really is silly.” you’re trying very hard not to look him in the face. your eyes flit everywhere but, looking at your hands, the neckline of his sweater, the peeling wallpaper, anything. “i really liked that guy, and he ran off and cheated on me. i caught him red handed and did the right thing by confronting him and immediately breaking things off, but it’s not like you can wake up and decide that you don’t like someone anymore, no matter how awful he was to me.”

“i’m sorry that happened to you. it’s never fun to feel betrayed by someone you trusted, especially romantically.” he taps his fingers together.

you wave him off, shrugging. “i’m a lot better about it now! it hurts every now and then, but i’m choosing to focus on myself. i did nothing wrong, and it’s better for me to have cut him off than to turn a blind eye. and minnie’s always inviting me out to all sorts of things to take my mind off of it too.”

“that’s good. i wish i could say relationships get easier once you become an adult, but… there’s no cheat key to things like love. you gotta roll up your sleeves and do the nitty gritty work.” he feigns rolling his sleeves up, and he shakes his head. a blur of orange flickers like candle light in the corner of your eye. “even full grown adults do terrible things to each other. but just like you said, it makes you appreciate the bonds that stay true to you even through your hardships.”

“clearly,” you breathe. your voice is airy, almost strained. god, he was just so easy to spill your heart to. why couldn’t your ex be like this? professor hinata is thoughtful, intelligent, and emotionally mature. you need to step away, need to keep your distance, but even your attempts to deflect yourself away from the growing attachment you have to your instructor only ends with him expertly spinning things into his favor.

he chuckles to himself and leans back into his seat. “my mom would always say that it’s better to be single and free than to be miserable and tied down. besides, you’re only in college! the big wide world is waiting for you! i promise you, there are far better guys out there that can treat you the way you deserve to be treated. one failed college relationship isn’t going to doom you for the rest of your life, okay? take this one from your prof.”

“i’m sure.”

you don’t doubt his words. the little resolve, the sliver of morality lingering inside your turmoiled brain, is crackling. it’s wrong to lean this forward towards your professor, to grasp and grip at the stray straws you can see, and yet, it feels so good. the heady silence that settles over the two of you is reminiscent of your first meeting with him, back to the moment when it was only you and him in the same way it is now.

but things are different today. he knows more about you. you’ve learned to trust him. he’s always respected you, but it’s clear that he treats you like an adult on equal footing with him rather than your other professors who act as if you were born yesterday. he genuinely cares for you.

you subconsciously steel your stomach, and you sneak your eyes upwards from the hemline of his sweater. your gaze trickles cautiously over his broad chest and his neck, over the detail of his lips and nose, apple-like cheeks, before eventually meeting his inquisitive one. you unintentionally let out a choked sigh, like the wind is being squeezed out from your lungs.

his eyes light up and smile at you, as if to say “finally.”

you can’t breathe.

you want to lean in; you want to close that impossible gap that tenses and pulses between the two of you. what kind of tension is this? something so forbidden, so magnetic, so undeniable yet unavailable for the taking… it feels like torture, to see your meek reflection staring back at you in the wide sclera and captivating brown irises of professor hinata’s eyes, and to be able to do nothing about it. this was the devastating nature of attraction, knowing that your personal insanity might amount to nothing the very instant you handed your fate over to another.

knock knock knock.

you nearly splutter over your own inhale before jerking away back into your seat. a loud knocking noise repeats itself around the small confines of his office, and you’re left stunned, your heart hammering like a death toll inside your tense ribcage. you drop your face down to the floor, not daring to tear your eyes away from anywhere other than the anchoring, humiliating safety of the ground.

“ah, looks like our time is up. it seems like the next student is here,” professor hinata explains, much to your simultaneous dismay and relief. this isn’t a line you can cross, and yet you crossed some kind of personal boundary you set up for yourself right there when you snuck a glimpse into your professor’s eyes.

“i-i’ll get going. thank you for the meeting,” you stammer, hurriedly grabbing your things and almost stumbling over your feet to get to the door. “i’ll keep working on my project- and uh- i’ll reach out to you if i have any questions…!”

you don’t know what kind of face he must be making, not when you don’t have the courage to look at him again. you sprint out of the door, away from the tense sparks that lay dying out into fumes between the two of you, surely a machination of your deprived brain. the hallway echoes with the sound of your footsteps as you half-run-half-speed-walk away from the office, wanting to go anywhere else as quickly as your clumsy feet would take you.

how could you be so stupid? not only do you end up blabbing about a bad breakup to him, revealing that you’re single, but you’re idiotic enough to think that his goodwill is something you can entertain into something further.

you hate to admit it.

you’re falling in love with your professor.

…

WEEK 7

“you should go out with me this weekend.”

“i’ll think about it.”

“pleaseeeeeeee? i basically have my outfit picked out, and i’m dying to get a matching one for you! it’s been so long since you let me dress you up, and i’m itching to do something fun with you for the weekend! please? pretty please? with sprinkles and oreos and whipped cream and cherries on top?”

you groan, tempted to slam your head into your desk. “minnie, i said i’ll think about it. i’ve already seen the five million instagram dms you’ve sent me begging to go to whatever frat party is being thrown.”

“it’s sig-chi,” she reminds you, as if that’s the important part. some of the students next to you shoot the two of you odd glances, and you flash a weak smile, inwardly apologizing for minnie’s obliviousness when it came to blurting your business. it wasn’t like the entire class heard, thank god, but the noise levels weren’t high enough where you could act a bit more stealthily. you wish it was, even if it was only to spare you from whatever social embarrassment your mostly well-meaning roommate was bound to put you through.

you turn your attention back to the work you’re trying to get done. you’re grateful professor hinata gives you time in class to work on your final projects. after that fateful instance in office hours with him where you came face-to-face with your feelings, you haven’t been able to really act normally around your instructor. fearing for your own sanity, you’ve done everything you possibly can to avoid interacting with him one-on-one. it’s not like something like that is particularly difficult to do, but your heart still skips a beat and lodges itself in the back of your throat when he catches you in the hallway, greeting you with a light “good to see you!” before squeezing past you.

your cheeks sting with heat when you think about him. you bite down only your tongue, willing for the dull pain to ground you. minnie hums absentmindedly next to you, completely unaware of the hell that she’s partially responsible for, and she taps away at her phone.

“hey, hey, look at this! isn’t this outfit sooooo cute? it would look perfect on you! and if i order it today, it should get here in time for the sig-chi function!” she sticks her phone screen in your face, and you instinctively recoil away.

your blood runs cold when you see the outfit she’s showing you. it’s a cute sparkly little number, except for the fact that it would cover barely anything if you were to put it on. one wrong move in it, and your whole chest and ass would be out for the world to see. and that’s not including the already exposed midriff it would entail. “it’s cute, but- i don’t know if i could wear something like that…”

“nonsense! i can see you perfectly in it! it’ll be awesome!” she quickly cuts you off. “a cute but still slutty outfit is key to every good party! i bet you’ll have all of the guys in there chasing after you in this. oh, the color will sooooo make your eyes pop, and i think i can really make your features shine with a bit of my make up too…”

you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. embarrassment prickles like red-hot thorns underneath your face, and you try to grab at minnie’s phone. “minnie! you know i don’t wear things like that!”

“exactly! it’s all the more reason why! i’m trying to help you make your debut on the university dating scene,” the girl responds as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “you’ll be thanking me once you have a drop dead gorgeous six foot something basketball player wrapped around your little finger. trust me, i’m the expert in these kinds of things.”

“that’s not the point!” you hiss. ugh, you should really know better than to talk reason into her during one of her frenzied rants. you have absolutely zero intention of actually going out to one of these sleazy frat parties, let alone wear a skimpy outfit in order to bait a boy! you need time and patience to heal your broken heart, not… her wild schemes. you would rather bite off your tongue than go through whatever public humiliation ritual is involved with flirting at a frat party.

“ladies,” a deep yet sunny voice cuts through your annoyed inner monologue like a hot knife through butter, “i hope we’re actually getting work done. you wouldn’t be goofing off in my class, would you?”

your blood turns into ice for the second time within minutes, and when you peel your eyes up from your desk, your fear comes true when you see professor hinata standing there. his hands are on his hips, and despite his teasingly scolding tone, he’s sporting a bright smile.

you curse yourself inwardly, and you’re mentally scrambling to make an excuse.

“professor! look at this! wouldn’t this look so good on (y/n)?” minnie’s a step ahead of you. you audibly splutter over your breath, and you shove your head into your hands. she giggles as she sticks her phone in your professor’s face, and you’ve never been more mortified in your life.

professor hinata’s eyes widen at the more-lingerie-than-actual-clothing that’s being bombarded into his eyes, and he coughs, waving his hand. “woah, i’m not sure if i’m the right person to be asking that, minnie! why don’t we save the party talk for after class?”

she pretends to be exasperated, and she jokingly rolls her eyes. “ugh, you two are hopeless! you have to help me out here, professor. i’m trying to get (y/n) to loosen up a bit and have some fun with me! isn’t it true that you feel loads better when you do a bit of dolling up?”

“well, yes, but it looks like (y/n) here isn’t too keen on that idea. take it easy on the party going, and let’s focus more on your final project. trust me when i say your deadlines will be creeping up on you fast,” he easily brushes minnie off. she smiles brightly and nods, and only then does she finally turn to her computer and start compiling her research.

you want lightning to strike you down and burn you to a crisp. you peel your head out of your hands, and your weary eyes meet your professor’s. he grins understandingly at you, and he reaches forward to squeeze your shoulder empathetically.

“...!”

you grit your teeth, your eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights as electricity courses through your body. the skin where his hand just was feels like it had been burned, thrown completely off guard by the sudden contact.

“are you doing okay?” he whispers. his voice is soft and quiet, coaxing you out of your panicked state. it’s a voice reserved solely for you, one that only you can hear, and your blood is being weighed down by figurative iron when your heart flutters. “take it easy now. don’t let her goad you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

your lips feel clumsy. “she means well. i’m fine. she talks big, but she won’t actually do anything without my express permission.”

he’s more of a danger to you than minnie will ever be. you wish you had the courage or brainlessness to blurt something like that, but the bitter revelation stays curled up into the flesh of your still tongue, burning and scalding you like the unspoken confession it is.

“that’s good to hear. take care of yourself though. if she keeps fretting over you, you’ll make me worry too, you hear?” his nose crinkles a little when he squeezes your shoulder again. did he always have freckles? or are you only noticing them now that he’s up close and you have nowhere else to focus except for his face? you hate it, hate this tension, hate the way you can’t control yourself despite knowing better.

you hang your head, forcibly tearing your eyes away from your handsome professor. you lie through your teeth. “i’ll be okay, professor.”

…

“ohhhhh, fuck…!”

shoyo double, triple, quadruple-checked to make sure that his office door was firmly locked around him. it would be the literal death of his academic career if someone were to catch him doing what he was about to do, and he wasn’t that keen on throwing aside his future just yet.

he had made a beeline for his office the moment class let out. it took every bone in his body, every last bit of willpower he has ever known in his entire life to keep his sunny facade up and to make sure no one would see his mask slip. he can’t afford it, and yet he’s still gambling too riskily. he’s cutting it too close to safety to relax fully, but he can’t stop.

his cock twitches and strains in his pants, begging for his attention. he leans his back against the firm wooden door, his breathing shallowing as lewd images flash behind his eyes. fuck—he really should know how to control himself better than this, actually listen to the angel in his brain telling him that he should really quit being so attracted to his students.

correction: student.

correction again: you.

his fingers unconsciously unbuckle his belt, and his pants drop down to his ankles. he grits his teeth, a strangled breath escaping his clenched teeth as he palms the prominent bulge in his boxers. it was one thing to ride out his delusions on his own, savoring the forbidden dregs of toeing the line between professionalism and a taboo romance.

you played the part so well too. like a frightened doe that would run away if he moved too quickly, you were good at keeping your walls up and fending off his quiet advances enough. the push and pull had him reeling: part of him wanting him to do better and to act properly as a new professor should, and another wondering how much cuter you’d be bent over his desk and your pretty cunt stuffed full of his cock.

“...shit-,” he hisses as his hands slip underneath his boxers. it only takes a few strokes for his cock to fully get hard, and the cool air of the office hits his sensitive skin like a flurry of ice. heat courses through his body, and he feels awful.

he shouldn’t be doing this. he shouldn’t be getting aroused by his student and jerking off in his office, but here he was. the last straw was seeing your roommate pitch that damn slutty outfit. you looked so innocent and so sweet, clearly not a party animal, but how often did your roommate swing you around? did you get down and wild if pushed far enough? shit, was your good girl thing just a ruse to get brownie points with him?

“fuck- fuuuuck…!” he starts stroking himself, palm swiping from base to tip, squeezing his cockhead a hair. dull pleasure swirls deep inside of his stomach, and he moves his hips into his palm, the friction downright addictive.

he imagines you in that outfit, your tits and ass basically out for the world to see. maybe you’d let your friend drag you out to her silly party. maybe you’d act shy there too, skirting around the sidelines of the dance room, sipping nervously on your drink. maybe the alcohol would make your head buzz a bit and you’d get a bit bolder. maybe you’d let some douchey frat bro feel you up, that dumb bastard not knowing how good he has it by getting your attention.

shoyo groans under his breath. god, you shouldn’t be wasting your energy and time on stupid college boys. all they would do is exploit you and leave you for dead, even though you were clearly the best thing to walk into their lives.

he thumbs over his weeping tip, moaning throatily as he presses into his slit. his chest rises and falls, the electric feeling making his knees go weak. touching himself never felt this good. nothing came close to that buzzing high of being deprived of you.

his mind doesn’t stop wandering. raunchy thoughts of you dancing floods his brain. he imagines you grinding up against him, your soft ass pressing up against his crotch. he’d buck his hips against yours, let the heat mount as his hands wander over your body, that skimpy outfit of you doing nothing to protect you from him. you’d glance back at him, feeling his strong chest up on your back, the muscles of his arms tensing when you pull him flush against you. your eyes would have that drunken haze to them, intoxicated off of whatever was in your cup and getting down and dirty with your professor.

it reminds him of his own idiotic undergraduate days, ones he thought he matured past when he became a proper working adult. clearly not, if the thought of dancing with you and feeling you up has him furiously fisting his hard cock.

he needs to be inside you. he doesn’t want to feel his hand on his cock anymore. he wants to ruin that pristine image you have. he wants to see you crying and moaning, going from his stellar unassuming pupil to some cock crazed slut, begging for him to fuck you harder, to fuck you deeper, completely at his mercy. he wants to see your clothes in tatters with nothing to shield you from his almost animalistic lust, for you to see him as a proper grown man who wants to pamper you as much as he wants to ruin you rather than some stuffy professor.

it’s downright problematic how much he needs you. it’s more than just wanting to fuck you. no, he’s a gentleman. he wants you to want him, even if it’s only to ease the guilt nagging at his heart. you’re too smart for your own good, and yet when you’re surrounded by all these bad apples nipping at your heels and waiting for you to stumble, it’s no wonder that you’ve become so holed in.

you simply need someone who’ll treat you right. who’ll make you shine. who’ll be a proper lover, someone that can actually step up to that mantle.

“hah- god fucking dammit…! fuck- fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- shit…! fucking hell, god- fuck!” his grip on his cock tightens, and he thinks his body is going to break. the dopamine buzz in his mind is almost explosive, and he knows he can’t control himself for much longer. he's close, so close, egged onto the edge by fantasizing about the thought of his student in a revealing party outfit.

what kind of scum did that make him? if his mind was any clearer, he might know, but it isn’t. all that his sex-riddled brain can make out is how badly he wants your body. he craves the weird sick satisfaction of being the one to stretch out your sweet hole with his girthy length, to fill every little bit of your womb up with pumps of his hot cum, to pleasure you so thoroughly that he’ll ruin sex for the rest of your life—unless it’s with him, of course.

you flicker behind his eyes again. your body trembles against his as he pretends he’s thrusting into you rather than his pre-cum drenched hand. your cunt quivers and tightens around him, and your face is stained with your tears. mascara runs down your cheeks, and your lipstick is smeared messily all over your mouth. your legs shake around his hips as he fucks into you, tip easily squeezing and abusing that sweet spot deep inside your body.

“what a pretty girl.” he’d praise you, take his sweet time making sure you get all the loving you deserve. “how could someone as pretty as you stay out of my sight for so long?”

the image of you in his mind bucks your hips back against him, and the pleasure that explodes around his cock has him weak in the knees. he’s so close, so close to giving you his seed, to marking you as his. he’s humping into you desperately, wanting you to feel that impeccable stretch, pierced and plowed by him, driven to madness by his infatuation.

“i’m here! i’m yours!” you pant out. you’re starstruck. smitten. everything he’s wanted.

“-kgh…!”

warmth overtakes his entire body, and strong ropes of cum escape from him. he grits his teeth, clenching his jaw and willing himself to keep his moans to himself. he’s dead meat if he gets caught masturbating to the thought of his student in his office. cum spills out all over his office floor and coats his hands, spilling and spilling like the pent up frustration bottled away in his heart. he furiously strokes himself through his orgasm, and sparks fly in his brain, pleasure coursing through his veins like one giant shockwave.

he throws his head back, gasping for air as his cock sputters, the last drops of virile cum leaking out and covering his fingers. his cock slowly softens in his hand, and he sucks in deep inhales, the cool air soothing the heat enveloping his entire body.

shoyo’s mind feels fuzzy and distant, like he’s been shoved out of this plane of existence temporarily. his limbs are weak, and his abs tense and coil in on itself as he forces himself to steady his breathing. his vision is blurred slightly around the edges, but the world emerges back into focus with each passing inhale and exhale.

he hasn’t even fully come down from his high, but he knows that the lack of guilt he’s feeling is wrong. he should feel bad, he should feel dirty, he should feel like he’s done something criminal. what professor jerks off to his student and doesn’t feel any sort of post-nut clarity? he swallows heavily, but the knot in his throat that should be there is nowhere to be found.

he doesn’t want to give his growing interest in you any more attention than it needs. the last thing he should be doing is fanning the flames, and just now, he fed the monster when he should be depriving it, starving it.

his gaze crests downwards, towards the pristine streaks of pearly cum all over his hand and the floor. he knows he’s beyond saving when he bitterly wishes all of it could have gone inside of you and your sweet pussy instead of being wasted on nothing.

“...let’s clean up,” he whispers to no one in particular. he hates the apathy he feels, reaching almost robotically for the kleenex he kept on his desk, not a single prick of guilt or wrongdoing stirring in his body as he moves clumsily through the aftershocks of his orgasm to rid the proof that he had even touched himself to the thought of you to begin with. you don’t have to know that he ever jerked off to you or the fact that his desire for you grows and festers like a rotten wound inside of his heart. because that is what it is in the eyes of everything that is moral and good: rotten.

but what you don’t know can’t kill you.

…

WEEK 10

you had dreaded the next mandatory meeting with professor hinata for a while now. you had done such a good job of keeping a low profile for a while now, only ever addressing your instructor when it was absolutely necessary and whatever interactions you needed so that he wouldn’t pick up on the fact that you were purposefully avoiding him.

you had also done a good job at keeping minnie’s eagerness at bay. your final project for professor hinata’s class was a very handy excuse to avoid going out to parties with her, and crunching the data also did an exceptional job at keeping you busy instead of moping about in your room alone.

you’d think at this point in the semester you’d have quit being so hung up over your ex and your general failure of a love life, but seeing that your romantic prospect was a crush on your professor that you were actively trying to get over for your own sake, clearly things weren’t looking great for you.

but this was something you couldn’t escape. you sit on your hands to keep yourself from more or less bolting out of professor hinata’s office. his eyes are glued to the monitors on his desk in good professor-like fashion, scanning over the work you’ve handed in for him to check.

you’ve done this song and dance before. you’ve been stuck in his office before, too scared to make eye contact with your professor out of fear as to your heart betraying you. you have to keep a firm grip on yourself, and you look at your professor but make it a point not to look at his face.

“man, i know i say this every time i look over your progress, but you really do outdo yourself. you deserve a pat on the back,” he remarks, smiling proudly as he leans back in his seat. “you’re definitely in a good place for where we are in the semester, and as long as you keep at it, i’d say you’ll easily get an a for your final grade.”

“thank you,” you quietly state. he’s dressed simply today, in a black turtleneck and jeans. it makes his bright orange hair stand out that much more, and you try with all your might not to stare too hard at the obvious outlines of his toned pecs and waist straining against the fabric of the sweater.

he looks good today too. you want to eat your own fist and curl up into a ball to cry. it was like for every step forward your determination took to keep yourself in check, professor hinata threw a screwball at you to make you take two steps back.

you wish things would go as smoothly as it did the last time you were here, vulnerable to his scrutiny and left with your own flimsy defenses. the same thick tension hangs in the air again, and you pray that you won’t act out of place.

“so,” his voice cuts through your thoughts, like it always does. he knows how to catch you right off guard, wedging himself right into the split-second crack in your judgment. “all i’ve got to say is that i’m excited to see your actual final all put together. your findings are going to be really interesting, and i’m also looking forward to comparing what you find against whatever conclusions minnie draws from the same data. i don’t mean to get so personal again, but the two of you are so different that i wonder if your findings will be that stark too.”

you inhale, fixing your eyes on a spot behind him as if it was ritual to ground yourself that way. “i won’t spoil too much of her stuff, but she also has some pretty cool ideas. she’s told me some things that i wouldn’t have thought to consider in her part of the project, so… just something to get you more hyped!”

he chuckles, the low cadence of his voice making your heart flutter a beat. “i’ll take your word for it. i hope she’s treating you well. i know that you know your bond with her better than i ever will, but i really hope her energetic personality isn’t too overbearing for you. you come to me if you have any issues, okay?”

“i appreciate it. but i’m fine, really. she’s a lot, i know, but she means it out of love,” you reply methodically. this isn’t the first time someone has scrutinized your relationship with her, often misconstruing her enthusiasm and your more quiet personality to her mistreating you. sure, you two don’t see eye-to-eye about everything, but you wouldn’t hold her so close if she wasn’t someone who would see things through thick and thin for you.

he nods. “alright, i trust you. but it never hurts to be vigilant. take it from someone with a bit more life experience than you do: people can still hurt you and claim that it’s from a place of love. this isn’t to say that minnie’s a bad person, but you and i have something special. i want you to stay safe.”

something lodges in the back of your throat. your mind swirls dangerously, and you can’t think. special? you and him have something special? you almost laugh unconsciously; it’s like despite all the work you did to keep your heart under lock and key, he’s determined to burrow his way in there.

you hate how easily you crumble. all it took him was one well timed sentence with that stupidly charming voice of his, and it made weeks on weeks of self-imposed deprivation disappear like dust.

“don’t worry, i’ve been doing a lot of work to take care of myself. do you remember that ex i told you about? after him, i did a lot of work reevaluating the people closest to me and whether or not i trusted them blindly,” you hesitate, pursing your lips and sucking your cheeks in a little. you comb over your next thoughts carefully. talking with professor hinata is a mental game of its own, and you feel like you’re playing against an impossible opponent. “there’s… definitely a more eloquent way for me to have phrased all of that, but… you get the point.”

“i do. god, you poor thing. how could anyone hurt someone like you like he did? i know i’m biased as your professor, but even then… you’re so bright and kind. he really fumbled. that’s my two cents.” his shoulders shake a bit as he laughs, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside of his chest. your stomach feels queasy, and every part of your body wants to swoon. your attraction to him is trouble. it’s fatal.

you dig your nails into the flesh of your palms. the stinging pain does little to bring you back to your good conscience, but it’s something to focus on other than the hazy lapses in judgment that dance inside your mind. “it’s all growing pains. this is what being an adult means, doesn’t it? you said so yourself last time we talked. there’s bound to be someone better out there in the world.”

you don’t need to look at him to know that he’s looking at you. the office feels constricting and so much smaller than you remember it to be, as if the walls are actively moving in closer and keeping you trapped in there with your deathly charismatic professor.

“yes.” his voice drops a bit in volume, and it sounds almost intimate. “yes, i did say that.”

something possesses you. it creeps in quietly, like a drop of ink dispersed into a glass of clear water. no, you shouldn’t say that; whatever was plaguing you had taken root months ago. whatever you were trying to save was just a remnant of the ruin in your head. you swallow thickly, almost like you were trying to press your logic, your goodness, your moral conscience back down into nothingness.

you lift your face. his sweet eyes are there to greet you, and they light up when you meet his gaze. his eyes are warm and welcoming, and you’re instantly entranced. he’s beautiful, insanely beautiful, and the brown color has you floored. you want to reach out and cup his face, and you want to just stare into his eyes forever. it’s like he’s a siren that’s called out to you specifically, tempting you to inch closer and to let him take you away, entranced forever. your lips start quivering. you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t reflect and let out one last pathetic struggle to cling to what you know to be right.

maybe things would have been different then. maybe if you tried harder, you’d have picked the morally correct thing. maybe you’d walk out of professor hinata’s office unscathed, your relationship tense but still at the boundary it should be at, and you’d graduate and put your crush behind you as nothing more than a silly infatuation.

but you don’t. some repressed part of your mind slips. the words tumble from your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“i wish it could be you.”

you instantly throw your hands over your mouth, your eyes widening in shock. regret flashes through your entire being, and your face burns with shame. professor hinata gasps softly, but he doesn’t say anything.

“sorry-,” you fumble, your stomach twisting into horrid knots. panic shoots through your brain, and you’re screaming internally at yourself. you want to say something, anything, apologize profusely, but the gears in your head won’t turn. your entire mental processes are overrun with nothing but sheer panic, and you feel like your brain has turned into a piece of useless metal. “i-i’m sorry…! i didn’t mean it like that- i wasn’t thinking… i just- i don’t know what came over me.”

“hey, hey, calm down.” he reaches forward, leaning over his desk, and a firm hand plants itself on your knee. you almost jerk away from him, like his touch would hurt you, and your professor can see the wild, feral fear in your eyes.

it’s one thing to deal with your illicit feelings on your own, but to accidentally blurt them and make them known to him? to professor hinata? the very object of your forbidden affections?

“it’s okay. it’s okay. i’m being serious, it’s alright. there’s no need to freak out.” his words cut into the blinding flurry of thoughts in your head. “talk to me, here. you good?”

you nod frantically, forcing a deep breath in through your nose. “i’m fine. i’m okay, i promise. i… please ignore what i just said.”

he retracts his hand. he swallows, and you can see his adam’s apple bob underneath the neckline of his turtleneck sweater. you should know better than to look into his eyes again, not when every time looking into his face spelled trouble for you, but when you stare up at him helplessly, he looks nothing like the bubbly, carefree professor you knew.

his pupils are blown wide open, and there’s a kind of intensity settling inside of his eyes that you’ve never seen before. his lips are parted just slightly, like he’s about to say something but the words are caught on the tip of his tongue. a shiver tiptoes down your spine. he looks like a man haunted, the once cordial candlelight-esque brown of his irises running big and reckless like a wildfire.

you don’t recognize this side of him, but you don’t dislike it either. you lick your lips quickly, suddenly aware of your extremely dry mouth.

he lets out a deep exhale through his nose. “...i need you to listen to me.”

“i am,” you squeak back. your mind flashes back to minnie, to your superstar queen bee of a roommate. how would she navigate something like this? knowing her, she would navigate this gracefully. she could probably play it off as a joke and laugh around with professor hinata. she could bat her eyelashes and charm him, maybe pass this off as a bit of awkward flirting and walk away scot free. you’ve never had the same social grace that she manages to pull off so effortlessly.

“i… i apologize if i’m reading too much in between the lines.” he sounds strained, as if he’s holding a part of him back. his eyes are locked onto you, honed in as if you’ll skirt away out of his sight. “but i don’t think either of us can ignore whatever it is we have going on. i want to make myself clear here. i am your professor, and you are my student. the mature, responsible thing for me to do as your instructor is to ignore your remark and to move on. if that is what you want, then i will let you walk out of my office. we can pretend nothing happened. everything that happened here stays between us.”

you pause, and you wring your hands together. you know that that’s the choice you should take. that your relegated role in this song and dance is to be the good kid and to never stray away from your place as a nobody bookworm with good grades and nothing special. and yet your mouth moves, “...is there another option?”

he clenches his jaw. he has to be at his limit, just as much as you are. you see the edge in his eyes, flaring like sparks, waiting for you to touch and him to come away burned. you don’t care. you’re hurtling straight at the point of no return, and you’re burning up, beautiful and flaming and waiting to be consumed into nothingness.

“i… we take care of this whole thing. but i want to make sure you want this as much as i do. i hope you understand the gravity of what this means for both of us. it’s very, very wrong for a teacher and a student to be in love with each other.” professor hinata takes a big breath in, and he shoves his hand through the wild tufts of his orange hair. “but if you are insistent on pursuing this route with me, so long as you’re willing to accept your responsibility, then…”

he stops, and he whispers the last part, barely and only loud enough for your ears, “...i can’t say that i can refuse you.”

your hands curl into decisive fists in your lap. so this is where you are. these are the conditions that life has mercilessly thrown at your feet. your heart and brain are at odds with each other. your mind screams at you to think of your future, that your life would certainly be ruined if anyone would find out that you had an illicit relationship with your professor. and what about him? it would spell a certain social death for him too if he were to be found out.

but your heart begs. you’ve ignored its cries for basically your entire life now, always picking the expected thing, pushing down your own wants in exchange for the security and the safety of a quiet life. this is one time in your life that you’ve truly wanted something, truly yearned for it with your entire existence. how is it fair to deny this from yourself? haven’t you given enough up? you gave up sociability when making friends with minnie, gave up a chance at normalcy when breaking up with your ex, and now love with professor hinata?

“i know there’s a right answer, professor hinata,” you hang your head. uneasiness claws at your ribcage, but the desire bubbling up inside of you hurts even more. “but i’m sorry. i don’t think i have it in me to be good anymore.”

he waits a beat, and the silence hangs above you like the weight of a million sins. the laugh he lets out is airy, relieved. “i was hoping you’d say that. well… come here. let me have you.”

you don’t know how you don’t trip over your own feet as you get up. you walk over to him as if in a trance, looking down at your professor with shaking eyes. he looks so confident as he grins up at you, legs spread slightly in that old office chair of his, every part of him just as inviting and tempting as the day you first laid eyes on him.

you’re practically crawling into his lap, and his strong arms are around you. his mouth is instantly on yours, and you gasp, the feeling of soft lips consuming you entirely. this wasn’t your first kiss by a long shot, but it was your first kiss with him. and god, it was everything those stupid romance movies made a kiss out to be: electric, addictive, leaving you dizzy and giddy and reeling in his embrace.

you’re glad he’s there to hold you. you place your hands shyly on his chest, warmth pooling in your stomach when you can feel the strong tension of his muscles. you never realized you were this downright touch starved, basically melting into putty in his hands as he kisses you over and over again, the hushed sounds of your lips locked together and breathless pants filling the room.

your head spins. this must be the charm of an experienced lover. his touches mold into yours, adjusting to you and making you feel as if you can put your trust wholly into him. his tongue laps at your lips, and you let him in, let him swirl his tongue deep into your mouth. you feel so full on the inside, your chest swelling with everything you’re repressed coming out now in droves. his tongue moves around yours, and your ears drink up the lewd sounds of your french kissing.

his hands grasp at you firmly, memorizing your touch and the way your body feels under his palms. his thick thighs make for the perfect seat, and you cling to him as he kisses you. making out with him feels like an eternity but also as if no time has passed at all, whisked away into the special place meant solely for lovers, sincerely lost in your own world with him. he feels so good around you and under your skin, even better than the fleeting fantasies you might allow yourself to have.

a strand of saliva connects the two of you when he pulls away from you finally. your chest heaves as you gulp down oxygen, your fingertips shaking as you curl them into the soft fabric of his sweater.

“you…,” he gasps, unable to tear his eyes away from your clearly shaken form, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that to you.”

heat nestles deep inside your stomach. it’s wicked and possessive, but you want to be special to him. and now you know that you are, your desire to have more of him is insatiable. something throbs and pulses within your core, and it’s pitiful just how weak you are to him after a handful of well-executed kisses. fuck having any kind of stupid romance with some dumb college boy your age: none of them could even dream of leaving you this stunned and your body itching for literally anything more.

you grasp at him. “please- please, more- kiss me again… i need it- i need more-”

“-shhh, i’ve got you, pretty.” he moves in so close to your face, his lips only a breath away from yours. you’ve never had someone kiss you so carnally before, his desire emanating off of him in thick waves. you’re probably no better, begging for your hot professor to make out more with you as if his tongue wasn’t down your throat mere seconds ago and as if it isn’t his spit that’s coating your lips thickly.

it feels right. there’s no other way for you to describe him kissing you again. his lips move so gently against yours and yet brims with a kind of brutish need. it’s like he doesn’t want to scare you away but can barely contain himself, not when he has you right where he wants you. you don’t mind. you want him to be greedy, and you want him to take you wholly.

you’re so happy, and you love it when his tongue is in your mouth, guiding your clumsy movements. it’s lewd kissing you’ve only seen couples do through the drunken haze of some seedy frat basement during a crazy party or in a raunchy porn video, and you get it. it finally clicks inside your head why people go crazy for these kinds of things, why people lose their minds when they’re unable to fully get a grasp over their own sexual needs. it’s like an awakening for you, as if some monster that had been caged in your heart is now breaking free of its restraints.

you moan shamelessly into professor hinata’s mouth. you need more. just kissing isn’t enough, only having his tongue in your mouth isn’t enough. the pounding between your hips won’t go away, and if anything, it’s getting worse with each passing second. he’s turning you on, and your body refuses to listen to you. but why should you hold back? he’s right there for you, and you’re willing to give yourself to him without any room for regret.

“please-,” you sound so needy, so desperate, so unlike any part of the removed personality you kept around your professor. “touch me more… i need you, professor-”

“-don’t call me that,” he whispers against your mouth. “shoyo. call me shoyo. i’m not your professor right now.”

“shoyo,” the name tastes like sticky sweet honey against your mouth, “touch me, shoyo.”

his hands snake down to your waist, and he looks at you expectantly as his fingertips slip under your shirt. you shudder when his fingertips press firmly into your skin and flesh, like a reminder of what you’re getting yourself into. “good girl. do you want me to go all the way with you right now?”

“yes! god, please, yes- shoyo, take me.” you bury your head into the crook of his neck. his calming scent floods your nose, and you think you’re going into heat. “i’ve never needed someone more in my life.”

something hard presses up against your crotch. he grunts, “that’s a dangerous thing to say to me.”

you let him lift your shirt away from your body, coaxing it gently over your head before tossing it somewhere onto his office floor. your body heats up, blood pumping under your skin. you prickle slightly against the cold office air, and you bite down a bit on your tongue. his hands crawl up the expanse of your stomach and up to your chest, and he looks at you as if he’s been starved.

“god, you drive me crazy,” he breathes. your voice catches somewhere in the back of your throat. you can feel the warmth of his palms hovering over your breasts, the thin fabric of your bra doing nothing to protect you from him. “to think you’ve been hiding from me this entire time, right under my nose…”

you gasp when he gropes you through your bra, his hands molding against your breasts. you fill his palms out so easily, and you grind down against his lap, sparks flying inside of your mind. you grip onto him again, breathing needily against the crook of his neck as he plays with your chest, letting you adjust to the feeling of his heavy hands on your body.

he touches you so sweetly and so beautifully. not like the clumsy horny ways boys your age would, but with confidence and reverence, like he purposefully wants to take his time with you. you whimper when his fingers hook into the cups of your bra, and you let him yank it down to fully free your chest.

your pussy throbs when his hands are on your bare breasts. he massages the soft flesh, chuckling softly whenever he hears you keen and choke out a breath into his neck. his fingers find your nipples quickly, and heat flares under your cheeks and inside your gut when he pinches at them gently, your body reacting faster to his touch than your mind can.

you grind down onto his lap, feeling his hard bulge in between your thighs. you need more, need something inside you.

he grits his teeth when he feels you trying to hump his clothed cock. “careful, sweetheart. i’m trying to take my time with you.”

his hands move to your back, fully undoing your bra and letting it drop forgotten to the floor. you don’t care. you want him all over your body. you want his calloused hands all over your tits, pinching and teasing your nipples, filling out his hands with your breasts, like your body was made to match his.

“i know-,” you sound shaky. you are shaky, barely holding yourself together. you clench your eyes shut as he plays with your tits again. pleasure surges downwards every time he plays with your sensitive nipples, rubbing his fingertips into them or just letting the skin-to-skin contact get to your head. “i just- i can’t- i can’t control myself anymore, shoyo-”

“i got you, i got you,” he laughs. if only you could know his own madness, the insanity that runs rampant in his mind knowing that he can have you in any way he wants. “shit, and i thought i’d take it slow. be a good gentleman for you. clearly that isn’t making the cut.”

you let out a small shriek as he lifts you from his lap, and the next thing you know, you’re slumped over his desk. your bare chest is against the cold wood of his workspace, and he hovers above your back, your ass against his crotch. you whimper into his desk, and your breath fogs up against the polished wood.

your cunt clenches painfully around nothing as he grinds his hips into your ass, his erection rubbing all over your thighs and butt. your saliva pools inside your mouth when you hear him groan and buck his hips into you, mimicking the motions of penetrative sex as he drinks up the friction. his hands hold firmly at your hips and waist, anchoring himself to your body.

he doesn’t need to do much. if you can already feel him this prominently, just how big was his dick?

“i-i can feel so much of you already.” you glance back at him. the thrums of arousal inside you are almost unbearable. you don’t feel like yourself, only like a husk of person fiending for release.

“yeah?” his grip on you tightens slightly, and he peers down at you. “fuck- have you had sex before? is this your first time?”

“no, it isn’t- i’ve had sex before- with a few guys on campus and mostly with my ex…,” you trail off, not wanting to think about it any further. “it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t count.”

he chuckles, shaking his head at your small joke. “can you feel how hard i am? how big i am?”

“yes,” you exhale. you want him inside you. you want him to take your pants off already and stick his cock inside your cunt. you want him to make a mess out of your insides, to take the weeks of pent up lust and to let it loose. you want your pussy to be ravaged by him, for him to not stop until you’re a wreck underneath him. “so big… i want it so bad…”

“am i bigger than your ex?” it’s a question posed dangerously, a blade wrapped in cloth. you dip your face down so that your forehead touches the wood. you nod shakily, glad that you have his desk to hold onto for support so that your knees don’t give out.

he smirks. the ends of his mouth curl upwards into a cruel smile. it’s the satisfaction of a predator right as it’s about to sink its teeth into its prey, relishing the sadistic thrill of knowing that his influence, that his power remains on top.

“forget everything about that boy,” he spits the last word, as if it’s something bitter. “you feel me? feel this cock? yeah, i know you do. this is how big a real man’s cock is.”

you might as well have had the wind knocked out of you. his hands make their way to your pants, and you move with him, letting them fall by your ankles. your panties follow suit, and you’re left shivering with anticipation against his desk, fully naked. nothing can protect you from his wandering eyes now, and while you can’t see him, you can feel his gaze boring into your exposed cunt.

you can feel how wet you are, your imagination doing the most in making you feel like you were going to overheat while making out with him. your slick drips out of your hole, and your cunt weeps, begging for something to fill you up and get rid of that incessant ache in your belly.

“turn over,” he commands you. any sense of the warm professor you used to shirk around is gone, replaced by an intensity entirely foreign to you. you comply, and you gasp when shoyo sinks down to his knees. his hands are on your knees, and he pries your legs apart to slot himself. you’re fully laying on his desk at this point, and his face is mere inches away from your hole.

“i-...” you don’t know what to say. you feel like you’re going to choke on your own breath, embarrassment at having a man so close to your pussy threatening to consume you whole.

shoyo, on the other hand, is utterly entranced. the sight of your bare cunt has him bewitched. his cock throbs painfully inside of his pants. the little tease he got from you trying to grind down on him and then rubbing himself against your ass has done nothing but wet his appetite, and he knows how much he’s been waiting painstakingly for this moment.

your voice dies out in the back of your throat when he grabs your thighs, and before you know it, his mouth is on your cunt. he kisses your pussy, and you nearly buck your hips into his mouth. his tongue laps in between your lower lips sensually, coating his mouth in as much of your juices as he can. his grip on you is firm, making sure that you can’t wiggle away from him. he wants you to feel every single second of him eating you out, make sure you feel his tongue against every part of your hole.

his tongue captures your clit, swirling slowly around the sensitive bud. you clench your eyes shut, and the first shockwaves of pleasure shoot straight to your brain. “ah- shoyo- fuck-!”

he keeps kissing and sucking at your clit, determined to shower you with so much attention. he takes his time. he flicks the tip of his tongue against the bud, leaving you recoiling against the cool material of his desk, and he presses the broad of his tongue against it, letting you grind down how you want into his mouth. he mimics your movements, and you’re left gasping and mewling when he moves down. teasing your clit turns into broad licks up your slit, and your thighs shake and threaten to close around his head if it weren’t for his firm grip on you.

his tongue circles your hole, and he smirks into you when he can feel you quiver and clench around him. he’s snaking himself all over your cunt, lavishing each part of your pussy with a good dosage of love and spit. every time he drags his tongue against your slit, threatening to slip into your hole but not quite, you’re left reeling in the aftermath. you need something inside you, anything. you’re so horrendously turned on, and as much as the clitoral stimulation has you seeing stars, you need more.

“shoyo…” god, he loves it when you moan out his name. he just can’t get enough of the way the syllables roll off of your tongue, and you choke out his name, elongated the sound and clinging to his name as if he’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

your pussy continues to drool for him, and he’s smacking his lips, drinking up every drop of your juices as if he can’t get enough. it’s a perfect reminder of how much he wants you. he thinks you’re perfect, a gift sent down from whatever divinity might be out there, hand-crafted to take his love and to love him in return. you taste heavenly on his tongue, your slick coating his mouth thickly. with each swallow, it’s like you’re becoming a part of him, and it makes him dizzy.

you tremble under his touch. he keeps capturing your clit the way you like it best. he teases you, lets you feel pleasure. the pleasured hums of his voice vibrate against your clit, constantly stimulated by his tongue and lips. the throngs of arousal inside your gut keep mounting, growing, twisting and coiling it on itself, keeling to be freed, to be let loose so you can cum all over his mouth as if you’ve lost all control of your body.

“feels good-,” your breathing shakes as you reach down, grabbing a fistful of his bright orange hair. the man moans in such a depraved manner against you, and you clench painfully, your pussy feeling as if it’s contorting into a way physically impossible from how sheerly aroused you are. “make me cum, please! ‘m so close- wanna cum- wanna cum in your mouth, shoyo…! you’re making me feel so good!”

“yeah?” he detaches himself momentarily. he licks his lips and swallows, chest heaving at your sweet taste overwhelming all of his senses. his brain is screaming for him to fuck you, but he doesn’t want to. he wants to see you feel good from just his mouth first, to coax one orgasm out of you so that your nerves are properly awakened. that would make fucking your pussy out on his cock so much more worthwhile. “am i making you feel good, pretty girl? enough to beg for it?”

you nod feverishly, even though you should know that he can’t see you. your drenched pussy speaks enough for itself. he’s too good at this, the experience under his belt shining through. there’s no stupid boy your age that would even think of doing you a courtesy like eating you out until you’re shaking, and here’s shoyo, eagerly lapping at your cunt without you even needing to ask.

“cumming- gonna cum- please, please, fuck…! your tongue feels so good- love it so much when you lick at me like that…,” you whimper. your back arches against the desk, and your body twitches, wanting to ride his tongue and make a mess all over his mouth. shoyo doesn’t stop his relentless movements, and he continues to suck at your clit.

arousal curls and unfurls like a pulse deep inside your stomach. you’re teetering on the edge, and you feel like you’re going crazy. your mind is turning into jelly, your wildest fantasies about your professor coming true right before your eyes, and your pussy can’t take everything happening to you. you shut your eyes again, gritting your teeth and bracing yourself for the orgasm that you’re sure is going to slam into you like a brick wall.

his tongue slithers expertly against your drenched cunt, and he presses a sticky kiss to your clit. your stomach curls inward at the intimate touch, with him pleasuring you as if it's his given duty as your lover, and that’s all it takes.

“shoyo!” you cry out, your thighs nearly wrenching themselves out of his hands. “i’m cumming- fuck! fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-...! fuck me, fuck me, please! ah- i’m cumming…!”

he keeps on pressing his mouth all over your pussy as you cum on his mouth. red hot pleasure floods your entire body, sweeping you away from head to toe, and your thighs quiver like mad. your body feels so hot, so overwhelmed by a pleasure you’ve never had before, and your vision spins. you can’t think, not when every inch of your body has been tossed into overdrive so effortlessly by him, and your inner walls twist achingly.

you wish it was his cock you were cumming on. you’re breathless and succumbing to how good it feels to have your hole ravished by his mouth, and he eats you out through your orgasm. he’s determined to swallow up every drop of your slick, and it’s not until you’re whimpering again and pushing his forehead back weakly that he detaches himself from between your legs.

“shit, you taste so fucking sweet,” shoyo groans. he sounds almost disappointed that you pushed him off of you, your slit tingling and desperate for something bigger. the lower half of his face is shiny with your juices and spit mingling together, and he licks his lips, making sure not to let a single drop escape him. “fuck- i could eat you out all day if you’d let me. pretty girl’s got a pretty pussy too.”

your hole flutters in excitement at his praise. heat and embarrassment at the sudden intimacy flickers underneath your face, and your head is still buzzing, not fully done with your sexual high. your chest rises and falls as you rest on his desk, splayed out for him to admire as he gets up from his knees and undoes pants. you can hear the shuffling of fabric and metal as he takes off his belt and pants. your mouth goes dry as you think about his cock and how big it felt when the two of you were grinding and humping each other for a split second, and now you’re finally getting him to fuck you on it.

he lets out a low, throaty moan as he takes the last of his clothing off, and his cock is nice and hard, drops of pearly pre-cum dripping from his tip. he’s aroused that it hurts, but there’s something about seeing you still recoiling from your orgasm, the rush of pride he gets knowing that he got you off using just his mouth, makes the pain of waiting a bit longer to fuck you so much more worth it.

“how are you feeling? you doing okay?” he asks you. he grabs his cock, stroking himself a few times from base to tip, his thumb sliding over his sensitive slit to spread his pre-cum all over himself. you nod wordlessly, starting to come back down to your plane of reality as you let him slide himself in between your legs again.

you freeze when you feel his cock against your slit, and he rubs himself up and down in between your lower lips. the dull pangs of arousal are bubbling up in your gut once more, and your slick is mixing with his pre-cum to coat his cock in a makeshift kind of lube.

“d-do you have any condoms…?” you eke out. it’s his bare dick against your body right now, and as intoxicating as the thought of taking him raw and letting him stuff every inch of your womb with his cum is, you still have to think straight.

he grabs at your hips, bringing himself flush against your body. a moan catches in the back of your throat when his tip grazes against your sensitive clit, and he chuckles to himself when he sees you twitch. “not at the moment. i’ll take care of you. can you trust me?”

there’s a lump in your throat, and some deeply dead part of you sobs out that you should be responsible. but you don’t care, not when you’re this close to finally having him inside you, not when he promises to take responsibility for you. you move your head, unable to fully meet his eyes, and you nod your head yes.

“good girl,” he laughs sweetly. “you ready for me?”

“yes! please, i want you inside me… want you to fuck me…,” you whine, your head lolling onto the desk underneath you. your pussy clenches at the thought of his raw bare cock rubbing against your insides, your walls clinging to every inch of his thick cock, and you’re so, so ready to take him.

he grips the base of his cock, and he lines himself up. he watches, enraptured, as your hole pulses around his cockhead. you groan needily as he fucks his tip in and out of you, just to watch your pussy cling to him, wanting to pull him in fully. you’re just about to whine and complain when he finally pushes himself in, and your breathing dies out in your chest as your walls stretches out to adjust to him being inside you.

“...fuck-! ah- you’re so big-,” your voice immediately starts slurring as he pushes past the resistance. it burns yet it feels deathly euphoric to have something stretching you out like that, to feel every bit of your pussy being invaded and stuffed out onto shoyo’s girthy cock. you’re coaxing him in effortlessly, and his fingers curl into the flesh of your waist and hips as he tries to ground himself.

he sucks in a harsh inhale through his gritted teeth, his eyebrows furrowing. you’re so tight and wet and downright heavenly wrapped around his length. he can’t stop looking between your legs, right where the two of you are joined together for the first time, but you’re squeezing and fluttering around him just right even though all he did was put it in. it’s taking all of his concentration not to waver and lose himself in the feeling.

jerking off desperately by himself doesn’t even come close to how good your pussy feels. he could stay like this forever, feeling your velvety walls pulse around him, wanting to pull his cock in even further until he swears his tip is kissing the entrance to your womb. he takes in a deep breath, and he does his best to clear his head so he can start fucking you properly.

“you’re so fucking tight… shit, did you want my cock that badly?” he manages out shakily. “fuck, it’s like your pussy’s milking me already, sweetheart.”

“mhm… it’s so, so big…,” you murmur, dazed. “never- never had cock like this before- you’re filling me up… feels like you’re in my stomach.”

“yeah? does it feel good?” he’s waiting for you to give him the all clear. your face is scrunched up, and as desperate as he is to start fucking into you like an animal, he knows better than to be a ruffian. your pleasure always comes first. that’s what real men do.

you nod weakly for what feels like the millionth time. your nerves are on fire, your previous orgasm only accentuating how much you can feel him pressed against you. his cock rubs just right against your sensitive walls, and you can’t imagine what actually having him thrusting into you is going to do to your body. “yes- so good- i’m gonna lose my mind, shoyo…”

“good answer.” he reaches over to move a strand of your hair away from your face. “i’m gonna start moving, okay? if something hurts or doesn’t feel right, you tell me right away. i’m here to make you feel good, and nothing else.”

your heart skips a beat. in a sea of fuckboys and idiot college boys that couldn’t care less about your well-being, someone like him feels less like a real person and more like a character straight from a fairy tale. “okay- you can fuck me- i want you to fuck me.”

he draws his hips back and thrusts slowly into you. you gasp, acutely aware of the sensation deep inside of you. your pussy revels at how he rubs against you, gripping onto his cock for dear life as he fucks his length in and out of you. it’s such a painfully slow pace, but you savor the feeling, savor the new stimulus of having your professor’s cock buried deep inside you. you want to commit to memory, because it’s unlike anything you’ve ever had before.

heat flares back up inside your belly again, settling and slithering in repeated coils between your hips. your vision blurs once more, and arousal creeps back into your mind, threatening to overtake every single one of your conscious thoughts. “faster, shoyo- wanna feel more of you- you’re torturing me…!”

“sorry- i can’t help it,” he laughs bitterly, his voice hushed and under his breath. “can you blame me for being obsessed with you? fuck- you’re so tight, hugging me like this… it’s like you were made to take me.”

your stomach curls in on itself at the sweet praise. you hate how easily he toys with your heart, how easily he can make you swoon and fall for him all over again, leaving you dancing and squirming right underneath the palm of his hand. literally. you swallow deeply, and it feels like there’s no inch of your body that the unbearable heat hasn’t spread to.

“faster, please- i need you so bad!” you sob, nearing your limit. cumming from his tongue was only an appetizer, and you’re hungry for more. you’ve starved yourself long enough, and his slow pace isn’t doing any favors for you. you roll your head left and right on his desk, unable to control yourself.

“you want it? prove it to me.” his voice drops a few notes, and your cunt unconsciously clenches at how dark his words sound. it’s yet another potent reminder of the man buried inside of you right now, a real man who’s determined to make you his, prince and criminal, craved and craving, dreamy and filthy all at once. “look me in the eye then. look me dead on as i fuck you.”

you let out a loud moan. his words are fucking dirty, and when he rolls his hips into you, drinking up the excruciatingly addictive way your pussy clings to his dick, you think your body is actually going to give out on you. it’s not like he’s asking for you to do anything obscene or impossible, but there’s something so disgustingly erotic and intimate about him asking you to look him straight in his face—in his eyes—as he makes love to you.

the desk is warm underneath your body, all warmed up thanks to your body heat. it’s become your subconscious refuge, taking all of your thrashing as he had his way with you, and you don’t want to think about the sure mess you’re bound to leave in your wake. your breathing trembles as you forcibly turn your face towards his, ripping your wavering gaze away from the safety of whatever else you were staring at.

your eyes meet his, and he smiles at you adoringly. there’s no more running away from him, nowhere to escape to, your eyes locked together and dancing in his pupils. you’re rendered breathless again at the vibrant color, like your own life is being squeezed from between your lips. you can’t move, and your chest feels like it’s about to cave in on itself, your ribs giving out and your heart melting into a puddle of useless muscle and putty. but this time, strangely enough, you welcome the helpless feeling. he’s got you wrapped around his pinky finger, and you finally realize that you never stood a chance.

that very first day, in that fatefully empty classroom, when you first met eyes with him, you were a fucking goner. you always were. always had been. and it was all his fault, all professor hinata’s fault.

all hinata shoyo’s fault.

“good girl.” he looks at you in a way only a lover would. his eyes soften around the edges and crinkles up as he grins. “don’t ever look away from me.”

“i won’t,” you promise. it’s the last thing you could dream of doing. not when you want it so badly, and not when he’s asking you verbatim. how could you deny him of the very thing he’s asking you to do? especially when it’s something that you’ve always been mustering up the courage to do? this is your big leap forward, your chance to prove to yourself that you can change.

he leans forward, and he lets you wrap your arms around his neck. you refuse to drop your gaze from his face, admiring every small detail of his features and letting yourself drown fully in the wide expanses of his eyes. he presses one last romantic kiss to your mouth, and that’s the last warning you get, the last bit of sweetness and gentleness you get.

he draws his hips back, and he slams himself back into you roughly. you choke out a small moan, pleasure flooding your head. he doesn’t give you any time to recover from the recoil before he’s thrusting wildly back into you again. your hole is already slick and dripping wet from his teasing and your previous climax, and it makes it all the more easy for him to slide his length in and out of you, pace picking up speed and leaving you crying out as your surprise quickly morphs into electric pleasure.

“shit- so fucking tight- god, you’re going to kill me,” he grunts. you mewl and moan incoherently, clinging to him for dear life as he fucks into you over and over again. his tip prods against your deepest parts, and surges of pleasure climb all over your nerves. his hips slam against yours, and his balls slap against the curve of your ass. lewd, wet lovemaking noises echo throughout the small office, and it echoes even louder against your ears.

it feels good, it feels so good. you never knew pleasure like this was possible, that it even existed. you thought you knew everything there was to sex already, but clearly not, if shoyo has you practically melting in his arms, your limbs numb and surrendering wholly to how good he’s making you feel. your walls keep fluttering around him, and every thrust has you crying out.

“fuck- you feel so good- shoyo- shoyo, i’m losing my mind…!” you gasp. your nails dig into his back, and you claw at him like a feral cat. your thighs quiver around his hips, but he doesn’t let up his brutal pace. with each roll of his hips, it feels like he’s knocking the wind out of you. he’s determined to fuck you stupid, and it’s working. your grip on reality is slipping fast, with the throbbing pleasure in your head taking precedence over everything.

“go crazy for me then. you feel me inside you, don’t you? good. then you can feel firsthand how fucking crazy you make me.” he grabs your hips, and he angles them ever-so-slightly before ramming into you. you grit your teeth as a tense cry escapes from you.

the new angle has you seeing stars. you’re scratching at his back, your insides lurching and reeling and being stirred up like wild. “you’re so deep… so deep inside me! nnmgh…! you’re gonna make me cum so fast- make me cum again-“

“shit, already? am i fucking you that good?” his stomach is doing flips. you’re a sight for sore eyes, refusing to look away from him as if your life depended on it. his abs strain against him as he enjoys the experience of having sex with you, sex with the student that’s been dancing around him forever. you’re splayed out like a piece of art underneath him: all sweaty, breasts bouncing, legs spread with your soft cunt eagerly taking every inch of him.

your foreheads are basically touching when you nod your head. “yes! no one’s ever made me feel this good before- never had cock like yours-“

he almost laughs. oh, he’s bet you’ve never had anyone like him. what would your ex, your past flings know about pleasing women? all he wanted was to make you go crazy like this. he wants to sink you deep into pleasure, and he wants to make it so that you don’t ever think about other men after he’s done with you. he wants you in your entirety. he can’t do halfway.

“i told you already,” he purrs. his words drip off of his tongue like sticky syrup. “it’s because you’re having sex with a man this time. not with a boy. a real, grown man. someone that can take care of you. someone that can treat you right.”

it’s hard to think. he speeds up, leaving you fighting to keep your eyes open. the intense look in shoyo’s eyes are nothing like your own fucked out look, but at the same time, you’re sure the intoxicated gleam in his is the same as yours. is it love or desire that connects you two?

“most importantly…” his fingers dig into your flesh, securing your hips in place and leaving you at his mercy. you can feel your juices leaking out, coating your ass and making wet sounds whenever his hips smash into yours. he cranes his head, and his lips are almost on top of yours, threatening to close the gap and brush his lips across yours. “someone that can actually fuck you.”

oh fuck. you don’t stand a fucking chance against him. all of the sensations are rapidly racking up in your body, and with how deep he’s thrusting into you, you can barely hold onto yourself. you’re gonna cum soon again, you just know it. you feel the tightness inside your belly, and with how effectively he’s seducing you, whispering all kinds of lewd things and making sure that you keep your eyes locked on him while fucking you, you have nowhere to run away.

“i can’t take it- so rough- can’t take much more-,” you whimper. your mind is going blank, and all that you can think of is him. his body feels heavy and good on top of you, and having you scratch his back out of pleasure only spurs him on. he can feel you slipping and losing control of yourself, and he rocks you close to himself. he wonders if you can feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest, huffing short breaths as he keeps up his steady yet brutal pace.

he looks at you, and a smirk dangles off of his face. “yes, you can. you can take it. i know you can. you’ll be good for me, won’t you? let me make you feel good.”

your breathing hitches. it’s taking all of your mental strength not to topple over the edge right now. everything’s rushing too fast to your head right now, and all of your nerves are standing on edge, enthusiastically lapping up the pure euphoria coursing through your veins. but you want to make shoyo happy, you want to cum together with him, and as much as he said this lovemaking session was about you, you want to be able to match the pace he set.

“for you- just for you-,” you struggle to get the words out, the final syllables slurring together into a slight babble. so much for your usually well-put together, prudent academic facade. any trace of the well-trained, well-behaved student is long gone, replaced by a dirty, senseless, corrupted, and lascivious soul that lives and dies for shoyo’s love. “wanna be good- wanna be good only for you…”

“good. you’re mine. all mine,” he murmurs. the pleasure is sharp and dull all at once, all consuming and delicate, sinking you down into the murky waves inside the recesses of your mind only to drag you back to the surface, leaving you shuddering and grasping as if you had been drowned for real. shoyo likes it. he adores the reactions he gets out of you.

this is a kind of pleasure only he can give you. you’ve never had this with anyone else before, and he’ll make it so that you can’t find it from anyone else, not unless it’s with him. these faces you’re making, twisting in ecstasy and crying out with a voice like a songbird, are for him to enjoy only. they’re exclusive to him, only meant for his eyes, and he consumes it, fiending for more.

“shoyo- can’t- ‘t’s too good- i’m going crazy…!” you strain to breathe, your chest feeling inhumanly tight. parts of your brain light up like wired lights, blooming and flickering. you’re terribly close, and you know this one is going to take you whole and blow out any sense of being in your body. “shoyo- shoyo…”

“fucking christ- if you moan my name like that… you’ll make me want to do horrible things to you. so much more fucking worse than what i’m doing to you right now, sweetheart. this is just the start right here.” something pricks at your hips, and he digs his nails into your hips. he never thought himself to be such a possessive man, but he can’t deny the insanity that’s taken root in his brain for weeks now. it does something to him, to have his dick inside of you but to also hear you calling for him. him, him specifically, his name, emerging from your mouth as if he’s someone you revere. maybe at one point you did, but his yearning to have you turned him into something monstrous and all too human.

but perhaps that same madness overtook you and that was what brought the two of you together. shoyo finds it funny: the idea of something as sacred as love growing from something so depraved. and yet he’s fascinated by it, fascinated by the possibility that you’re no better than him, that your respect for him may just as easily be swapped for a kind of convenience to quell your own heart.

he doesn’t know what it all means. now isn’t the time for him to get philosophical. he’s balls-deep inside the pretty student he’s been pining over, and he’s so close to getting you to cum. wouldn’t that be a better reward than anything else he’s carefully built up? years of self preservation and swallowing down his personal desires for what’s “best” for his future be damned, he wants you. he wants you, he wants, he wants you.

you wonder if this is the end of your rope. you’re so close, so near the edge, and you’re clenching so desperately around his cock. you’re eclipsed entirely by the sight of your frightened and frantic reflection in his wide eyes, and you barely recognize yourself. so this is what you look like when you’re being mercilessly railed by your hot professor. your mouth is agape as you moan out for the male on top of you, face flushed and sweat beading your forehead like some kind of crown.

“gonna cum- gonna cum! shoyo- just a bit more-” your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. your body isn’t yours at this point, having given up in exchange for the fire that burns your core, the snakes inside your belly hissing and twisting and pulsing. “i’m cumming- gonna cum- i can’t hold back anymore-!!”

“go ahead,” he whispers. his mouth itches to kiss you, to swallow up your wounded gasps. he wants to feel your body go slack again like he had done once before, to push you into that wonderful place where nothing and everything was real at once. he’s sure your body’s overrun with complex sensations and pure euphoria, and he loves watching you turn into a shell of yourself. “cum on my cock, pretty girl. you’ll be mine, won’t you?”

you barely nod your head, and shoyo’s drawing his hips back and snapping them back into you at a particularly rough angle. you tense up underneath him, back arching and limbs going stiff. your eyes widen, gaze still connected with him, and your body fully gives out.

“sh- shoyo…!” your voice is shrill as you sob out one final moan, and your orgasm grips the entirety of your body. it feels good, it aches, it throbs, and it demands so much of you. your velvety walls clamp down on his thick cock like a vice, milking him and clinging to him, and your climax refuses to give shoyo a chance to breathe. he digs his ankles into the ground and keeps thrusting wildly into you, wanting to keep the flare swallowing you up going for a bit longer. he grits his teeth as you squirm underneath him, and you can barely keep your eyes open. you want to clench them shut and throw your head back so bad, but whatever little control you have remaining on your conscious keeps them open, just for him.

you’re fighting against the currents swirling and whirlpooling inside your brain. whatever heat was bottled up inside your body rushes out, and you’re cumming all over shoyo’s girth. he’s keeping you stretched out, and your stomach feels like it’s going to cave in on itself. it’s nothing but pure bliss, the kind that makes you feel as if you’re floating, and you’re rendered breathless, each inhale precious and fleeting and almost incognizant. your vision swims, and tears settle on your waterline, just threatening to topple over. your field of sight is blurry, and yet even amongst all of the chaos, you can make out the dapples of brown in shoyo’s eyes, forever in tandem with him as if he were a planet in orbit around your sun.

you’re gasping for air, finally having gotten the release you had been chasing for what felt like an eternity. shoyo breathes heavily and raggedly, as if he had run a marathon, and he’s barely holding on himself. your insides are fucking massaging him, stroking his cock all over, squeezing and hugging and rubbing all up against his sensitive length.

“shit- fuck-,” he chokes out. fuck- he didn’t expect that seeing you cum would take so much out of him. his mind is teetering, and his muscles strain against him, his abs prominent. you’re refusing to let go of him, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can genuinely hold on for. he should be responsible, at least try to pick up the pieces of the mess that you two made, and pull out, cum into a napkin or a trash can or his hand or literally anywhere inside of your sweet cunt, but whatever resolve inside his chest whimpers as if he’s killing it when the thought brushes against his mind.

he wants to cum inside you. he has to. he needs to go that extra step, cement himself physically into you, promise to take care of you again and again for whatever happens next. he’s a real lover, someone who’ll take all of your brokenness and insecurity and fear and make them dissolve and melt away as if it were sugar. he’s sure they’d be equally as sweet to, so long as it came from you.

“god- fuck- take me- i’ll take care of you- take care of anything that happens next- fuck- just… just stay with me-,” he breathes out, body shaking. a cry catches in the back of your throat when he fucks himself in as deep as he can go, his cockhead pressing right up against your cervix. he buries himself into you, and he leans forward, capturing your lips in one last deep kiss, tongue swirling in your mouth and filling up your senses entirely with him.

your moans are muffled by him when you feel him cum deep inside you. something hot and heavy floods your cunt, pumping into you in generous spurts. it’s warm, and his cock takes on a second pulse inside of you, like a heartbeat as semen trickles into your womb and all through your cunt. your body feels hot, every inch of your pussy drenched and coated with shoyo’s cum. a few stray drops escape from you, but with him pressing his body flush against you and his cock still stuffed inside your cunt, most of the cum remains plugged inside you as he gasps for air, his high overtaking him.

“fuck… fu-uck,” his voice is gruff and airy. “god- you keep fucking milking me- shit, i came inside too- oh god…”

he nearly collapses on top of you, and his chest is on yours. the two of you lay there, breathing deeply and just enjoying the post-sex warmth of each others’ bodies. you’re still buzzing slightly, your head heavy as if you had just woken up from a long nap, but regular feeling is starting to seep back into your limbs. your body is pulling itself out from the haze, and while exhausted and quite literally fucked out of your mind, you’re regaining control over yourself as the minutes pass.

you admire shoyo’s form, the beautiful curves of muscle all over his back and shoulders, the lines on his face that could come only with age. it’s too early for you to worry, too early to really know the true consequences of your actions, and yet, there’s something bittersweet at the tip of your tongue when you look down adoringly at shoyo. morally, you know that this can’t continue. the best course of action you could have taken was to not fuck him, but now that you’ve gone and crossed that bridge, the next best thing you can do is to nip this in the bud and to avoid making a habit of this.

but you already know that you’re not strong enough to do that. you can’t go back, not when you’ve had a taste of everything you’ve already wanted.

you wrap your arms around shoyo a bit tighter, and you hold him closer to your heart. he buries his head into the crook of your neck, the shaky eye contact that you had kept up with him now broken. he inhales deeply and takes in your scent, and you wordlessly both celebrate and mourn everything that had built up and broken in between you and the man you had pined after for so long.

“...i’ll go buy some plan b for you.” he’s the first to break the silence. “there are some napkins in my office that i can clean you up with. you stay put. i… i lost control of myself there, and i don’t want you to strain yourself. do you think you can eat and drink a bit?”

your mind is nowhere near as clear as you’d want it to be, but you rasp out quietly, “yeah. i’m okay.”

“do you have any classes after this? fuck- i lost track of time too. i can write you a note and email whatever professor you have after me. i’m sorry- i really shouldn’t have gotten that carried away.” shoyo peels himself off of your body, and a whimper of protest dies out in your mouth.

“i don’t have any classes. i’m basically free for the rest of the day, so you don’t need to worry about it. i- uh- i appreciate it though…” your arms feel cold and empty without him, and he maneuvers himself to grab a wad of napkins to position underneath your ass to catch the cum dripping out of you as he drags his now soft cock out.

you simultaneously feel empty and full all at once. his cum still undoubtedly lingers inside you, but without him physically in you, you feel as if something big has been sucked out of your soul. your stream of consciousness meanders to the idea of soulmates, and if this is what it must feel like.

you don’t know how to breach any further though. he’s immediately flipped his professional switch back on, cleaning both of you up without any further words, and you don’t think it’s proper though to keep demanding more from him. in his eyes, this might be nothing more than a bad lapse in judgment and not something he wants to keep pursuing in the same way you want to.

a lump forms in your throat at the thought, and your heart shakes. your heart physically hurts. it aches and throbs as if it were torn apart, the stringy sinews and muscles begging for at least a bone to be thrown your way.

you hang your head, swallowing your despair back down the best you can. it’s not your place. it’s not your place.

he hands you an unopened water bottle, and you mutter a solemn word of thanks before cracking the lid and gulping a few mouthfuls down. he’s bent over and collecting all of your clothes, mixed together with him, and despite still being naked in front of him, you don’t feel any shame at all. this whole charade shouldn’t have felt as good and guiltless as it does, and you don’t want this to leave on the melancholy note that it is.

but as shoyo slips his sweater back on over his head and adjusts his hair, it’s hard not to mistake his professionalism for distance. you’re aware that you aren’t proper lovers, no boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, but what kind of sane human doesn’t yearn for a sense of connection and reassurance after something so intimate? all you want is to cuddle with him for a few minutes longer, have him smile sheepishly up at you as he peppers kisses onto your face, his big calloused hands holding you firmly.

you set the water bottle down. reality is never as clear cut nor as easy as fantasy is, and at this point, that should be a revelation you’ve carved into your heart by now. you steel your resolve the best you can, the one thing you’ve learned better than any other lesson your painful years of adulthood have taught you, and you reach for your own clothes.

you look messy with your clothes haphazardly thrown on and trepidation clinging like a fog to your psyche, and you’re ready to basically skitter out of his office as you always do and keep your head down until the semester ends. then you’ll be out of his hair and hopefully this would be nothing more than another minor heartbreak for you to get past.

“where are you going? if you don’t mind staying put for a little bit longer, i’ll go fetch the plan b.” a hand lands on your shoulder as you prepare to leave, and you stop dead in your tracks. you look over, and shoyo looks down at you as if he’s confused.

you hold your breath. you know better than to hope, and yet the flash of emotion that flies across your chest is undeniable. “you… don’t want me to go?”

his face immediately morphs into a deep frown, and his brows furrow. he looks horrified, as if you had picked out the worst words for the situation and spat them at his feet. “no! of course not. who do you think i am? why would i kick you out right after having sex? after harping on for so long about treating you right? gosh, you think so lowly of me. i was only cleaning up! here, there should be some snacks i keep stashed away in the second drawer over there. i’ll be zippity quick with the plan b run, i promise. get something in your tummy in the meantime, and then we can chat.”

chat? the word dangles above you like a loaded bullet. not everything is some kind of fucked up mental game, but it stuns you how he constantly manages to stay a step ahead you in everything.

you want to ask about what. about the future state of your relationship? about how both of your lives are going to undoubtedly be marked in a different way now because of this? about how the rest of the semester is going to go? about how you might never be able to muster the courage to show your face to society again, depending on how the conversation proceeds? there’s a whole slew of questions waiting to be asked, but when he beams at you, his smile more boyish and endearing than anything else, it’s like he simply melts away all of your anxieties.

it’s downright unfair, the sheer effect he has on you. but you don’t want it to stop, ever. you want him to continue confusing you and amazing you, leaving you questioning yourself and all of your worldviews. you don’t understand him, not one bit, and yet it feels like you know too much, used too much of your wiles to force him into showing his hand and leave both of you at some kind of stalemate.

“what comes after that then?” that’s all you manage to blurt out amidst all of your fluctuating emotions. you don’t want him to leave, don’t want the beautiful man to slip away from your fingers after you only just got to keep him, no matter how short or necessary it might be. you’re not thinking straight, but what part of any of this came from logical thinking anyway? good behavior only got you so far, and good behavior isn’t going to keep him.

he grins, a smile that could rival sunshine even through your internalized storm. “that’s easy. you said you were free, yeah? i drop you off at home for a little bit so you can properly get cleaned up and get a fresh change of clothes. then i pick you up again, surprise you with a big bouquet of roses, and i buy you a nice dinner. dessert and drinks included. then i drop you back off home, and if you’re down for it, we do that a few times. then, y’know… i ask you out properly on our third or fourth date.”

your heart flutters in your chest. your heart has always been a caged bird, the last part of yourself you could never fully tame. stuffing it in a constricted box and ignoring it has gotten you only so far, and shoyo presses the key to the cage into your hand and coaxes you into unlocking and opening up the impenetrable door. your eyes widen slightly. it’s too early to get your hopes up again, but at the same time, when he’s stating his interest and desire to make something serious out of this, to actually take you on as a proper girlfriend and not as a one time fling, to go the whole nine yards and make it the romantic experience you’ve always wanted deep deep down, you think it’s only fair that you let yourself have this.

after years and years of repression, you’re getting your first reprieve. the first sign of spring after what felt like an unending winter, the long awaited gulp of water after wallowing in the murky depths, the fabled light at the end of the tunnel, a reminder that everything truly isn’t as hopeless as your twisted mind likes to make it, that you’re just as deserving of goodness and love and rightfulness as much as those around you, no matter how vehemently you once denied it against the very wishes of your heart. you’re done stifling your own desires, and while it won’t be something you fix overnight, you’re sure it’s shoyo that drew out those first steps.

“i don’t like ruining the surprise like this, but… i’m sure you don’t mind. still, do me a favor and act surprised when i do bring you flowers and take you out on a dinner date, okay?” he winks at you, laughing to himself. he looks so happy with himself, truly giddy like a boy waiting to ask his crush out. you don’t know how he can go in between being the cool professor you fell for and the man that charmed you so effortlessly, but you aren’t complaining. you want to acquaint yourself with every side there is to shoyo and to fall deeply in love with each and every part of him you discover.

you smile back softly in return. you play the innocent card, and you tilt your head slightly in a show of fake confusion. “don’t worry. date? what date? aren’t you running out to get me just plan b?”

“atta girl. you always catch on quickly. it’s that smart mind of yours,” he laughs again, louder this time. his voice reminds you of bells ringing in the morning sun. each syllable feels like he’s thawing you out, and it’s something to be venerated with every part of your soul. he approaches you to steal a kiss from your lips, and the touch is so sweet and gone too quickly. you want another, but you know he’ll be back soon and you’ll have as many kisses as you’d like, as many as he’d let you have.

he cups your face with one hand, and his thumb rubs over the apple of your cheek. it’s such a gentle touch, and yet it makes you feel weak in the knees, like your body feels a sense of magnetic attraction to him that makes you want him to hold you and nothing else. he leans down ever so slightly, enough so that he can look at you directly in your eyes again.

you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way he leaves you breathless when he gazes at you, the intense look always leaving you stunned and glued in your place, the same split second that proved to be the first taste of the forbidden fruit. something bristles and hangs in the air, like electricity, and this time, you recognize it to be the anticipation of getting something you’ve wanted, like an excitement gripping at your throat, and the happiness of your heart beating not just for you but for someone else, for the very first time.

shoyo grins at you, at you alone. his eyes twinkle fondly.

“i love you,” he whispers without any trace of doubt in his voice.

your lips move, “i love you too, shoyo.”

you don’t blink. you won’t blink so long as he’s looking at you.

and you swear to never look away from those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

author's note: i owe @thomae a million thank yous for letting me write her idea! thank you thank you thank you so much for letting me bounce all of my ideas off of you and bothering you incessantly about this fic!! it ended up getting a lot longer than i originally intended (×﹏×) but regardless, i hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! (´ ε ` )♡ please stay safe in the new year, and if you enjoyed my writing, you can show your appreciation by donating to the humanitarian cause in gaza!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo #x reader #fem reader #my writing

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seravphs · 1 year

Text

(青春) —

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO x FEM READER

There is before-Getou and after-Getou. In both spaces, Gojo exists.

wc — 3.1k

tags — the gradual but inexorable realization that your youth is lost to you, possessive Gojo, so hard to write Gojo and Getou together without making it a little ménage a trois, eldest daughter coded reader trying to pick up the pieces Getou left behind, missing your childhood innocence that can never return, blurry lines, unreliable adults, mild Getou x reader, title from The Belladonna of Sadness by Sally Wen Mao

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The road to Jujutsu High is littered with the fallen cherry blossoms. Gojo kicks at the large snow banks of pink flowers, letting them land in drifts marking your progression across campus. He complains incessantly of the pollen, the bees, and whatever else he finds it in his heart to complain about. Petals rain from the sky over your head.

Spring arrives with the new students on campus. You’re the first, because Gojo insisted on arriving early. He wants to assert his superiority over his classmates by knowing the layout of the land before they can, though you’re sure possessing the Six Eyes would’ve worked just as well in that capacity. Lady Gojo, as always, does not challenge her son. He leaves the day he says he will.

Before you go, she takes you aside. There is an almost saintly quality to her beauty, as if something about her is not of this world. Her white hair sweeps over her shoulder, tracing the delicate curve of her neck.

Her son is undeniably of her blood. They share the same pale coloring, as if a photograph had been bleached to a true negative. Only a woman like her could have given birth to a son like him.

When she places her hands over yours, it’s hard not to pull back, feeling unworthy. Even having known Lady Gojo for most of your life, it’s often difficult to shake the overwhelming feeling of respect you have for her. She asks you to look after him in her stead.

There’s only one answer you can give.

“Good girl,” she says, pressing her lips to your brow like a blessing. This close, you can smell the camellia oil in her silky hair. Loose strands brush against your face, and then she pulls back.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. Another student is there when you arrive.

“What the fuck,” Gojo says. “It’s a week before the semester starts. Why is he here?”

“You’re here,” you pointedly remind him.

He blows you off. “That’s different.”

Getou Suguru got special permission from Principal Yaga to join Jujutsu High two weeks early. As the only student from a non-sorcerer family, Yaga wanted to help him get acclimated before class started. Gojo seethes in rage, especially when Getou tries to help you move your things into your new dorm in the other building.

“Hands off,” he slaps Getou’s hands away from your suitcase. “She’s mine.”

“You can’t own a person,” Getou says, mildly annoyed.

He’s trying to play nice, feeling out the intricacies of completely new faces in a new setting. You wish you could tell him he doesn’t need to bother. Gojo will always be Gojo, no matter where he is.

He’s only mildly more bearable the next day, as the final student arrives just on the cusp of being late.

“A reverse cursed technique user?” Gojo’s practically shivering with excitement. “Cool! I wanna do that!”

Yaga smacks his desk with his ruler for attention. “And you will, if you can manage to pay attention during class.”

You’re surprised you’re even using the classrooms at all. They might be useful for theory, but in truth, everyone knew Jujutsu was best learned through experience. It really wasn’t learned at all, but earned through being on the field.

Yaga doesn’t seem to think so.

“Boring,” Gojo interrupts halfway through his lecture. “I learned all of this already with my tutors when I was eight! When do we get to the good stuff?”

Getou scoffs. “Not all of us have tutors, asshole.”

“Yeah?” Gojo says. He pushes his sunglasses up so they rest on his head.

Yaga takes a quick survey of the classroom. You already know what he’s going to do before he does it.

“Getou, move to the seat next to you. And you,” he points at you. “Sit in his seat, please.”

“We don’t need-“ Getou starts.

“I don’t care,” he says. “Do it. Now.”

You’re almost impressed as you take your new seat. Part of dealing with Gojo is knowing when to pick your battles. It seems Yaga has already picked up on that.

“Hey,” Gojo says, grinning at you. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Shoko, who has been quiet up until now, makes a soft gagging noise from the other side of Getou. On the very first day of class, the relationships between the four of you have already been solidified.

Despite their rocky start, Getou and Gojo seek each other out like they’ve been magnetized to each other. They play terribly off each other, goading the other on.

“Bet you I can take out more cursed users-“

“Bet you I can take down the curse faster-“

Gojo has never had a challenge like him in all of his fifteen years of life. For all their bickering, they take to each other quickly. A little too quickly. They’re attached at the hip before long, which means Getou’s also attached to you.

“Psst,” Gojo hisses. His breath is fogging up the window you just cleaned. “Open up! Hurry!”

You check the clock. It’s past curfew, and the sun has long since set. His hair glows radiantly against the backdrop of the dark sky. Weak to him as always, you push the window open.

“What are you doing?”

He’s already clambering in without an invitation, knowing you won’t refuse him. The consequences of growing up together means you can speak a language that doesn’t need words, a poetic way of saying Gojo is used to being spoiled by you.

“What are you waiting for?” He throws over his shoulder, his leg straddling the windowsill and his torso halfway inside your room. For a second, you’re worried he’ll be stuck. He hit a growth spurt last year and hasn’t stopped since. “Are you coming or not?”

“You didn’t say we were going to her room,” Getou attempts to and fails at hiding the blush on his face. “We can’t be in a girl’s room!”

“Don’t be a prude,” Gojo shoots back.

Getou hesitates, looking at you. You extend your hand to pull him through. He takes it.

Gojo makes himself comfortable as always, ransacking the little box of snacks you keep above the mini fridge. Getou smacks his hands away, trying to discipline him. It’s no use. Gojo’s manners are something his mother despairs at.

Finally satisfied with his pick, Gojo sprawls out on the floor, every single inch taking up as much space as possible. With no room left for Getou, you pat the bed to offer him a seat next to you.

“Where’s Shoko?” You frown. “You invited her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gojo waves you off. “I knew you’d be pissed if I didn’t. She said she doesn’t want to hang out. Probably asleep by now.”

He looks up at the two of you through his eyelashes, his eyes half shut. There’s something charmingly open about his expression right now, sweet and boyish. The lamplight casts dancing shadows across his face, making the moment feel ephemeral, though it’s just another night that Gojo has snuck into your room.

He has a way of making all time spent with him feel significant, seared into your memory like it’ll be taken out of its treasure chest and lovingly pored over later. Perhaps it will. He’s an important man - these moments may be like family heirlooms in the future, the good old days when grandma was best friends with the Legendary Gojo Satoru. Maybe your grandchildren will beg you for stories of him. You’ll tell them about how he was talented, brave, and above all, reckless.

He’s beholden to no authority, and beyond willing to prove it. It’s a thorn in the elders’ sides.

“The elders are pressuring Yaga to ask me to take a special grade mission,” he says.

Getou jolts. “That’s confidential.”

Gojo rolls his eyes at him. “Come on, everyone knew I was going to tell her. Do you want me to?”

The last part is directed at you. Carefully, you turn the question over in your head. Gojo is offering you the choice, letting you balance and discard lives. Right now, the elders only have one special grade, Tsukumo Yuki, and she’s fond of going rogue after missions. Maybe it’s just a special grade thing, to be a loose cannon. It would be helpful to have another special grade willing to step up, but-

“Tell him no. You’re just a first-year,” you say.

“I want to go. I’m good enough.”

“Please don’t.”

“Will you give me a reward if I don’t?”

Getou interrupts the beginning of your answer. “It’s fine, I’ll go with him. It’ll be okay if it’s the both of us.”

“You’re a first-year, too. Don’t go, Gojo. I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll talk to Yaga for you.”

As if his name summons him, there’s a loud thump on the door.

“Hey!” Yaga has a bad habit of knocking so hard it startles you. “Are those men’s voices I hear? No boys in the girls’ dorms!”

You freeze. You hate lying because you’re horrible at it. Gojo mouths at you furiously, ‘Just lie! Make something up!’

“No,” you say, too shakily. It’s so obvious. “Just watching TV!”

“Hmph,” Yaga grumbles, but his footsteps fade away.

Years later, you’ll realize that Yaga could’ve checked the boys’ rooms if he was really suspicious and wanted to separate you three. Your heart squeezes, as it always does in the future, thinking of these quieter times. It was nice to be so young and untouchable.

Yaga’s visit kills all future conversation, and Gojo is yawning, anyway. You know you can convince him to listen to you, so you let it go. Getou wakes both of you up the next morning. It’s a particularly brutal day to practice - Tsukumo’s back, which means she wants to have a personal hand in training the “baby special grades,” as she calls them.

You’re waiting for Gojo to finish his private training session on the porch when Getou joins you. He’s drinking green tea out of a reusable bottle. In his other hand, he has a can of soda for you. It’s so cold it sweats condensation even in the barely there warmth of spring.

“Thanks,” you take it gratefully.

“Done already?”

“Waiting for Gojo.”

“Why are you so obsessed with him anyways?” He regrets his words immediately after he says it. “Is that rude? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be.”

You take another gulp of the drink so you can think about his question. It’s so cold your teeth hurt. “I promised his mother I would take care of him.”

“But you’re the same age as him. And not as- You’re-“

“Not as strong as he is,” you supply, without anger.

“I didn’t want to say it.”

“There are different types of strength,” you say, brushing off your clothes as you stand up. Both Gojo and Getou are growing like bean sprouts. The shoulder of his jacket stretches dangerously taut, one of the threads fraying. You reach out and snap it off for him.

“Besides, this is just how it’s always been. Gojo needs a little extra spoiling, and I’ve always been happy to provide it.”

“And if I need spoiling too?” He says, half-joking.

You reach up to pat his head, causing him to freeze. “Sure. I can spare you some.”

“What are you two doing?” Gojo’s voice is like a whip as he strides towards you.

You pull your hand back instantly and hide it behind your back. For some reason, you feel like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“There was something in my hair,” Getou says smoothly.

Gojo pulls him towards him by the cuffs of his sleeves. He pats Getou’s hair down himself, as if for confirmation. “Huh. Guess she got all of it. You guys hungry? I’m starved! Let’s get dinner.”

“Wait for Shoko,” you reprimand him. “She’s still in training.”

“But I’m so hungry!”

“It’s just 5 minutes. Come sit by me,” you say.

He whines and moans about it, but he does come to you, laying his head on your lap. The weight of him is soothing and familiar, the heat of him felt through the thin fabric of your skirt. You press a teasing finger to his cheek and feel the whistle of air as he snaps his teeth at you playfully.

“You too, Getou,” you say. “We can all wait together.”

“She’s taking so long,” Gojo complains. You pat him absentmindedly on the head to shush him.

“You’ll be grateful when she’s healing your dumb ass,” Getou tells him.

“Me?” Gojo scoffs. “As if I’m ever going to need healing.”

Your first year passes uneventfully, as slow and syrupy as the jam Gojo eats by the spoonful for breakfast. Gojo still sneaks over occasionally for sleepovers, bringing Getou or Shoko or both. Sometimes you all sneak out together to town.

You continue learning theory and refining your technique. Shoko lies about her age and receives a deferred medical school offer. Gojo and Getou are strong enough to go on missions already, taking everything up to grade 1.

Even during these halcyon days, as if you know what’s coming, your heart is filled with longing. You miss the moment even as you’re living in it, wishing that your first year at Jujutsu Tech would never end. It’s nice to be so peaceful. Though you’re all training to become sorcerers, it doesn’t feel real yet. You cling to each day as summer starts to approach, robbing you of what little is left of your first year.

Spring comes and goes, leaving you with nothing but wistfulness. You can’t help feeling that these are the days you will miss when you graduate, these moments you can never experience again.

It’s bittersweet, the joy of having something for the first time. If you could, you would give yourself temporary amnesia so you could meet every moment anew.

Instead, the uncompromising march of time remains indifferent to your silent prayers. The second day of your second year, Getou asks you to meet him behind the main campus.

“Let’s take a walk through the woods,” he says.

“That’s how good girls get murdered,” you joke, though you follow him anyway.

“You think I would hurt you?”

You gasp, tripping over a root you didn’t expect. He turns around and lunges for you just as you trip backwards, trying to catch you before you can fall. He grabs your shoulders right when you grin and reveal that you were just fine the whole time.

“No,” you say, only cheered on by his exasperation. “I don’t think you would.”

He makes an annoyed sound, and you realize for the first time exactly how close he is to you. He notices simultaneously. Suddenly the awareness that the two of you are just inches apart dawns on both of you. His breath hitches. His kiss tastes like the green tea he drinks to get rid of the aftertaste of curses.

You touch your fingertips to your lips wonderingly as he pulls back. His face is dark with an emotion you can’t identify, something that you don’t think you can call love. He shivers when you press those same fingertips to his lips, your touch burning him through.

You draw back instantly, aware you’ve crossed a line.

“Oh, Getou.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” For this boy from the villages, the strongest but still not Gojo, pity is unbearable. He doles it out to others like a benevolent saint. To receive it feels wrong.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. I know. It’s Gojo, isn’t it?”

“Not like that,” you try, though you know you’ll never be able to explain the complicated relationship between you and Gojo. Some day he’ll get married. Perhaps he’ll leave you behind, or perhaps you’ll have to explain to some poor girl why there’s an automatic third in her relationship. You just come with the territory, a package deal. 2-for-1 is always just a way to sell a sucker something they don’t want.

“I know,” Getou says. “Do you ever think of doing anything for yourself?”

That’s an interesting question. You thought about it all the time when you were younger and resentful of babysitting, but you’ve long since grown used to your role, like a tree pruned into the right shape.

“Not really.”

Getou’s words are said thoughtlessly, just the musings of a boy who wants to understand why. They take root in your heart and become something else. The leash slackens, little by little.

Spring of second-year is much like first-year. For all you worried, little has changed.

There’s only one major difference.

Gojo and Getou take their first special-grade mission.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You’re annoyed, and surprised by exactly how annoyed you really are. For everyone else’s bad temper with Gojo, you have the patience of a saint when it comes to him. It helps that he gives you more than he gives anyone else, too, except times like these.

He looks askance. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Gojo goes. You can’t stop him. You don’t have the right to when he’s more than capable of it. He’s the strongest, after all. Technically, he should’ve been doing field work long before. He’s the most valuable asset the sorcerers have.

Once you’ve uncaged him, Gojo rampages. He comes back within a day, predictably victorious, brutally so. This only solidifies his understanding of himself as the god of this cursed world. He can’t help but push himself even more, trying to find the seemingly limitless boundary of his power.

When he’s given the Star Plasma Vessel mission, he doesn’t turn it down. Getou follows him.

Everyone seems to be walking their own paths. As Gojo and Getou keep exploring the limits of their own strength on missions, Shoko spends her days in the morgue. Eventually, you too find something to pass your time.

Yaga recruits you as an assistant. Most days, this means paperwork and making tea, though occasionally it gives you glimpses into the bureaucracy of the Jujutsu world. Shoko thinks it’s boring, banning you from talking about it on your lunch dates. You don’t mind - you’d hate being idle more.

Though it’s normally unexciting in Yaga’s office, you notice the mood immediately when you walk in. Yaga’s leaning back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, almost like he’s trying to stop a nosebleed. He looks like he’s about to cry. You’ve never seen your principal like this, and it alarms you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Gojo says. “I fixed it.”

Turning around, you see his hair first. Gojo’s bone white hair, so like his mother’s, is matted with dark red blood. It drips into his eye and leaves rust colored stains across his cheek, the collar of his shirt, and his jacket. His eyes are manic.

You should’ve gone with them.

(夏) —

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader

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fluffylino · 1 year

Text

Pay Attention

-requested by a lovely person who i unfortunately cannot tag (limji<3) -

Genre: smut

[chan in his freeze mv outfit? YESSSSSSS]

Warning: everything is discussed before hand, so nothing here is non consensual even if it seems it is, sir kink, slight exhibitionism? Ull know what i mean, a polyamarous relationship

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: online classes can be boring but chan knows a way to keep you satisfied even if that includes other means....

Enjoy~

If you could leave this boring class you would, but you needed to pass these upcoming exams, right?

Thirty minutes into the lecture and you could hardly focus on what the professor was saying.

The only thing keeping you here was this particular professor who was teaching your college batch for two months. He had one lecture every two weeks.

He was decent, the tsundere kinda type and quite strict about attendence. Especially attendence.

On other days, you'd enjoy his sessions but today was not one of those days.

Today, you just wanted to roll into a ball and fall asleep. Chan had shooting for an individual scene, so you couldn't possibly see him before late evening.

Five minutes passed.

Five became ten.

Ten became fifteen.

Until the front door opened, revealing your older boyfriend.

Arousal pooled in the pit of your tummy when he turned around, pulling his shoes off.

Fuck, the suit really accentuated his arms and the fake scars? Along with the slicked back dirty white hair? You knew you were utterly doomed.

"Oh hello baby" he whispered, unsuccessfully trying to hide from your camera's view. You dismissed him.

Checking twice if your mic was muted, you subtly turned your head, pretending to write nonsense into your notebook, as well as started a conversation.

"How come you're still in those clothes?" this man had the audacity to laugh.

"I knew you'd like it" He teased, not even bothering to spare you a glance. The newspaper seemed a lot more important to him.

You were about to retaliate until you heard your name over the microphone. Masking on the best faux expression, you unmuted yourself.

"Have you been paying attention?" Mr Lee asked in a firm voice.

"Sorry sir, I was just noting down some points related to what you were stating" it was a spur of the moment reply and surprisingly he went back to teaching.

"Sir?" Chan mumbles from the side. You don't understand what he means.

"Isn't that title reserved for me?" He says casually. Chan stands up, walking to you until he's just out of the camera's view.

"Chan" it isn't supposed to come out so weakly. You swear it wasn't but his gaze his so strong on you. Its almost as if this was a game.

His phone began to ring and wasting no time he picked it up. In that time, you went back to paying what little attention was left to class.

Professor Lee's microphone and video was off, a very rare thing to happen. Opening the chatbox, you read the message he had sent two minutes ago.

'please revise whatever few textual questions are left, i will be back in a few minutes.'

Flipping through the pages of your textbook, you barely even realised where your boyfriend was until he was crawling on the floor.

"What are you doing"

Pressing a finger to his lips, he makes himself comfortable under medium sized desk.

"Chris no, please not now" you protested although you really wanted him. It was the fear of being caught or potentially heard by all your classmates that turned you on.

"Relax, darling. I'll be quiet, okay? I heard from a little birdie just now. They told me you look tired and need a good distraction"

Your eyes widened yet you kept quiet. His camera turned on and within minutes he went back to explain what was neatly written on his presentation slide.

Chan, on the other hand, had pulled down your shorts. Leaving you in just your panties.

Unconciously you tugged at his hair when he teased your covered slit with his tongue. Gradually sucking on your sensitive clit.

"Keep your legs open for me"

"I can't t-too much, sir"

A moan slipped past when he pushed your thighs apart, holding them there with his hands.

"Be quiet, yeah? I bet you want to be heard by Mr Lee"

Your eyes darted to the laptop screen, noticing how Mr Lee was focusing on you. An unexplainable feeling made its way to your mind.

"Class has ended, miss l/n...you're the only one here"

Almost immediately you left the online meeting, a dark blush settling on your cheeks.

Within the next couple of seconds chan's phone began to ring and you noticed a familiar name on the screen

Pulling away from you, Chan picked up the call, answering right away.

You didn't miss the way his lips were swollen, remnants of your slick all over his chin.

"Well hello there Mr Lee Minho, you're just in time"

Im sorry i got carried away😭

And for the people who didn't get it. minho, chan and the reader are in a relationship.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #skz drabbles #lee know #bang chan smut #lee know smut #stray kids headcanons #bang chan imagines #lee know imagines #lee minho smut #stray kids

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swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual · 3 months

Note

wait PLEASE tell us the professor firing story im so curious

Oh man. I’d like to preface this as something I’m not… one hundred percent proud of. Or at least, not something I brag about. I’m not sad or upset that I did it, and not sure if I’d have changed anything had I the chance. The man did deserve it. But here’s the entirely too long story.

(If you see typos or other weirdness, no you don’t.)

Imagine this—it’s 2018, it’s almost your last semester of community college. It’s spring semester, it’s cold, and you just got told that for the first time, your psychology class is NOT going to be under your favorite professor (not because he quit, he just didn’t teach this one). So, you’ve already had a full day of classes. It’s your last class of the day, it’s around noon to early afternoon, and you’ve actually had lectures in this classroom before.

You go in. Some chatting students, you choose a seat in the second row, kind of far from the door but those were already taken. Time passes.

Then suddenly, dread. That gut feeling that you absolutely should leave, right now, no matter what.

A man has just walked in.

We’ll call him Stanley, because that was his fucking name, Stanley…. Hawk. I’m not protecting his name because I care, but to keep myself and my classmates more anonymous.

That was my honest to goodness first reaction to this man. We had never met. And all I could think was “PLEASE tell me this isn’t the professor”.

He was, in fact, the social psychology professor.

From the first class, there are a number of red flags. He locks the door, ‘for safety’, despite that door actually being quite close to an exit-only door. He insists we MUST email him if we are to miss class—not in an ‘inform him’ way, by how he phrased it. If he could have said that we required his permission, he would have, and he was just short of that statement. He’s kinda weird about letting us out for bathroom breaks too. And he just seems… off. And the way he wants us to contact him is NOT through email. No, he hands us business cards and asks us to CALL HIM. Anyone who has had a college class will tell you—that’s EXTREMELY fucking weird.

Still, we power through. Because maybe the gut instinct was wrong, maybe he’s just strict.

AHAHAHAHA.

No.

Throughout the months I had him, he:

-Repeated the same lessons multiple times (don’t talk to me about the prison experiment I will SCREAM).

-Mostly call on one particular non-white guy

-Not ever get this one woman’s name right, probably because she was South American. Her name wasn’t hard, it was like- Marianna, and he’d like, call her Mary-Anne or other mispronunciations

-Get MY name right despite it being more difficult, though it still took him a few times. Either cause I’m White American or because my sister worked front desk, I’m not sure

-Mispronounced most of the women’s names at least once, even easy ones—he did not do this with any of the men

-(To my knowledge, the only genderqueer person was me, and I wasn’t public about it, and CERTAINLY wasn’t telling HIM that)

-Otherwise would talk wrestling with one guy who sat behind me. During class.

-Often went on tangents unrelated to the topic

-Claimed that he would take all the confederate statues and have them in his yard, proudly. He mentioned this at LEAST three times.

-Always mentioned that some of his grandkids were adopted Asian kids but was like… weird about it, genuinely not sure how to describe it

-Once went on an entire, unprompted safety lecture, saying to “you girls” (again, college, ‘girls’ isn’t the exact term I’d use) that we should make sure to immediately lock our car doors because we always “spend time getting all settled in when you drive, with your phones and purses and makeup”. He did not say the same to the “boys”, and also—I felt more unsafe that HE’D do something than anyone else

-Semi-often bemoaned the fact he couldn’t just hug students because of policy, that he couldn’t touch them even as a friendly pat on the shoulder because they might go to the college board. No, I’m not kidding. He actually said this sort of thing. I WONDER WHY THE STUDENTS DON’T WANT YOU TOUCHING THEM.

One of the worst incidents, he mishandled our test times, saying it was due at 12 midnight (online testing). I go to do it at about 2 pm… it’s closed. It’s Friday. I email him multiple times. I had to email the DEAN OF THE DEPARTMENT to get him to even answer. Said he ‘messed up’ and that it accidentally was put at 12 noon. He then tried to blame me alone, except no—another student (we’ll say… Alexis) ALSO had the same issue. He then said next time to call him. I don’t think I said anything, but I always did assignments before 12 noon so that there would not be a ‘next time’.

Then, one day, he had us list out twenty traits. Or like, things we like to do. Something to that effect. It was personal, is the main thing.

And then share that with the class.

It felt extremely elementary, we were almost through with the school semester, and I had learned nothing. I didn’t like this teacher, he kept fumbling, and that gut feeling just kept coming back. The anxiety I felt every time he locked the door.

And I remembered a post going around, about how we are not obligated to share things we don’t want to, especially in a classroom.

So, as I take my turn, I list out some generic things about likes and dislikes.

And I say something to the tune of, “I don’t like sharing with an entire class of almost strangers about myself when I don’t even know them.”

Several people start to talk in agreement, but I just keep reading my other statements. Because no, now is not the time. We have PLANNING to do.

Sure enough, I get two main allies from this. One Alexis, who was the student that also didn’t take the test. Another is a student who had been challenging him the entire semester- we’ll call her Sarah. She’d unlock the door pretty much any time Stephen Fucking Hawk wasn’t paying attention. Sarah is the one who approached me, so while I may have been a bit of a… not quite figurehead of this because of my earlier stunt(s), Sarah is the real mastermind here.

That said, I’m not sure if we’d have come together as such had I not done that little stand up for myself in class. A stand up that was inspired by a TUMBLR POST. Like, directly inspired. Before that point, I had thought that there’s no WAY this happens, that professors expect an airing of grievances in class, to virtual strangers. Jokes on me, but continuing on.

Sarah and I start airing our grievances, and we realize we’re actually in the same sociology class as well as being in the same social psychology class (yes, I got them confused, no, I never fully got UNconfused, because while Mrs. H was a fairly good sociology teacher, Stanley Fucking Hawk was not a good social psychology teacher). We decide—next class period, after the lesson was done. we’ll talk to her. Alexis isn’t in the class, but she promises to come in straight after her other class to help.

Poor Mrs. H looked so overwhelmed.

Especially when people we hadn’t EVEN MET started chiming in about stuff we didn’t even know about. Apparently, he talked about sex things in class before? Anyways.

She promised to talk with some of the higher ups. We continued on. We had like, other priorities.

About a few days later, Stephen Fucking Hawk is called to a meeting with the Dean. I know this, because he appeared briefly to give us a worksheet to work on for half an hour until he got back. Again, ask any college student—it’s weird that this was done during class time. Or that class wasn’t called off for the day.

I decided, yeah, fuck this, do the ten billionth really dumb worksheet for this prof (also a repeat, I think, which was not a new thing with him), and in half an hour I’m leaving. My baby niece was just born. Also, no, I was not emailing him for permission. This was not a job, he was not my boss, and I’d had enough of him. Not like he checked them ANYWAYS, as proven before.

He returned, a bit late and a little frazzled. I go to turn in my worksheet and leave.

He tried to stop me, trying to cite his little attendance policy. I honest to goodness think he’d have grabbed my wrist had he been allowed, or possibly if I hadn’t dodged.

I DO remember snapping at him that I WAS leaving, I’m ALLOWED to make that choice, and I was GOING to go see my niece.

I was also in martial arts at the time. So there’s a good chance he recognized that I could and WOULD sock him in the face if he tried something.

I left. He never looked at me for long ever again. Not that he usually did—chronic bitch face worked WONDERS, and I’m understanding why so many people, women in particular, might have gotten this trait.

After that, things are… average. There was still a few weeks, about a month, left still. We figure that if anything did happen, it’ll be after exams. That’s fine. So long as something is done. Naturally, we’re kept in the dark.

Then we get our course and professor evals. Basically, papers we were given in class to grade the class and the professor, with a small section at the end to write out any additional comments. You could add more paper to that section if you wanted to.

These were normal and mandatory in this college.

Y’all. People BROUGHT extra paper to class. I’m pretty sure Sarah wrote out five pages alone. Keep in mind, getting the usual comment section filled out at ALL was either optional or rarely exceeded the small space.

I think I only used one or two extra sheets, I DO recall filling a page both front and back. But keep in mind—I have somewhat small handwriting.

I savor the panic on that man’s eyes as he saw that people just. Kept. Writing. An exercise that usually took ten minutes and was technically anonymous (students had to handle the paperwork, both giving it out, taking them back, and turning it in at the front desk) took at least twice that.

Anyways, the next couple of classes were… well. Subdued on his end. Less tangents. He’s still not a good teacher, but none of use are actually paying attention.

We then get the news—he isn’t returning next semester.

There wasn’t a cheer, but Sarah and Alexis and a few other people in the class Share Looks. He doesn’t mention why, but We Knew.

Fun bonus fact about my college—like most schools, there’s a set amount of days per class you can miss without a cause, about two weeks. Since many exams were online, the popular trend—and professors knew and adjusted to this—was that students who hadn’t missed their earlier days would just not be in class the last couple of weeks. They’d show up to an in-person exam, if needed, but those last couple of weeks were usually exam prep and damn near an option for most classes.

I had to go to one class of his during the two week period because I missed a day, and half of everyone was gone.

After that day, I did not return to that class.

I got an A in that class despite knowing JACK about social psychology, and Stephen Fucking Hawk was gone from the staff directory from them on.

And that’s how a tumblr post helped me get a man fired, kind of.

#the professor story #ask me anything #I feel like I’ve told bits of this story before but ayyy it’s fine #I honestly probably forgot more of the bullshit this man pulled #I remember consciously choosing to wear very baggy and nonrevealing clothes #which. I mean my style wasn’t very revealing either #but I actively avoided dresses and skirts and anything that defined a waistline or my chest

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legitelizabethwwefan · 2 years

Text

College AU - Chamber x Fem! Reader

A/N: Here's my first imagine to get the ball rolling! Please feel free to send requests as you wish! I'll get more solid rules in place soon, but NSFW is acceptable (though nothing too intense). Also, feel free to request any agent(s).

Until then, enjoy!

Word count: 845

No warnings.

A sigh left your lips as you trudged to the last class of your first day at college. You glanced down at the map of campus to ensure you had made it to the right building- after all, no one wants to be that person who has to run across campus after walking to the wrong destination.

Fortunately, you had made it to the correct building where your French I class would take place. You weren't majoring in French, but needed some sort of elective to fill in that didn't seem too hard. While your knowledge of the language was far from vast, it wasn't non-existent compared to others. You weren't really looking forward to this class as opposed to the rest of your timetable this semester.

I just have to bullshit my way through this class and pass it, you thought as you found the lecture hall with ten minutes to spare.

The massive classroom was already half-full, with students clamouring at desks with their laptops or tablets out. Several seats remained empty, but someone sat beside every single one. The sight of so many college students in one lecture hall left your heart racing and eyes darting wildly about.

"Are you alright?"

You jumped upon a young man's voice hitting your ear drum. You had to clamp your mouth with one hand to keep from cursing loudly. It took only a second for the culprit to walk around you and look into your eyes. A smirk was on his face as he chuckled softly.

"My apologies," he said, his French accent thick. "I did not mean to scare you."

"It's fine," you blurted as you gave him a once-over. His hair is in a combover, and he wore a white dress shirt with brown slacks. He also had a brown leather laptop bag instead of a backpack slung on his shoulder. Compared to the college guys you had seen on-campus so far, he was overdressed for class.

"Are you the professor? Or the TA?" you asked.

The young man chuckled. "No, but I suppose I look the part, non? I'm just a student like you."

You blushed, embarrassment washing over you. "Sorry, I didn't-"

"It's alright," the man said with a soft smile. "Let's sit together, shall we?"

You nodded before following him to two unoccupied seats. Once sitting down, you grabbed your laptop and notebook to get organized before class began.

"I'm sorry, but I should introduce myself," the man piped up as he finished setting up his laptop. "My name's Vincent Fabron."

"Y/N. Nice to meet you."

You exchanged a handshake, noting how firm yet warm his hand felt in yours. It left you smiling at the physical contact.

When class began a few minutes later, a thought suddenly dawned on you. Why would someone who sounded so French take a French class? It didn't make any sense. Unless he grew up somewhere where the accent was popular but never had the chance to learn the language himself, it seemed silly for him to be there.

With it being the first French I class, the professor gave everyone the break by ending after less than an hour. But she made it clear that the following classes would be the normal three-hour length going forward.

"It was nice to meet you, Y/N," Vincent said as you started packing up your things.

"You too," you replied. "I have one question- do you speak French already?" You shut your eyes at the stupidity of asking a question with such an obvious answer. But you couldn't think of another way to broach the subject.

Vincent's chuckle was warm. "I speak fluently."

You frowned. "So, why take French I?"

"I needed an easy A for my elective."

The honesty in his response made you laugh as you two strolled out of class. Fortunately, your classmates didn't seem to notice your ongoing conversation while filing out the lecture hall.

"That's kinda why I took it too, to be honest," you confessed. "But I'm not fluent like you."

Vincent raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps I can help with that?"

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows. "You'd do that?"

"Of course, mon cher. Think of it as an apology for earlier," Vincent crooned. His previous smirk had returned.

But you weren't convinced. "Sounds like you're looking for an excuse to spend more time with me."

Vincent chuckled. "You got me there, mon cher. Is that a no, then?"

"Didn't say that."

"Then I suppose we should become study buddies, shall we?"

You flashed a winning smile as you both exited the building. "I'd like that."

Vincent smiled. "I must get going, Y/N. But I look forward to seeing you again."

The two of you exchanged phone numbers with the promise to stay in touch. Once that was done, Vincent strolled off in the direction of the library. You waited until he was out of sight before you began walking to your dorm for the day.

Perhaps French I wouldn't be such a drag after all.

#imagine #imagines #valorant imagines #valorant imagine #valorant #fanfic #fanfiction #valorant agents #valorant x reader #chamber #valorant chamber #chamber valorant #chamber x reader #fem! reader #female reader #au #alternate universe #college au

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bestamster-dam-tripofmylife · 2 years

Text

Day 3: In which the local university gives us the finger

It’s Tuesday, I’m still jetlagged, but I’m pushing through anyways.

Today was our very first site visit! We will have a total of 19 of these throughout the program, and we can also visit whatever else we want during our free time (which there is a surprising amount of). This particular visit was to Vrije (pronounced “vr-eye”) University (VU), also called free(?) university, for a guest lecture and a small tour through their library. Aside from the family who runs our hotel, this is really our first big interaction as a class with Dutch people, infrastructure, education, and culture. Our main topic of this whole program is “innovation,” but there is also emphasis on cultural heritage and decolonization, the latter of which was the topic of the lecture at VU. We had the pleasure of two librarians come in and discuss the VU library’s decolonization process and policies that they are starting (or trying to start) to implement. To me, this was a pretty standard, well put together process of policies. To also be perfectly honest, I don’t remember much of the actual lecture/PowerPoints because I am still dead tired and on American time.

However, I do remember one of my classmates (who is Jewish) ask about their anti-Semitism policy, to discover that there kind of isn’t one? One thing to note is that VU (and the Netherlands) was very heavily Protestant for a long time (think Protestant Reformation!), and although there is no exclusion based on religion at VU anymore, its Protestant roots still seem to be very prominent. I think it’s great that our guest speakers have noted this, and has focused much on decolonization in both the libraries and VU as a whole, with an emphasis on inclusivity, especially with non-white and any other minority groups. However, they either haven’t seen or simply haven’t had time to address any anti-Semitism on campus or in library collections. I have at least 4 classmates (to my knowledge) that are Jewish or have Jewish lineage, and it has really opened my eyes to the fact that anti-Semitism is still VERY real and very existent in today’s society, all over the world. I have talked and bonded with almost every person of our 25-student group, and it has just been so educational to hear stories and learn things from every single one of them, especially those from minority or oppressed identities/backgrounds.

This is an exhibition currently in the VU library, “Mapping the Bible. Although I love the historical aspect of this (because who doesn’t love super old books and maps?), it is a very Christian oriented exhibition prominently on display, and an example of how the Protestant roots of this university are still at play in modern times. And I’m not even sure the staff here realizes it, as they continue to talk about decolonizing and diversifying VU and it’s collections. I was all on board with their lecture until I saw this, because then I thought that the actions don’t match the words with this particular institution.

A final tidbit focusing on today- why is the university giving us the finger, you ask? Despite my long rantings of a Christian-oriented society, it is not because of the history of VU. I had joined a couple of my classmates in talking with our speakers during a break in the day, and asked the question burning in my mind- how much does it cost to go to VU anyways? After some debate the speakers said probably about 2,000 euro per year. Per year. Also, many students get a stipend every month for living expenses while attending, often about 600 euros.

Ouch.

Of course, we all kind of want to move here by now if we can (thanks, America), and that’s great for the people who go here. But on top of that, we asked how our lovely guest speakers got to be librarians (is there schooling for that like in the U.S.?), and they said you just apply after your bachelors- there is no library school in the Netherlands. You just apply!

Double ouch.

I know they didn’t mean to rub it in our faces. But here we are, paying $10,000 per quarter (and that’s just tuition) for an MLIS degree in America, only to find out that not only is the cost of university significantly cheaper here, but we are paying an obscene amount of money in America for a program they don’t even have. It’s insane. Mind you, only about half of us are graduate students in the Library Science program at home. The other half are undergraduates of varying majors, many in informatics or some kind of data science (all us graduates are trying to convert them to be librarians one day).

So when I say that VU is giving us the finger.. it’s not intentional. But it’s there, and it hurts. It really hurts to think about the student debt I am going into for a degree which, if I were living in Holland, I wouldn’t even need. It wouldn’t exist anyways. Talk about giving yourself a life crisis.

On that SUPER happy note- until next time, tot ziens!

(For funsies- I also tried my first gelato today! It is right next to the hotel, and I got dark chocolate and coconut. The dark chocolate is vegan, and I think the best damn thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. The vegan pizza is bomb too. Bless this city.)

#study abroad #travel blog #america universities really cost a vital organ #cant believe im paying this much for a program that doesnt exist in #amsterdam #and im not even vegan

0 notes

mari-the-bimbo · 2 years

Note

Hi there mari darling<3 so can i request a highschool au where kakucho,izana(im not sure if u write for him but if you dont you can write for someone else) and haitani brothers where they are deeply and madly inlove with a shy and a nerd reader.like no bullying and all just them being in love with her.i love you so much<33

Tenjiku crushing on shy reader (college AU!)

A/N: Hi love! I hope you don’t mind me doing it as college AU! since I usually age the characters up. Enjoy <3

Characters: Izana, Kakucho, Rindou, Ran

Izana:

Izana is a man of confidence and assertiveness, yet his heart belonged to someone of the opposite, Y/N, his shy and reserved classmate.

The white haired boy always had a crush on you, even when he wanted to look away, he couldn’t, you were too pretty to look away from.

“Cute” he’d mutter under his breath as he watches you scribble notes that no one else in lecture class was taking.

Although you made Izana’s heart beat fast every time he saw you, he would never shy away from you, in fact he would openly admire you.

“Is this seat taken y/n-chan?” He’d ask ever so smoothly, before taking a seat next to you when you shake your head.

“You’re so smart y/n chan, can you help me study?” he’ll ask immediately after, “sure!” you reply with that damn adorable smile, making him lose his breath.

And as you try to explain your notes to him, you couldn’t help but feel his stare, and when you looked up, you were met with a pretty shade of lilac eyes.

“Izana?” You ask anxiously.

“You’re so pretty” he sighed with his hand on his chin, stuck in a lovesick gaze as he watched you blush.

Kakucho:

Kakucho Hitto, everyone on campus knows him as Izana’s best friend. His very cute best friend

Everyone also knows him as the guy who has a crush on y/n 😭

He made it too obvious. The blush that would adorn his face when you’d enter class, Izana continuously nudging him, the way the usually intimidating boy would start blushing and getting defensive whenever anyone asked him about you.

And it all started because you once shyly told him his scar is pretty <3

But even though he would get flustered at your beauty, he’d overcome his shyness and walk you back to your dorm

Well actually it’s because Izana threatened to tell you the truth if he didn’t make a move 💀

“Pretty cold huh?” Kakucho said, looking up at the grey clouds, hoping to initiate some conversation. “Mhm” you agree shyly. Then you suddenly felt a hand brush against your own

“b-body warmth helps.. Izana said” he reasoned, looking away so you don’t see the blush on his face as you smile and hold his much larger hand.

Rindou:

Rindou knew you, his crush for a year now, didn’t think much about him. After all, he didn’t initiate much conversation with you, but that’s because he didn’t know how. What if he came across too rude? Too cold? He wouldn’t want to put a frown on your pretty little face.

That’s why he settled for non verbal ways of courting you.

He randomly sit down next to you in classes, telling whoever was planning to sit next to you to fuck off.

He won’t talk to you or even fully smile at you, usually he’ll place your favourite drink on the desk, muttering “it’s for you” because turning back to his laptop.

Wait how did he know your favourite dri- never mind.

One day, you felt brave and decided to initiate talk, “oh! I like that song too” you say shyly, looking down at his phone. He looks up at you for a second, his lazy eyes taking in your features before he leaned forward and placed an earphone in your ear. Leaving you more flustered than before.

Even your friends were left so confused by him. So they took into into their own hands to ask him before class began, despite your protests. “Hey Rindou! You like y/n or something?”

Rindou, slightly tilted his head before looking you directly in the eyes. “Yes”

Ran:

Ran likes you.

And I mean A LOT. And it’s about to become everyone on campus’ problem because he’s going to do everything possible to have your attention.

Ran’s crush on you is beyond obvious. No one even feels the need to mention it because they’re so used to seeing him tease you.

Yes, his love language is teasing so you’re in for a damn ride.

Tries to sit next to you in class always. If you happen to be sitting a bit far from him, he’ll stretch his long leg out, wrap it around your chair legs and tug you forward, making you blush in bewilderment when you suddenly find yourself face to face with him

Plays footsies with you under tables!

He likes offering you bike rides back to dorm. “It’s okay Ran, it’s only a 10 min walk” you reason with a shy smile, he leans forward to admire that pretty smile before replying “but pretty people like you shouldn’t walk for 10 mins” with a playful pout.

You laugh softly before joining him on the bike from behind. He audibly hums at the feeling of you wrapping your arms around his waist tightly.

At the traffic light, he leans back so that he’s slightly leaning on you “hey pretty, go out on a date with me in Roppongi soon?” he says with a genuine smile.

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remember-to-be-gentle · 3 years

Text

This one may be long...

Subject: BNHA, Dabi aka Touya Todoroki + Enji Todorki, Fuyumi Todoroki, Natuso Todoroki, and a little Shouto if you squint

Title: House Party Bully 3 (NSFW, fem reader)

Trigger Warning: Non con, pregnancy, bisexual, lactation, obsession, possessive behavior, bullying, stalking, blackmail, crying

Still shaking from Enji's "inspection," Touya whisked you out of the house and pushed you into his car. You could barely process what was happening when he tore off away from the house. The overpowering smell of weed grounded you, forcing you into reality. The very same reality where you'd just been split open by your bully's father's cock because you were pregnant. You glanced over at Touya who was staring straight ahead at the road, the car going a little too fast and his his knuckles white from their grip on the steering wheel.

Just what had Enji said to force Touya into inviting you over? Granted a man like Enji must have kept his family on a tight leash, a leash tight enough to keep a record of how much weed Touya smoked and when.

The silence in the car was broken when Touya said, "Do you think he hurt the baby?" His voice was tight as his grip on the steering wheel.

Of all the things to focus on with what just happened in his house and his priority wasn't even you. You snorted and turned away from him. Of course he only cared about the unborn fetus inside you. To him and his family you were simply a liability for their reputation and a walking womb that needed to be fed. "Fuck off. I want to go home."

He grunted.

With a new wave of fear slowly coiling in your stomach, you realized Touya was in fact taking you home. He knew where you lived. He'd known where you lived all along. How many opportunities had he had to make your life hell outside of school? How many times had he driven here and parked where he could watch you as he struggled with the desire to burst your tiny bubble of peace?

He parked in front of your house and waited for you to exit the car before he made for your front door. He let himself inside with a snide, "You really gotta learn to lock the door."

Slowly, you followed, legs still shaking as you made your way inside. "How long have you known where I live?"

Touya was in your kitchen, helping himself to the Chex Mix you kept on the counter. "It wasn't hard. Just did some reverse image searching and compared them to Google Maps. Plus you didn't hide your location on SnapChat. By the way, don't accept friend requests from strangers or people who're friends with people who hate you."

Hot anger sizzled on your skin. "I didn't ask how," you said from the door way, "I asked when."

That got him stop. "Does it matter? You've always been mine." He shoved a handful of pretzels into his mouth. "You're mine to fuck with when I please." He swallowed. "Or fuck when I please."

"I don't belong to you," you snarled. How dare he. He'd done enough damage to your life: destroying your reputation at school, invading the only peace you had, raping you at his party and then knocking you up before he let his dad have a turn. Fuck him. You didn't belong to anyone and especially not him.

Touya laughed. A genuine, deep, terrible laugh. He made his way across the room, heavy shoes creating a steady beat of thunder as he towered over you. A slender finger poked into your stomach, right where Enji had pointed before, the nail sharp as it pressed into your skin. "We may not have had anything physical keeping us together before," he spat, "but now we do. With my kid growing in your belly, no one can deny you're mine. Not when he's growing. Not when he's teething on your tits. And especially when he introduces himself with my name."

You pushed him away. "Get away from me. Get out of my apartment."

Touya stared at you for a moment, then walked back into the kitchen and scribbled his number on your calendar. "Call me when you want your car back. Or when you miss me. Whichever comes first." And with that, he bumped his shoulder into you and got back into his car. That sinking feeling of fear returned as you realized your car was still at his house and you'd have to deal with his family alone.

*******************************************************

The next morning you dressed for school. It had been a long, tiring debate the night before if you should even go back. So much had happened in just a few weeks and you'd done your best to keep your head down and listen to the lectures, but now you were pregnant and without your car. You could always call Touya and have him bring it, but then you'd give in to what he wanted: you forced to rely on him, tying yourself further to his whims - marking you as his.

Instead you'd opted to summon an Uber, go to your classes and get home with no time in between to so much as look at the library. You steeled yourself and stepped outside only to see the car that almost hit you outside the Todoroki mansion sitting idly with the engine running.

Enji sat behind the wheel, cartoonishly large in comparison to the vehicle. When he saw you, he leaned over and opened the door. "Get in, I'm driving you to school."

And just how would that look with you showing up to school with your bully's father and the most feared professor on campus? Rumors would already be spreading about your absence and odd behavior. The moment someone guessed you were pregnant, and you started to show, any hope for a normal college life would be over with no hope of recovery. "No. Thanks."

You turned and pulled your phone out for the Uber, but then Enji said, "Your scholarship relies on you being a model student, doesn't it?"

You froze.

"An academic advisor isn't going to be too keen on letting you keep that money when you've been knocked up by a campus lowlife, even if his father is a respected member of the faculty." He patted the passenger seat. "And while I can't fix the fact that you're losing that scholarship, I can pay your tuition and medical bills. Delivering and raising a baby isn't cheap. So get in the car before you walk away with nothing."

He was right. Of course he was fucking right. This was Enji Todoroki, the man who has his entire family turning a blind eye to his debaucherous acts. He wasn't going to let you go even if you died, not when his grandkid was growing inside you. With as much of your dignity you could gather, you climbed into the car and let Enji drive you to campus.

"After your last class," he said, "come to my office. You have an appointment." When you didn't respond he added, "For the baby." He had said he'd be footing the medical bills. Did that mean Enji was going to be there for everything? The pap smear, birth, and recovery? You shivered. Touya knew his father was going to be overprotective and manipulative. He knew his overbearing nature would have you crawling back to him, back to an overbearing man you were at least familiar with.

When Enji parked at the school, you hopped out and started walking toward your first class. “Thanks for the ride.” You tried to put as much distance between you and him as possible, but Enji was large and fast. He caught up to you easily, keeping silent stride and never leaving your side. That remained true for the rest of the day. Between classes you caught his eye, and when he didn’t have a class to teach, he followed you or worked on his computer outside your classroom, just within eyesight.

Rumors were already beginning to start, you could feel it, people glancing at you and Enji. They probably thought you were either sleeping with him or you’d grievenced him in some way. Hopefully they’d assume the latter. You'd rather people think you'd gotten caught for cheating than you tried to sleep your way to better grades.

This behavior continued for days. A week almost passed before you realized you hadn’t seen Touya. No bullying, only stares from your classmates and teachers, which was almost worse. You knew what to expect from Touya, you could blow him off and tell him to fuck off, and if he got too into it, sometimes your classmates would tell him to fuck off, too. But now you didn’t know what they were thinking, how they were judging you. You were alone except for Enji’s heavy gaze and now really did consider that you may be missing him.

After your last class, you knew better than to fight Enji on him taking you home, your car was still at his house after all, and he was stronger and faster. You climbed into his car and stared at the window, waiting to see the neighboring apartments and familiar street signs. They never came. Instead you recognized another set of houses, the same ones you’d parked in front of the night of the party. “Wait,” you said, “this isn’t the way to my apartment.”

“No, its not.” Enji agreed. “Its not proper for the future mother of my son’s child to be living alone in a run down apartment. You’ll be living, or at least spending most of your time, with us from now on.” Before you could protest, he tapped a heavy finger on a piece of paper that sat on the dashboard. You picked it up and nearly cried. It was a copy of your lease with an approved early termination of contract. “Don’t worry about moving your things,” he said, “The boys and I will handle it.”

A tear slid down your cheek. They’d taken your life from you.

You jumped when you felt a finger run across your cheek, wiping away the tear. “If you don’t want to share a room with Touya, that’s fine. There’s plenty of rooms in the house.”

*******************************************************

As your stomach grew, so did Enji's overprotectiveness and Touya's absence. He hadn't even updated his insta since the party. You almost admitted you missed him. You could brush off Touya's rude remarks about how fat you were getting. You couldn't brush off Enji's furnace of a hand as it felt up your swelling stomach. With your insta DMs taunting you with that swollen blue send button. All it would take for help was to press it. But pressing it would mean admitting that you needed him. It was almost tempting. Almost.

Enji did make you move into the mansion, which you thought meant spending every waking moment with Touya, but he was rarely there. Even when he was, he would only play Mario-kart with his friends or ignore you completely. Despite his possessive behavior, he was sticking to his guns about making you call him first.

Your room was thankfully away from Touya's, sandwiched between his younger siblings, Fuyumi and Natsuo. They were all incredibly kind, volunteering to bring you food and anything else you need. They even helped you start to put your things away as it was becoming harder to move with your growing stomach. Although you couldn't help noticing they seemed to eye you up when your back was turned.

And then Rei and Enji announced they'd be going out of town for the weekend. You thought this would be a relief, not having to deal with Enji's overprotectiveness for three days and Touya still being mostly MIA, but you quickly understood that no one in this house could be trusted.

"Is there anything we can get you?" Fuyumi asked, seated at your desk with Natsuo leaning beside her.

At this point, you were about four months into your pregnancy. Your stomach wasn't enormous, but it was getting hard to move around. Fuyumi volunteered to buy you maternity clothing and Natsuo often brought you food, which was usually fast food, but still appreciated. You'd grown comfortable with asking these two for things you needed. "I'm okay," you said, "I just need to get some pads. Hopefully I can get them from the store tomorrow." Your car was still here, after all, and despite being in the mansion, you hadn't managed to find your keys. Touya or Enji had to have them.

Natsuo twitched. "Pads?" Having not know him for that long, you weren't sure what that meant quite yet. You'd seen it only s few times when your pregnancy was mentioned.

Regardless, you blushed. Speaking about the changes your body was going through with your future, unwanted, in-laws wasn't a comfortable topic of conversation. "I don't have a proper bra to absorb all the milk," you confessed.

Fuyumi seemed like she was trying not to look at you. "You're lactating?" Or rather, you realized, she was trying not to look at your chest.

Hesitantly you answered, "Yeah."

Silence in the room settled heavy as a boulder. Natsuo's adam's apple bobbed. "H-how much?" His voice was tight.

You did not like this line of questioning. "Does it matter?"

Fuyumi glanced at Natsuo who nodded. Together, they moved at once, flanking your sides with the efficacy of lions. "Don't scream," Fuyumi said and then she yanked your shirt up. Just as you'd said, the front of your bra was dark with milk.

Natsuo was fast to pull a tit free, groaning at the sight of your puffy and swollen areolas. He ran the cold pad of his thumb over your nipple, making you squirm. "Fuck," he groaned, "I've waited too long for this."

Fuyumi did the same, her fingers just as cold. "You think you have? I'm older than you, remember?"

"What are you doing?!" You demanded. You tried to get away but they easily pinned you against your new bed, your back to the mattress and tits up for their viewing pleasure. The swollen part of your stomach didn't help either.

Slowly, Fuyumi explained, "Mom always let us have some of her milk when she was lactating but had to stop awhile ago because of some medication." She pinched you nipple and watched you bite down the moan that threatened to escape. Your breasts felt swollen all the time now that you were making milk. It both hurt and felt far too good to massage them yourself, milk often squirting out if you pressed too hard. With both of them hanging over you like, you knew the milk would flow easily and that would only encourage them more.

Natsuo picked up where his sister left off, "So we've been waiting for someone to give us a new supply. And you're it." He gave a tentative lick to your nipple, watching the skin stretch and swell until it stood erect and ready to suck. "I'll have to thank Touya for bringing you to us."

With that, both Fuyumi and Natsuo latched onto your nipples. Their hot mouths were voracious, starved. Fuyumi lapped and suckled while Natsuo used his teeth and pulled.

Your body reacted naturally as if they were the child still growing inside you. You could feel your teats leaking, all too happy to give up what they'd produced for hungry mouths. Gasps left your throat between the begging for them to stop and pleasure. Your core was becoming hot, liquid, as if it were melting.

You tried to push them off, but the siblings held firm, suckling back and forth until you were dizzy.

Natsuo suddenly pulled off, gasping for air as clear fluid dripped down his chin. "Fuck, I can't take this anymore." He got off the bed and spread your legs, roughly shoving your skirt up and pulling your panties aside to feel the slick that had gathered. He whistled, low and impressed. “Dad said you’d be easy, but I didn’t think you’d get so wet from us just sucking on your tits.”

“Don’t,” you begged, trying to push him and Fuyumi off you, but Natsuo was just like his big brother: stronger than you and bigger than you. He pulled his cock free and slid it inside you. He wasn’t as big as Touya or his father, but he was long and pushed in and in and in until you thought your swollen womb had been pushed into your lungs. “Shit,” he groaned, “you’re fucking tight. How did either of them even fit in here?”

Fuyumi didn’t speculate, continuing to suckle on your breast, occasionally using her hand to stimulate the milk glands.

Natsuo didn’t wait for you to adjust, sliding himself in and out at a steady pace that had you whimpering. In this sad, pathetic moment, you could admit it. You could admit that you missed Touya and wished he was here to protect you from his feral siblings as they had their way with you. Your phone was just on the nightstand, too, if you could roll over, you’d be able to call him. You needed him. The thought tasted like bile and booze.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but Natuso didn’t seem to notice or care, groaning at the sloppy sounds your cunt made as he fucked you. Fuyumi did notice and pulled off your teat. “Hey,” she said, “you’re okay.” She kissed your cheek, but kept one hand on your breast. “There’s no need to cry, we’re just trying to get to know you before the baby comes.” A kiss along your jaw, another one lower, where she sucked and bit at the skin. All you could think was Touya wouldn’t be happy if that bruised.

And then the door opened.

Hope exploded in your gut like an unwanted orgasm, every muscle in your body tensing, ready to explode off the bed and into your savior’s arms. For the first time in your life you hoped it was Touya coming, hoped it would be the shaggy mess of dyed-black hair and those cruel cerulean eyes that would demand to know what’s happening before he pulled you away to his room. You could handle his mocking but not his siblings. You wanted it to be Touya so much it hurt.

And it wasn’t.

The youngest Todoroki poked his head in, heterochromic eyes blinking slowly at the sight in front of him. His pale skin turned red, anger coloring his features as his eyebrows narrowed. For a moment you thought he’d defend you, but you knew better, you knew these siblings were fucked up and selfish. With Natuso buried deep inside you and Fuyumi still trying to get milk from your breast, you weren’t surprised at all when Shouto said, “You guys got started without me?”

Fuyumi and Natsuo scrambled to come up with an excuse, both their movements stopping as their attention shifted to focus on their little brother. The shot you needed. You ignored Natuso’s cock inside you and made for your phone, swiping it off the nightstand and quickly hitting the contact for A MAN WHO SHOULD NOT BE CALLED.

“Shit.” Both Fuyumi and Natuso swore.

They both tried to wrestle your phone away, but it was too late. Less than two rings and Touya’s voice flooded the room, “What’s going on?”

You were so relieved you almost started sobbing. “Help me!”

Fuyumi managed to grab your phone. Her face broke into an uneasy smile, fear making her pale into a sickly green “Everything’s fine, Touya-nii! We’re just playing a game and she’s a sore loser, right Natsu?”

“Right,” Natuso’s voice was shaking, “right, Fuyu.”

Heavy silence filled the room. They’d been exposed for their actual intentions. “I’m on my way. And I better not see any of you near her again.” Touya’s voice was a growl, deep, barely holding back his rage.

Shouto blinked, his color returning to normal. “You guys drank all the milk, didn’t you?”

Both Natsuo and Fuyumi looked horrified. Their little brother's own selfishness played against them.

Fuyumi and Natsuo scrambled out of the room, dragging Shouto with them.

You laid on the bed, a soreness washing over your body. Your violated cunt, your swollen breasts, your skin where Fuyumi kissed, and goosebumps from the cold. You didn’t have the energy to fix your clothes or even look at Touya when he entered the room. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his heat and his anger. He didn’t say anything, though. He just fixed your clothes and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to your feet before he brought you to his room.

The familiar smells of body odor, weed, and Touya enveloped you and you understood that no matter how much you didn’t want this, this was your safe space now.

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sevlgi · 4 years

Text

opposites

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

contents: college!au, good girl!rosé, bad girl!reader

warnings: none

synopsis: They say opposites attract, and when the campus’s resident sweetheart falls for a bad girl, Rosé discovers just how true that statement is.

a/n: I’M SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME OMGGGG hope you enjoy, and I’m glad you like my blog ❤

word count: 3.6k

Chaeyoung has never quite believed that opposites attract.

To be fair, she doesn’t have much experience to go off of. Despite being attracted to basically every person she meets, she hasn’t actually dated much. (As her friend Jennie jokes, she’s not bisexual, she’s by herself.)

And obviously, she’s not only attracted to people soft and sweet like herself. Especially in college, it’s more likely to find people in sweats and ratty T-shirts than people in pink sweaters and cute dresses.

It’s no secret that Chaeyoung is a hopeless romantic, convinced that she’ll find someone who she just works with. It’s also no secret that she’s determined to find someone similar enough to her that a relationship would actually work out.

Imagine her surprise when her next crush is the complete opposite of her.

You’re utterly fascinating to Chaeyoung; every little detail about you absolutely contradicts her, and she thinks her parents would faint if they saw you. Unlike Chaeyoung’s usually well-styled hair, you look like you’ve just rolled out of bed to go to class. Your leather jackets and heavy denim look stiff to the touch, and your dark circles, tattoos, and piercings are enough to ward all your classmates away.

But somehow, all of it just draws Chaeyoung in more. She’d never dream of dying her hair as much as you do, or getting as many tattoos as you have, but for some reason, you intrigue her.

She still doesn’t believe opposites attract. You might be gorgeous, but Chaeyoung is sure that your personalities would clash, and a relationship, however imaginary it may be, would never work out.

Of course, she’s also not willing to admit that she’s wrong to her friends, all of whom insist that opposites do attract. She just knows Lisa would gloat, and Chaeyoung is never giving her friends that satisfaction.

“Who’re you staring at today?”

Chaeyoung pouts at Yeri, who slides into the seat beside her with a knowing smile. Joy, on the other side, is already following where Chaeyoung’s eyes were earlier. “Hey. I’m not always staring at people.”

“Yes, you are,” the two other girls chorus. “Come on, you’re always searching for ‘your other half’ or whatever,” Yeri rolls her eyes. “You barely focus in class because of it.”

Studiously ignoring where you sit in the lecture hall (3 rows ahead and 2 seats to the left), Chaeyoung scowls and twirls her pen. “Rude.”

“You know I am,” Yeri smiles, beginning to scan the room as well. “So, come on. Who’s your pick of the day?”

Joy narrows her eyes; Chaeyoung’s a bit panicked to see that her friend is already zeroing in on you. “Wait… it can’t be her, right?”

“Who?” Joy whispers in Yeri’s ear, and the youngest girl’s eyes widen. “Chaeng, it’s not her, right?”

The blonde attempts to play it cool, asking nonchalantly, “Who are you even talking about?”

Both girls point at your back, the dark leather of your jacket and the two empty seats on either side of you making it unmistakable that you’re the one they’re pointing at. “Y/N Y/L/N. It’s not her, right?”

Y/N Y/L/N. Chaeyoung tests it out on her tongue silently before realizing her friends are still waiting for an answer. “It… maybe, what’s it to you?”

Yeri groans, and Joy shakes her head in what seems to be disappointment. “You have the worst taste, Chaeyoung. I mean, she’s cute, but…”

To be honest, the most surprising part of the entire conversation is that her friends aren’t even teasing about the whole ‘opposites’ thing. “What’s wrong with Y/N?” Chaeyoung can’t help but feel a bit defensive; after all, it’s her taste in girls that was being attacked.

Joy leans in conspiratorially now, despite the professor clearing his throat at the front of the classroom. “Okay, so, she’s kind of the designated bad girl? I don’t really know, but I heard she’s killed someone.”

“What? No, she set a building on fire,” Yeri argues, rolling her eyes when Joy opens her mouth to disagree. “Whatever, whatever. Anyway, she’s bad news. She’s a serial dater, too, and she doesn’t like cats. Who doesn’t like cats?”

Chaeyoung’s eyebrows scrunch together as her friends argue. It’s probably not likely that you’ve killed anyone or set a building on fire, but still… a serial dater? None of it sounds good.

“Anyway, she’s the polar opposite of you,” Joy sighs, patting Chaeyoung sympathetically on the arm. “You know, you’re sweet and soft, and she’s… her.”

Suddenly, the professor clears his throat again and raises his eyebrow at where the three girls sit. “Ms. Park, Ms. Kim, the other Ms. Park? Anything important?”

“No, sorry, sir,” Chaeyoung blurts out, cheeks red. She’s not even blushing because she’s been put on the spot, though; it’s because you’ve finally turned around to look at her.

Maybe it’s the eyeliner, but something about your gaze feels like it sees right through her. With the tiniest quirk of the corner of your lips, you turn back around and leave Chaeyoung fully flustered.

Yeah, definitely a player.

Every day, Chaeyoung attempts to work up the courage to sit a little closer to you. She’s not making much progress; to be fair, you can’t blame her, when you’re usually given a 3 foot radius of empty space by everyone.

However, she discovers something new about you every day. She discovers that you drink black iced coffee (she drinks tea), and that you use mint flavored chapstick (she uses strawberry). You prefer cinnamon gum (which Chaeyoung thinks is a bit gross), and you only ever wear black socks (she wears white).

Joy really wasn’t kidding when she said you were Chaeyoung’s opposite.

Of course, it’s just the blonde’s luck when the professor announces a group project, and your name is the only one out of 40 that Chaeyoung knows.

It takes a lot of energy for Chaeyoung to approach you after class. “Hey,” she smiles; you don’t return it. “So, I was wondering if you have a partner for the project? If you don’t, I was thinking we could be partners…”

You look startled at first, though it settles behind a mask of calm indifference immediately. “You don’t have friends?” At the blonde’s wince, you roll your eyes, lips quirking into a smile. “Kidding. Sure. Let’s work together.”

“Great!” Chaeyoung beams, looping her arm through yours. You look even more surprised now, but it’s cute. Everything you do would probably look cute. “I’m Roseanne, but you should call me Chaeyoung or Chaeng.”

“I’m Y/N,” you offer. Your voice is quieter than Chaeyoung had imagined, but that’s probably her fault for thinking your voice was demon-like or something. “You’re a sophomore, right?”

“Right.” Chaeyoung has no idea how you know how old she is, but she can roll with it. “You?”

You nod, looking anywhere other than Chaeyoung face. “Yeah. Same. So, do you have any ideas for the project yet?”

“No, sorry.” She can’t help the smile on your face, still shocked that you’re holding a conversation with her and not murdering her already. “Let’s get coffee? We can talk about the project. If you’re free, of course.”

“I am.”

And that’s all it takes for Chaeyoung to grin again, grab your arm, and lead you to the nearest coffee shop.

Chaeyoung likes the way you’re honest about what you want. When she offers to order, despite knowing what you want, you quietly ask for the iced black coffee and hand her 10 dollars even when she tries to protest.

You don’t ask about what she ordered, and you make sure she tipped the extra before opening your laptop and asking for ideas.

As the afternoon goes on, you seem to grow more comfortable, and Chaeyoung can let go of some of her slightly forced enthusiasm. She actually finds herself enjoying your dry sense of humor and sarcastic comments, though she can’t really make any of her own.

By the time she has to go to her next class, Chaeyoung’s actually making jokes of her own, and she has your number stored in her phone.

All in all, a successful day.

“Hi.”

You look surprised (or as surprised as you deign to look) to see Chaeyoung sitting next to you in the lecture hall the day after the project was turned in. “Uh, hey.”

“How do you think we did on the project?” the blonde asks, taking out her laptop. She ignores the way you stare at her, hoping that you didn’t want to just forget her existence after the project or something.

“Pretty good. You’re smart, I just helped a little bit.”

Chaeyoung laughs softly, swatting at your arm. “No way, come on. You’re smarter than your leather jackets let on, too.”

“And you’re smarter than your overly sweetened tea lets on,” you tease, a smile twinkling in your eyes.

She scowls and swats at you again, but you dodge this time. “I thought we agreed never to mention that again!”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Chaeyoung misses the way you smile at her after she turns to the board.

It becomes sort of a routine to sit next to you during lectures and copy off your surprisingly comprehensive notes. Chaeyoung can’t help but fall deeper and deeper at your ever-tentative smile, at each offhand, yet sweet comment.

All the little details about you, the tiniest things you notice, only make Chaeyoung fall harder. You buy non-cinnamon gum especially for her and keep 2 packs in your bag in case she wants some. Sometimes, you show up with a cup of so-called ‘overly sweetened tea’ next to your own coffee.

You see everything about her, and you both make the most subtle changes so that the two of you complement each other absolutely perfectly. Chaeyoung starts carrying blue pens because you prefer them, while you carry black ones in case either of you forget. You even carry a strawberry chapstick just for her.

Even Chaeyoung starts unconsciously enjoying the smell of your sweet mint chapstick; she wears it sometimes, not because she likes it more, but because she’s curious how it’d taste on your lips.

It doesn’t need to be said that Chaeyoung doesn’t just want to be friends anymore.

At first, she just wanted to understand you a bit better, to relieve her own fascination with you, but the more she learns, the more Chaeyoung is pulled in. It’s more than just a crush now, more than simple butterflies in her stomach.

Now, it’s an unconscious smile always tugging at her lips when you’re not with her, laughing at a joke that wasn’t necessarily actually that funny. It’s adapting to fit with you, and it’s accepting that maybe opposites do attract after all.

The only thing left is to introduce you to her friends.

“Are you ready?”

You frown, tugging at the sleeves of your leather jacket. Chaeyoung’s heart warmed when you offered to tone down your look for her, but she didn’t want you to change anything about yourself, so you just went with your jacket. “Sure, I guess.”

“Great!” the blonde beams, waving at Yeri and Joy, who she sees a few yards away from the huge table the two of you occupy. Behind them, Jisoo, Jennie, and Lisa lag, though they’re too far away to clearly see you.

Yeri’s expression isn’t exactly favorable; she stops right in her tracks to talk furiously to the others, and Chaeyoung frowns at the unreadable expression on your face. “Um… don’t worry, Y/N-ah. They’re probably just… talking about what to eat?”

“Sure,” you mutter, looking down. As the other girl has discovered, despite all your bravado and sass, you’re quite self-conscious. “It’s not like pizza is the only food this place offers.”

There’s no time for the blonde to reply; Jisoo, ever the tactful one, sits first and offers a tight smile. “Chaeng, good to see you. And you are?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” If Chaeyoung didn’t know you well enough, she wouldn’t be able to see past the mask of bored confidence you put on. “Jisoo, right? I’ve heard of you.”

The oldest girl flushes and nods. “Um, these are Jennie, Lisa, Yeri, and Joy.” They raise their hands or nod when their names are called, though their expressions are hostile.

Just as Chaeyoung opens her mouth to try and break the awkward silence, Lisa leans forward with her eyes narrowed. “So. What do you want with Chaeyoung?”

“Lisa!” The younger girl is usually sweet and puppy-like, but she’s also notoriously protective of her friends. Chaeyoung doesn’t miss the way your eye twitches just the slightest bit, and she resists the urge to put her hand on your arm. “Stop it.”

“What? You can’t deny this feels an awful like you’re introducing your girlfriend to us, and she’s the worst girlfriend you could have,” Lisa scowls, crossing her arms.

You sigh, shaking your head and standing up. Joy actually lurches back in her chair, as if expecting you to beat her up, but you just toss a quick smile to Chaeyoung, picking up the leather jacket slung over the back of your chair. “I think we’re done here. For your information, I’m not dating Chaeyoung, even though it wouldn’t be any of your business if I was.”

All the other girls stare at you, including Chaeyoung, as you continue, “You don’t know anything about me, so don’t assume. I appreciate that you care for Chaeng, but this is not the way to show it.”

With that, you’re gone, a light brush of your fingers on Chaeyoung’s shoulder the only way for her to tell that you aren’t angry at her.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, though, she scowls at her friends, hissing, “What the hell, Lisa? It was not your place to say any of that.”

The younger girl looks sheepish now, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I… I’m sorry.”

Jennie, though, rolls her eyes. “Come on, Chaeyoung. It’s what’s best, you don’t want to be dating her. She’s only going to break your heart.”

“I’m not that fragile, are you serious?” It’s honestly pretty uncharacteristic for Chaeyoung to actually be mad, but she can’t seem to control her words when her relationship with you might’ve been ruined. “It’s not your business anyway.”

Jisoo bites her lip, reaching for Chaeyoung’s hand across the table. “Chaeng, please. We just want what’s best for you, and Y/N isn’t that. You understand, right?”

No, I don’t. I don’t understand any of it. “Sure. I understand,” Chaeyoung exhales, sitting back. Despite everything she wants to say to her friends, she knows that they have good intentions, however misguided.

She’ll talk to you tomorrow.

You don’t show up to class the next day, and Chaeyoung sits alone in her usual seat, feeling empty when you’re not quietly making snarky remarks beside her.

It’s odd, and it really shows how much you’ve ingrained yourself into her life.

After a day of thinking, Chaeyoung has come to realize that, despite all her friends’ warnings, she does have feelings for you. She wants to be with you, to enjoy the little things and the small moments together, and she thinks you might feel the same way.

Obviously, she’s still too cowardly to actually go to you and tell you.

After you don’t show up for the next 2 classes, Chaeyoung dials your phone. You don’t pick up there, either, and she’s left to frown at her phone in the middle of the road.

She’s not a passive person, so she fully intends to do anything she can to make you talk to her.

On Monday, she decides she’ll text your roommate Miyeon, but she gets caught up in classes. On Tuesday, Chaeyoung thinks she’ll bring you some notes, but she forgets to write an extra copy. On Wednesday, she catches a cold and Lisa refuses to let her go anywhere.

A week passes exactly like that.

Finally, 9 days after the disastrous lunch, she manages to get your dorm room number from the office lady she bribes with homemade cupcakes. You’re always home for lunch, probably because you don’t eat with anyone but Chaeyoung.

Her heart thuds in her chest as she rounds the corner to head into your hallway, the buzz of other students around her drowned out by the ringing in her ears. She knocks three times- one, two, three- on your door and she waits.

You look terrible when you open the door.

The permanent dark circles under your eyes are ten times darker than usual, and your lips are dry and chapped. You wear a rumpled Disney shirt that Chaeyoung would tease you about if she wasn’t so concerned. “Um… cupcakes?”

“Thanks for coming by.”

“No problem.” The blonde watches you pour out some cheap, college-student coffee at the tiny desk in the corner of the dorm. “I was just concerned. You haven’t been to class in a while, you know?”

You sigh and hand her a cup of piping hot tea, already sweetened just like Chaeyoung likes it. “Yeah. I know.”

“Hey.” Leaning over, Chaeyoung places her hand on yours, ignoring the way her heart skips a beat at the skin-to-skin contact. Judging by the blush on your face, you feel the same. “You can tell me anything, okay? We’re friends.”

You almost seem to wince, though Chaeyoung doesn’t know what for. “Yeah. I’m fine though.”

“Was it my friends?” the blonde persists, her eyes searching yours for an explanation. “I know that they were really rude, but I promise I don’t care about anything they say, okay?”

Scoffing, you stand up, seemingly to get more coffee, even though your mug is full. “I’m not that shallow, okay?”

“Then what is it?” Despite knowing she sounds desperate, Chaeyoung’s mind is racing for an explanation, anything that could tell her why you’re avoiding her. “Please talk to me.”

The beat of silence that passes only makes Chaeyoung feel more anxious, like her brain is spinning in circles inside her head, and she almost jumps when you speak again. “Do you… do you like me?”

“I… of course I do! You’re my friend, I like you very much.” The blonde is well aware that that isn’t what you meant, but she can’t help but avoid what she really wants to say as she babbles on, “Why? Do you want me to show my platonic love for you more often?”

“Chaeyoung.” You place your hand on hers and lean forward with a serious expression on your face that honestly scares Chaeyoung. “I know that you won’t tell me honestly any time soon, so I’m just going to say it first. I like you. A lot, and not as a friend.”

As the other girl’s jaw drops, you continue on, the overly quick speed of your speech letting Chaeyoung know just how nervous you are to say all of this. “I know that I have a reputation, and I know that I’m too closed down or boring, but you’re nothing like that. You’re so sweet and gorgeous, and I just… really like you. And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” Chaeyoung reaches for you again, eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. She doesn’t find any. “You’re not boring, Y/N, not in the slightest. And I like you too, every little thing about you.”

“I don’t think you know enough about me to say that,” you try to deflect, but the blonde shakes her head.

“You’re so sweet to me, Y/N, and it’s not your fault that no one else can see it, but I do. I see all the little things you do for me, and I fall for you more every day. Maybe I don’t know enough about you, but I want to learn. If you’ll let me.”

A short pause occurs before you exhale quickly, swiping away tears Chaeyoung didn’t notice were about to fall. “Okay. I’d love that.”

“Great.” Chaeyoung sits back again, but just as you’re about to get up, presumably to busy yourself with a drink or something, she blurts out, “Can I kiss you?”

The surprised look on your face is so endearing that she’s already grinning when you smile softly. “Of course you can.”

The moment that you bend down and press your lips to hers, so soft and gentle, is the best of Chaeyoung’s life. She can finally taste the sweet mint of your chapstick, mixed with the unique taste of you, and feel the way your lips are slightly chapped against her own. When you pull away, Chaeyoung loves the flush to your cheeks that mirrors hers, and she can only grin when you move away to get your coffee.

Maybe opposites do attract after all.

“Hey, can I ask you something again?”

“You already did,” you joke, then laugh when the other girl pouts. “Sure, Chaeng. What?”

“Do you hate cats?”

An offended gasp escapes from you, matching your expression. “No, who hates cats? I think that’s the worst rumor about me yet.”

The blonde protests, “What about the one about you murdering someone?”

Sniffing and sitting with your coffee, you say, “I stand by my case.”

Cupping your face with her hands, the cuffs of her sweaters brushing up against your cheeks, Chaeyoung presses another kiss to your lips. The taste of mint and coffee, strawberry and tea, is the most perfect combination she could ever imagine.

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epitome-of-an-openbook · 3 years

Text

Cult Leader Villain!Deku - Engagement and Suspicion Pt. 1

"Hey Todoroki?"

Shoto looked up from his lunch to see one of his classmates approaching. Blonde, with a little streak of black. Shoto looked to his right for help from Ochako.

"Hello Kaminari," she helpfully replies for him, "Is there something we can help you with?"

Shoto is very glad he was able to convince Uraraka Ochako to join the commune and eventually convert, it feels a lot less lonely at school and she's really helpful in situations like these when Shoto's inability to socialize gets in his way.

Quietly, "Hello Kaminari."

With a big grin, the blonde plops himself down across from them at their mostly empty table.

"I have a question for you Todoroki. Earlier, when we changing back into our uniforms after training, the boys and I noticed you had mark on your arm and Kirishima swears up and down it's a scar, but I know I saw a design to it. So it's definitely a tattoo right?"

A small, rare smile pulls at Todoroki's lips; this is the perfect opportunity to educate a non-believer on the Verdent Angel.

"Yes, it is a tattoo. Would you like to see it?"

Kaminari's grin gets even wider as he turns back to his table and waves some others over, before turning back and nodding.

"It's okay for Kiri and Sero to see too right?"

Todoroki nods and begins to unbutton his uniform shirt enough to pull it down over his shoulder to reveal the simple designs tattooed in delicate white ink like a band around his bicep.

"Oh man that is so cool! Where'd you get it done?" Kaminari practically yells as he leans in close to examine it.

The red head (Kirishima, he thinks) leans in as well with a slightly disappointed look, "Aw man, I totally thought it was a manly scar that probably had some awesome backstory. Not that a tattoo isn't also super manly."

The third boy, Sero, scrunches his face up like he's confused, "Dude, how did you get a tattoo? Isn't it like - illegal to tattoo a minor?"

"It has religious significance, so the rules don't apply the same," Ochako chimes in, "I have a similar one."

Kirishima and Sero still suddenly, a look like they want to be anywhere else slowly coming over their faces. Kaminari leans even closer, still buzzing with excitement and curiosity.

"Really? What does it mean?"

Now this, this Shoto could talk about. He may be slightly socially awkward and struggle with the usual topics his classmates engage in, but he is well versed in the teachings of the redeemer.

Todoroki taps at the thickest band, at the bottom of the tattoo as he begins to explain, "Each band means something different, this one here at the bottom indicates that I am a member of the Church, and have completed initiation rites."

Shoto moves his finger up to the next band, this one comprised of tiny, delicate verticle lines, every fifth being slightly longer than those surrounding it, "This one indicates which branch you are in, currently there are only three branches each with their own design, so that members can easily tell where others are from. Ochako and I are members of the first branch as we practice at the facility here in Musutafu."

He moves his finger up again to a series of three delicate slim lines that wrap gently around his bicep at its fullest point, "These three lines indicate my rank within the church, I only have three right now. Ochako has two. My brother and Chisaki-san both have five, which is the highest rank you can achieve as a member. These lines are probably the most sacred since they indicate your level of faith and loyalty to the Verdent Angel."

Kaminari cuts in poking the topmost ring of the tattoo, bypassing the space left between it and the three bands that may one day be filled as Shoto advances in the church, "And what does this leafy one mean Todoroki?"

Shoto gently removes Kaminari's finger and softly rubs at the final band, "They are yarrow leaves," Shoto explains, "and they represent my engagement."

Silence.

"What?" Kirishima asks in a tone that expresses only confusion.

"Engagement?" Sero adds equally confused, "Engagement with what?"

"I think you mean 'To Who', Sero," Ochako states eyes filled with excitement, "Shoto is engaged to be married."

"Aw man thats so cool!" Kaminari exclaims, ever excitable despite the discomfort radiating from his friends in heavy waves.

"Dude-" Sero says softly to Kaminari, pulling him back into his seat.

"Bro," Kirishima cuts in with an uncomfortable sounding chuckle, "But you're like, fifteen, why are you engaged?"

"Because God deemed me worthy."

"So it's like... an arranged marriage? That sucks." Sero states only to immediately regret it when two pairs of eyes turn to glare at him.

"Anyone would be more than happy to marry the Verdent Angel!" Ochako exclaims with passion usually only seen by Iida when lecturing Bakugou about his unheroic attitude.

"My betrothal to God's redeemer on Earth is not something to mock," Shoto says firmly, his blue and grey eyes locking harshly with Sero's. "He courted me for months. An we fasted and prayed together for a whole week to seek God's blessing in our union. The Verdent Angel is the personification of purity and he will save humanity from its downfall, that I get to be the first to join with him is a blessing unlike any other."

The bell rings, indicating that their lunch period is over, and with that Shoto and Ochako quickly gather their things to return to class, leaving the other three boys to sit in uncomfortable shock.

"So like, correct me if I'm wrong," Kirishima begins with a pained expression, "but 'Verdent Angel', is what they call their cult leader - prophet guy right?"

Sero nods eyes still following Todoroki and Uraraka as they exited the cafeteria, "Is Todoroki engaged to a whole ass adult?"

"Yikes."

#Villain!Deku Cult AU #bnha cult au #villain!tododeku #villain!deku #villain!midoriya #bnha fic ideas

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 1

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let's try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We're living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn't actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Pining. I was pining after Stark and it made me upset. I thought I was better than that. Better than acting the part of a lovesick puppy, begging for scraps of attention- a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, a blanket thrown over me in my sleep. Even if he was my Mount Olympus, I wasn't exactly on board with starting the whole damn journey in the first place.

Most of all, I hated being a cliché. I tried my best to avoid showing how I felt and with time, I think I excelled at it. I am really good with things if I really put my mind to it. Was it a blessing, or was it a curse? Only the future will tell. I try not to think about it, as I prefer not to stress out too much. Peter was the anxious kid and I was the calm one. I was the Ying to his Yang. He flipped his shit often and I always calmed him down and cleaned up after him. No complaints there, Pete is pure and precious and I would kill everybody and then myself if he actually got hurt.

I'm only a year older than him and that year feels like an uncrossable bridge to me. We get along like a house on fire and I delight in the way he starts smiling when we're paired together for a project. Deep inside I'm sure he thinks of me as one of his best friends, his homies but-and there's always a but-I can't reciprocitate that. He goes to decathlon after school with his wholesome BFF duo, I go to a local dive bar with a fake ID I'd made sometime when I was about 15.

Peter has everything I wish I've ever had. Good for him. I'm not going to mess that up, no matter how much my angst demands I throw a tantrum and become, like, a supervillain or something.

I banter, instead. I chit-chat. I laugh and I repeatedly make a joke out of myself. Nobody suspects a thing, and I'm not surprised. People always see what they want to see. I've been the weird loner since middle school. Not the sad kind, of course, my pride wouldn't let me. I'm too good at things to be completely ignored. Teachers adore me, the event planning committee approaches me every year with tentative pleas for advice. The list goes on and on; what they don't understand is that it's just High School. Another year and I'll be out of there and nobody will be wiser.

I feel like a liar every time I'm excited. Because I'm not that - I don't care about their stupid field trips or collaborative projects. My mind is five steps and two hops ahead of that bullshit. It has to be or I just won't make it in the world.

"Parker-pen, Mr. Stark. G'day, sirs," I nodded, entering the lab, looking straight ahead. They both were hunched over... Something vaguely mechanical and I was terribly, horribly hungover. Saturday night was Science night but I'd gone to bed around 2PM after a party ran way too late.

"Hi," and "Powerpuff girl," came from them respectively, and they didn't even lift their heads.

I wondered if I could just skedaddle and leave them to their big brain time. "Is this a bad time? I can come tomorrow instead," I immediately regretted speaking, even to my own ears my voice sounds scratchy.

"No, actually, Dr. Ban-Bruce-wanted to talk to you," Peter mumbled out half-coherently. Tony kept ignoring me and I was fine with that. The less temptation I have the less trouble there will be.

"I'm not playing with his zucchini again," I groaned, causing the intricate pile of metal to squeak sadly as Pete tripped over his own damn body, jostling the prototype in the process. I could have sworn the room got several degrees hotter from the boy's blush alone.

Tony cackled, shuffling away from the newly ruined prototype. "He won the damn contest, you should've seen the judges faces," The engineer's grin threatened to split his face in half. I poked at my phone in muted interest. "Hold up, Friday has a recording. I definitely recorded the thing."

A holo-screen popped up. Tranquil scenes of a local fair, gourds and other assorted vegetables of various grotesque sizes were scattered throughout the square. An unmistakable mop of curly greying hair posed proudly next to a zucchini half the size of Hulk - I was fairly certain genetically engineering the plant was cheating and warned him so but somehow Banner managed to persuade the judges into letting him participate, and ultimately win, the competition for the Biggest Zucchini. Some of them were quite shocked at the size of that thing and well - well, their glances were quite contemplative to say the least.

"Damn, Tony, that blonde chick's face tells me all I need to know," I gave a lopsided smirk in the engineer's general direction. That was our thing, you see? He called me these ridiculous cutesy nicknames and asked me about getting my nails done or going to the mall and I'd make salacious comments and go on an occasional flirtatious spree. That was comfortable. We both enjoyed making Peter blush and giggle like the little schoolboy that he was.

"Our Brucie bear is a freak, don't let him tell you any different, Princess," Tony winked at me.

"Oh, I know all about it, Tones," I suggestively wiggled my eyebrows. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter groan and palm his face. I briefly bumped my knuckles to Tony's outstretched hand and made my way to the adjacent lab that hosted the second resident crazy scientist.

"Bruce?"

"Oh, hi there, come on in," He smiled warmly at me and I relaxed, shrugging off the tension in my limbs that seemed to appear every time Tony was around me. Banner's soft, friendly nature always made me feel welcomed and appreciated.

We made small talk as I threw on a lab coat and some protective glasses and discarded my bag in the far corner, away from any possible explosions. I congratulated him on his recent victory - here is when I say that despite what most will say, Banner has a serious competitive mean streak and isn't afraid to get down and dirty when it comes to matters of his personal pride.

That's what makes us alike, I think. I have too much dignity and self-respect to walk around Tony with stars in my eyes and hang around his neck like yesterday's tie.

The quiet, even pace of doing lab work made me completely lose track of time. Some time passed as I felt the crick in my neck become noticeable, and the deep ache in my calves from standing and dancing yesterday worsened. I hopped onto the nearest table, hunched over a tablet, eyes skimming over research articles - most of it didn't register at all in the wake of a dull throb behind my temples. My hair limply hung over my face - I had to wash it to get rid of the stench-hard liquor and cigarettes - but I was way too lazy to style it properly.

I ignored the swaying strands until a large palm gently tucked them behind my ear, a white lab coat coming into my field of view. "You okay?" Banner's quiet voice interrupted my reading. I lifted eyes enough to see he was wearing a dorky button-up in some gross shade of blue under the lab coat. His eyes were affectionate behind thinly rimmed glasses.

"Rough Friday night?" He questioned.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I'm hungover as fuck." There was no point in hiding the obvious; I'm sure the bags under my eyes already had tattled on me.

He chuckled, too, leaning his hip against the table, one broad arm coming to wrap around me in a hug. Usually he wasn't so touchy-feely; but I wasn't complaining. Banner was really, really warm. "I'll spare you the lecture on underage drinking," He said with another chuckle.

"Yeah, it's pretty pointless. You'd be three years too late."

A deep sigh left him, both of his arms wrapping around me in a comfortable embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, trying my best to really avoid showing how touch-starved I was. I was a hundred percent sure they all figured out my family life was difficult; the last thing I needed was their pity.

"Y'know, we should sit down and talk someday," He said after a brief moment of hesitation. "About your future. College, maybe?"

I gave a non-committal hum, basking in the warmth of the hug, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes - behind the glass divide, I could faintly distinguish Tony's and Peter's shapes, still bent over that bench the pile of metal.

"You have a lot of potential," Banner continued, his tone developing a gently admonishing hint. "I understand if you want to take some time off from your studies but I'd rather you succeed and not let all that potential go to waste," He finished, patting me on the back with a gentle hand.

I tried not to preen under his touch. "Are you attempting to guilt-trip me over a party, doctor Banner?" I teased him, expecting the smile that I felt being hidden by my hair. Sometimes I felt that I could read the man like an open book, he was so earnest about his interactions.

"I just - we want you to stay safe, okay? Don't blow your future for a little bit of fun," He shrugged carefully.

"Okay, Bruce," I simply replied, meaning it this time

He kept hugging me, running his hand over my back absentmindedly. Probably thinking about his recent science bender. I wasn't upset: my own brain tended to get tangled in personal projects, too. I had only one complaint and it was that the cuddle was making me sleepy.

I yawned, startling the man. Pulling away from the hug wasn't really an option. He was broad and quite strong, probably courtesy of the Hulk and radiation in his blood.

"Why don't we put you in a guest room for tonight?" He inquired and I nodded. "Call your parents for me, okay?"

"My mother is in Vancouver for the week and I doubt she would care anyway," I rolled my eyes. "She's in the middle of some shitstorm with OsCorp and their marketing department." If anything, I was grateful my mother was preoccupied with her job. Being around her was like hanging out on top of an iceberg in the far end of the ocean.

I felt Bruce's frown. His body tensed briefly, blink and you'll miss the hunch of his shoulders. "What about your dad?"

I cringed. "He's been in Ibiza since the season opened, no doubt snorting miles of coke and... " I hesitated. "You can guess the rest."

My dad was kind of a dick, but I don't blame him at all for being the way he is. My parents have been married for twenty years. They were happy, once - I saw their college pictures with my mother's bright smiles and bushy hair, and my dad's terrible fashion sense and their dog, a funny little runt with an atrocious name. Then mother had me and for a while, they were happy too, but it lasted about until she landed her first prospective job. Kind of cliché.

Bruce sighed again. "Okay. You hungry?"

"No, I'm not going near food until tomorrow. Nu-uh," I fake-retched next to his ear, making Bruce shiver and playfully pinch my side.

"It'll help with your hangover. Doctor's advice."

"You're not even that kind of doctor," I laughed, very gently poking him back, somewhere around his stomach. He squirmed.

"I have seven PhDs," Bruce smiled as he rested his chin on top of my head as he adjusted his torso to prevent my fingers from reaching his ticklish spots. I poked him again in retaliation, fully enjoying the snort and squirm I caused. Soft™. "Let's go get you settled in," Bruce, seemingly without any difficulty, picked me up, propping me against his hip like a toddler. It probably looked awkward but what the hell, I haven't been carried around since I can remember myself. My legs wrapped around his hips for balance, butt resting on his forearm.

"You're a showoff," I couldn't help but snort, getting a lopsided smirk in return.

He made his way over to the elevator with me dangling and examining my nails in an expectant fashion. Tony's jokes aside, I really enjoyed getting them done and weird colors were a quest of entertainment for me. I obviously couldn't have them very long because I worked in a lab so I chose outrageous prints and decorations instead. This week, each of my nails had a different style - thankfully my aesthetician was professional enough to make it look somewhat put together even if it took a good chunk of my allowance and an hour long Uber ride to get to her salon.

I noticed the dimmed lights in Tony's lab and none of Peter's usual mess scattered on the tables, figuring he'd already left. Stark himself stood propped against a table, watching something, smoothie in hand.

For only a brief moment, I let my eyes rake over his body, his beautiful, sculpted physique hugged by a pair of fitted jeans and an old Led Zeppelin tee. Tony's handsomeness wasn't obvious, it wasn't in-your-face kind of appearance like Captain America's, but the engineer was built sturdy and his arms - the only bare part of him - were riddled with scars. He used his strong, bulky body for work.

I turned away before I got too ahead of myself. Bruce smelled like lab equipment and rubbing alcohol, something that made me sober up and snap out of my daydream before Stark took notice and started teasing me about ogling him. My once-over lasted barely three seconds yet with Tony's genius, I always had to be on my toes.

I saw movement in my peripheral. Banner waved before entering the elevator - at Tony, probably, so I looked back, seeing the man watching us, content replaced with a contemplating frown. I waved at him, resting my cheek on Bruce's shoulder. "Tony's having a big mood," I noted quietly in the scientist's ear.

"You know Tony," Bruce sighed, adjusting his hold on me as the car ascended to the housing floors. "His brain runs a mile a minute and he can't make sense of it for the biggest part. Give him some time and he'll be back to his annoying self."

I didn't see Tony as annoying in any way, but then again, I was severely biased. The billionaire was quirky venturing into absurd but also clever and brilliant.

We had reached our destination and Bruce carefully set me down on my feet once the door to my room was open. A large queen bed, TV and another door to an adjacent bathroom. It was really simple but luxurious nonetheless - I had the exact same carpet at home, having heard my mother bitch about it's cost after seeing me spill soda on it way too many times.

"I'll let you get settled in. Ask Friday if you need something," Bruce awkwardly shuffled his feet, taking off his glasses and briefly examining them before putting them back on again. "Breakfast here is on the 74th floor starting around 7AM, someone will probably get you around nine if you sleep in," He finished, giving a shy tilt of his lips.

"Thanks, Brucie-bear," The nickname easily slipped from my lips. I didn't resist the urge to hug the kind scientist, quickly wrapping my arms around his middle, delightfully sighing when he immediately returned the gesture.

"Good night, Princess," I had to suppress a happy squeak when the man kissed my forehead before retreating and closing the door behind himself. A quick shower and a quest to find a power outlet to plug my charger into preceded my less than graceful flop into the bed. It felt like sleeping on a cloud, honestly, it had nothing on my mother's orthopaedic memory foam mattresses. I passed out faster than I’d ever had.

#Bun writes #party favours #Tony Stark x y/n #Tony Stark x reader #Bruce Banner x reader #Bruce Banner x y/n #Stephen Strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #We're going to Hell y'all

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

Caliber

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 12 - Death

Peter grew up like most American kids running active shooter drills thinking (hoping) it would never happen to him.

Words: 2338, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, Various Midtown Students and Faculty

TW: TW: Gun Violence, Blood, Major Character Injury, Possible MCD (if you choose to interpret it that way)

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Growing up, Peter spent his early childhood in lower level genetics labs with his parents. Part of this was simply because they worked some weird hours at OsCorp but the other part was definitely because they recognized his intelligence and talent early and would give him easy experiments to run while they worked. Safe? Eh, maybe not but Peter had fun.

Well, until they died that is.

After that Peter would spend his time in the hospital daycare or nurse’s break room or sitting at Ben’s desk in the bullpen at the precinct where he worked. Daycare and babysitters were expensive and Peter was having a little separation anxiety from becoming an orphan at six. Peter accredits this formative time in his life to why he has a healthy respect of first responders, why he goes out every night in spandex to help his neighborhood (even if the cops hate him).

After the funeral, after May and Ben went back to work and started taking Peter with them, Ben sat Peter down to go over basic gun safety with him. He can remember that initial conversation pretty vividly: Ben had sat Peter down on the couch and had pulled out his unloaded side arm and the small safe he stored it in. He told Peter just how dangerous weapons could be in untrained hands, how Peter could easily hurt himself or others if he ever touched it, how Ben would always have it locked up but, on the off chance it wasn’t, Peter was to never touch it.

Peter had readily agreed and had steered clear of Ben’s belt and the gun safe next to his side of the bed his whole childhood.

The officers that Ben worked with were, for the most part, super nice to Peter and always took time out of their days to talk to him, bring him snacks and (attempt) to help him with his homework and Peter grew to be the most comfortable in the loud bullpen or the adjacent break room. The summer before he started his freshman year at Midtown, Ben and some of the other officers had given Peter a crash course in gun safety – how to clean, care and shoot a weapon – and it only took one trip to dash Peter’s dreams of working in law enforcement; he never wanted to handle a gun again.

Holding his uncle’s body as he bled out a few months later from the massive hole left in his back by the .45 caliber handgun only solidified that decision.

Luckily, in his tenure as Spider-Man, Peter tended to run into more sub-Ultron and Chitauri fare than the classic handguns and rifles he was familiar with which suited him just fine. When he did come across a run of the mill mugger or rapist who was using a pistol or something similar, Peter took great pleasure in using his super strength to rip it into tiny pieces – destroyed beyond repair and off the streets for good.

This had resulted in some unfortunate bullet grazes and full-on holes in his body that had prompted his helicopter mentor (under the order of Aunt May of course) to force him through another gun safety lecture, complete with a practical portion where Colonel Rhodes assisted in teaching Peter how to properly disarm and disassemble a variety of different sidearms. It was definitely cool to spend time with Actual War Machine but Peter rushed through it as quickly and throughly as possible. He never wanted to have the easy comfort with weapons that Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes had – he preferred non-lethal disarmament when patrolling.

All this said – Peter probably had more experience and knowledge with various weapons (human and otherwise) than he had any right to.

All of this experience, all of his time as Spider-Man, everything he had been through did nothing to help keep him calm and collected when his principal came over the intercom while Peter was in gym class to announce a code red shelter in place order. Like most high schoolers in America, Peter had gone through numerous school safety drills so he, in theory, knew what to do in a emergency.

In practice? Not so much.

Coach Wilson had looked just as pale and stunned as the class but had recovered quickly enough to rush the doors. A few other students had also started moving to gather some of the wrestling mats to roll in front of the doors once Coach Wilson had gotten them closed and locked.

He, unfortunately, wasn’t quick enough.

Brian Anderson, a sophomore Peter recognized from the debate team, forced the door open, brandishing the small revolver in a shaky hand. His face was pale, eyes red rimmed with tears with such a desolate look it made Peter’s own heart clench in sympathy despite his rapid heart-rate.

“Back up,” he whispered, using the gun to gesture for the coach to step away and the man obliged; holding his hands up in surrender and slowly backing away from the door. Some of Peter’s classmates, including Ned who, for once, wasn’t right at Peter’s side in class but across the room from him, had started to cry. Michelle, looking stony faced but terrified underneath it all, was trying to shush Betty Brant who was in the middle of a full blown panic attack and trying not to draw attention to herself.

“Okay,” Coach Wilson said, motioning the class members closest to him to back up with one raised hand, his eyes never leaving the weapon. “You’re calling the shots here Brian.”

Brian sniffled, fresh tears spilling over his eyes and hand trembling as he surveyed the room, eventually moving the barrel to point at Mark Conley, one of Flash’s friends and a notorious online bully. Both boys had gone nearly ghost white and the class seemed to be holding its collective breath.

“Sorry Ben,” Peter thought. “Sorry Mr. Stark.”

“Brian,” he called out, voice sounding much more steady than he predicted it would since he was just Peter Parker right now and not Spider-Man. “You don’t want to do this man.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Brian spit out, anger over-ruling all of his other feelings and his eyes landing on Peter. “You don’t know what I want to do!”

“I promise you don’t want to do this,” Peter said calmly. “I know what they’re like. You think they treat me any better than you? You’ll regret this if you do it.”

Brian snorted out a dry laugh, not looking like he found anything remotely funny. “Then you should want me to do this.” He said, cherry picking Peter’s words.

“But I don’t,” Peter told him, edging closer to the other boy, making sure to put his body in front of Mark as he moved closer. “Do you know how my uncle died?” Brian, eyes locked with Peter’s, shook his head nearly imperceptibly. “He was shot by some guy robbing a bodega. He bled out in my arms before emergency services could arrive.” Peter said bluntly, doing the best to ignore how his heart clenched and his eyes burned.

The barrel of Brian’s gun dipped down to point more toward the floor and Peter took a few cautious steps forward, stopping when he was only about five feet away. “They won’t stop,” Brian whispered, the tears flowing heavier but his finger still in place over the trigger. “It just keeps getting worse and I can’t take it. I can’t do this anymore!”

“I know,” Peter said, voice soft, dropping his hands down to rest loosely at his sides. He really wishes he had his web-shooters, secret identity be damned. He was never taking them off again, no matter what May tried to tell him about work/life balance. “I know what its like and it sucks but they aren’t worth throwing your whole life away. It’s not worth hurting all the innocent people you’ll hurt. You don’t want to do that to your friends and family.”

“I don’t have any friends!” Brian said loudly, raising the gun back up to point at Peter but Peter didn’t move from his relaxed position even though he felt his heart speed up to a gallop. He faced possible injury and death at least once a week but that was always as Spider-Man… never as Peter Parker.

“I’m your friend,” Peter told him, a little desperate but honest. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” Brian gasped and let the pistol drop to his side in a loose grip. “Just hand me the gun Brian okay? And then we can talk about it, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Brian sniffed and rubbed his free hand over his face to wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Peter confirmed, holding out his hand. Brian nodded and lifted his hand to pass Peter the gun when everything went wrong. Betty, who had been hyperventilating through the entire exchange, finally passed out. MJ tried to catch her but the two of them hit the floor with a echoing bang that startled the whole class. Brian, gun lifted and finger still on the trigger, flinched and jerked to aim back at Mark, shooting.

Everything happened in slow motion for Peter and he grimaced at what he was about to do, saying mental apologies and throwing his body in the path of the bullet, jerking back at the feeling of it hitting him in the chest.

His breath knocked out and his consciousness already becoming more nebulous from the pain that was blooming in his lungs, Peter stumbled forward to yank the gun from Brian’s limp grasp, deftly unloading it with the last of his strength and with shaking hands before throwing the rounds to the opposite side of the gym; collapsing at the other boys feet.

“Oh god,” Brian whispered in horror. “Oh god Peter. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He tried to bend down next to Peter but was swiftly tackled by Abe and Jason where he was wrestled onto his front with them restraining his hands without a fight beyond his gulping sobs.

“You’re alright Parker,” Coach Wilson said soothingly as he rolled Peter onto his back and used his own hastily shed jacket to apply pressure to the steadily bleeding hole in Peter’s chest, causing him to grunt and squeeze his eyes shut in pain. “Thompson! Call 911 and tell them we have the shooter and we need emergency services in the gym. Conley run up to the office and tell Morita what happened!” Both boys jumped into action but Peter ignored it in favor of unsteadily pulling his own phone out of his pocket and sliding it to Ned who had joined the group along with a pale and teary Michelle.

“Call Tony,” Peter coughed out, blood staining his lips and leaked down the side of his face. “No hospital.”

Ned, shaking and crying worse than Peter had ever seen fumbled the phone with numb hands before giving up and pressing the panic button on the side of the phone. Feeling relieved that his mentor was on the way, Peter let his tired eyes close only to rip them open at the flick on his nose.

“It’s not nap time Tiger,” MJ told him, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t want to get detention again.”

“I think…” Peter gasped out, his lungs aching with the strain. “Think this… get me… a permanent… ‘get out of detention’… free card.”

Michelle ran soft fingers through his hair, helping him relax his clenching muscles. He could tell that Ned was on the phone and speaking in rapid, broken sentences. He could kind of hear the sirens approaching, the sound of the building evacuating, crying students. But nothing mattered as much as Michelle. “You just couldn’t help yourself huh?”

“You know… me,” Peter grunted, trying for a grin that didn’t show the tacky blood he was sure was staining his teeth. “No guts… no glory.”

“God you’re a disaster,” MJ said with a watery laugh, a single tear escaping to race down her cheek. Peter wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe it away but his arms were made of lead.

Before Peter could work up the energy to respond, the doors of the gym were blown off the hinges by repulsers as Tony rushed the room, suited up in his full armor and clearly panicked. “Peter!” He shouted as he stumbled out of the suit, falling to his knees next to Peter and hastily began applying his prototype nanotech bandage to the hole in Peter’s chest before rolling him on his side to repeat the process with his back.

Peter gagged at the change in position, his eyesight fading out to a pinprick of light and his hearing glitching out. The voices around him became ever more harried but Peter couldn’t make out what they were trying to say – all he knew was he was really tired. More tired than he had ever been maybe. Surely no one would mind if he took a little nap?

“Stay with me buddy,” he heard Mr. Stark say as cold, hard arms gripped under his back and knees, lifting him and causing him to nearly black out again. “Just a quick little flight to the Tower Petey,” Tony said, voice wavering and not its usual strong timbre. “Just hang with me for a few more minutes and then you can nap okay kiddo?”

“Tired,” Peter gasped out, chest seizing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Tony ordered, frantic and yelling over the wind buffeting them. When had they started flying? “Just stay awake.”

“Love May,” Peter whispered, his vision a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors that were rapidly fading. “Love you.”

“Peter!” Tony sounded so far away, Peter thought as his eyes closed against the colors and shapes and lights that were making him feel dizzy and sick.

Just a little nap.

No one would notice.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump12 #Prompt: Death #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump

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yunopouts · 3 years

Text

Borderline! - y. jungwon

THIS GIF DOESN'T BELONG TO ME!!

hey y'all, daisy here 🤠 this is from my jungwon fic on wattpad :)

-> genre: fluff, humour

-> high school au!

-> characters: yang jungwon, fem!oc, jay park (enhypen), nct 127!

-> word count: 6k!

ENJOY!!

ONE!

The halls were noisy as everyone crowded around the bulletin board on the second floor to check their class, as expected on the first day of school. A shell of students surrounded a girl, standing directly in front of the papers looking for her name. Her finger trailed along the white paper, stopping when she found it, bringing it to the right of the page, checking for the class and room number. Class 2-B, she thought as she moved away from the crowd, making her way to the room.

When she reached her destination, she could already predict how wild her new class was going to be; kids were laughing, paper planes and balls were being thrown and kids were even drawing and writing things all over the chalkboard. She took in a deep breath and was about to walk in when she suddenly remembered something- the most important part of the first day at a new school. The teacher’s office. She turned sharply and started walking, completely oblivious to the boy who was coming her way.

“Jungwon, watch it.” someone said.

The girl finally looked up to see if someone was going to bump into her, but there was no one in sight, only the students talking along the walls. Since she was clear of any obstacles, she continued her way to the teacher’s office.

The room was dead silent, with only one teacher there. It was a man who looked like he was in his late twenties. She knocked lightly, getting the man's attention, who then told her to enter.

“Welcome to your new highschool…” he trailed off awkwardly, not knowing how to address the student.

“Ah… Kim Jisoo.” She showed her name tag. The man smiled, welcoming her once again.

“Now, Miss. Kim Jisoo, here are forms you have to fill out, and these,” he paused, trying to find the right ones out of all the sheets scattered on his desk. “Here they are!” he said after finally finding them. “These, give them to your parents and have them look over and sign them so you can bring them back to me tomorrow.”

“Yessir.” the girl nodded, smiling slightly.

“Alright, the bell will ring soon, so…” he was cut off by the door sliding open, four students and another teacher walking in.

“Mr. Kwon.” the other teacher, a woman, called over to us. Mr. Kwon looked from me to his colleague then back to me, again.

“O-one second.” I nodded and allowed him to pass by as he tended to the needs of the other teacher.

“Why don’t you explain to your teacher what those three were doing without hall passes, Jongseong.” the woman asked in a stern tone.

“W-well, you see-” the boy stammered, obviously trying to come up with an excuse.

Suddenly, the door slid open, but this time with a loud bang as the wood hit the wall, catching everyone’s attention.

“Sorry for the intrusion, Ms. Seo, but it was me.” a new boy, with jet black hair, entered the room. He paused with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, like he had just run five laps around the track, non-stop.

“Excuse me?” the women asked.

“I, sorry one second.” he stood up properly, sucking in two deep breaths before walking calmly towards us, as if he hadn’t just made the most dramatic entrance ever. “As I was saying, it was me who made them go to the bathroom without hall passes.” he stated. “Jay and Jaeyun had to go to the bathroom but Niki spilt something on Kyungsoo and Moonbin had really bad chicken last night and couldn’t hold it in so-”

“Enough, no need to explain any further.” the teacher held up her hand, commanding him to stop.

Although the first three boys who entered were looking down, as if they were repenting, it wasn’t hard to tell they were trying to hold in their laughter, because small smiles had invaded their lips. The first boy just stood there, his expression showing that he could go into further detail on what seemingly happened to Moonbin, whichever that one was.

“Ms. Seo, I think I got it from here.” the male teacher laughed awkwardly. Ms. Won pursed her lips before looking at the girl standing next to the desk.

“Who’s that?” she nodded her head towards the student, who wasn’t paying attention to the conversation anymore.

“Oh this, Jisoo, come here.” he smiled politely at the young girl, encouraging to come closer to the group. “This is our new student, Kim Jisoo. Jisoo, this is Ms. Seo.”

“A-ah, yes, hello, my name is Kim Jisoo, nice to meet you.” she bowed. When she met their eyes, three out of the four boys gave her a welcoming smile, but the one who was last to come in looked like he was frozen in his spot.

“Grades?” Ms. Seo raised a brow.

Shrugging off her bag, Jisoo opened the biggest pocket and shuffled through a few papers before pulling out a small rectangular paper and handed it to her. As the teacher studied the numbers on the page, the boys who smiled at her attempted to take a peek of them. Ms. Seo’s eyes glimmered, handing the page back to her, a small smile forming.

“Your grades may be low in languages but you sure are talented in everything else. Looking forward to seeing you in science.” a full smile graced her lips before she bid her goodbyes to the other teacher, eyeing the boys like she knew something was going on with them.

Once the door shut, the three boys whipped their heads to look at Jisoo, but one remained silent. The three boys that did look at her all bombarded her with questions.

---

TWO!

“How did you do that?” one with bleached hair asked.

“Pardon?” she cocked her head forward in confusion.

“How’d you get her to smile like that?” the bleach haired one said.

“Yeah, she never smiles.” said one of the brown-haired ones.

“Someone once told me that she doesn’t even know how to smile.” the other brunet said.

In response to that, Mr. Kwon rolled up the papers in his hand, striking all three chatty boys on the head, making them protect their heads with their hands.

“Quit it.” the boy in the back finally spoke up. The three glared at him before straightening themselves out, turning to face their teacher.

“Now,” Mr. Kwon sighed, looking to the five students. “since we’re all headed to the same place, let’s bring over some supplies.” Everyone but the seemingly soft-spoken boy and the girl groaned.

The teacher smiled and started handing out boxes filled with notebooks, loose paper and your basic classroom supplies. He gave one to each of the students, piling a few more stack of paper on the three troublemakers.

The Korean literature teacher lead the students out of the office, Moonbin, Kyungsoo and Jongseong waddling after him, probably to annoy him.

The room that the two were left behind in, was so silent that you could hear a pin drop.

“We should…” Jungwon pointed at the open door, the girl nodding silently in response.

As the two slowly followed their three classmates and teacher, they kept quiet, only the odd squeak of a shoe here and there echoed through the now empty halls.

It didn’t take very long to get to the room, now fully filled with students slacking off; when they saw Mr. Kwon heading their way, they rushed to their seats, as if they hadn’t not been doing anything this whole time.

“Hello everyone!” Mr. Kwon said with a smile, earing a lively response from the kids. “Welcome to your first day of school, please look forward to, what I hope to be, a great year.” With applause from his “crowd”, he waited until they settled down to call in their transferee. “Everyone, I would like for you to meet our newest student, Miss. Kim Jisoo.”

As she walked inside, there was a round of applause again, which, to be honest, kind of frightened Jisoo.

“Er- hello everyone.” She greeted them shyly. “My name is Kim Jisoo. I look forward to a great year. Please take care of me.” She bowed. One more round of applause before Mr. Kwon pointed to the empty seat in the back, coincidentally Jungwon’s desk partner, the silent boy from before.

When she sat down, the boy looked at her, with a small smile and a hand stretched out. “Hello. Kim Jisoo. My name is Yang Jungwon, I’m looking forward to a great year with you.”

“Same here.” His smile mirrored on to her face as she shook the boy’s hand.

She was first introduced to the three boys that were in the teacher’s office, by Jungwon. The one with bleached hair was Jongseong, but he told me that I could call him Jay. The one with the undercut was Kyungsoo and the one who looked like a foreigner was Moonbin.

One thing Jisoo found that all these boys had in common with each other, other than being classmates, was that they all were very aesthetically pleasing to look at. She often found herself unknowingly staring at Jay. Not in any way, just that he just so happens to be where her eyes land.

As their teacher lectured them on classic Korean literature, a folded piece of paper was secretly slid over on to Kim Jisoo’s desk. She looked at the note, then to her desk mate, then back at the note. She glanced up once more and pointed to herself silently, to which the boy nodded with a smile plastered to his face.

She took the note off her desk and opened it up as quietly as possible. As she read the note, her heart fluttered, and a smile appeared on her face. Jungwon let out a breathy laugh when she turned to face him, her expression triggering his reaction.

She turned back to face the front and write on the paper in response. She wrote a quick ‘yes’ before folding it back up and handing it back to him. Crinkling of paper came from beside her, followed by another light laugh before they both faced the front, patiently waiting for the bell to ring.

Now that it was lunch, Jungwon and Jay directed her to the cafeteria, as promised in the note from earlier. They lined up for food before sitting down at a table where five more boys were seated. When they sat, Jungwon stayed on Jisoo’s left, but Jay moved from the middle and sat to the right of her.

Five sets of new eyes landed on the girl, roaming her face. Jay and Jungwon just watched their friends as they inspected her and after thirty seconds of silence, a boy with light brown hair spoke up.

“You must be new,” he stuck out his hand and smiled widely. “I’m Jake.”

‘An actual foreigner’ Jisoo thought to herself as she shook his hand.

Jungwon leaned towards her, so that his mouth was close to her ear and whispered, “Jake’s from Australia. He moved here about three years ago.” Her desk partner explained. Jisoo nodded in understanding before the next boy introduced himself to the girl.

“Lee Heeseung.” He smiled kindly. “I’m the oldest.”

The next boy had an adorable face. ‘Very squishable cheeks’ Jisoo thought.

“Kim Sunoo, I’m in the year above you.”

“All of us are a grade above you, except for Riki” said a boy with a mullet. “Oh, sorry, Park Sunghoon.” He smiled. Just like the rest of them, Sunghoon was very handsome.

Jay introduced the next boy, who looked a more intimidating than the rest.

“Jisoo, this is Riki Nishimura. He’s from Japan. He moved here about year ago.”

The girl gasped, surprised by what Jay had told her. “I lived there when I was younger.” She watched as Riki’s face lit up and fixed his posture a bit.

“Really? Where’d you live?”

“In Osaka, with my cousin.”

“We were only like three hours from each other; I’m from Okayama.”

“I went there every month to see my grandparents!”

“What a small world.” Jake gave a short laugh. “Now you can bond with each other.” He said in a half sarcastic, half serious tone, making the rest of the table laugh.

“You know it.” Riki threw up a finger heart for the girl, who did the same.

The eight students ate their lunch, got to know each other, and laughed a lot during that lunch period, but like everything good, it always comes to an end too quickly.

Jay, Jungwon and Jisoo were walking back to class when suddenly, someone’s phone started to ring. The three looked at each other before Jungwon pointed out that it was coming from Jisoo, to which Jay snickered at her embarrassed expression after she said it wasn’t her.

“Oh, it’s my cousin.” She exclaimed, picking up the phone with excitement. “Hey what's up!” she greeted. The girl kept a smiling expression as she walked down the hall with the boys.

When they reached the classroom, the boys gestured for her to enter, but she shooed them off so she could finish her call with her cousin.

“Oh, you’re coming to pick me up?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing closer together. “Are you sure? But you just released a new song.”

“It’s fine,” he said in a reassuring tone. “Didn’t our grandmother tell me to check up on you?”

“Yeah,” the girl let out a sigh.

“Hey Jisoo!” a voice called out from the background. “Why do you sound so dejected?”

“Are both of you coming to pick me up?” she asked, not wanting the answer to be yes.

“Obviously.” her cousin snorted. “I don’t go anywhere without Mark.”

“You don’t take me to the bathroom with you.” The background voice said.

Nothing but silence filled Jisoo’s ears, which meant the two boys on the other line were probably staring at each other.

“Do you want me to-” Yuta started.

“Okay bye you guys. See you later.” Jisoo ended the call before she could hear any further.

Sighing once more she walked into the class, falling into her chair, gaining a look from Jungwon.

“What’s up with you?” he asked as the girl took out her textbook.

“My cousin and his friend are coming to pick me up after school.”

“And what’s the problem with that?” the boy eyed her pained expression.

“Just you wait.” She let out her third sigh of the hour.

---

THREE!

It was nearing the thirty-minute mark until class would be over, and never in my life have I wished for time to go by slower than I have now. I watched the clock, never taking my gaze away from the hands, testing the impossible by trying to slow it down with all my brain power.

“Don’t forget to breathe, Jisoo.” Someone on my left whispered into my ear. Flinching violently, I turned to look at my desk mate, who was smiling in disbelief. “Are you really that worried about your cousin and his friend?” I just looked at him with a blank expression, aimlessly staring at him. “What, it’s not like they’re celebrities.” He laughed.

With a groan, I flopped down on my desk, my head in my hands. “What am I going to do?” I whined.

“What’s up with her?” Jay’s voice asked. Jungwon was silent, so I’m guessing he just shrugged. “Jisoo-yah, don’t be too distraught, whatever it is will pass.”

Peaking up at the boy, I huffed out a sigh, blowing the hair out of my eyes.

“You don’t understand.” I said gruffly. “My cousin isn’t your average guy… neither is his friend; or any of his friends, for that matter.”

“Are they gangsters?” Jay whispered, pulling up a chair.

“What? No, they are not, Jay.”

“So, then I don’t see a problem.” He said nonchalantly.

With a deep sigh, I checked the time, the long hand two minutes away from three o’clock. My eyes widened at the sight as I started shoving my belongings into my backpack.

“Damn it.” I cursed under my breath, grabbing my phone, and opening my messages.

A new text popped up…

It was from him.

Him.

‘Be ready! Mark and I will be at the front gate!1!1!1!’ it read.

“He better treat you to something, if he’s stressing you out that much.” Jungwon chimed in.

I stayed silent for a second, thinking how I could be less attacked by the public when the two arrive. Grabbing both their hands and looking at them with pleading eyes. “Listen, I know we’ve only known each other for a few hours but, come with me?”

“Where?” they said in unison.

“To the front gate. Just come with me there and you’ll see my problem.”

“Okay.” They agreed.

“I promise I will treat you to a meal in the near future.” I got up and bowed, getting everyone’s attention, although it didn’t last very long since the bell rung right after.

Shooting out of my seat, I grabbed Jungwons wrist, who grabbed Jays, and started running down the hall to the exit, apologizing to whomever we bumped into.

When we got out, I saw a few girls walking out of the first year building, which meant I needed to speed it up.

“Hurry.” I said to the boys, to which they picked up their pace.

When the girls were nearing the gate, their heads turned to the left, where they saw two boys hanging out. Their expressions changed immediately, and they whipped their phones out.

“Everyone look!” one of the girls yelled to the rest of the students that were leaving.

My grip loosened on Jungwon and my legs started to sprint towards the two men.

“Yuta!” I yelled.

He turned his head and smiled, but his changed when he saw me barreling towards them, with two other people behind sprinting behind me. Once he got the message, he took off with Mark in the opposite direction of the group of students.

The group dispersed a few minutes after searching for the two idols, while the three of us were standing at the gate, catching our breath.

“So much for picking you up.” Jay said, his eyes completely shut as he calmed down.

“Guys I’m really sorry.” I looked up at them.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jungwon gave a smile.

“Do you want to come with me? Mark will probably make him buy us food.” The two boys looked between each other and shrugged.

“As long as it’s not a bother to you guys.” Jungwon stated, Jay nodding his head in agreement.

“Of course it’s not!” I insisted. “Let me call him and ask him where they are.”

As if on cue, my phone started to ring.

“Oi, this is why I didn’t want you to come.”

“How was I supposed to know we’d get caught.” Yuta spoke back sassily.

“You’re so dense sometimes.” I huffed out.

“Jisoo!” Mark called from the background. “Jisoo, it’s Mark-oppa.”

That's a new one.

“Don’t call yourself ‘oppa’.” Yuta said in a disgusted tone.

“Jisoo, there’s a black SUV when you turn right outside of the gate! That’s our car!” Mark ignored Yuta.

“Anyways, hurry and come.” Yuta said in an annoyed tone.

“I’m bringing friends.” I informed them before hanging up. Turning to the boys, with a soft smile. “Let’s go.” I waited for them to get next to me before we started walking to where Mark told me.

We walked in silence until we reached the car.

“Before we get in,” I started. “It will definitely be awkward, but when we get to wherever we’re going, don’t be intimidated by them. They’ll ask you questions- like an interview, but that’s just cause they’re just a bit protective.” I advised Jay and Jungwon, who nodded. “Ready?” the boys nodded again. “Okay.” I said, turning back to the car, opening the door.

“Hey, you g- oh my god they literally are guys.” Mark’s eyes widened.

“You brought guys into our car?” Yuta asked.

“Yes, they’re my friends.”

“Hello, my name is Park Jongseong, I’m Jisoo’s classmate.” Jay bowed down in a sitting position. Mine and Yuta’s head whipped in his direction, both of us surprised at the sudden language swap.

“You speak Japanese?” I stared in disbelief. Jay nodded coolly.

“Do you know what they’re saying?” Mark asked Jungwon.

“Barely.” He responded. Mark and Jungwon laughed, lightening the mood a little bit.

“Yuta,” Mark looked to Yuta. “I think you should treat them to something. Us wanting to be nice made them have to run all the way from their class so they could protect us.” His tone was soft and begging like.

Looking at Mark with a sigh, knowing he couldn’t say no to him. “Fine. But we’re going to the dorm because Jungwoo wants to see Jisoo.” Adjusting the mirror, he looked up at the two boys through the reflection. “Tell anyone where that house is, and you’re both-”

“We live in the same building, you dolt. If anyone asks, they came over to my apartment.”

“That sounds worse.” Yuta glowered.

“We have homework.” I stated.

“Oh.” He relaxed back in his seat.

With that, we started driving down to the apartment building, sitting in the most awkward silence, until someone spoke up.

“I’ve never seen someone run as fast as Jisoo did when she saw you guys.” Jungwon pointed out. “She sprinted from the exit to the gate at lightening speed.”

“Oh yeah, that’s got to be at least one hundred metres.” Jay added in.

“She was the track star of her elementary and middle school.” Mark informed the boys, who looked at me with surprise. “Yuta brags about her all the time; he even has her gold metal in his room.” He laughed lightly, to which Yuta smacked him in the chest.

“Shut up.” He muttered and looked out the window, making Mark roll his eyes. The younger of the two looked back at me and nodded his head, mouthing that my cousin was lying. I looked down to avoid three gazes on me as my cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

As Jay, Jungwon and Mark got to know each other, Yuta and I stayed silent, obviously not over Mark’s claim.

“Tell them to get the house ready.” Yuta eyed Mark, who took out his phone and started texting.

About twenty minutes later, we entered the parking garage and found their designated spot. Five clicks sounded before four doors opened and we got out. Jay, Jungwon and Mark all got out on one side, while Yuta and I got out from the left.

When I slid out, I landed a little too hard on my ankle, creating a pain that shot up my left leg. Yuta noticed when I hissed in pain and appeared right in front of me, helping me to regain my stability. He let out a distressed sigh as he took my bag from me before we started walking to catch up with the rest of them.

“You okay?” he asked in a low tone. Nodding in silence, I slowly let go of his arm once we walked into the basement entrance.

The elevator ride to the tenth floor was silent, but the hallway sure wasn’t.

Music echoed through the hall, like there was a party going on, but it all came from one room, and as they neared the back of the hall, they stood in front of a large door that was the source of all the sound.

Turning to my classmates, I looked them both in the eye, reminding them of what I told them early. “Remember, they’re a little scary at first, but you’ll be fine if you give short and simple answers. If they get too long, they’ll get bored, because they’re a bunch of man-babies.” I muttered. I saw how they had to hold themselves back from laughing when I called them ‘man-babies’, to which I smiled softly.

“You may enter.” Yuta said like a nerd that was letting us into his lair as he swung open the door after he’d unlocked it. Mark and I walked in, followed by Jay, Jungwon and then Yuta.

“OI!” Mark boomed.

Thundering footsteps came speeding towards the front entrance, revealing seven new guys with excited looks on their faces.

“Jisoo!” the tallest of them exclaimed, throwing his arms around me.

“Ugh, hey Johnny.” I patted his back, only squeezing me tighter. “J-John-” I choked out.

“Dude, you’re gonna kill her if you don’t let go.” Jaehyun noted.

“Get… off…” Jungwoo struggled as he and Doyoung made an attempt to peel him off me, which thankfully worked.

“Who’re they?” Donghyuck pointed to the two boys. Mumbling filled the air as the boys joined in on commenting on the mysterious teenagers that had entered their home.

“My classmates.” I answered.

“Yuta’s idea ended up failing and they were dragged into this mess, so I thought it was a good idea to pay them back with food.” Mark explained. “Also, since you guys wanted to see Jisoo so bad, why not bring them all here at once. Killed two birds with one stone.” He shrugged.

The seven inspected the two young boys before walking to the living room in absolute silence.

“That means you follow them.” Mark informed the boys, who nodded slowly, following me into the living room.

Once my friends and I were seated, the seven guys sat in a shell around Yuta, so that my cousin was in the middle. Eight out of the nine stared with fierce expressions, making the younger one’s gulp. Mark, who was smiling like he’d been surrounded by puppies all day, brought two peach juice boxes, once iced green tea and once pomegranate juice box over to where we were sitting. He handed the peach drinks to Jay and Jungwon, earning shout from Jaehyun.

“Those were the last ones in the pack.” He glared at Mark.

“Get a new one.” The rapper spat. He turned to me and handed the pomegranate juice to me and then the green tea to Yuta, the six others sniggering in the back.

Yuta opened the bottle with a loud crack, silencing everybody in the room. He drank down to three quarters of the bottle before setting it down, his gaze landing back on the students.

“Who are you?” he raised an eyebrow; his expression was enough to make your skin crawl.

“Yang Jungwon and Park Jongseong.” Jungwon grabbed the back of Jay’s head, forcing him to bow, although Jay had done this once already in the car, in a different language.

“How do-” Donghyuck started, but Yuta held up his hand. “Ahem, of course, Yuta.” He looked down. My eyes shot towards Jaehyun, Johnny and Doyoung as they forced themselves not to laugh.

“How do you know my cousin.” Yuta asked.

“We’re classmates.” Jungwon stated.

“And Jungwon is her desk mate.” Jay added.

“He didn’t ask that.” The youngest of the two turned his head in Jay’s direction to whisper harshly. Jay pursed his lips and made a face that looked like he was trying to hold in a scream.

Silence fell in the room for a solid thirty seconds until Yuta let out an airy chuckle, the rest of us soon joining in.

“You can get up now.” I choked out, making my cousin let out a loud laugh. The two straightened themselves out, their faces red with embarrassment.

“Oh god, the look Jay had on his face.” Mark cackled. “You guys, we’re not that scary.”

“No one was scared of you, Mr. Sunshine-funshine.” Johnny coughed.

After everyone calmed down, Taeil brought in some take-out menu’s, displaying them on the coffee table. “Choose what you want, it’s on Yuta anyways.” The eldest shrugged.

“Speaking of Yuta,” I started. “Where’d he go?” I asked.

“I think he’s on the phone with someone, so probably in his room.” I nodded at Mark’s response.

As the boys got to know each other, the band’s leader tapped me on the shoulder. “Come with me for a second?” he held out his hand for me to take, and so I did.

Taeyong brought me into one of the rooms, where there were clothes on the bed, along with a red box. He gestured towards the bed, “Sit, please.” He looked at me with an expecting smile and blinked a few times. The rapper walked towards me and knelt in front of me. “I saw you limping earlier, when you were walking to the living room.” He explained. “Did it start hurting again?” he looked up at me with sparkling eyes.

“I had to make sure Yuta and Mark didn’t get caught-”

“They’re two very grown men who’ve been doing this for over five years, I think they would know how to handle fans by now.” He smiled softly.

“But-”

“No ‘buts’.” He cut me off for a second time. “You’re not their bodyguard, Jisoo.” He took the red box from beside me and opened it up, pulling out that familiar beige wrap. “They can protect themselves.” He started layering the bandage around my foot and ankle.

“What about stalkers? You guys have them really bad; everyone knows that.”

“They won’t hurt us. Haven’t you seen us leak their number?”

“That’s a very different case you’re talking about, Taeyong.” I stated. “Remember when you guys found one in your vent? They’re everywhere.”

The boy just sighed as he finished wrapping my foot. “That’s none of your concern.” He stood up straight and ruffled my hair. “Now hurry up and change into some more comfortable clothes.” The boy smiled warmly before walking to the door. “There should be some pain relievers on the nightstand there, take two only.”

“Hey Taeyong?” I said before he left.

“Yeah?” He turned to me.

“Thanks.” I said softly.

“Of course.” He winked before leaving me to change.

Carefully lifting myself off the bed, I unfolded the big red sweater and placed it back on the bed. I took off my school blazer and dress shirt, leaving me in a white tank top and skirt. I quickly changed into the borrowed sweater and looked for the pants but stopped for my phone when it set off.

Taeyong

I couldn’t get you any pants

Yuta wouldn’t let me into the

apartment

Also, any of our pants would

probably be too big for you ://

Jisoo

That’s okay lol

Thank you for the sweater :)

READ AT 4:00 pm

When I folded my belongings, I left Jungwoo and Jaehyun’s room and snuck into Yuta’s room, which was empty.

I dropped my shirt on the bed and tiptoed over to his dresser, opening, and closing each one until I found his sock drawer. I looked through each pair until I found a pair that looked comfy enough.

“Whatchya doin?” someone said from the door.

“Taking Yuta’s socks.” I responded, rolling the material up my foot. When I looked up, I saw the oldest (and shortest) out of the bunch, smiling before he slipped on a sweater, similar to the one Taeyong gave me. The print on the hood and chest were the same, but the sweater was black, not red.

“Your cousin told me to come in here to tell you the food was here.” He waited for me to reach the door, leaving the room together.

“What’d they decide on?” I asked, catching the pack of napkins Hyuck threw at me.

“Pizza.” Jungwon answered, passing by the singer and I. Jay and Doyoung passed with two boxes each, following the younger boy as they made their way to the living room.

Everybody gathered around the coffee table, except it was less crowded since the boys were holding an investigation anymore. My classmates and I sat away from each other- the boys sitting with Yuta, Jaehyun, Johnny, Taeil, and Mark, while I sat with Hyuck, Taeyong, Jungwoo and Doyoung.

“Take this.” Taeyong placed a piece of pizza on my plate.

“And this.” Jungwoo placed a chicken leg on my plate. When I looked at him, he simply said “KFC.” Nodding, I took a bite out of the chicken, enjoying the flavour.

“Is it yummy?” Hyuck asked and I nodded, taking another bite.

Doyoung got up and disappeared for a few seconds before returning with another juice box. I was about to open it, when he held it out of my reach and did it for me, and then handed it to me. “Don’t grip the box too hard, it’ll spill.” He patted my head, the other boys nodding in agreement to the singer’s statement.

“Stop babying my cousin.” Yuta whipped a french-fry at Doyoung, scolding him. “She’s almost an adult, you know.” He huffed out before biting into his pizza.

“Well, if you don’t do it, then who will?” Hyuck defended his hyung’s actions. Jungwoo and Taeyong both hugged me, sticking out their tongues at my cousin. “You baby Mark and he’s a realadult.” He pointed at the hand Yuta had on the Canadians’ knee, making everyone laugh; well, everyone but Yuta.

After a massive clean up, the boys and I had to do our homework, which some of the members offered to help us with.

“Wait for us!” the two roommates, Jaehyun and Jungwoo, raced over to the coffee table plopping down on either side of Doyoung. When they were seated, one more wandered into the room- the one more being Taeil.

“Alright,” Taeil rubbed his together. “What subjects do you need to focus on?” The eldest sat in the space between Jay and Jungwon.

“Math.” Jungwon raised his hand.

“Science.” Jay said.

“Languages.” I spoke in a weak tone. Doyoung and Jaehyun looked to me?

“Which one’s?” they spoke in unison.

“English and Korean.” The two smirked, scooting closer to me.

“You’re in luck.” Doyoung said coolly.

“Jaehyun lived in America for four years!” Mark yelled.

“That’s why he’s here, man!” Johnny added.

“That's not funny anymore!” Jaehyun snapped. The singer turned back to me with a smile while Doyoung was flipping through my Korean notebook.

“Why are you so bad at this?” Doyoung laughed lightly, stopping when he had my eraser thrown at him by Jaehyun.

“Can you just help me, and not make fun of me?” I rolled my eyes. “This is where I’m stuck.”

“Nuh-uh, we’re starting with grammar first.” Doyoung flipped to an empty page and started writing with a pencil he took from my pencil case. “You see these? These all make the same sounds but are spelt differently.”

“Obviously, I know that.”

“But do you know when to use them?” he raised a brow. I looked down in embarrassment, making him chuckle.

As the singer explained to me Korean grammar, Jaehyun slid the English notebook towards him and started to write things out.

About an hour and half later, Mark entered the room with a tray, filled with snacks and water.

“Some food for thought.” He smiled.

“We just ate though.” Haechan stated, glancing up from his phone.

“Jisoo gets hungry quickly; how did you forget that?” Taeyong sipped from his cup. We didn’t even notice him come up from behind Mark.

Hyuck looked to me with an awkward expression, which I also wore. “Sorry.”

I shook my head silently and took one of the packs of cookies.

“Jungwoo.” Jungwon peaked up from his notebook. “I don’t get it.” The young boy turned the book towards the singer, who inspected his work.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“Oh.” He said in a small voice.

“Lemme see.” I scooched myself over to where they were. Jungwoo passed me the workbook and pencil, allowing me to look for myself, what he did wrong. “He just messed up the formula here;” I circled the spot, showing it to now four people. “When you’re trying to find the slope of a line with already knowing the start and end point of the two lines, you always subtract y2 from y1, same goes for the x’s.” Jungwoo nodded while the two youngest band members looked at me in awe. “So, you did mess up, but it was a simple mistake.” I smiled at Jungwon.

Jungwons expression did not lighten; in fact, it got darker.

“W-- What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I did that for all of them.” He muttered in a bitter tone, the room exploding with laughter, soon there after.

#yang jungwon #enhypen #jungwon fluff #nct 127 #yuta #mark lee #johnny suh #kim doyoung #kim jungwoo #lee taeyong #lee doghyuck #jeong jaehyun #moon taeil #lee heeseung #riki nishimura #kim sunoo #jake sim #jay park #park sunghoon

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (7/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: I was busy with fic exchange pieces for a while but will be focusing on updating my multi chapter fics now. As always, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 8

Link to cross-postings: AO3

“So you’re Levi Ackerman?” The woman who had just entered the room looked excited. Too excited.

After being kept waiting that long, Levi was in no mood for anything, especially unnecessary pleasantries. For the past thirty minutes at least, he had been sitting on the couch of a quaint office. It was spacious and there was at least enough room on the couch to elevate his knee comfortably. Probably the reason he had the self control to give a curt nod in reply.

“I’m a fan! I watched a few of your events actually and I’m so glad to have you here,” she said too enthusiastically. She paused for a second and shook her head. “No, I’m horrified about you being injured which caused you to end up here but I’m just really excited to get to know you.”

Levi didn’t feel the need to reply.

She walked to her desk and dropped her canvas bag before sitting on the couch in front of Levi. “Sorry for being a little late. I just came out from another meeting and went out to get something to eat after. Maybe I could give you my number and you could text me if you get here before I do.” She took a post-it out of her purse and scrawled a few numbers on it and slid it towards Levi.

Shouldn’t you have my number? Somehow it was hard to believe that she was a counselor. “Name?” Levi asked.

“Shela. Just call me Shela.”

Levi had met those types of people before who go by nicknames. More often than not, he couldn’t blame them, usually they had a very old fashioned or embarrassing name behind it. He couldn’t believe someone as transparent or excitable as her who didn’t look like she had much control of her filter, would have issues about how embarrassing a name was though.

“I have a very old fashioned first name.” Shela added, only confirming Levi’s suspicions. “Shela… Sierra - Hotel - Echo - Lima - Alpha.”

Levi typed the name on his phone and saved the number.

Last Name? Academic History? He set the rest of the details aside. As long as he knew her name, he could probably get through enough sessions to at least keep both his coach and Erwin satisfied. Going to a counselor was not his idea after all. It was his coach apparently who had requested it and it was Erwin who had pushed for it. Without twice a day training or even the freedom to go wherever he wanted without being completely exhausted within hours, Levi had not much of anything else to do anyway.

Shela brought out a notebook from her purse, opened it to a bookmark paged and wrote something on it before looking up at him. Levi couldn’t help but note that when she wasn’t looking ashamed or overly enthusiastic and she did look like she knew what she was doing.

“I’m going to skip the question of ‘what brings you here’ because I think we all know why you’re here.” She gestured her pen towards Levi’s leg. “Let’s start with something simple. How are you? How are you feeling today?”

“My knee hurts and I can’t train anymore. But I’m focusing on studies now so I think I’m doing okay.” He answered, having prepared that script in his head the thirty minutes he spent waiting for her.

“I’m not asking how you’re coping. I’m asking how you’re feeling today.” Shela’s piercing eyes were a beautiful shade of blue. The serious look she gave him then bore into him. In fact, it felt like it bore into his soul.

Despite the generally bad first impression she gave him, Levi was somehow convinced that she was qualified to do that type of work and his showing up there might turn out to be worth something after all. Levi found himself almost hypnotized by that look she gave him, a healthy mixture of concern, interest and professionalism.

Hiding and watching his words felt pointless and Levi found himself saying his answers as his brain came up with them.

A Tale of Two Slaves

The hospital where he was slated to have his next sessions was that same hospital he had stayed in a week ago. Conveniently, it was a five minute walk from where he had been staying since he got out of the hospital: Hange’s apartment.

Just until I can walk up stairs. Levi had told himself. There were many dormitories clustered around campus yet he had ended up staying in the least handicap friendly one. The first floor had a lobby and a common room and the actual bedrooms were only found at the second floor and the third floor. To top it all off, there was no elevator. He had to note though that it was an old building with only three floors so it would have been useless to put one.

He was on scholarship and it was assigned to him back in first year so he did not have much of a choice. He didn’t need to think too much of it either that past three years of college since he had never been injured enough to the point of being unable to climb stairs

With his leg completely immobilized and a deadweight, Levi was sure it would be a nightmare to brave that everyday. The paperwork and legwork required to change dormitories in the middle of the semester seemed daunting as well. In the end, Hange had offered to let him stay over in her apartment.

Her condominium was spacious, it had an elevator and it was walking distance from the hospital where he’d have both his counseling and physical therapy sessions.

Walking Distance. For non handicapped people, it should only take five minutes to walk the two block distance from the hospital to the apartment building. Levi took ten minutes to clear it and by the end of it he was exhausted and despite the chill of mid autumn, Levi found himself sweating as he arrived in the apartment.

It was a Friday afternoon, a week after he was released from the hospital. Nobody was pressuring him to go back to school yet. His professors had been kind enough to send him lecture slides and give him extensions. Some classmates had dropped their own summarized notes and get-well messages.

Levi settled on his bed and propped his knee on his pillow, looking through the lecture slides of his last class. Despite his self imposed week long isolation, Levi just wanted to go back to normal life.

But it never will be normal again. Although Levi did see a glimmer of hope in the possibility of feeling normal again when he went back to school, the realist in him knew it wouldn't happen.

Levi was supposed to be in the process of accepting at least that it would never be the “normal” he used to have and had taken for granted. Something inside him was rebelling the process though.

If I can't live the life I want, then I won't live at all. That something screamed inside him.

That form of rebellion left Levi with little energy for anything else. His mind was slower. His body was heavier. He was seeing little reason to move beyond the mechanical and primal movements needed to survive.

As if by magic, his body that used to carry him over two meter tall bars, suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. The weight crushed him everyday. At times Levi found himself unable to breathe. That was he found himself in that same position for sixteen hours a day, either sleeping or staring at the same white ceiling above him.

In fact, the only time he had left the Hange's apartment was for that one counseling session Hange had prodded him to go to. That was the only time she had forced him to go out of the house as if she herself understood somehow the comfort and at the same time the panic that came with a self imposed isolation.

What else was there to do?

He was alone. He had kept to his own bubble in college, only flitting between the two islands of academics and trainings.He was always either busy or exhausted and the lack of in-between had given him little time to reflect on the state of his mental health. And suddenly he had lost one of his islands, the bigger one, the one that had given him meaning the past few years. That had left him completely and utterly lost. Maybe even desolate.

That was what Shela had pointed out in their first counseling session as Levi attempted to articulate the emptiness inside him, the slight panic that came with idleness, the sudden need to turn off all message notifications and the frequent mood changes that came with Hange's entering and exiting the apartment.

And his weird dependence on Hange.

In between studying for his three subjects that semester and icing his bum knee, what else was there to do? Wait for Hange to come home? Talk to her during that one to two hour window when she wasn't working on her thesis? That was what his life had ended up revolving around anyway.

Levi found himself only replying to anything related to studies or graduating. He had received a few messages from others, suggestions to visit training, offers to visit from teammates and he had ignored them all. Somehow, the reminder of the loss of the one hobby that had kept him busy for the past decade of his life, was mocking. He became someone who waits, someone who just went with the flow of everyone's schedule. Having been busy his whole life, having been constantly needed and looked for and only recently, having been reduced to where he was, Levi felt his life was just a series of wrong choices, wrong choices that only formed a distrust with himself and consequently a refusal to engage in activity.

What else am I supposed to be doing? Levi opened his laptop. For a moment he had tried to go through his school notes at Shela’s advice.

After less than an hour of halfheartedly reviewing his notes and forgetting it soon after, Levi had exhausted his already scarce energy. With nothing else to do, he had decided to move to scrolling through timelines which displayed little to no signs of real life obligations, pinterest and reddit to pass the time. Within an hour of just scrolling through both, he had gotten tired of it too. It was a new feeling. Usually he could drown himself in hours of social media and timelines but at that point, nothing was interesting to him anymore.

Have you tried writing out how you feel? Shela’s suggestion echoed in his head. Like maybe get a journal. It’s a great way to process your thoughts and emotions.

What’s there to write. Levi asked himself and Shela’s voice as it echoed in his head. Levi could only stare at the blank screen, his emotions too non-existent to write. The blank document he had opened in front of him was the best representation of his thoughts and emotions already.

There are no right or wrong answers. Shela had brought up another good point during their session.

You think, therefore you are. You feel therefore you are. As long as you’re processing images, sounds and sensations, you’re thinking. You’re feeling something and you can write something down.

Then why do I feel so empty? Levi had asked.

Shela had compared it to a false bottom. As he continued to stare at the blank page in front of him, Levi was starting to feel for that false bottom in his mind. It was a matter of discipline more than anything, determination to dig into one’s self.

It could have taken hours but as Levi looked at the time on his laptop, he realized much time hadn’t passed. In fact, the time to the lower right of his screen, was still the same. But Levi was starting to think differently.

He did have something to look back on. Stories he hadn’t thought back to in a while, having been occupied by training, Hange’s tests, studies and recoveries. They continued to taunt him in the mornings. With the magic of worldly obligations, Levi had managed to set them aside.

His motivations particularly lay in the fact that his world was a little bigger, he was talking to more people and the idea that these same people he was seeing were the same ones he’d been writing fictional stories for had him questioning his own sanity and had him a little self conscious about having those dreams in the first place.

At that moment though, his inability to think and feel beyond that false bottom had Levi more alarmed and he found himself attempting to articulate those dreams on the word processor just to experience a semblance of something.

Levi at least confirmed one thing, that bottom was false. And the more he articulated those dreams, the more they became real. He was starting to scrape on that false bottom and the first things that were oozing out were dreams. Somehow, the dreams were more vivid that he had ever remembered them to be. He felt almost guilty for having set them aside like some sort of fair weathered friend.

“Hey not bad! Is that homework?”

Levi tensed up in surprise. He should have been able to hear the familiar footsteps and the jangle of the keys from his place on the sofa bed. He never missed it once. Levi didn’t know if he should be proud that he had distracted himself enough not to consider Hange or terrified that she was right behind him at that moment, probably reading through his work.

He quickly closed his tab and looked at the time on the lower right. It was only five. Hange usually went home at seven.

“You’re early,” Levi commented.

“It’s my apartment. I can choose when to go home.” Hange answered. “Anyway what was that? Are you writing?”

“A journal,” Levi explained. There was not much point in lying.

“Did the counselor tell you to do that?”

“Yeah. Something about processing emotions and thoughts.”

“It’s a good exercise. Especially since you seemed pretty out of it recently...” Hange trailed off.

Levi looked back at her and noticed a flicker of what looked like guilt in Hange’s eyes before she looked away.

“Out of it?” Levi knew what she was talking about. He just felt the need to keep the conversation going.

“You spent the past weekend just lying in bed. I never even saw you look through your phone or open your laptop. ” Hange explained. “I’ve seen how these types of things develop so... So yeah, I’m just so happy to see you so focused on something else.”

“I don’t really have much else to get into other than school.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Hange said.

Levi bit his lip, instantly regretting that last sentence. Hange averaged two apologies a day which was a lot given the fact that they only ever had a two hour window to talk in between Levi’s long hours asleep and Hange’s long hours on campus.

“It wasn’t your fault. I was kinda going crazy too...With the jumping I mean.” He added. “And I was the one who decided to make that last jump in the first place. And now you have to change your whole thesis topic.”

“It wasn’t too difficult. Just one week building a new proposal. It’s still the same case study, it’s just I decided to document a recovery. Erwin’s unconventional methods with the recovery makes it worth documenting.”

“At least I’m still useful somewhere,” Levi commented wryly. Hange had explained the thesis to him over the weekend. He should have been relieved at least to know that they weren’t separating anytime soon. Surprisingly though, he wasn’t even happy to hear it. Everything around him just seemed too bleak to celebrate anything. Good news that used to make him smile and celebrate internally suddenly only made him feel a slight sense of relief, the equivalent emotion of seeing a wet floor sign in an area with slippery floors.

Hange sat on the sofa bed next to Levi and looked towards him. She took a deep breath. “I know with what’s been happening, it looks like you don’t have much going for you. And I know things seem pretty dark now but things will get better. You just have to keep living.”

“I’m still breathing.”

“You know what I mean,” Hange said. “When I get up in the morning you’re asleep. When I get back we talk for an hour and half the time it’s just me talking. You barely even answer when I ask what you want. This past weekend I didn’t even see you look through your phone. It’s like you’re practically dead.”

“What else is there to do. I can’t show up for training. My professors aren’t asking me to go back to school soon.”

“Find a new hobby? Continue whatever thing you’re writing. Enjoy the food I bring home. Laugh when you see a funny meme. Or you know, at least smile and do that nose blowing thing people do when you show them a funny meme..”

“My teammates are preparing for the new season. My classmates are at least all caught up in class. I spent too much damn time on that fucking sport. Now that it’s all gone, I feel like I’m just going with the flow of life instead of actually swimming,” Levi said, having taken that last part from Shela’s book.

“Everyone is just going with the flow of life. We’re all at the mercy of time anyway. Live for yourself. See joy in the small things at least. Look at me, I’m simping for athletes like some idiot in between studies.”

“Live for yourself? You follow people’s orders a lot for someone who gives this type of advice.”

“It’s not obeying people. I’m just asking questions and seeking advice. The more relevant facts, information and experience you have, the better the decisions you can make right. So can’t I argue that having more information at my fingertips makes me freer? ” Hange gave Levi a knowing and playful smile

He could tell by the look she gave him that she expected something in return. It was a rhetorical question though, maybe even a premature victory lap for having won that argument. Levi silently looked back at his laptop, not wanting to let her win.

Hange broke the silence. “Okay now that we’re on the topic of asking questions... who’s that Squad Leader Hange Zoe you’re writing about?”

A Tale of Two Slaves

Levi could not pinpoint the exact moment he decided for certain that squad leader Hange Zoe was real, when he decided for himself that the stories he was writing out should have been real.

It came as a gradual decision after incessant questions from Hange that at first, he was determined not to answer. Hange was smart about it, keeping the questions as things that could be answered with one word, and before he knew it, he was giving her too much information, it was pointless to blatantly refuse. After he had answered her more than enough questions, she smiled.

“Looks like you got my personality down,” Hange commented. Levi somehow knew her enough to tell there was no judgement or obligation in that voice. In fact, when he looked into her eyes, he saw that same wonder, he had seen many times before when she witnessed the jumps.

That wonder only carried over from questions on the squad leader to questions on his dreams and finally, to questions on how he wrote his dreams out.

“How do you see the world?”

“How do I see the world?”

“Like what type of camera angles do you see the world in. If I asked you to imagine a tree, what kind of tree do you imagine? Do you imagine it from top to bottom, from trunk to top? Our minds are the most creative producers and cameramen you can think of.”

“Do you notice how well our body blends sensations? When the light turns off then on, there’s a split second where you see shapes when your eyes adjust from light to dark?”

“What are the physical manifestations of emotions? Do you feel your stomach drop? Do you ever get that tingling feeling in your legs and suddenly they’re jelly?”

Did you ever witness something so beautiful that you wish you could live forever just so you could never forget it?

The conversation was a little deep and a little too philosophical for him. It was a ploy to get him writing and maybe a ploy to get him to understand the same wonder she had in the world from what he could tell. Somehow he needed it. The way Hange had described the world, the way she had described reality, only made the line between what could have been his imagination and his memory a little more distinct.

It was around then did he look at Hange Zoe the medical student to see the squad leader from his dreams. Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe and every single one of the soldiers in these dreams. They weren’t just dreams or manifestations of an exhausted mind.

In another life, she could have been real. The angles at which he saw the world, the way his body processed those sensations in his dreams, the manifestations of those emotions, too vivid even more vivid than a catharsis from a good book or a phenomenal ending to a TV show.

The questions continued to echo as Hange turned off the lights and Levi lay in bed awake. That food for the thought left Levi hyper aware of his surroundings, all the way down to the small details --- the way every piece of thread on the bed covers beneath him pressed on to him, the way his breath made a sound in the utter silence late at night no matter how much he tried to quiet it, the way the palpitations in his chest could be felt all the way until his head. He was excited to sleep, dream and take stock of his dreams yet he was too excited to fall asleep.

Like a five year old the night before their first field trip, Levi did not fall asleep anytime soon.

A Tale of Two Slaves

Nobody really questions the logic of dreams.

Sometimes one can find themselves only a few millimeters tall on top of a giant donut. Sometimes they can find themselves having milk tea with their favorite celebrity. Dreams are more felt by the moments they bring to people, not by the logic. It was only natural Levi did not question much of his dreams then.

That night as he lay awake, Levi made the conscious effort to live in his dreams, to take note of every detail from the sights and sounds, to the smells, the emotions, repeating to himself the questions Hange had asked earlier that day. What he had failed to consider then, was the context of dreams.

Were Hange and the others okay?

He found himself on the battlefield and he knew exactly what had to be done. In front of him was a large furry creature which the military had dubbed the Beast Titan and around him were other naked humanoid creatures called titans.

The Beast titan was flinging rocks at them and the soldiers were dying at an alarming rate.

Commander Erwin Smith ordered a suicide mission. All surviving soldiers were to rush towards the Beast Titan while Levi flew from the side of the walls and snuck towards him.

He knew what to do. The movements were natural and Levi had flown before, the gear on his waist had only made the whole mission easier. Somehow, on the battlefield he had the luxury of stock knowledge.

That stock knowledge was what had him slicing through the arms, through the eyes, through the achilles and finally through the nape of said titan. He pulled out a blonde man and pushed the sword through the man’s mouth.

He could feel his blood boiling. From anger? Of course, the man had killed Erwin. For a second, Levi had managed to get a view of the blond commander as he flew from the wall slashing titan after titan. He knew the man was probably dead.

But there was a way to revive him. There was a serum.

Before Levi could give it a second thought, a duck billed monster tore into his view and---

Levi sat up and screamed. He found himself in no hurry to dodge that duck billed titan. He was in Hange's apartment, too injured to be flying in the air in those contraptions anyway. He ran his hands through his body and up to his face, taking stock of his reality. He didn't reek of titan blood nor was he covered in it. He scanned the dark room, or at least what was visible given the moon was his only light source.

Somehow, those few moments as captain Levi had felt so real, watching the moon from his place on the sofa bed seemed almost dreamlike.

Which one is my reality? Levi found himself questioning it all. As quickly as the questions came, they were answered. All he needed was one stimuli, strong enough to root him back into his reality.

"Hey, bad dream?"

The dark room and his own state of mind had made it difficult for him to notice that Hange had settled beside him. That voice though had pulled him out of his trance and he became certain at least that he was not dreaming anymore.

"Yeah," Levi managed to say. At the least he still had control of his voice.

Hange sat cross-legged next to him. The moon was at a perfect angle to illuminate her face and even in the dark room he could see it. Her eyes were looking right at him as if she were studying him a little too seriously.

She brought out one finger to his eye and pushed at the corner. That was when Levi felt it. The small tear spread on the corner of his eye and dried up within seconds. Levi only hastened the process by wiping it himself.

"I'm not leaving you tonight."

"Why?"

"I'll take full responsibility for this. It was my mistake that got you into this in the first place.”

"I've had them before. This is nothing new.” Levi argued. As Hange lay on the sofa bed next to him though, he realized he didn’t want her to leave. His body froze as if understanding that emotion, unwilling to accommodate the protests, the impulse inside him to argue, to force her to go back to her room.

The sofa bed was at least big enough for both of them, wide enough for a comfortable one to two feet space between them. Hange had made sure as well to lie on her side, only widening that space a little more.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this but I swear I really do mean it every time. I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked as she said it.

Levi only continued to stare at the ceiling above him, listening to her disturbed and hitched breaths next to him as if she was holding back something. He didn’t want to look to his side, not wanting to further aggravate a reaction he sensed was raring to come out of her or to further tighten that knot which had settled itself on his chest. His dim surroundings only illuminated weakly by the moon, did not help at all.

Levi lay awake for a while longer, scrambling for words that could placate her.

This is nothing new. It hadn’t worked.

I’m fine. But he wasn’t.

Things happen. Had he not given that same consolation so many times before?

Eventually the rhythm of her breathing evened out enough for Levi to guess that she had fallen asleep, and as if by some special force, Levi found his breathing slowing down too. He was starting to relax.

The apartment was dark and quiet. It was peaceful, so peaceful that Levi never did notice when exactly he was pulled back into his dream. The dimness of the apartment was gradually replaced by the dimness of the forest a long time ago. The distant sounds of passing cars gradually replaced by the crackle of a fire and the rustle of leaves on a windy night.

He was surrounded by trees. A broken wooden cart lay to the side and a few feet away from it a campfire.

The soft and even breathing next to him stayed though. The same exact pattern, the same exact rhythm, the same hitched breaths--- all signs of the light uneasy slumber of his companion.

That was all Levi needed to hear to have sworn nothing much changed about her.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levihan fanfiction #fanfic

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