#i wanted that group dynamic my classmates had going on but i could never reach out either bc of her or bc it'd make me really nervous and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

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

Words: 12,857

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

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

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

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

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

Ugh, why is this so stressful?

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s watching you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

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

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

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

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

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

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

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

Wait. Sexy?

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it’s those eyes of his.

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

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

“Did you need something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

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

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

God.

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

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

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

No. No, no, no, no.

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

God fucking damn it.

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

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

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

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

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

“Gimme the paperwork.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N).

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

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

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

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

“Something came up.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, yeah. But–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. Didn’t you just…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank God.

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what? The cell… ah–”

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

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

“I said, answer me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is the cell membrane?”

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

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

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

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s try another.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a faint clicking sound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hold still,” he commands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2K notes · View notes

sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 3 years

Note

Hello, my request is for Niragi ✨ Y/N was popular in high school and always protect him when he was bully. When they saw each other in Bordeland, she saw how much he changed and keep her distance from him (which he hates), and she have an attitude that make one of the militants wants to attack her but Niragi protect her like she did with him bc he would never admit her but she's his only weakness

Yessss I’ve actually been wanting to write something for Niragi that sounds very similar so I’m glad you requested this! Thanks so much! 💕

You’re Everything You Once Hated | Suguru Niragi

PART 1 | PART 2

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. The guys that bullied Niragi, Ann, Hatter, OC’s)

Summary: You and Niragi were best friends in high school. When you arrive in the Borderlands, you notice he’s not the person he used to be, causing you to avoid him. But unfortunately, he’s not happy about it.

Warnings: swearing, bullying, smoking, drinking, violence, threatening, bullet wounds, implications of sexual assault

Word Count: 7.1k

*reader is female

Niragi gif credit

4 Years Earlier…

The young boy grunted out in pain, having been hit with another rock right between his eyes. This one managed to crack his glasses, making his vision go all distorted.

His classmates around him roared with laughter. His heart filled with both anger and sorrow, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into the wind and out of his current situation.

“Aww, little Niragi has become quiet. Where’s those sarcastic remarks from earlier, they seemed to have left you,” his attacker mocked, adding a mean tone to his voice.

Just the usual. ‘Maybe they might end their target practice with me earlier today,’ he hoped.

He had grown used to it. He now expected to be dragged under the bridge each day on his way home from high school, being pushed around and roughed up. It’s not like he could’ve defended himself anyway. It was six guys against one, he never had a chance.

A short jab to the back of his neck broke him out of his thoughts. He groaned and doubled over, feeling as he was going to throw up. “Come on Niragi, fight back! It’s no fun when you just stand there,” the blonde student complained, striding over to the weakened boy. He gave him a quick kick to his side, making him fall on his hip harshly.

“Fuck off,” Niragi groaned under his breath, half hoping his tormentor didn’t hear it. But unfortunately, the small remark reached his ears.

“What was that? Did you just try to defend yourself? You’re going to have to use a lot more than just a few words you fucking loner,” the boy poked, giving Niragi another harsh kick to his stomach, making him become winded and choke on air.

He laid there taking their harsh words and hearing their mocking laughter ring in his ears. What did he ever do to deserve that?

“Hey Haru!”

The blonde turned his attention from his target to the direction of the voice that called his name. There you stood, by yourself with no one else. You obviously didn’t think the situation through before throwing yourself into it. You remained near the stairs that led down to below the bridge, holding something behind your back, but Haru seemed to not notice it.

Your heart skipped a beat when the group of high school boys all locked eyes with you, confused about what you were doing interrupting them.

“The fuck do you want Y/N?” the blonde, Haru, asked you in an annoyed tone.

You gulped before answering him, trying to sound as threatening as you could without your voice cracking. “Let him go! He’s done nothing to you, why are you giving him a hard time?” you spat at him, taking a few brave steps closer to the scene in front of you.

Niragi slightly lifted himself off the ground to look over at you. He recognized you from his social studies class. You both sat together at the back, and he always thought you were too nice for your own good.

Niragi sat up and shook his head, trying to warn you to stop what you were doing. He didn’t want to drag you into his own problems. He would’ve felt awful if you happened to get hurt while trying to help him.

Haru rolled his eyes and groaned at you. “Why are you getting involved? This is none of your business,” he retorted, walking closer to you with the baseball bat in hand. You watched with fearful eyes as he swung the bat around, obviously to threaten you.

Your heart quickened and you felt it pound against your ribcage dramatically. As Haru got closer and closer, you stood your ground bravely, still holding your hand behind your back to hide your weapon from him. You weren’t stupid enough to get yourself involved without having some kind of way to defend yourself.

“Well? Are you going to answer me or just stand and shake like the pathetic girl you are?” Haru tormented, a confident smirk growing across his face.

His comment made your blood boil. “Do you have a saviour complex or something? Why did you think you could help this son of a bitch?” he pressed, gesturing towards Niragi who was slowly rising to his feet with a worried expression on his face.

That was it. He was getting far too close to you for your own liking, so you decided that comment was the final straw. You rushed towards him and pulled out the large can of pepper spray from behind your back, aiming directly at his smug face.

He cried out in pain the moment the spray hit his eyes, dropping the baseball bat and covering his face with his hands. He tried desperately to rub the stinging liquid out of his eye with his school blazer sleeves, but it wasn’t worth the effort as it only made it worse.

You moved quickly and picked up the bat that he dropped, running past him towards the other boys that were still gathered around Niragi. They all held shocked expressions on their faces.

“You want some too?” you bluntly asked, thrusting the pepper spray towards them. They all flinched and stumbled to get away. You smiled, feeling empowered.

Haru and the others ran, thinking that beating up Niragi wasn’t worth being blinded for.

You turned towards the bloodied boy standing against the wall looking at you in shock. You glanced at him, giving him a friendly smile. He returned it.

After that, you two became inseparable for the rest of your high school days, spending every waking moment together. With your tough attitude and Niragi’s shy demeanour, you were a strange friendship to have been made. You thought you would always stay together, until one day Niragi went missing.

You never guessed where he may have ended up, until you were sent there yourself a few years later.

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

You breathed in a huge gulp of oxygen as the black bag was harshly pulled off your head. You tried to wiggle your hands to shield your eyes from the blinding sunlight seeping through the windows but struggled as you saw that your hands were tied to the armrests on either side of you. You groaned in frustration.

As the curtains closed so you could see probably, you saw a young woman with short black hair dressed in blue shorts and a white button up that was tied at the waist. “Sorry,” she began. “I forgot to close that before removing the bag.”

You looked around at your surroundings. You noticed that there were several more people in the room. The room was large, stretching down further until it came to a stop at the end where a large wall stood, conveying a huge spray painting across it that consisted of every card from a deck of cards. Some were crossed out, while a few number cards and all face cards remained untouched.

You whipped your head around, feeling restless from the number of eyes staring at you. You don’t remember how you got into this situation. All you remember is walking to a large light in the distance from your position on a bridge, being curious as to how it seemed to be the only building with electricity. Before you knew it, someone had grabbed you by the shoulders and shoved something over your head, making your vision go black and suddenly passing out.

You moaned in pain as you felt the back of your head throbbed, probably from when they punched you to knock you out.

“What’s going on?” you asked, struggling in your restraints more, trying to break free. An older man with glasses scolded you. “Stay still, Hatter will be here soon.”

Just as he promised, two large doors on your left burst open, revealing a man with a long decorative robe and dark glasses on. He had two other men beside him, both holding revolver guns.

“Ah! A newcomer!” he exclaimed excitedly, taking a big sip from his drink.

You froze, watching as he strides into the room further, making himself comfortable on a table in the centre of the room.

“A few of my militants tell me they found you sneaking around nearby The Beach,” he accused, pointing his finger at you.

You stared at him; confusion written all over your face. Militants? The Beach? What was he talking about?

After you didn’t answer him for a moment, he let out a big sigh and jumped off the table onto his feet, beginning to talk himself.

He explained the current situation to you. About how the dynamic at The Beach worked, and that considering the number of high-level cards you had on your person, you seemed to be the perfect candidate to add to the ranks of everyone there.

“And remember, death to the traitors,” he said, spite filling his tone. He had listed off the three main rules to you, each one adding more dread for you.

“Okay, all good. But I just want to say. If you want people to help you collect cards, kidnapping them isn’t the best idea. If it hasn’t hit you yet, that would make people want to help you less,” you smartly said, trying to stop your lips pulling up into a smirk.

All the heads in the room turned to Hatter. No one has ever questioned his motives to his face before, especially a newcomer.

Except, he didn’t get angry like everyone expected. Instead, he chuckled and held his drink out towards you. “Cheers to that, I guess. Have fun!”

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

The Beach was a lot more crowded than you expected. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you walked down to the bottom floor to the pool. People were everywhere; dancing, swimming, drinking, talking, smoking. It honestly couldn’t have been more chaotic than it already was.

You spent most of the remainder of the day becoming familiar with the layout of the hotel. You found the room that you had been assigned to. You managed to score a room that was a little above average. Hatter decided to give you the benefit of the doubt and gift you a higher number due to your high number cards. He thought it was only fair.

You were sitting at a table nearby the bar. The sun had gone down but the party continued on through the chilly night air. You shivered, not being used to being dressed in a bathing suit twenty-four seven. You were annoyed that you weren’t even allowed to wear some sweatpants to bring you some kind of warmth. You guessed you would just have to grow used to feeling the cold on your skin.

The warm beverage slipped down your throat, bringing you at least a little bit of comfort. You had made yourself a coffee inside, not in the mood for alcohol just yet. You honestly didn’t like drinking without having anyone you trusted around you, just in case something was to happen.

You looked around the area, taking in everyone’s faces to see if anyone appeared friendly enough to be nice to you. You needed to make some allies before the next game, otherwise you would be the first they would sacrifice.

As you scanned the crowd, your gaze landed on a particular male, who was sitting in a more done up booth nearby the pool. He was wearing a black and white checkered shirt with black skinny jeans. He had several piercings in his face, making him seem more threatening.

You squinted your eyes. Why did he look so familiar? You swore you’ve seen him before.

You kept your gaze locked on him, watching as he communicated with the people sitting near him. You noticed that a huge sniper rifle was tucked behind him. He must have been a high-ranking militant, being able to carry a weapon like that around.

He suddenly flung his head back and let out a roar of laughter at something the guy next to him had said. You froze in your spot.

You could recognize that laugh anywhere. That loud, obnoxious laugh that used to come from your old friend Niragi from high school. Your best friend that randomly disappeared.

You blinked a few times before looking back at him. His facial features did match and the way he smiled seemed way too familiar to not be him.

How could he be here? Is this where he disappeared to a couple of years ago?

Your heart filled with joy and a wide grinned grew on your face. That had to be Niragi! Who else would it be?

You quickly stood to your feet, almost tripping on your chair in the process and began making your way towards his position.

Although, as you did so, another man approached him from behind, leaning over the seat and tapping his shoulder. Niragi turned with an angered scowl on his face, but it turned to a smirk once he heard what the man had to tell him.

You stopped in your tracks and watched as he leaped over the backrest of the couch suddenly, following the man with his rifle slung over his shoulders. They were headed to the door that led inside, so you quickly followed, wanting to reunite with your old friend from so long ago.

“Niragi!” you yelled out happily, trying to get his attention. A few heads turned at your voice around you, but he didn’t manage to hear you over the sound of the music blaring through the speakers.

“Niragi!” you tried again, but this time you were blocked by a few people in your way. A small crowd gathered in front of you, not noticing you trying to get past.

Niragi turned his head at the mention of his name but couldn’t see anyone calling his attention. He shrugged it off and kept following the man. He had told him that a young guy was causing some trouble inside one of the halls, so he was going to take care of it.

As you finally managed to force yourself through the small crowd that interrupted your path, you saw the Niragi and the man had already made it inside. You ran straight after them. You were feeling ecstatic, ready to throw your arms around him and give him the biggest hug ever to make up for all the days you’ve been apart.

As you quickly made your way inside, you caught a glance of his checkered shirt turning the corner a bit ahead of you. You moved your legs as quick as you could, trying to catch up.

You turned the corner, about to yell out to him again, but your voice got caught in your throat when the sight in front of you met your eyes.

“You really thought you could get away with this?!”

Niragi had a young boy pinned to the ground, pressing his boot against his upper back and shoving the barrel of his rifle against his skull violently. The boy below him was crying and begging for his mercy.

You had a small flashback to high school, when you saw Niragi’s main bully Haru shoving a baseball bat against the back of his head, him lying on the ground battered and bloodied.

It was the exact same scene. Only this time, Niragi was the tormentor himself.

“Niragi, I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” he cried desperately, clawing at the floor trying to get away.

Niragi lifted his other boot and stamped it down roughly onto the boy’s hand. You covered your mouth as you heard a few bones crack.

He leaned down closer to the boy’s face and lifted his head up his hair, making him whimper in pain. “If I ever see you stealing from one of the executives again, this rifle will go down your throat and I won’t hesitate to blow the back of your skull out,” he hissed, sticking out his tongue and revealing the ball piercing he had.

The boy nodded, leaning away from Niragi as best as he could.

The man who led Niragi to the scene tapped him on the shoulder. “Alright that’s enough. You don’t want to give him PTSD,” he said calmly.

Niragi let out an annoyed groan. “But I was just getting started with him!” he whined, letting the boy out from under his boot and watching as he scuttled away like a bug.

You couldn’t move. You stayed put as the boy pushed past you, accidentally smacking into your shoulder in the process. Your eyes remained wide, staring at the tall man with fear written across your face.

This was not the Niragi you knew. It was not the Niragi you defended from those bullies. This was not the Niragi that used to be your closest friend, possessing a shy and timid personality. No, that Niragi was dead now. This was a devil standing in front of you. Nothing but a violent jerk that struck fear in anyone that he came across. What happened to him?

Unfortunately, you took a little too long to gather your thoughts and before you knew it, a rough grip was on your shoulders shaking you out of your daydream. You flinched in a panic as you saw Niragi’s angered face appear in front of yours.

“What are you looking at? You want some too?” he growled, shoving the barrel of his gun against your temple. You froze, staring into his dark, evil eyes, not knowing what to do.

You watched in confusion as his hard and angry facial features softened, rage turning into surprise, and even concern.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, taking his hands off your shoulders and backing a way a bit in shock. You kept your eyes on him. You wanted nothing but for him to recognize you a few minutes before, but now you weren’t so sure.

“Y/N?!” he exclaimed suddenly, causing you to jump as his tone. A large smile grew on his face, only you viewed it as nothing but sinister and evil.

“Oh my god Y/N! Since when did you get here?!” he asked excitedly. He quickly moved towards you again and held his arms out to give you a hug, but you backed away and shook your head, making him frown.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you recognize me? It’s me! Niragi! Your best friend!”

You shook your head again, trying to get the message across that you didn’t want him near you. “Sorry Niragi,” you mumbled, trying hard to keep your tears in.

You quickly darted around the corner, making your way to the staircase to run to your room. You felt overwhelmed. After everything that happened today, finding out that your closest friend was now a murderer was the last thing you needed.

Your stomach dropped as you heard heavy footsteps following closely behind you.

“Wait Y/N! Please let me explain!” he tried to stop you, but you weren’t going to give him any time after that performance with the young boy.

“Piss off Niragi!” you yelled, climbing the stairs as fast as you could, trying to get away from him.

You turned onto the floor that your room was located on, sprinting down the hallway. You glanced back over your shoulder to see that Niragi wasn’t that far behind you. He had dropped his rifle, now trying to catch up to you empty handed.

You quickly busted through your door and immediately pressed your entire body weight on it. You silently cursed Hatter for not letting you have locks.

You heard him arrive in front of it, immediately trying to open it, but you stood your ground. He may have been tall, but there was nothing but skin and bones on him. He had no muscles to help him push through.

You held the door shut with your leg and reached for a chair to put against the handle so we wouldn’t be able to open it. You managed to secure it underneath the handle and stood back, watching as Niragi tried to open it again, but failing.

“Y/N please just let me in! Let me explain! I didn’t mean for you to see that!” he cried. You almost felt guilty, hearing as he started tearing up behind the door while still attempting to let himself in.

“Please Y/N! Let me in! I missed you!”

You covered your ears with your hands. You didn’t want to listen to his pleas, it would do nothing but make you feel bad for him.

That wasn’t Niragi outside your door, that was a cold-blooded killer that you wanted nothing to do with.

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

The next few days you spend on alert around The Beach, looking around every corner for Niragi. As much as you’ve missed him the past few years, that event that occurred with the young boy obviously showed that he was no longer the nice and caring friend that you used to have. If anything, he now has become what he hated most in his high school days, a selfish and careless bully.

Who wants to be associated with someone like that? Not you.

Although even though you managed to avoid him in person, his name was brought up wherever you went. A few people would approach you during the day and warn you that Niragi was looking for you. It only would make your anxiety spike, causing you to scatter off to a more secluded place somewhere at The Beach. Most of the time you would hide in your room, but on the few occasions you climbed to the roof or hung around Alice and Usagi (who you had befriended), you managed to keep away from the psychopath.

One day, you were sitting out on one of the tables out by the pool. It was still quite early in the morning, so there wasn’t a lot of people around. The air was quite nippy, making you shiver against the cold breeze. You rubbed your arms up and down, trying to warm yourself up. Unfortunately, you hadn’t grown used to the ‘always wear bathers’ policy yet.

You felt a gentle hand lay itself on your shoulder, making your eyes widen and your head whip around to yell at whoever had dared to touch you, but you held in your harsh remark when your eyes met with Niragi’s.

“Finally! I found you!” he exclaimed, a sickening smile spreading across his face. You leant away from his touch, scooting your butt along the seat of the table, trying to make distance between the two of you.

Niragi obviously didn’t like this.

“Why are you avoiding me like I’m some kind of disease? I just want to talk to you! I haven’t seen you in years!” he said annoyed, taking a seat at the table.

You eyed his sniper rifle closely, watching as he placed it down on the table in front of him. You felt somewhat relieved that the barrel was pointing away from you. Who knew when he would decide to use that vicious weapon against you?

You blinked, not daring to say anything. You wanted to get out of the situation as soon as possible. It was unbearably uncomfortable.

“Sorry Niragi, I have to go,” you stated, standing up out of your seat and moving to turn away.

Niragi gripped the back of your hoodie and pulled you so you sat down again, making you yelp in surprise. “No, you don’t. Stop avoiding me,” he growled, placing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him.

You closed your eyes tightly in discomfort. You swore you were so close you could hear his heart beating. With a short shove to the side, you got out of his grip and stood up again.

“No, I do. I’m sorry but I really don’t want to talk to you,” you bluntly said, becoming agitated from his insistent behaviour. Why did he think he could just tell you what to do?

He frowned, standing up as well. “Fine then, I’ll just come too. I don’t care if you don’t want to talk to me. You don’t get a choice.”

You rolled your eyes and quickly started walking away from him, hoping to at least get a head-start to stay away from him. You heard him jog up to you as you kept walking, seeing his shadow appear right next to you.

You became more and more anxious the longer he followed you. He started to get a little too comfortable in his movements, even having the audacity to touch your hair and comment on how much it’s grown.

It got to a point where you had walked all the way to the lobby about three times, realizing that he wasn’t even focusing on where you were going. You turned around just as he was reaching to grab your hand, looking him in the eye with anger written all over your face.

“Can you not take a hint?! Leave me the fuck alone!” you yelled, watching as his face contorted into shock at your tone.

“I don’t want to have anything to do with you Niragi! You’re fucking insane and sadistic! Has it not occurred to you that you’ve literally become the soul thing that you hated in high school?!” you sassed, anger ripping from your words and smacking him in the face.

The few people in the lobby turned their heads at the sound of your arguing, being curious due to not seeing anyone ever dare to yell such vulgar words towards Niragi.

He tucked his hand into his jeans pocket and readjusted the rifle on his shoulder, almost looking bored. “Yeah? And what would that be?” he asked, licking his bottom lip while staring at your menacingly.

You cringed as his movements. “A fucking asshole! A little bitch that preys on those weaker than him just so he can project his own hatred for himself onto them! You’re pathetic Niragi, and it’s a real shame that no one has in this shithole has told you so. Because no one knows you like I know you, and I know that on the inside, you hate yourself more than anyone could ever hate you.”

You took in a deep breath, regaining your strength. You suddenly saw the irony in your words. You accused Niragi of projecting his anger onto others when you just did it yourself.

Niragi rolled his eyes, bringing his rifle down off his shoulder and fiddling with the bullet canister. You felt your heart stop from his actions, being afraid that he was going to use it on you.

“Don’t act like you don’t miss me Y/N,” he laughed, glancing his eyes back up to you.

You grunted in annoyance. “Just leave me alone, please,” you begged, turning around and leaving Niragi to the peeping eyes still staring at you both.

He turned his head to everyone in the lobby. As he did so, everyone turned back to what they were doing, being afraid of being caught staring and yelled at by him.

“That’s right. Mind your own business,” he shouted out across the lobby to make sure everyone heard.

He watched you as you walked away, eventually turning the corner to go search for Alice and Usagi. At least they would give you some kind of security after what just happened.

He chuckled to himself, sticking his pierced tongue out and running it across his lips once again. “Just you wait Y/N, you’ll come running back to me soon enough. You can only keep that tough façade up for so long. Just wait until people find out that you’re all bark and no bite.”

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

You stumbled your way to the entrance of the hotel, head throbbing in pain and legs aching from the muscle strain you’ve put on them. You had arrived back from your game, being the only one that managed to survive. You didn’t feel well, both physically and emotionally, so you were planning on slipping into a coma for a few days to sleep off the pain that you were feeling at that moment.

It felt like a huge effort to even lift your feet. You didn’t feel like talking to anyone, so you weren’t even thinking of checking in on Alice or Usagi. You said to yourself you would look for them tomorrow. You were in too much of a bad mood to engage in conversation. You’d probably end up snapping at them, which wouldn’t be fair on them since they just completed a harsh game themselves.

As you were just about to enter through the large glass doors before a young militant woman with short blonde hair pushed through before you even had the chance. She managed to even knock your shoulder during the process, making you hiss in pain.

She looked you up and down with a disgusted expression on her face. “Watch where you’re going,” she spat before continuing walking inside.

You rolled your eyes. “Bitch,” you mumbled under your breath.

Her head quickly whipped around to meet your eye, an angered scowl on her face. “Excuse me?” she said in disbelief.

Your words got stuck in your throat. She wasn’t meant to have heard that. “I-I…”

“I-I..” she mocked you. You felt your adrenaline skyrocket. You’ve heard of this girl; she doesn’t take things lightly.

“Look I’m sorry, it just slipped out I promise,” you stammered out, putting your hands up in a surrender. You weren’t in the mood for dealing with her shit, you were grumpy and tired. You hoped she would let you off with just a warning.

But she had different plans.

She grabbed you by the back of your hoodie, dragging you outside again and brought you over to a small alleyway that ran along the side of the hotel. You struggled in her grip and protested the whole way.

Although, you stopped fighting against her when she shoved you against a brick wall and pulled a revolver out of her jacket pocket, pushing it underneath your chin. You froze and looked at her with pleading eyes, begging for her to have mercy.

“You’ve messed with the wrong person you bitch,” she growled, giving you a quick jab to the ribs. You yelped in pain, clutching your side. It hurt ten times more, considering you’ve already faced a horrific game that same night.

“I’m sorry!” you cried, feeling tears welling up in your eye sockets.

She scoffed and smirked at you. “Wow, all bark and no bite huh?” she teased, throwing a kick to your shin, making you cry harder.

Her words angered you, making you see red for a short moment. You forgot about the revolver against your chin and gave her a quick punch to the jaw, making her head whip sideways.

She groaned, clutching her face and slowly turned back to you. You felt yourself fill with regret when you saw the look on her face. She looked like she was ready to kill you.

“Is that how you want it? Fine, have a hole in your foot. Maybe it’ll manage to get you and your attitude killed off in the next game,” she snarled.

Your stomach dropped at her words. Before you could even protest, she pulled away and aimed the gun towards the ground and blew a quick bullet in the top of your foot.

You cried out, kneeling and grasping your foot in your hands in pain, biting your tongue so you didn’t scream too loud. The pain of the bullet seeped from your foot and up your leg, spreading across your body.

The militant girl stood above you, laughing at your pathetic body lying on the ground. Your screams of pain brought her pleasure.

“Didn’t think this would happen when you bad mouthed me, didn’t you?!” she laughed, leaning down and pushing the gun against your head to threaten you more.

Another gunshot rang in your ears. For a moment you thought it was her and that she had put a bullet through your head, killing you. But then you heard a cry and saw the girl fall in the ground holding your shin with her head thrown back in a silent scream.

You were about to attempt to stand up to take this opportunity to run, but quickly jumped back down to the ground when another loud gunshot filled the air. You heard the bullet colliding with flesh as the girl flinched violently and cried out again.

You heard a menacing male laugh fill the air, and you glanced down the alleyway to see where it came from.

There stood Niragi, holding his sniper rifle out towards you both with smoke protruding from the barrel of it. A psychotic grin was painted across his face and you swore you saw his eyes shine red.

“Why are you giving my poor love a hard time?! Maybe think twice before you put a bullet through my property,” he exclaimed, chucking and walking up to the girl giving her a harsh kick to the ribs.

You felt like you were about to throw up and hearing some of her ribs crack from the collision of her chest to his boot did not help your nausea.

You rubbed your eyes and pressed your forehead against the ground. You wanted to wake up, like this was all some bad dream. Before you knew it, you were silently sobbing on the floor, tears rolling out of your eyes and down your cheeks.

You felt two arms wrap around you, lifting you off the cold stone floor and into a warm chest. You winced and whined as the bullet wound in your foot shot a searing pain through your leg. Niragi shushed you quietly.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he whispered, placing his cheek on top of your head.

His behaviour was giving you whiplash. One second ago he was acting like a maniac, shooting holes through a young girl, but now he was carrying you by under your knees and your shoulders, your head tucked into his neck.

You were exhausted, your body not even listening to you. You tried to move your leg to force yourself out of his grip but didn’t even have the strength to lift it. Your head was throbbing, and you could’ve passed out easily in his arms, but forced yourself to stay awake.

As Niragi walked past the lobby to get to the medical room, he attracted a few worried faces. Some even stood up to walk over and ask if you were okay. Everyone was terrified he had bad intentions with you, knowing how he was.

He ignored the few that approached both of you, rushing down the hall to escape them. He had to get there quickly so Ann could treat your bullet wound.

When he arrived, he pushed through the door harshly and called out to Ann with a worried tone. She stopped what she was doing and turned to the door to see Niragi holding you close to him protectively, blood dripping into the ground from your shoe.

“Shit, bring her here.” She gestured towards an empty table in the middle of the room. Niragi rushed over and placed you gently on the metal table, letting you lean your upper body against him.

Ann brought over some large tweezers, a cloth, disinfectant and a bandage. You flinched at the sight of the tweezers, moving to get away from her. “No, no!” you begged, trying to crawl up the table to get away, but Niragi grabbed your waist and pinned you against his chest.

“We have to get the bullet out Y/N, we can’t just leave it in there!” he argued, brushing your hair out of your face to calm you down.

You struggled against his grip as Ann held down your foot and carefully removed your shoe and sock. You looked down and saw a small hole in the top of your foot. How could such a small injury cause so much pain?

“Alright Niragi, keep her still. This is going to hurt,” Ann said shallowly, picking up the tweezers to try and remove the bullet.

“Yep.” You felt his grip on you tighten and he tucked his chin on your head. “Please just keep still Y/N, I’m here. It’s okay,” he cooed. His reassuring words didn’t do much to ease your anxiety.

Niragi turned your face so you were nuzzled into his chest. He knew that making you watch Ann take the bullet would do nothing but freak you out more, so he wanted to protect you from the sight.

You felt fine until the pain in your foot suddenly skyrocketed, making you let out a piercing scream. You bit your tongue to try and quieten yourself, but it didn’t do much.

Niragi frowned as he suddenly felt you go limp against him. He looked down at your face to see you had passed out, eyes shut tight and letting out soft breaths.

He smiled and brushed his fingers across your face. “So cute,” he mumbled.

“Well, that’s better. Maybe if we just knocked her out with a quick jab to the head, it would’ve saved us the headache of trying to keep her down,” Ann stated bluntly, causing Niragi to laugh.

“You know how this happened?” she asked him, raising her eyebrows.

“A bitch shot her just outside the hotel,” he said with an angry tone.

Ann didn’t seem surprised. Events like that occurred a lot. She had removed a lot of bullets the time she had been there.

“What happened to the girl? Did she run when she saw you?”

“I didn’t give her the chance to. She copped two bullets into her body for doing that to Y/N.”

“Did you think maybe Y/N was the one giving her a hard time?”

“Doesn’t matter. I only saw her shoot the bullet, nothing else.”

“Fair enough.”

***********

You cracked your eyes open to a room that most definitely wasn’t your own. You groaned and sat up, wincing when the pain in your foot shot through your leg. Memories of yesterday filled your head. “I must have passed out in the medical room,” you said to yourself.

You scanned the room. It was much bigger than yours. The bed you were in was three times the size of yours, and this room even had a huge balcony. As you looked around more, you noticed that a bag of your stuff was placed near the closet.

You frowned. Why was your stuff from your room here?

Suddenly the door opened to reveal Niragi, walking in with a plate of a bread roll and a bottle of water. He saw you awake and smiled.

“Aw little mouse is awake. How’s your foot?” he purred.

You cringed at the pet name. “What’s it to you, dickhead,” you growled, getting out of the bed and standing up. You were wearing the same clothes that you wore to the game yesterday, minus the shoes and the jacket.

Niragi smirked and placed the food on a small table in the centre of the room. “Have you forgotten who saved your pathetic ass yesterday?” he asked, approaching you. “And also, don’t stand on that foot. It’s injured, you have to rest it.” He pushed on your shoulder lightly to make you sit on the bed again. He sat himself next to you and leaned towards your face.

You moved away from his face, hating how close he was to you. “Yeah, but how did you know I even needed help? And don’t tell me you were just going on a short stroll through the alleyway at eleven at night,” you said, scooting up the bed and leaning your back against the wooden bedhead.

Niragi chuckled. “What if I was? Are you accusing me of stalking?” he suggested.

You shook your head. “Why is my stuff here,” you asked, changing the subject.

Niragi glanced over at the bag full of your stuff on the ground near the closet. He turned back to you with a smile on his face. “Oh yeah! I forgot to say, you’re moving in with me,” he said excitedly.

You felt your stomach drop. “What? I didn’t agree to this.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and attempted to stand again. You could only place pressure on one foot, so you stood on one leg.

“Oh, baby. I don’t care if you don’t want to. You’re in here with me now, whether you like it or not,” he growled, reaching out towards you waiting for you to place your hand in his.

You stared at him, trying to see if he was joking or not. But from the serious look on his face, you didn’t think he was.

“I’m not staying in here with you. You’re a fucking psycho.”

You attempted to limp over to the door, wanting to escape Niragi as soon as possible. But you didn’t expect him to be so insistent on you staying.

A sudden arm around your waist spun your around and Niragi pinned you against the door, his face far too close to yours for it to be comfortable. “Did you not just hear me? You don’t get a choice love. You’re stuck with me,” he rasped into your face with a scary smile across his.

Your breath hitched and you turned your head away as he moved his face closer, trying to force his lips against yours. You felt helpless.

“Niragi please. Let me go, I’m sorry if I ever angered you,” you begged, pushing on his chest, but he wouldn’t budge. “I promise if you let me go, we can go back to how we were in high school.” You were trying to do anything that would get him off you. Your heart was racing, and you were becoming more frightened by the second.

Niragi licked a long and slow stripe from your collar bone to the back of your ear. You cringed and sobbed at the feeling of his tongue and saliva on your skin. “Maybe I don’t want it like it was back then. Maybe I want more Y/N,” he whispered.

He tucked his face into your neck and nipped at your skin. He had your arms pinned either side of you and his leg was holding your good foot against the door. You couldn’t do anything to defend yourself.

“What have you become Niragi,” you sobbed after a short moment.

Niragi removed himself from your neck, leaning back to look at you. You stared into his eyes, seeing the same dark and beautiful orbs that used to make your heart race with love in high school, only now, they made your heart race with fear.

“I’ve become the real me Y/N, and you’re going to love me, whether you want to or not.”

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nanatsumu · 3 years

Text

HIGH SCHOOL!SUKUNA x F!READER

thinking about bad boy itadori sukuna who all the kids at school try to steer clear from because they know he’s bad news and if you get involved with him then you’re bound to be tied with bad luck for as long as he lives. well, that is everyone except for the president of the student council who so happens to be his childhood best friend turned lover.

this is mostly written for my own self indulgence and to project my fantasies of having a boyfriend onto sukuna but feel free to treat this as any other headcanon! ps i am pretty sure canon sukuna would kill a baby at any given situation, but this is going to be a revamped version of sukuna written by yours truly ;) and its a high school au so sukuna won’t be a complete menace to society and will actually have a heart heh

also i didn’t realize how long this was going to be??? this is kind of all over place too because i just wanted to throw all of my thoughts onto this post so there might be some plot holes in this LOL

i feel like sukuna would be the type of bad boy who isn’t necessarily a bad boy but everyone at school just paints him as some kind of delinquent because of all the tattoos and piercings he has.

he actually shows up to school more often than you think he would (but that’s only because you’re in most of his classes so long story short: you’re his only motivation for attending class)

“forgets” to bring his work books to class more than usual (in reality he does this on purpose so he has an excuse to be near you) so he requests to sit next to you the entire class period so he can share with you for the meantime but whenever the teachers not looking he’ll go back to admiring your face.

his older twin brother, itadori yuji, is very fond of you since you three grew up together and you both had your chances of being a victim to his antics!

exhibit a: in middle school when you and yuji were watching tv together, the show you two were watching would keep switching to some wrestling match broadcasting on a sports channel and no matter how many times you turned the tv on and off, it just would not stop. but it wasn’t until you heard snickering from the kitchen that you realized sukuna had a spare remote and was the mastermind behind the whole thing.

exhibit b: sukuna and yuji’s mom was the owner of a bakery so every now and then she would have either one of the twins come deliver freshly baked pastries to your household! oh how wrong was she to trust her youngest. sukuna was now a freshman in high school, and by now you would’ve thought that sukuna would have grown out of his childish phase, but WRONG! sukuna was still a menace in your life even past childhood. so when you bit into one of the macaroons, instead of being hit with the overwhelming taste of [favorite flavor], all you could feel was the burning sensation of wasabi kicking into your tastebuds.

yeah after the whole wasabi macaroon freak accident, you stopped accepting everything sukuna offered to you and opted to only eating pastries out of the boxes that yuji delivered to you. (sukuna eventually caught onto this and was just TEENSY bit upset but he would rather down a whole tube of wasabi than to tell you upfront)

now, how did you two even end up dating??? oh boy now that is a story

you see, yours and sukuna’s dynamic growing up was similar to that of tom and jerry’s— you being jerry and sukuna being 10x worse than tom of course

but it wasn’t until a confession after school behind the cherry blossom tree that was known for bringing good luck to successful confessions that sukuna finally realized that maybe he really did like you just a little lot bit

sukuna overheard the boy who was planning on confessing to you talking to his friend group about how “sweet and caring” you are (although sukuna could argue otherwise, you were a little brat. *LIKE HELLO?!&:&:& YOU WEREN’T THE ONE WHO ATE A MACAROON FILLED WASABI**) and obviously his ears perked up at the mention of your name. he grew up with you after all so naturally he would be interested in a conversation that revolved around you.

but then the boys started going on about how “you looked like an easy catch” and how “your body was bangin’!” yeah no, that’s where he drew the line. sure sukuna was an ass and talked shit about you most of the time (in his defense it wasn’t like he was doing it behind your back) but if he ever caught someone else talking about you like that then he would be sure to give them a hard time.

he hid behind one of the bushes near the cherry blossom tree while the boy was professing his love for you. funnily enough, for a moment sukuna forgot why he was originally there because he was too busy trying to stifle a laugh as he watched the boy stumble over his words.

“okay shows over” sukuna thought as the confession was reaching its conclusion, but just as he was about to step in and give the poor boy a piece of his mind, he stopped in his tracks when he heard you roaring with laughter.

“did you really think that i wouldn’t hear about what you and your friends said about me earlier? you’re really pathetic if you think any girl would be easy enough to fall to her knees for you because news flash! you’re a disgusting pig and you deserve to rot in hell for speaking about a girl’s worth like that.”

“it’s kind of sad too, i thought you were a nice boy and i probably would have given you a chance but it seems like you’re even worse than scum! damn it, to think there was somebody out there who’s even worse than sukuna.”

of course sukuna was not pleased to hear that last bit, but he did have a proud grin forming on his face as he watched the boy run away, flustered from your rejection and the embarrassment he was put through.

“sukuna i know you’re hiding behind the bush.”

“huh? i came here way before you got here, there’s no way you could have seen me.” he said as he stood up to his full height.

“well, your laughter isn’t exactly the quietest, plus i can spot that hair of yours from a mile away.”

lets just say, sukuna was glad you didn’t ask him what he was doing there because he wasn’t sure if he could spare the embarrassment of telling you that he was planning on ruining the confession.

after that whole fiasco happened, sukuna started to feel(!&:&::&) things

like he started to notice how you styled your hair differently one day and how you switched to a new perfume that smelled like spearmint (was that weird? for sukuna probably not. he just excuses it as being highly observant)

you weren’t dumb either, you had a feeling sukuna was there that day of the confession because he too had overheard the conversation between the boy and his friends as well (you knew he was prideful and if you brought it up then he probably would’ve denied it)

so from there on out it was just mutual pining at the point except... well.... not really??

i feel like it was just an unspoken agreement between you two that you guys were “together” but not “together together” because he started to treat you differently than he would before. like for example, he’d carry your bag for you whenever you guys would walk home (yuji was confused by this at first because if anything, it would have made more sense to see sukuna make you carry HIS bag, but he eventually caught on to sukuna’s feelings for you because they were twin brothers after all), he started walking you to class more often even though his class was all the way on the other side of the school (you asked him why but he just shrugged and said he was just “killing time” so that he wouldn’t have to go to class and then you ended up scolding him), and there was also that one time you miraculously found a $20 bill in your backpack after mentioning to sukuna that there was this cute top you saw at the mall the other day but didn’t have enough money at the time to purchase it (you asked him about this but he said it was probably yuji, but you didn’t want to pry any further since you wanted to cherish the fact that sukuna cared that much)

but eventually you got sick of this whole push and pull game that you physically had to tug the collar of his school uniform and pull him in for a kiss (he was visibly shocked at this because he never would’ve imagined you as the assertive type. not that he was complaining though)

“oya? didn’t think you liked me this much kitten.” he said laughing while you rolled your eyes.

“as if, i got tired of you being a wuss so one of us had to wear the pants in the relationship.” you snorted, causing him to irk.

to be honest, your relationship with him is smooth sailing because you both were pretty chill people and you didn’t have to worry about him sneaking behind your back to see other girls because 1. literally all the girls at school are terrified of him and 2. he knew what you were capable of doing to him if you were to ever catch him cheating on you so he wants to stay on your good side

jealous and possessive don’t exist in his dictionary because he is the epitome of those two words. remember what i said about how your relationship is smooth sailing? i kinda lied.

he’s easily jealous like for example: when you were in english class and the teacher had you guys jot down some notes, you realized you forgot to ask for your pencil back when you lent it to your friend last period.

so you asked sukuna to borrow a pencil but instead of giving you a pencil, he called you an idiot for being so forgetful.

this makes you mad so you turn to your male classmate since he was sitting on your opposite side and ask him for a pencil instead.

sukuna was practically fuming the entire class period and once the day ended and you two were back at your place, he made sure to mark you real good. (oh he also went out to buy a pack of mechanical pencils to sneak into your backpack so that next time you forget your pencils, you’ll have 10 extra pencils sitting in your backpack as backup)

he’s not a big fan of pda in public, but on the chances he will show some of it, the most he will do is wrap an arm around your shoulder or waist whenever some dude is trying to hit on you.

BUT IN PRIVATE? better buckle up because your in for a ride wink wink

really likes putting hickeys on you to a fault! but will never put any visible ones on your neck because he doesn’t want your parents to view him as some kind of animal (but he has nothing to worry about because your parents really like him and are grateful for the fact that he’s very loyal to you, and you guys grew up together so it’s only natural that your parents are accepting of him since they already know he has a good heart underneath that tough facade of his)

oh, and yuji starts learning how to knock whenever you come over (or shuts himself in his room for the meantime if he thinks it’s unsafe to step out of his room) because chances are, you’re probably making out with sukuna in his room or smth.

now onto the spicy stuff

when you and sukuna first started dating, the first thing you told him was that you weren’t ready to have sex yet because you were nervous and sukuna understood and told you that he was willing to wait for whenever you were ready.

but when you were ready though, it was kind of spontaneous and you weren’t even wearing a matching pair of bra and underwear that day

you two were chilling in your room watching some stupid (according to sukuna) animal documentary when suddenly you felt his hand on your thigh

dating sukuna and all, it was normal for him to have his hands on some part of your body (whether it be your thigh or your waist) while you two were in bed.

but you were feeling a bit bolder HORNEE than usual so you began to leave a hot trail of kisses starting from his jaw all the way down to his neck.

sukuna obviously got the memo but before those kisses could escalate into something more daring, he asked you once more if you were completely sure you wanted to do it and once you gave him the green light, he was quick to tug his shirt over his head and pounce on you.

he started getting really into it though and accidentally bit your thigh which made you loose your high and scold him for it, but he let out a hearty laugh and muttered a quick apology before getting back into business

sike i lied, remember what i said about it being spontaneous? yeah, you technically didn’t loose your virginity to him that day because after he finished prepping you, you both came to a realization that you didn’t have a condom.

oh well, there’s always next time!

i think sukuna is a sucker for pet names: his favorite thing to call you is either kitten or princess and that’s it LOL he finds calling you baby or babe is a bit too cheesy for him

but he likes it when you call him baby or babe ;)

date nights consist of either staying in and cuddling in his room, going out for a walk at night (but very very late though. there’s still lamp posts that guide your way through the streets but it gives you the heebie jeebies to be out walking outside so late. sukuna always reminds you that nothing bad will happen as long as he’s right by your side), or just spending time with you and your families.

but if you’re really down to do it, he’ll probably initiate a make out session that’ll lead to y’all fucking one way or another (he only ever does it if he is 100% sure that you’re feeling it because he knows you get easily embarrassed if he asks you straight up)

(this part is mainly written for me because i love the idea of sukuna being over at family functions, but it can be applied as part of the general hc heh) if you took him to any of your family functions as your plus one for the first time, all the aunts and uncles would be a bit wary of him at first due to all of the tattoos and piercings he has (sukuna swears he has never felt so self conscious before) but after they strike up a conversation with him and find out that he’s actually a good guy who knows what he wants to do in the future and is very loyal to you, they start to like him more.

your little cousins adore him and love it when he comes over because sukuna is a very tall high schooler which makes him the perfect candidate as a monkey bar

so when you noticed that all the little ones started to climb on his body and mess around with his hair, you were quick to react because you knew your boyfriend was easily irritable which prompted you to think he hated kids

but there was nothing to worry about because when you saw him playing around with them and even crack a smile, you felt your heart grow fuzzy at the sight and you knew right then and there that you wanted to stick by sukuna’s side for the rest of your life

and in the unfortunate circumstances that sukuna is too busy to make it to one of your functions, the first thing everyone asks is “where’s your boyfriend?” or “where’s ‘kuna? i wanna play with him!”

so you have to facetime him and let him know that everyone is wondering where he is (your phone is dead by the end of the night because after the adults get their turn at saying hi to your boyfriend, the kids snatch your phone and end up talking to him for the rest of the night)

but in conclusion, everyone is waiting for the day he gets on one knee to propose to you and your parents are itching to get to get call sukuna their son-in-law :))

also don’t forget that your parents want two grandchildren: one boy and one girl!

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna hc #ryomensukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen hc #jjk hc #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #anime #anime fanfic #jjk

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mirrorforevers · 3 years

Text

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

#graham coxon #alex james #damon albarn #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #y/n #fluff #au #fanfiction #blur band

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katcoquette · 3 years

Text

I Want to Ruin our Friendship

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

You and Draco had been inseparable since first meeting at Hogwarts in Year One. Both Slytherin, both Pure-Blood, and both undeniably attractive, you ruled over your classmates together. Your only competition seemed to be each other, and although it was fierce, you also relied on each other for everything. What started as an engineered friendship between the parents of two powerful families had turned into a strong, genuine, and trusting relationship. Draco was your closest confidant.

It was now the start of Year Six, and you and Draco were sauntering down the main corridor, his arm lazily draped over your shoulder. The rest of your gang were following behind the two of you.

Students that knew better than to mess with you scattered out of the way as you passed, aside from a group of Gryffindor boys who were blocking half of the hallway.

They looked you up and down as your group approached them in the halls. One of them let out a low whistle. You turn back to make eye contact with Pansy, who is smirking, and laugh. You feel Draco leave your side and pick up his pace toward them, Blaise and Goyle close behind him. You stop in the middle of the corridor, fold your arms in front of you, and cock a foot forward, ready to see how this would play out. Pansy’s at your side now, also knowing this would be entertaining to watch.

“Did you just cat call Y/N?” Draco sneered. At this, most of the group backs away, aside from another sixth year, whose face you recognized but name you didn’t know. He steps forward to face off with Draco. “So what if I did?”

“She’s not interested in any of you filthy, Gryffindors.” Draco spits. You click your tongue at this and walk over to the quarreling boys. You put a hand on Draco’s shoulder and gently pull him from the Gryffindor.

“Play nice, Draco.” You smirk at the boy standing in front of you and Draco.

“I could be…” You say slowly, bringing a hand up to straighten the red and gold tie. He flushes at your touch. You cock your head, keeping your hand around the tie. “You are rather handsome.” You say coyly.

“But, unfortunately-“

You continue, pulling the tie tightly, almost choking the poor boy. You hear Draco chuckle behind you. The abruptness of the motion forced the boy to lean toward you.

“Draco’s right.” You whisper into his ear. “I don’t go for Gryffindors.”

You push his chest back so he’s standing upright again and let go of the tie. You smile at the confused, but intimidated, look on his face.

“Have a wonderful day.” You say sweetly, pushing past him. The rest of the group catches up with you, laughing at the retreating group of boys. “Well done, Y/N/N.” Pansy cheers when you’ve all reached the end of the corridor, the Gryffindors long gone. Draco comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You hold his wrists against your chest.

“It’s so sexy how you tell people off Y/N.” Draco teases.

“You know I can handle myself Draco.” You tease back.

“I know.” He notices the rest of the group still listening to the two of you. “That’s what I find so appealing about you.” He says lowly, so that only you hear it.

And that’s how your friendship with Draco was. You flirted with each other often, but that’s all it was, a friendship. Lately, however, especially this year, you had found yourself thinking of him in more compromising positions. The harmless flirting was turning into sexual tension that you were sure he felt as well. You were confident around every other guy, teasing and flirting, but never letting them in. With Draco, it was different. He made you feel different, you would get nervous when you saw him, flustered with the normal teasing, faint at his touches.

But both of you were too stubborn to ever change the dynamics of your relationship, so you continued to ignore the storm in your stomach every time you saw him. That is, until a couple weeks before winter break. Your group was currently on the way to Hogsmeade to take a much-needed break from your schoolwork.

The boys were a few feet in front of you and Pansy, laughing and shoving each other as they walked. Pansy linked her arm with yours as you headed through the snow to the small town. “Are you excited for the annual winter ball at Malfoy Manor?” She said, wiggling her eyebrows. You roll your eyes, but smile nonetheless. “Oh come on, Y/N. I’ve seen you two lately! Something’s changed.” She says matter-of-factly. She wasn’t wrong. You think back to last week.

You had spent most of the evening studying in the library with Pansy, until she decided she was too tired and got up to leave. You said goodnight to her and stayed a few more hours, wanting to finish the essay you were working on so you wouldn’t have to think about it later. You were an excellent student but procrastinated your work to the end of time unless you finished it in one sitting. You sigh happily, setting down your quill and packing up everything you had brought with you. You sneak back towards the Dungeons. It wasn’t necessary, even if you were caught you wouldn’t be punished. It was more out of not wanting to run into anyone else that could be wandering at this time, like Harry Potter and his pesky friends.

You mumble the password, and the wall reveals the Slytherin common room.

“Draco?” You whisper, seeing the blonde hair of your best friend sitting in one of the armchairs. He looks up from the fireplace he had been staring at, looking deep in thought, but smiles at the sight of you.

He motions you over to him, pulling you onto his lap when you reach him. You swing your legs over the other side of the chair and put your arms loosely around his neck. He holds you by your waist. This wasn’t unusual for you.

Your friendship included physical contact, especially to comfort each other, and that seemed to be what this was. However, this simple comfort caused heat to rise in you. “Are you okay?” You say, pushing the feelings down and gently lifting your head from his shoulder to look into his eyes. He stared intensely back at you, silently communicating that no, he wasn’t.

You noticed his eyes briefly flick down to your lips, and for a moment, it felt like he had started to lean in.

“Y/N? Are you in here?” Draco breaks your eye contact and clears his throat, looking back toward the fire. You pop your head around the chair and see Pansy sleepily looking back at you. “I’ll be up in a minute Pans.” She gives you a knowing smile and a thumbs up before turning to go back to your dorms.

You look back to Draco, pressing your forehead to his. You bring your hand up to his face, brushing his cheek. “I’ll be here, anything you need.” You assure him, giving him a small smile. One of his hands was still on your waist, but the other had moved to your thigh when you leaned back to talk to Pansy. You were suddenly very aware of it, and even more aware of the blush that was creeping to your cheeks at the unholy thoughts that followed.

You had always seen the rings he wore on his hand, but lately, lately they had taunted you. You longed to feel his hands running up and down your leg, the cold metal of those rings pressing into your skin.

“Y/N?” Your eyes snap up to Draco’s after realizing you had been staring at his hand. “Is there a problem?” He smirked slightly, hiding the stress that had previously been on his face. You got up quickly, almost tripping into the chair behind you as you did so. “No problem at all! I just really should be getting back to my room.” You rushed out, silently cursing yourself at how obviously flustered you were.

Draco slowly stood up in front of you, the smirk still on his face. You stood your ground, trying to cool your demeanor to normal. He took this as an opportunity to come closer, almost touching your lips with his, but still just out of reach. You let out a small gasp at how close he was, if you tilted your head at all your lips would meet his. “Of course, darling.” He whispered.

As quick as he had gotten close to your lips, he was now walking across the room, hands in pockets. “Goodnight, Y/N/N.” He called over his shoulder.

You hardly slept the night after that encounter. Every touch since then had felt new. You shake your head lightly at the memories and look to Pansy.

“We’re just friends, Pans. You know that.” You laugh off her comment.

“The both of you are just in denial. We can all see it.” She retorts. You lightly smack her shoulder, pulling your arm out of hers. “Not even!” You squeal, reaching down to pick up some snow and toss it toward her. “Oh- you’re on!” She screams, causing the boys to look back at what the two of you were up to.

They come running back, throwing snowballs at each other and at you. You duck behind the wall lining the path and throw a look to Pansy who had the same idea as you did. She nods and you jump up from the wall, pelting the boys with snow. You laugh together at how much you snow you had managed to hit them with but stopped once you saw the looks on their faces.

Draco was staring daggers at you, but you simply shrugged, breaking into a run away from him. Pansy followed you, squealing as Nott caught her. The sight of them falling into the snow distracted you from Draco, who was now right behind you.

“Any last words?” He doesn’t give you the chance to respond before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the snow. He purposely pulls you so that you land on top of him, where you share yet another moment of intense eye contact. Your hands were on his chest, slightly propping your body up so you could see his face. His hair was tousled from the fall, his hat laying on the ground next to him. Again, you felt yourself heating up from his closeness.

“Let’s get going you two.” Blaise called, oblivious to what he had interrupted. You blushed as you got up. What is going on?? You were never like this around other boys. You brushed the snow from your coat and held out a hand to Draco, helping him up. “Thanks.” He mumbled, a small smile on his face before rejoining the boys ahead of you. You link arms with Pansy. “Not a word.” You stop her, already knowing what she would say. She giggles next to you as you continue to Hogsmeade, going over the details of the ball.

Two weeks later you were back at your own manor, getting ready for the Malfoy’s winter ball. You had on a floor length, strappy black dress that glimmered when you moved. There was a long slit that ran up your leg, stopping mid-thigh. Your hair was curled loosely with a small diamond pin holding back the pieces that normally framed your face. You were also wearing a diamond bracelet, with matching earrings, courtesy of Draco (Narcissa) from your birthday. You smiled at your appearance. Even for you, an already gorgeous girl, you looked stunning.

You had decided just days ago that tonight would be the night everything changed for you and Draco. You were going to tell him how you felt, how you had felt for months, maybe even years. How you wanted to be more. You were no longer denying your feelings, and this gave you more confidence than ever.

Your parents had arrived before you, knowing that you would be meeting up with Draco anyway. You enjoyed a grand entrance, and tonight was no different. You showed up fashionably late to see Draco standing at the end of the hallway that led to the ballroom. He hadn’t noticed you yet, leaning against a pillar with his hands casually in his pockets. You confidently started toward him, each step deliberate, almost slow, your heels clicking against the floor.

At this noise, Draco looked up, meeting your eyes. He pushed himself off the wall and stood, watching you. He slightly licked his lips, eyes raking up and down your body, admiring the dress you had picked out just for him. He was wearing all black, in his signature suit. The sight made your heart race. He held his hand out to you once you reached him, softly grasping yours. His thumb brushed across the back of your hand as he brought it to his lips, placing a kiss where he had just touched. You keep your composure, smirking at him, though your stomach is doing flips.

“I like your bracelet.” He says coyly, holding out his arm. “I would hope so.” You reply, taking his arm so he can escort you inside. The two of you looked ravishing together, eyes immediately falling on the new couple that had just entered the room. With your hand still holding Draco’s arm, you descend the grand staircase together, stares only leaving you as the next song starts.

“Will you dance with me?” Draco turns to face you and you nod. He pulls your body into his and you start swaying to the music. You move an arm over his shoulder, as his go to your lower back. You were unbelievably close, you could feel every part of him against you. You look up at him, his eyes filled with desire.

“You look… perfect.” He said, almost growling. You don’t say anything, instead tilting your head so your mouth was hovering by his ear.

“Draco…” you whisper, “I want to ruin our friendship.”

He moves his head back, searching your eyes for the same things he was feeling. You bite your lip, confirming that you were. He lets out a small groan seeing you do this.

“Come with me.” He pulls you away from the dance floor, and out another door into a private corridor. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from candle chandeliers lining the columns on each side.

“Y/N…” He pushes you against the wall of an alcove created by the pillars, starting deeply into your y/e/c eyes. His hand is pressed to the stone next to your head. You move your hands from your sides up his body, simultaneously bringing him closer, until you reach the back of his neck.

“Yes?” You ask innocently.

At this, he cups your face, finally connecting your lips. They move in sync, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you tangle your hands in his hair. He bites your lip, making you moan, his hands roaming your body roughly. He pulls away, only to move down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. Your head rolls back at the feeling of pure ecstasy, causing your back to arch, and your lower half to press into Draco’s. He groans at the feeling and starts to suck on your neck, and you close your eyes to enjoy it, one hand holding his head to your chest and the other pressed against the cold stone above you. Both of you were breathing heavily at this point, finally releasing the energy that had been building up between the two of you for years.

He meets your lips again, fighting with you for control. “Hold onto me.” He orders. You wrap your arms around his neck, almost squealing when he grips your ass and lifts you up. You were now pushed up against the wall with your legs loosely around Draco, his hands keeping you up. After a few more minutes of snogging, he lets you down, keeping one hand on your waist to keep you close to him. You look to him breathlessly, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Same here, darling.” He smiles, pressing his forehead to yours like he had so many times in the past.

But now, you were no longer just friends.

A/N: I LOVE THIS ONE! I wanted to mix it up with a Slytherin badass reader and some angst ahhah. Crazy in Love (Remix) was the song on repeat for this one because it really makes me ~feel things~.

Let me know what you think! Do you like me including images? They help me write, so I like putting them in the post as well.

I’m always happy to take requests as well.

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fumingspice · 3 years

Text

All The Things She Said

Pairing: Lana Winters x Reader

Part | 1 2

Thank you for all the love! Requests are open :D

Lana dropped her head in her hand and rubbed her temples and you felt your face go red. Your group of friends on the other side of the room, who you thankfully had not informed of the night before, laughed at your embarrassment.

Attempting to diffuse the tension, Lana approached the three of you with textbooks. "Take these," she said, her glare went straight through you. "And please don't be late to my class again."

You could feel the skin under your necklace burn as your hands made contact while she passed you the books. You could tell she felt something too when her face flinched slightly. There was something different about her.

She was wearing her wedding ring.

Lana noticed that you had seen it. "Stay behind after class."

The three of you took your seat at the back row, and you did your best not to look up during as much of the lesson as possible, resorting to taking notes from the book. Your face burned with the anticipation of Lana's confrontation. You had borderline lied to her about something that could risk the integrity of her career and her reputation. The guilt almost sickened you to your stomach and your friends could sense it.

"You gotta keep calm," Emmett whispered to you, knocking his knee against yours to tell you to stop bounding your leg. You peaked up for the first time in the lesson while the others were taking notes. Lana averted her glance as soon as you did so. "She's been looking up at you every time she gets a moment."

You rubbed your forehead with two fingers and peeled your necklace from under your shirt. It was white-hot. "What the fuck?" You muttered to yourself, getting Emmett's attention.

"I didn't know you had one of those," he said. "Maybe it means that its pair is close by-" Emmett stopped himself and looked from you to Lana.

The bell rang before he had a chance to finish himself. "We'll wait for you in the cafeteria."

The class filed themselves out as you remained in your chair, Heather gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder as she left.

You watched Lana smile at your classmates as she crossed the room back to her desk. The suspense was killing you.

Finally, Lana stood up again and sat on her desk, folding her arms, and staring right at you. "Come over here, please," she said, darting her eyes to the floor.

You followed her instructions and sat at the desk opposite.

Lana played with a pendant on her necklace as she seemed to gather the words to use.

"Do you understand the severity of what happened last night, and why we can't go through with tonight's plan?" she asked after a moment of silence, her whiskey brown eyes finally meeting yours.

"Because you're married?" You replied, slightly meaner than you intended to sound. Lana's eyes look inflicted by your comment.

She took off her ring and laid it on the desk. "You lied to me. You told me you weren't younger than twenty-one and Jesus Christ, why did I want to believe you so bad?" She put her head in her hand and for a moment you were unaware if she was talking to you or herself.

"No, I didn't," you replied. Technically. "I told you that a lot of people think I'm younger than twenty-one. I'm eighteen."

Lana took a minute to regain her composure. "Y/N, I think you're an amazing, beautiful, incredibly funny and smart young lady and I would love to have gone on with whatever we had started. Though, at the end I am still your teacher and you're still my student. That's like fifty shades of illegal," she said. Her eyes were trained on the ground now as she straightened her back.

Your necklace was beginning to burn your fingers now and you could see Lana was rubbing her chest. You stepped closer to her as she backed against her table and put your hand under hers.

But I thought she didn't wear her necklace?

Her necklace was hot too. You pulled her necklace from under her blouse and inspected it. In that moment you finally felt like you were able to one-up even Aria Montgomery.

"Does that mean-?"

You rubbed your temples. "Good golly, this is going to cause the worst migraine ever."

Lana looked visibly stressed too. "Surely there's a mistake, right?"

You stared at her hard. "Soul necklaces have never made a mistake in the history of their goddamn existence, Lana!"

The teacher groaned. "The only reason I put this on was because last night you reminded me that I actually had one and I wanted to throw it in my husband's face that there's someone else better than him-" she stopped herself in her rant to inhale hard "-even though that's not too fucking hard. I did not. In a million years. Put this on to match with one of my students."

"How about the chick who tried to pick you up in a bar, then. Would you have wanted to match with her?"

Lana looked like she was about to strangle you, and you weren't necessarily opposed to that. "Y/N, please for the love of God don't make this harder for me. I've been thinking about you since I got home last night." You could see tears in her eyes and a pang of guilt hit you hard.

You walked to the door, peered down the hallway to make sure it was empty and closed the door.

"Lana-"

"Ms. Winters."

"Way to remove the power dynamic," you muttered sarcastically. Lana tried to hide a blushing smile. "I have six months left. I can pretend you're just my teacher and you can pretend I'm just your favourite student of all time."

Lana bit her lip. "You're still flirting with me? You looked like a deer in headlights when you walked in."

You felt your face glow red in embarrassment. "I thought I was gonna pass out."

That much was true. When it had finally hit you that Lana was your new French teacher you had felt a weight on your heart like never before.

"So, sixth months of pretending. I think I can cope with that," Lana said. She was less stressed now. Well, from whatever relief the conversation had provided.

You nodded and peeked through the window by the door. The hallway was clear. You turned back to face Lana and took a step towards her. The teacher could sense her apprehension as you laid a hand on her cheek and pulled her close to you.

You looked up into her eyes and waited for her cue. She nodded, her eyes locked with yours before they shut and lent in. Her lips pressed against yours and her hands curled in your hair as you worked to deepen the kiss. Lana backed right onto the desk until she was sitting right on it, one of your hands reached down to grab her thigh and pull it to your waist.

Her hands dropped to the back of your neck. You were bewildered. How could something be so wrong yet feel so right? This went against almost every moral code you had with your teachers. You were a model student and now here you between a teacher's legs.

Lana pulled away abruptly. "I don't want to go further than kissing while you're still in school," she whispered.

You smirked. "Please. You didn't even plan on kissing back, did you?"

Lana shook her head as she shuffled off the desk and grabbed her bag from the chair.

You had never seen anyone jump as high as Lana Winters did when Emmett banged the door open.

"Mother of Jesus in a tank. Can't either of you be gentle with the doors in this school?!" She exclaimed. "You'll give me a heart attack one of these days."

"Sorry, Ms. Winters," Emmett muttered. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. "I won't stay for long. I also just wanted to say that you don't need to worry about Heather and I saying anything, because we won't. But Heather is also getting impatient and wants to know if you need a lift home."

You shook your head. "I'll be a few minutes. I can walk home but tell her I said thank you."

Emmett gave a thumbs up and left.

"It's raining cats and dogs outside," Lana said. "You'll catch your death of cold."

"I'm a fast runner, Ms. Winters."

Lana shook her head. "What kind of person would I be if I let my favourite student walk home in the rain, hm?" She held up her keys and headed to the door.

You walked behind her while she informed a superior that she was driving you home. Child protection policy and whatnot. Ironic.

Lana sat in the driver's seat and blasted the heat.

"What's your address?" She asked, booting up the sat nav. You recalled her saying that she had only recently moved to this city.

"Sixteen Eli Boulevard," you replied, checking a message from your mom. She was making Carbonara for dinner.

Lana stopped. "You're kidding, right?"

"Are you being serious right now? Why would I kid about where I live?"

Lana pursed her lips and laughed. "I just moved into that neighbourhood yesterday."

Well, that was convenient.

"So, I can be expecting a lot more car rides with you, Ms. Winters?"

Lana cocked her head at you and frowned as she began driving. "Can we establish some ground rules? Like no flirting on school grounds? We can't afford for that to happen again."

You nodded in slightly disappointed agreement.

"In school, at least."

You paused, turning to take in the view of the mountain that sat beside your small town. You never seized to be amazed at that view.

“Can we reschedule our date? I know a place outside of town,” you say. Lana squeezed her eyebrows hard in thought.

“How far out of town are we talking?”

“An hour or so on the train. Give or take.”

Lana stopped the car outside your drive. “I can do Saturday.”

Perfect.

You heaved yourself out of her car and gave her hand a squeeze. It was the closest thing to a kiss you could manage.

What on Earth am I doing to myself.

taglist: @its-soph-xx @delias-bitch-craft @sarahpaulsonsoftie @jumpoffabridge-t @coffee-is-below-my-standards @definitelynot-a-writer @bottom4delia

#lana winters #lana winters x reader #ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #sally mckenna #sally mckenna x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #foxxay #ahs murder house #ahs coven #ahs asylum

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alwaysmychoices · 3 years

Text

Where I Think the OH Gang Ends Up - HCs

After 3 books of falling in love with these characters, I thought I’d share my HCs for where these characters end up - including some about Charlie and Ethan’s future. Obviously, this varies because I’m a Ethan romancer, so I could make different versions depending on your LI. Included is where they live, their jobs, and their personal lives.

If you have any questions/HCs, feel free to reach out, and I hope you enjoy this!

Location: Boston, MA

Career: Diagnostician Specializing in Pediatrics

After her residency, Sienna worked at Edenbrook for a year before deciding to complete a fellowship in Pediatrics at Edenbrook, where she focused on diagnostics in children, particularly in conditions that are rare or difficult to diagnose.

During her fellowship, this field proved difficult mentally and emotionally, but Sienna’s resilience and strength, coupled with her passion for her patients, made her a leading figure in her field.

She stayed on at Edenbrook, where she bridged the gap between pediatrics and diagnostics.

Personal Life:

When all her friends started leaving Boston after residency, Sienna acted as the “glue” holding them together. She organized Zoom calls, visits, and group vacations. She also gets the best gossip as a result.

She stayed close with the whole group and regularly sees those who remained in Boston.

She still goes to see Danny’s mom for coffee and fresh baked goods.

Sienna met her husband through work. Her patient’s fourth-grade class organized a trip to show their support for their classmate. Andy was their teacher. Six months after they started dating, Sienna knew Andy was the one. She was baking cookies for her next meeting with Danny’s mom, and Andy not only offered to go with her but started helping her bake.

The gang is still very protective of Sienna – so much so that they all rushed to meet Andy to see if they approved. After all, only the best could deserve her.

When Sienna and Andy got married, everyone was so happy for them. But they were probably even happier a few years later when they started their family.

It took some adjustments, but Sienna adapted to her new work and family life balance like a pro – even if it meant she barely slept for those first few years.

Location: Boston, MA

Career: Diagnostician, Co-Head of the Diagnostics Team, Department Head

At the culmination of her residency, Charlie Greene probably could have gone anywhere she wanted, but she wanted to stay with her team. Even as she watched some of her friends go off to start new lives, she felt committed to Edenbrook.

However, it would have been easy for Ethan to stifle her career ambitions purely by taking up too much room and not leaving enough for her to grow. He wanted her to prosper though, so he had to step back when necessary.

Over time, the team dynamic shifted so that they were leading it together, so she deserved the title.

She proved to be an excellent doctor, teammate, researcher, and leader. So, when she was named head of the department many years later, it was an honor well deserved – even if it was one she later started to appreciate less once she realized the amount of paperwork involved.

She’s worked hard for everything she’s achieved, and she’s not done achieving it.

Personal Life:

Charlie married Ethan Ramsey, and after everything they’d been through, saying those vows came with a sigh of relief and joy.

Despite conversations about leaving Boston to be closer to family, they never did. Boston had become home.

They started a family with children, dogs, and a townhouse. They invited Ethan’s dad and Charlie’s parents to holidays, and Charlie’s friends had an open invitation to visit her.

It would be wrong to say that everything was easy, but they were happy.

Location: Boston, MA → Stanford, CA → Boston, MA

Career: Researcher & Attending at a Medical School & its Affiliated Hospital

Elijah went straight into research at Edenbrook after his residency. After a few years of learning from his coworkers and growing as a researcher, he published his research. He received the opportunity to leave Edenbrook and join a research team at Stanford University, and it was too good of an offer to pass up.

Elijah spent the next few years researching at Stanford as an academic, but once their research was published, he decided that pure academia wasn’t the right environment for him.

His impeccable research skills and high recommendations earned him job offers at university-affiliated teaching hospitals where he could do research and engage with patients. He accepted a position in Boston that met his research needs and brought him closer to home.

Elijah’s research contributions went on to help countless patients.

He continued to publish his research and lead several teams, all the way until he was leading his very own lab. By the end of his career, he was a top lecturer at a premier medical school.

Personal Life:

At the end of their residency, Elijah was the least afraid of the distance now separating him from his friends. His familiarity with his technology and his love for the gang meant that he was ready to keep them so digitally connected that they hardly noticed the separation.

Still, he missed them. And he missed Boston when he left, too.

Elijah was never too concerned about finding a partner, so he wouldn’t have minded ending up alone. In fact, for a long time, he thought he would.

Then, he met a fellow researcher, Alicia, at a convention. They bonded over their favorite comic books and their work. Though Alicia lived in Connecticut, they started dating, and within a few years, they were married in Boston. A few years later, they had kids and a shared google calendar blocking out their research days and family time.

Location: Miami, FL

Career: Surgeon

As the star resident, Bryce wasn’t particularly surprised when Edenbrook offered him a full-time position at the culmination of his residency. He fully intended it to take it, too.

But then there was the recruiter from Miami. He entertained the offer primarily for his ego, but something about it struck a nerve. One of his career idols was offering to take him under wing there, and even though Bryce had finished his residency, there was still so much he wanted to learn. He only visited to find out more – not because he intended to accept – but Miami allured him. The familiar heat, sea breeze, and electric energy captivated him.

It was a difficult decision, but ultimately, Bryce packed his bags and moved to Miami (even if he secretly cried about it and facetimed his friends constantly).

There, he prospered and honed his skills as a young surgeon.

When MC (Charlie) visits, it’s clear that Bryce and his mentor have a very similar relationship to that of Ethan and Naveen. So, it isn’t a surprise when Bryce assumes his mentor’s role after his retirement and heads the department – nor is it a surprise when Bryce’s surgical prowess became known outside Miami.

Bryce’s favorite achievement is the Lahela Method, a surgical method he developed, perfected, and popularized.

Personal Life:

Having finished his residency two years after everyone else, he thought he would be ready to leave Boston and his friends, but he wasn’t. They had become his family, and even with their strong bond and efforts to stay close, he missed them.

Leaving for Miami was difficult, but he made friends and kept in touch with the gang.

Bryce was too focused on work to ever start a serious relationship. He preferred casual flings and short romances to long-term relationships.

He’d been in Miami for two years when Kyra came into town for her extended visit. She only planned to stay in his guest room for two weeks, but she ended up staying for a month. He didn’t mind. In fact, he encouraged her to stay. He missed her and liked having her around – so much so that he convinced her to move to Miami.

Kyra was always looking for an adventure, and Miami looked like one. She moved in a few blocks from Bryce, and despite her intentions to soak up Miami, they basically spent all their time together.

He wasn’t sure when he fell in love with her.

But he did. Their friendship turned into a friendship with benefits. Then that got complicated with feelings. Then those feelings became more than feelings. And before either knew it, they were irrevocably in love. Despite never wanting to be tied down, they were tied to each other.

Bryce proposed, but it took them over a year to set a date because they were too busy living their crazy lives. They had so many plans – trips they wanted to take, a house they wanted to buy, and kids they might want to have – but they’re finding their way on their adventure.

Location: Miami, FL

Career: Influencer & Author

Though Kyra enjoyed working at Edenbrook (and really liked making money instead of incurring medical debt), she wouldn’t say that working in hospital administration was her dream.

She became restless, and she traded hospital administration for a series of other jobs.

Kyra started posting more and more on social media, and as she became more comfortable, she started being vulnerable about her health, the scars it left, and how she moved forward. She built a community of people experiencing similar things, and it sparked a passion in her.

Kyra dedicated her time to learning about social media to grow her following and continue sharing resources. A few of her posts went viral, and that was the catalyst to start her career.

After sharing content for a while, Kyra had the opportunity to publish her memoirs – a witty, funny look at her life that was inspiring, hilarious, and beloved by many.

Personal Life:

Kyra didn’t just become restless in her professional life. She also became restless in Boston. She did all the things to do in the city – explored all the crevices and exploited all the excitement. Even though she had been in remission for years, she still craved a full and exciting life.

She started traveling, often to the cities where she had friends who let her crash on their couch.

That’s how she got to Miami.

And how she inadvertently fell in love with Bryce Lahela.

Kyra and Bryce loved their life, and they lived it to the fullest. They took risks. They ate interesting dishes, went to exotic locations, and learned new things. They visited their friends and became the cool aunt and uncle to their families.

Kyra stayed in remission. To celebrate five cancer-free years, she and Bryce got matching buzz-cuts. On the next anniversary, they got matching tattoos.

Location: Washington D.C.

Career: Diagnostician & Activist

Jackie never intended to become an activist for healthcare reform, but once she stumbled into it, she developed a passion for the work after her unfortunate involvement with Panacea Labs. She even moved to D.C. to pursue lobbying.

She kept working as a diagnostician, but as her involvement in healthcare reform increased, she took a lesser load at the hospital so she could start working as an activist professionally. As a healthcare professional herself, she took her experience and used it to inform her activism and her lobbying to encourage Big Pharma reform.

She also worked with nonprofits to help struggling doctors and med students like herself find resources and emphasize ethics.

A woman on a mission, nothing could stop her.

Personal Life:

Though Jackie found her passion in D.C., she didn’t find the love of her life as easily. She was too busy to make anything work. She stumbled in and out of relationships. Her true companion became her dog and her high-rise apartment.

Jackie might not have been able to maintain a romance, but she maintained her friendships. She visited frequently and adored their children.

She liked being in charge, and she liked having things her way. It probably serves her right to have fallen in love with the only woman more stubborn than her.

Sonia was a public service lawyer, and she and Jackie spent their time bickering and adoring each other. They were both career-driven and supported each other’s mission.

Location: New York City, NY

Career: Head of Diagnostics

Aurora spent her time in Boston making peace with her aunt’s legacy, but at the end of Aurora’s residency, she was ready to start her career and make a mark of her own.

In New York, she started working for a diagnostics department, and she earned a spot on the diagnostics team once it was formed. She worked hard. She made a name for herself. She proved that Harper wasn’t the only Dr. Emery to keep an eye on.

Once on the team, she helped elevate it to the point that it rivaled her own hospital, Edenbrook. She often came into contact with her friend, MC (Charlie). The teams even competed on occasion.

Aurora beat MC by becoming the first to head a diagnostics team.

She was an excellent leader and an exemplary physician. The team prospered, and the rivalry with Edenbrook playfully continued.

Personal Life:

For Aurora, career and academic efforts came easily, but interpersonal affairs were treacherous. Still, after finding friends in Boston, she was determined to maintain those friendships and develop new ones in New York.

The friends she made in residency were now her family, and she kept in touch.

In New York, Aurora was slow to make friends, but she did. She formed a close bond with her team and shared an apartment with a team member for a time.

Like her aunt, Aurora went without romantic commitment – until she started research with Dr. Alice Montgomery. Aurora fell head over heels, and despite a few stops and starts, they started a happy, healthy relationship.

Location: Boston, MA → Brazil → Boston, MA

Career: Physical Therapist at Edenbrook

Personal Life

Rafael took the big leap and moved to Brazil. He spent two amazing years living in Brazil, traveling and making unforgettable memories before moving back to Boston.

Once back, he thought about saving up for more travels and spending his young adulthood moving around the globe, but after he got home, he couldn’t bear to leave for that long again. He opted for vacations instead and reinvested in his community.

Leaving his childhood neighborhood didn’t stop him from being an active community member. He volunteered regularly and made friends almost everywhere he went.

Of course, he also went back to his neighborhood to see his family regularly, but he liked having the independence of his own place and his own community.

Once he married and started talking about having children, Raf moved back to his childhood neighborhood so he could raise his child with the same level of community and love he experienced.

When everyone came back into town, they always stopped by his place for good food and an even better friend.

He stayed in touch with everyone, especially during his travels, and his friends had an open invitation to visit.

#open heart #open heart 3 #choices #choices stories you play #ethan ramsey #sienna trinh #bryce lahela #aurora emery #rafael aveiro #Jackie Varma #Elijah greene #pixelberry #Kyra santana #still can't decide if I like this but I made it so here we go

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theonlygamergost · 4 years

Text

Girls and pigs night out - Fd!au

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by @antarctic-bay if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!

This fic was corrected by the lovely @im-default

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Niki has the house to herself this weekend, but her plans get cancelled last minute, so one of the Pandel brothers decides to become the back-up plan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning!: Swearing

Enjoy~

“What colour do you-“ “Pink”

Niki was asking Techno the colour he wanted her to paint his nails, but his reply cut her off before she could finish the sentence. She stared at him, blinking a few times.

“That was… quick” she grabbed the pink nail polish, “Ouu~ What if we do pink and black?” she excitedly showed him the two glass bottles next to each other, “Sure” he softly smiled at how happy the girl was.

Niki had the house all to herself this weekend, Eret had left for an update course regarding his job and Tubbo was sleeping over at the Pandel household, leaving her alone.

She had tried to invite someone over, but everyone she asked already had plans, making Niki quite sad.

What made her extremely sad was when Minx agreed to a girls' sleepover but had to cancel it last minute. Techno was with her when she received the text and the poor girl felt avoided.

”I know they don't mean it Techno” she sobbed, holding the tears in, ”But it looks like everyone is avoiding me” dropping the phone on the sofa, she held her head between her hands, her body shaking with each sob.

”There there…” he caressed her back. Techno wasn't one to comfort people, he was usually the one to make them cry, so being on the comforter side wasn't familiar to him.

But be understood the situation Niki was in; Wilbur and the musical friend group weren't available, she had asked classmates only to be rejected with a ”We have an exam to study for, we aren't all like you who gets good votes because we are pretty and sweet talk the professors” which was first of all very rude, and second of all, not true. Techno knew how much Niki studied, they sometimes even studied together. And for a third, she invited Minx, she agreed and then sent her a text saying she couldn't make it, even Techno would feel avoided at this point.

”I know it's not like that but-!” she started crying, Techno could only feel bad for his friend.

But then, a thought arrived.

”What if you still have the sleepover, but instead of being girls only, it's for girls and pigs?” she looked up at him in disbelief, a tear rolled down her face, ”Y-you would do it?” he shrugged, ”It's not like I had anything better to do at home anyway” she smiled and hugged him, catching him off guard, ”Thank you Technoblade” he smiled and hugged the girl back.

So that's how they got in this situation, listening to One Direction songs while Niki painted Techno’s nails, of course all topped by a glitter face mask and some good old gossip.

”Wait wait wait- so you're telling me she stole her friend's money only to gift it back to her, look nice, and hit on her boyfriend?!” Niki stifled a giggle as Techno repeated what she had just told him, ”Yep, Janet had a crush on Adam for a while now, and even if he is taken, with her best friend, she is still trying to hit on him” Techno adjusted the border of his face mask, ”What a bitch” Niki burst out laughing, she had never seen Techno gossip, and the funniest thing was that he knew a lot about his classmates, he just kept quiet about it since he had no one to gossip to.

”If I remember correctly, she also tried to hit on Will” he gave Niki his other hand, shaking the one with fresh polish on around to dry it faster, ”Let's be honest Techno, who hasn’t tried to hit on Will? Every girl in the school has fallen for his charm” they giggled at the fact that yes, that was true, but even if that was a thing, Wilbur was still single.

”Well not all of the girls, you didn't hit on Wilbur” Niki rolled her eyes, ”That’s… correct, but I did fall for his charms, just not in that way, I am his friend after all” Techno nodded, mumbling ”true true” to himself.

”And done! Oh my God Techno you look so good!” Niki closed the nail polishes and admired her work, ” You did an incredible job Niki, oh! oh! Can I paint yours?” Techno asked excitedly, already looking at the drawer with the polishes, ”If I did pink and black you have to get pink and white” she giggled at the sight of Techno in Eret’s borrowed t-shirt, it was too large for him and it made him look like a blob, ”Are you suggesting we get matching nail polish?” she fake-gasped, ”Heck yeah I am” he smiled as he sat back down next to her with the small glass bottles, his nails weren't even fully dry yet here he was, painting Niki’s nails.

After the nails dried out and they took off the face masks, Techno proposed a “Midnight snack” aka strawberry vanilla and chocolate ice cream (of course eaten directly from the box with a big spoon) while bingeing various Netflix series.

After a couple of hours, Niki looked at the boy lying next to her and noticed how soft his pink hair looked, so she reached out to touch it and gasped, slightly scaring Techno, “Oh my god your hair is so soft for being dyed! How do you do it?!” He smirked, “Conditioner and hair mask?” He replied like it was the most normal thing in the world, she gasped again, “You use a hair mask?” She looked at him in shock, his smirk got wider “Once a week”

They ended up talking about their hair care routine and what brands they used for dyed hairs shampoos, while the tv was just background noise, Niki started to gently make small braids in Techno’s hair, “I can’t believe I never noticed how soft and bright your hairs are! I need to try out your brand” Techno’s hair wasn’t that long, but long enough to make multiple braids, decorating his silk smooth hair.

“If you want to try out various brands, do not try the purple-bottle one, it slightly darkens the colour of your hair, especially if it’s a bright colour” Niki nodded making a mental note.

“I have tried a lot of brands before I found mine, but-” Techno’s phone started ringing, interrupting his sentence, Niki kept braiding his hair peacefully.

It was a video call from Phil, Techno was resting his head on a cushion on Niki’s lap so he extended his arms in front of him and answered:

“HELLO TECHNOBLADE, Hi Technomate~” The greet of his two brothers came in at once, the two distinct voices overlapped.

“Helloo~” He greeted back, Phil was sitting at the kitchen counter while Tommy was standing behind him.

“Where are you Techno? You didn’t tell us you were spending the night out” He apologised by moving the phone so Niki was in the shot behind him, “I’m staying at Niki’s tonight, I’m sorry I forgot to text you” Phil nodded and reassured him it was fine, meanwhile, Tommy noticed Niki who kept braiding Techno’s hair.

“Oh my- BWAHAHA!!!” he burst out laughing, “What are you laughing at Tommy?” Everyone got a bit confused, “Look at Techno’s hair!” to that, Phil awed, thinking it was very cute, Tommy laughed once more while Techno blushed.

“Y-your just jealous I look better than you!” He did something he rarely did, stutter in embarrassment, but Tommy got angry at the roast and didn’t realize it.

To get back at him he asked one of his cringy questions:

“Hey, Technoblade! Wh-what are you doing at a girl’s house all alone?!” Techno grinned and brought his phone closer to his mouth so he could whisper the reply, “Girls and pigs night out, bitch”

That phrase went into Wilbur’s quote book.

#fd! au #fd au #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #writing #mcyt #technoblade #nihachu #tommyinnit #ph1lza #wilbur soot #tubbolive #tubbo

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worldwidemochiguy · 4 years

Text

Ours (yandere! rapline x reader)

You've always known that Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok are ‘dangerous’, but when one of your classmates decides to try and approach you, you learn just how dangerous they really are....

Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE A MINOR, Yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour, graphic sex scenes, Dom/sub dynamics, name-calling, face-fucking, comeplay (this is rly nasty y’all I'm sorry)

Word Count: 3.4K

a/n: thanks to anon who requested rapline x reader when a guy tries to approach reader! tbh that part only accounts for like the beginning and the end and the rest of it is just smut y’all im sorry idk how this happened lmao

OURS

“I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

The man in front of you slumps slightly, before mumbling out a desolate “Jongin,”

“Well, listen, Jongin, uh, it’s really flattering that you… think of me like that, but I’m not single, so… sorry?”

The man shuffles off without another word, disappearing into the library stacks, head bowed in embarrassment. You cringe slightly. Jongin was your partner for a group project a while ago and ever since then you’ve been able to feel his gaze trail over you sometimes during class, but you never thought he would actually make a move on you.

It’s pretty well-known at your college that you’re not available. Your boyfriends take pains to make it as clear as possible. They even have a rota, taking turns to pick you up each day after class, each time in a ridiculously ostentatious car. This morning you had been dropped off in Hoseok’s red Aston Martin, and you’re pretty sure it is Namjoon’s turn to pick you up in the Lamborghini once you’re finished studying.

Even though your boyfriends always want to hear everything about your day with no detail omitted, you decide to not disclose the fact that one of your classmates had approached you. Jongin was a nice guy, after all, and you didn’t want to see him come in one day covered in bruises, or worse, not come in at all.

Your phone buzzes, and you start putting away your books without even having to check who it is. Only your boyfriends have your number now — they bought you a new phone because the old one mysteriously went missing. You take a quick glance anyway.

[groupchat: You, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon]

Namjoon

I’m outside waiting for you, Princess.

[4:02PM]

You

I’ll be out in a sec!

[4:02PM]

Can’t wait to see you! <33333

[4:03PM]

You tap out a few brief responses — they hate to be left on read — before swinging your bag over your shoulder and leaving the library. As you expected, Namjoon is leaning against the Lamborghini illegally parked in front of the main entrance, subject to more than a few admiring glances tossed his way, though you can’t tell whether they’re checking out the car or him.

As soon as he sees you, his full lips tug into a smile, exposing his dimples as he reaches out to take your bag for you. You go up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek in thanks, and pretend that you don’t feel a curl of smug possessiveness flare up when you see the girl who was checking him out scowl and turn back to her friends.

He opens the door for you and helps you into the car, before walking around to place your bag in the trunk and getting in the drivers seat. Soon enough, the rolling purr of the engine starts up and the college library starts disappearing in the rear view mirror.

The two of you sit in companionable silence, Namjoon’s hand resting comfortably on your thigh.

“I didn’t know you were so possessive, Princess.” Namjoon breaks the silence with a seemingly casual remark, though it is easy to detect the self-satisfied undercurrent in his voice.

“Huh?”

“Oh, so you’re playing innocent? Cute.” He smirks, beginning to smooth his hand along your thigh. You try not to squirm under his attention. “That girl who was watching me, you didn’t like her, did you? You smiled when she turned away after you kissed me. Don’t you realise I notice everything you do?”

Your cheeks burn as Namjoon deftly unravels your thoughts, embarrassed that he finds you so easy to read. You mumble something quietly under your breath, and within the blink of an eye Namjoon pulls over, takes his hand off your thigh and uses it to grip your chin, tilting your head up firmly so you are forced to meet his eye.

“What was that, Princess?” He smirks, and you know he won’t let you get away with not replying.

Your cheeks flush deeply, and Namjoon briefly trails his thumb over the inflamed skin, before catching it on your bottom lip and tugging, a cue for you to speak before he gets impatient.

“I said, wouldn’t you be possessive if you saw a guy checking me out?” You ask meekly, and Namjoon’s gaze darkens.

“I’d destroy anyone who dared to even touch you. You’re mine. Ours.” His fervent response does not shock you, but just solidifies your resolution in your mind.

You hate lying to Namjoon, and Yoongi and Hoseok as well, but you know that if you tell them Jongin asked you out, it would only end in needless bloodshed. Anyway, it’s not like he was persistent or anything, it was a one off and you don’t think it’s necessary for him to be punished so harshly.

By the time you make it back home, Namjoon’s sucked three fresh bruises into your neck to join the already-present necklace of love-bites. Having three deeply possessive boyfriends simply means having three times the hickeys a normal person might receive — not that you are complaining. You like to feel like you belong to them.

Before Namjoon can even type in the code to unlock the door, Hoseok has swung it open and gathers you into his arms eagerly, tugging you backwards into the house.

“Princess!” He exclaims in between the kisses he peppers over your face, your hair, anything that he can reach. Behind you, Namjoon chuckles quietly. “Oh, you were gone so long! I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Hobi.” You giggle, and his eyes widen with joy.

“I wish you didn’t have to go at all. Do you really have to get a degree?”

“She should get an education.” Namjoon asserts, and you nod at Hoseok, agreeing with your other boyfriend. Hoseok grumbles, before leading you towards the couch, tugging you on top of his lap as he sits down.

“It’s not like you’re gonna need to get a job or anything. We’ll support you, won’t we, Namjoon?” Hoseok raises his voice so Namjoon, who’s gone to the kitchen to arrange a small meal for you, can hear. Yoongi, the resident cook, won’t be back for a while, but Hoseok and Namjoon would rather let themselves starve than let you go hungry, which could be possibility since Namjoon really is an atrocious cook.

“Of course she won’t get a job.” Says Namjoon as he brushes into the room with a bowl of microwaved popcorn for you. Hoseok’s already started the film, some kind of horror flick, and he settles you comfortably in between himself and Namjoon, who’s just sat down. They love to make you watch horror films because you always get scared and hold onto them tightly, it makes them laugh so loud it almost drowns out the monstrous noises coming from the TV.

~~~

“Is it over yet?” You mumble, voice muffled in Namjoon’s sweater. You feel his chest rumble as he laughs, Hoseok’s high-pitched giggle joining even as he runs a comforting hand down your back.

“We’re only forty minutes in, Princess.”

“How much is there left?”

“About an hour.”

You release a whine which induces their laughter again, until they are interrupted by the opening and shutting of the front door.

“You guys are watching Saw again?” You hear Yoongi’s dry voice ask and you point your arms in the direction from which you think it came from, fingers splayed, needy. He immediately joins you on the couch and wraps you in his arms, displacing Hoseok who lets out a dismayed noise.

Yoongi hates horror films just as much as you do, no matter how tough he is in real life. You survive through the next hour with your face pressed into Yoongi’s chest and his hand gently stroking your hair. After the ordeal concludes, you join Yoongi in the kitchen to make dinner, sat on a stool by the kitchen island and watching, since Yoongi doesn’t want you close to any of the hot surfaces or cooking knives in case you get hurt.

Namjoon sits and does his paperwork on the dining table, and you occasionally drift over to sit on his lap and mouth along his collarbones, trying to help with the stress that his job brings. Every so often, you go and check on Hoseok, who is practising in the studio. Seeing him so focused and sweaty from the exercise causes something to surface within you, and when you stumble back to the kitchen with mussed hair and swollen lips, Namjoon takes one glance at you and drops his pen.

“That’s not fair.” He breathes.

“What?”

“Hoseok can’t keep you all to himself like that. Especially when you look like that.”

“Like what?” You ask with faux innocence, and he rises from the table and begins to stalk towards you slowly, a predator cornering its prey.

“Like you’ve just been ruined. Like you’ve just had a cock in you and can barely stand. Like you’re still hungry for more.”

“And what if I am?” You whisper as he comes closer, so close your back hits the wall and his chest touches yours.

At your question, Namjoon groans and he wastes no time before crashing his lips against yours, all tongue and teeth and fire. His hand reaches down beneath your skirt and wrenches your panties aside, shoving his fingers inside you to play with Hoseok’s cum, still warm inside you.

“Fuck,” he bites out against your lip, “Already had one cock in you and yet you’re still so fucking tight.”

You moan breathlessly as he plunges two fingers into you, already scissoring them and twisting them mercilessly in a way that has your legs weakening so much that he has to support your weight.

“You need my cock, don’t you Princess? You need me to fuck you loose and sloppy, huh? I can’t believe you want two cocks within the space of a minute, you little fucking slut.”

His words cause the heat building in your gut to ratchet upwards, already on edge and over-sensitive thanks to the two orgasms Hoseok strung out of you. You’re almost delirious, panting and whining and begging as Namjoon fingerfucks you.

“Well, Princess? Do you want my cock or not?” He growls impatiently, and you moan loud enough that Hoseok can probably hear you in his studio, even over the music.

“Yes, I want- I need your cock. ‘m want you to fuck me sloppy, please, c’mon-” You whined against Namjoon, your head slumping down onto his shoulder, and he curses harshly to himself.

Somehow, he removes your skirt and panties — though he is still fully clothed with the exception of his open fly — and thrusts into you in one long, smooth motion. There is something so degrading about being basically naked while Namjoon is completely covered, but it just turns you on even more.

You’re so sensitive, having just been taken Hoseok up against the mirrors in the studio, his dancer’s hips fucking into you unrelentingly, and it doesn’t take much to bring you to the edge. Namjoon pounds into you, so hard that your head knocks back against the wall, and you know you’ll have bruises on your back where you’re being pressed against the wall too hard.

The pain only makes everything more overwhelming, makes it better, and you come on his cock with a wailing scream. His thrusts do not falter, and he only pushes you further up the wall, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist and taking you in his arms so that he is bouncing your body up and down on his cock like a fucktoy.

“Yes, Princess. You take it so well, you were made for my cock, weren’t you? Made to be used like my own little fuckdoll. My precious slut.” The new angle is hitting that perfect spot within you, the spot that makes your vision swim, and you are barely coherent, babbling nonsense and encouragement as he just keeps going.

You lose count of the amount of times you come before he eventually slows down, spilling into you and then pumping it through you slowly, mixing in with Hoseok’s from earlier. As he pulls out, his seed trickles down your thigh and dries there. You go to wipe it off with your discarded skirt — it would ruin the skirt, but they would always just buy you a new one — but Namjoon stops you with a tight grip on your wrist.

“Leave it there.” He commands, and you nod, wide-eyed. “You look so pretty with my seed marking you. You look like you’re mine.”

“She’s mine too, you know.” A low voice utters, and you startle when you remember that Yoongi was still in the kitchen, and could have been watching the whole time. Must have been, considering the impressive erection he’s stroking with one hand, eyes hooded as they watch you. Despite yourself, you lick your lips, and Yoongi coos.

“Baby still wants more, huh? Even after two cocks inside her?” You nod, just like you know he wants you to, and he gives you a satisfied smile. Yoongi takes his time, moving towards you in slow, measured steps. Behind you, Namjoon forces you to your knees, holding your hands behind your back.

“Does the little slut want her dinner now?” You try to nod, and Namjoon tightens a hand into your hair, making you whimper.

“Take her shirt off.” Yoongi says and Namjoon rips it off your body without a warning. You gasp as your skin is exposed to the cold air, a gasp which tapers into a whine and Yoongi reaches down and pinches one of your nipples hard.

“So sensitive.” He chuckles, before cupping your jaw. He moves his shoe forwards so it presses in between your legs, right up against your too-sensitive core. You mewl and wriggle away from it, but Namjoon holds you firm.

“Listen, baby.” Yoongi starts, his hand at your eye level stroking up and down his cock leisurely, “I’m going to fuck your mouth, and while I do that, you’re going to get yourself off on my shoe.” You start to whimper, shaking your head but Yoongi hushes you. “That wasn’t a question. If you don’t come before I do, you’ll be punished.”

You shiver, but still try to protest meekly.

“Yoongi, it’s too much, please, I can’t-” But Namjoon forces your jaw open and Yoongi shoves himself into your mouth before you can finish.

You moan around his cock, the feeling of being full always mindlessly satisfying you and, after a moments hesitation, you start grinding against his shoe. The sensitivity makes it almost painful, and you sob around his cock, eyes already leaking tears as Yoongi thrusts deep into you over and over again, at one point holding your nose against his hip until you thought you were about to pass out, before pulling out and slamming back in.

“Fuck, look at you.” Yoongi grunts, fucking your face like there’s no tomorrow. “Such a fucking slut. Look Namjoon, she’s panting on my cock, getting the come of all the men she’s fucked all over my shoe. I hope you know you’re going to be licking it clean, Princess.”

At his last statement, all the pain and arousal and humiliation forges itself into one white-hot surge of pleasure and the orgasm rips through you almost violently. Your throat tightens against Yoongi’s cock and a few seconds later he’s yanking himself out roughly and coming all over your face and chest.

“So beautiful.” He murmurs as you slump backwards against Namjoon’s thighs. “Covered in our essence. You’re ours, and you always will be.”

Since Yoongi practically abandoned dinner and let it burn, the three of you order take out, and they take turns feeding you as you perch — still entirely naked and covered in their dried come — on Hoseok’s lap. After dinner, the four of you have a warm bath where Hoseok uses his magic fingers to massage all the aches and groans out of your body, all the while praising you for how well you took them, how beautiful you are, how proud you should be. It ends up with him taking you slowly against the side of the bath, water rushing around you while you stretch yourself enough to take Yoongi as well, leaning over to take Namjoon in your mouth.

By the time you stumble into bed, you are well and truly exhausted, and you fall asleep right away, wrapped in Hoseok and Namjoon’s arms, with Yoongi sprawled on top of you, feeling safer than you’ve ever felt in your life.

~~~

Next week, you are getting a coffee during a break between classes — normally your boyfriends would come and visit you in this time but Yoongi was being held up at work, as was Namjoon, and Hoseok was trying to nail down a new routine — when Jongin approaches you again.

He looks nervous, and you surprise a sigh.

“Look, Jongin, I’m flattered, but-”

“I know you’re dating those men, but honestly, Y/n, they are not who you think they are.”

“Excuse me?” You ask incredulously, anger flaring within you at the criticism of your boyfriends.

“Listen, I’ve looked into their backgrounds a little and they’re dangerous, Y/n, you don’t want to associate with them.”

“I think I can decide what I want for myself, thanks.” You reply frostily. “I know you have a crush on me, and I was willing to let that slide, but this really is pathetic. Maybe you should think for a second; if they’re so dangerous, then what do you think is going to happen when you try to take what’s theirs?”

His eyes widen in fear, and for a second you feel smug that you managed to cow him into such a level of fear, and then you feel an arm wrap securely around your shoulders.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, Princess.” Namjoon says, giving a now-trembling Jongin a death glare.

“Telling lies to our girlfriend is certainly a dangerous thing to do.” Hoseok purrs, flanking Namjoon’s shoulder.

“And telling her you have feelings for her is even worse.” Yoongi smirks, moving in between you and Jongin.

“Honestly, if I were you, I would start running.”

Jongin turns tail and flees out of the coffee shop, followed by many curious glances. Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi exchange a smug smile before they start leading you to the car — a modest Rolls Royce today.

“I- I thought you couldn’t come today?” You ask, confused, and Namjoon huffs a laugh.

“We wanted to surprise you.”

“Of course, we should have realised we’d have to scare off one of your admirers.” Hoseok laughs, though his eyes are tight.

“I didn’t realise he would go that far. I just felt kind of bad for him, but if you hadn’t arrived today I would definitely have told you the second I got home.”

“You should always tell us everything, Princess.” Yoongi growls, before pushing you into the back of the car.

Hoseok slips into the drivers seat whilst Namjoon and Yoongi flank your sides in the back seats.

“From now on, you tell us everything, ok? No secrets.” Namjoon says sternly, and you nod.

“What about Jongin? Are you going to catch him?”

“Don’t think about that filth.” Hoseok instructs from the front, “We’ll take care of him. You don’t have to worry about any of it. We’ll call the college and say you’re sick for the rest of the week so you can have time to recover.”

“Ok.” You reply quietly, burrowing into the car leather.

“You really don’t have to worry, Princess.” Yoongi reassures you, taking your quiet behaviour for fear.

“We won’t let anyone take you from us. Ever. You’re ours. We’ll kill anyone who tries to lay a single finger on you, sweetheart. And if anyone tries to take you away? I’ll make sure they suffer so much they’ll be begging for death. That’s how much I love you, baby. We love you, so much.”

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beignetbenny · 4 years

Note

If you're comfortable would you share more you projecting your relationship onto Zukka? I originally followed you from the grocery trip post and i honestly love that sort of thing

You... you want me to project my relationship onto Zuko and Sokka more? My relationship? The one where my GF texted me “if i cosplay zuko and you cosplay sokka and we kiss would that be crazy or what?” that relationship?

I have literally been DYING to do this

Zuko and Sokka met in their junior year of college (performing arts college because if we’re projecting we’re projecting) and the first time Sokka sees him he’s already like: I’m in love

Since Zuko is an arts student, his style is a little more on the quirky side i’m not gonna lie. It’s usually a mix of grunge and goth stuff with the occasional surprise like “oh you have a turtleduck pin on your backpack. Are those pride flag socks?”

Sokka already had a pretty established friend group, but Zuko had transferred back in that semester after taking a leave of absence for family reasons. So, immediately sokka takes him in.

Zuko becomes really good friends with Aang and Katara and Suki and Toph of course, as they spend most of their time together. With rehearsing, running to get food at obscene times of the night still in their dance gear because rehearsals ran long. They food hop and get boba at 2 am, coffee at 3 am, McDonalds at 4 and so on. They go out and get pasta at midnight and refer to it as pasta time. Only one of them has to drop that phrase alone in the groupchat and everyone agrees on a time. Pajamas be damned. They get away with it because technically they are student athletes

A joke by Sokka that is run into the ground by the time they sneak ben and jerrys into a Tap level 5 placement. Zuko is the only other one out of the friend group that gets the highest dance placement as Sokka. It’s understandable, tap dancing is very hard, its’ a difficult skill, and not everyone can do a winged time step into navy time steps it’s rightfully difficult and the timing is off

So... the two of them start rehearsing together more. It wasn’t that they didn’t a lot before, but the class was mostly split and sure they were definitely friends outside of classes too but Sokka felt like his super mega crush on the hot belter who came in with Aftershocks from Next to Normal was something he could get over. So he kinda stuffed it away the more they worked together.

Then they get assigned a scene. An acting scene. An acting scene that ended in a passionate kiss. An acting scene the teacher said they were both capable of

So they rehearse it. They’re both dead letter perfect by the first night because they have expectations to live up too and both of their siblings just get things so much easier and suddenly they’re talking instead of rehearsing.

Three hours pass before they remember “holy shit we’re running this with blocking in class tomorrow we should probably get this right”

So they go through the scene, the emotions are pretty high, and they both lean in for a stage kiss before Sokka stops

Sokka: Wait... Zuko: What? Sokka: This is okay right? I can touch you? I mean we didn’t talk about it first and- Zuko: Sokka Sokka: And I know this is both of our first scenes with a kiss and i really respect you as an actor and i don’t want to make you uncomfortable Zuko: ...Sokka Sokka: And I just want to say that- Zuko: You can kiss me Sokka: What? Zuko: It’s not a big deal. We’re both trying to be professionals right? It doesn’t need to mean anything. Sokka: ... yeah...

So they kinda uh... kiss... and they don’t really stop... kissing

They do it in class and the kiss maybe plays off a little too well. The other classmates clap, the teacher gives feedback. His main point is that you’re supposed to be in love but you’re acting like it hurts.

And sokka makes some bullshit excuse about how he saw the character differently and Zuko tags along to that idea giving more validity to the statement and the teacher is like “alright, bet. You’ve proved your point. It’s probably not what the playwright wanted but this is about expression so i’m glad you feel expressed”

They don’t rehearse together anymore because both of them feel like they’ve gotten it and don’t want to ruin anything. They still hang out. They still have pasta nights. But things are kinda weird. But more than anything, Sokka really misses his friend

In the end, they end up having to do the scene for a showcase. Meaning that during rehearsals they have to do it again and again and again and again until it sort of just becomes normal

Good luck kisses back stage turns into kissing in greeting when they’re visiting each others dorm rooms turns to picking up food orders for each other. Never in front of people, because you can make it platonic. And realistically it’s only done so both of you can make the stage kiss feel more comfortable.

But that doesn’t stop Sokka from being like “woah man i’m getting mad butterflies when we kissed even though I immediately called you dude after the kiss broke"

So sokka comes up with a plan because as much as he likes whatever they’ve got going on, which he does because friend and kissing and cuddling is GREAT for someone who is scared of commitment because the chance of something happening to that person would literally destroy him and that doesn’t feel great.

Instead, the night of the showcase he gets all of his friends to hype him up to ask Zuko out with his favorite candy, a coupon to get pasta, and well... the obvious question

But Sokka waits until they’re in places like an asshole but also because he’s kinda terrified and if something goes wrong it could change the whole dynamic of the scene and they’d both flunk out of fucking THEATER SCHOOL AND-

And he shoves the snack and the coupon and a note he hastily wrote into Zuko’s hands before running to his own entrance to do the scene because he’s stage left while Zuko’s stage right.

And they do the scene, but somethings a little off. Zuko seems distracted but he’s also happy? like super happy? Like did the laugh queue and made it sound genuine instead of spiteful happy? And he smiled into the kiss? That wasn’t... something they did. But Sokka went along with it because the scene SEEMED to be working fine

And then they go off stage and the second the theater darkens, Zuko shoves the prop pillows into Sokka’s chest

Zuko: Fuck you Sokka: What? What did I- Zuko: I mean, yes, obviously yes. The hot tamales were a great choice but fuck you. Sokka: Yes? Zuko: Yeah!

And that’s the only conversation they get in because they have to help with the other prop changes but the moment they are finally backstage and their mics are off they kiss in the little hallways backstage that goes from one entrance or another

(at least they think they’re mics are off but uh... that was embarrassing and i don’t want to put that on them carrying on)

When the show ends and they’re both wiping they’re stage makeup off about to leave their director approaches them and obviously they both think they’re in trouble because they just did a 180 to what they had practiced for the last month but the director loved it. And then he asks them why it was different and Zuko admits that something finally clicked. And the director chalks it up to opening night vibes and that now they should keep it that way for the rest of the performances

The night the show closes they do a Gaang pasta night and the rest of them don’t even realize anything is different until Sokka reaches over and takes something from Zuko’s plate (which was usually off the table and would result in getting fussed at) that they noticed something was up.

#zukka #eli tries to write #theater kid au #Anonymous

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sunshinecrashed · 4 years

Note

mmm how about drunk!amane with a shy reader? I’ve had this idea for a while hhHHH

ROSY CHEEKS

drunk!amane yugi x reader

summary: mom come pick me up im scared

word count: ~1.2k

warnings: alcohol usage (obviously aged up), a couple cuss words lol

a/n: BAHAGHAJHAHAH college au vibes

• ﹒• ° ˚ ° ⋆ ✧ ✧ ✧ ⋆ ° ˚ ° •﹒ •

You couldn’t have been more content than you were right now.

Fuzzy socks on your feet, brownies in the oven, and your favorite TV series playing on your laptop while you were curled up on the couch. Yup, that’s right.

Nothing could disturb your peaceful evening‒

Ding!

[amane 🤡]: Hiyaa 🥰

[amane 🤡]: 👁👄👁

[amane 🤡]: Hey hey

[amane 🤡]: Hi

You glanced over at your rapidly chiming phone, very, very confused.

Amane was in one of your college classes, and you both bonded over the span of a semester when you were paired together for a group project. He was the kind of... friend that you just clicked with naturally during school. You definitely annoyed your classmates with the amount of laughter that often came from you two. But out of school, you guys never really talked..

It’s not like you didn’t want to hang out with him outside of school, it’s just that your schedules got in the way, or you had some studying to do...

Or so you told yourself.

In reality, you were just nervous as fuck and didn’t want to ruin the dynamic you both had with your shyness.

As your screen cast a slight glow onto your face, you realized that Amane was now calling you. A call from him... at this hour?

Your heart sped up a little bit, and you answered him with a hesitant, “Hey?”

“‒shut up, she’s not my girlfriend‒ OH HI, [Name]! I didn’t think you would actually pick up!”

Your tension eased a little bit, and you said, “H-hey, Amane. Is everything all right?”

On the other end of the line, you could hear some muffled voices and some faint music.

“Hahah, um. About that.”

“Amane.”

Even through the phone, the sound of his laughter still gave you butterflies. “Uhh.. I actually need to ask you a favor?”

Pausing for a second, you questioned, “... Depends on the favor?”

“Well, hhaha, long story short; I’m at Yako’s house for her birthday party, and Tsuchigomori-sensei told me that I was a light-weight, so I took a couple shots to prove him wrong, y’know‒“

You blinked. And then, “OUR FUCKING PROFESSOR IS DRINKING WITH YOU GUYS‒?”

“Ahh! I know, I know‒ But it’s not as bad as it sounds!! Anyways,” He took a deep breath and hiccuped. “I was wondering if you could give me a ride, and if I could actually.. crash at your apartment..?”

By the tone of his voice, he was definitely preparing for some backlash from you.

He hesitated, before continuing, “...My brother locked me out, and he probably won’t let me back in until morning.. And I understand i-if you don’t want to!”

“It’s no problem, Amane. I.. know how he gets sometimes. Text me the address and I’ll bet right over, ‘kay?”

“R-Really?? Holy shit, you are a godsend!” You could tell he was smiling through the phone. Rolling your eyes, you said, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you soon!”

And right as you were about to hang up, he purred,

“I can’t wait to see you..”

Your cheeks heated up faster than the speed of light.

-- -- --

It was only a ten minute drive over to Yako’s house, and when you knocked on her door, she promptly gave you a big hug (despite not knowing you very well), and told you to “hold tight” while she went and fetched Amane.

Getting him into the car was simple enough... but now that you were both out of the car, he really wasn’t giving you an easy time.

You had Amane’s arm slung over your shoulder so that he could lean on you.

There were the angry-drunks, the emotional-drunks...

And you quickly concluded that Amane was the affectionate-drunk.

He hiccuped while he leaned a little closer to you. “[Name]-chan, you have no idea how much I missed you..!”

You shuffled forward, a pink hue already blossoming over your face. “C-C’mon, Amane. We still need to get you inside‒”

“...mmh.. Why do you smell so good..?”

You froze in your tracks while Amane nestled into the crook of your neck.

“L-LET’S get you back inside t-the apartment‒!”

As you fumbled with the keys to your door, Amane just smiled in content, blissfully unaware of how fast your heart was pounding.

Finally, you kicked your door open with your foot, seeing that your arms were currently full, and you led the touchy-Amane to your couch.

“Stay right there. I don’t want to see you moving a single inch from that couch, Amane!” You pointed at him menacingly, making him snap to attention. “ I’ll go get you some water and a blanket.”

He gave you a cheeky salute and stretched out over the cushions, definitely making himself at home.

By the time you came back to him, he was already fast asleep, a light snore coming from him. You raised a brow and chuckled to yourself. It didn’t take much to roll him onto his side, prop up a pillow behind him, and cover him with your softest blanket.

Amane was out like a light.

“Sleep well.”

Giving him the tiniest kiss on the top of his head, you padded over to the arm chair opposite from him and built your own little pillow-and-blanket set up.

Night came and went with a flash, and before either of you knew it, it was morning.

First came a sleepy yawn. And then a shift of the blankets.

And when Amane’s amber eyes finally blinked open, he gasped and shot up so fast that he fell off of the damn couch.

“Oww‒”

“Amane?” You soft-as-a-feather voice questioned him from the hallway.

His gaze trailed down your form, as he realized that you had just gotten out of the shower. You were still wearing your lounge-wear as you dried your hair with a towel.

A blush spread over his face as he collected his memories of the night before.

“Oh my god. I am so so so sorry for all of the trouble I caused, fuck‒ I can leave now if you want‒”

You made your way around your furniture as you reached your hand out to him.

“Dork. You can stay here as long as you like, Amane.”

He hesitantly took your hand, which he mentally noted was a lot smaller than his. “Wait, so you’re.. not mad at me?” came his puzzled question.

You gave him a dead-pan look.

“Does it look like I’m mad at you?”

A small smirk grew onto his face. There was the playful Amane that you knew and loved. “Well, you’re certainly not pushing me away.

” He titled his head at you with a smile.

“I can stay here as long as I like, huh?”

You quickly let go of his hand (which you now realized you had been holding for quite a bit), and refuse to meet his triumphant eyes.

“I now revoke your privileges for staying over.”

“W-Wait no! Please, I’ll do anything!!” He whined, despite the grin on his face.

The corners of your lips quirked up and you both smiled at each other fondly.

Amane pursed his lips, furrowing his brows for a moment, before he carefully asked,

“Actually.. Can I take you out for lunch today?” He looked away, fidgeting before he continued, “Y’know.. Either as a date, or to repay you for letting me stay here..” He trailed off.

Glancing at your expression, he was pleasantly surprise to see you beaming at him.

“A date would be lovely..!”

#yugi amane x reader #amane x reader #hanako x reader #hanako-kun x reader #yugi amane #amane yugi #tbhk x reader #jshk x reader #toilet bound hanako-kun x reader #jibaku shounen hanako-kun x reader #tbhk #jibaku shounen hanako-kun #jshk #toilet bound hanako-kun #hanako #x reader #wee-woo wee-woo mom come pick me up im scared #WEE WOO

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genesisrose74 · 4 years

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Hinata Shoyo x Reader: Good Unexpected

Hello there! This is the first time I’ve ever posted any of my writing, so I hope you enjoy reading! I had a really fun time writing about my favorite ray of sunshine and may or may not have gotten carried away with the word count whoops :P Constructive feedback or just comments in general are welcome~

Word count: 6600

Warning(s): None

Another close win for Karasuno’s male volleyball team had a crowd on their feet and a roar echoing throughout the building. There were five volleyball courts in the structure, but none had a more rambunctious crowd in that moment than the once Flightless Crows. The match wasn’t an all too significant one, but it claimed the boys another opportunity to play in this charity tournament, and that’s all they needed to keep their drive going. In the chaos of cheering students, players on break, family members, and those who had simply been enraptured by the match, a duo of young females ushered out muffled apologies of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ more times than they could count as they edged their way through. A short blonde stuck closely beside her fellow classmate in the sea of people, letting out a breath of relief upon seeing a gap to a less crowded section of the stadium.

“Yachi, could you text Kiyoko and tell her we’re on our way? Takinoue and Shimada said they’d take care of the banner since the next match is tomorrow,” you instructed.

“Sure thing,” Yachi replied with a small nod, fishing her phone from her back pocket.

You both continued your move down a set of stairs, searching for the main entrance to court three, on which Karasuno had just played.

“Hey, I think I see Tsukishima by the water fountain over there! The rest of the boys must be close by.” Yachi gestured to the slim middle blocker, donning the unmistakable Karasuno High VBC sweatshirt each player was given at the beginning of the season.

“Yeah, that’s him for sure! Good eye, Yachi!” you acknowledged.

Jogging over to the towering blonde, you flashed him a warm smile in greeting. Tsukishima replied with a brief nod, his usual hello.

“Hey, Tsukki! Where’s the rest of the boys?” you inquired, now used to Tsukishima’s little expressed enthusiasm, even after a victory.

“Daichi, Sugawara and Ennoshita are checking out the standings for who we’ll face off against tomorrow, Yamaguchi is in the bathroom, and the dumbasses who share one brain cell went to check if the snack bar was open. I have no clue where the rest of them ended up,” Tsukishima listed, scrolling through his phone.

Yachi giggled at his last description of what you could only assume to be Tanaka, Nishinoya, Hinata, and likely Kageyama. Those boys had a way of getting into the stupidest situations, and their immense distaste for anything school related made their title quite fitting, although it was safe to say that you had a soft spot for the knuckleheads - especially one in particular.

“Speak of the devil,” Tsukishima stated as he looked up from his device. Sure enough, two of said boys had returned from their little food run with bags of snacks in hand. Tanaka had already ripped open a package of beef jerky, two of the sticks stuffed in his mouth as he spoke incoherent words to his fellow second year teammate, Nishinoya.

“Hey boys!” you waved enthusiastically. “Nice win today!”

Upon seeing you, Nishinoya and Tanaka gasped simultaneously, the remaining jerky in the latter’s mouth falling onto the floor. You could see a grossed out Tsukishima cringe in your peripheral vision, but you didn’t really mind the duo’s antics at this point.

As everyone knows, Kiyoko was the team manager, an absolute goddess to all, and the master of avoiding the flirty nature of any guy she came across. It was evident that she had a huge effect on the rambunctious second years, two of them in particular melting any time they were given the slightest bit of attention (affectionate or otherwise) - and she could even pull a reaction out of the calmest of boys, including the ever respectful and reserved Karasuno captain from time to time.

However, despite a deep infatuation for the beautiful third year female, the team had been introduced to a new kind of character in the past year that had thrown Nishinoya and Tanaka into a frenzy: a competitive yet kindhearted first year student who just so happened to be a volleyball player herself: you.

You had arrived in the boy’s gymnasium one afternoon, on the day of the week that the Karasuno girl’s team had practice off. You were hoping to find some tasks or drills to help out with, just to keep yourself active during your free time after school. Since Coach Ukai always appreciated an extra set of hands, especially some that held experience, you began appearing as a regular during Wednesday practices, and the team took a quick liking to you.

Despite your focus and intensity whenever you were on the court, you were almost always there with an encouraging word or bright smile if the Karasuno boys ever needed, and your consistent sweetness caused many players to view you in a similar manner as Kiyoko. While the more reserved Kiyoko Shimizu was more or less dismissive of the constant attention she would get from boys, you were always happy to jump in and boost the team with your enthusiastic words and actions.

Nishinoya briefly brought up that he likes when girls compliment his hair? You make a little mention of how good it looks at the end of practice that day. Tanaka isn’t feeling particularly happy with his spikes? You’re sure to compliment him extra when he gets a shot off that he likes. Yamaguchi gets frustrated with his jump floaters? You offer up a few words of encouragement to keep him going. Even after practice is over and it’s just a normal day that you can spend time with the team, you happily accepted the compliments and the affection you received from the boys - specifically Nishinoya and Tanaka. Of course, you never lead them on or anything of the sort; you’re all just very close friends.

It was an interesting dynamic to say the least, but the differing personalities of you and the team manager Shimizu had two second year boys going wild to get your attention.

But, the two troublemakers had discovered who you had your sights set on pretty quickly.

“N/n! I didn’t realize you came to watch today!” Nishinoya grinned, quickly making his way over and wrapping his arms around your midsection. You laughed and placed a hand on the libero’s head, patting his hair gently.

“Hi, Nishi,” you smiled. “Of course I came to see you all. I couldn’t miss watching my favorite libero in action, now could I?”

“How did you think we did? Wasn’t that an awesome last set?” Tanaka joined in the conversation, giving you a side hug in greeting.

“Yeah, it was pretty exciting to watch!” you agreed. “I’m all for the heart pounding matches, so long as you boys keep winning at the end of them.”

“You know we will!” Nishinoya smiled up at you.

“I do know that,” you affirmed before looking around the space. “Tsukishima mentioned something about you and some of the other boys getting snacks, but right now it’s just you two. Where’s the rest of your little group of mischief-makers at?”

“Kageyama stopped by a vending machine to buy some milk. He said it was cheaper than the prices at the snack bar.” Tanaka clarified.

“Hinata decided to stick with him to talk about the team we’re likely playing tomorrow, but they shouldn’t be far behind us.” Nishinoya concluded, a small grin playing at his lips. “Speaking of which, didn’t Hinata do pretty great, N/n? You should tell him how good he looked doing those quick attacks out on the floor today.”

You stuck your tongue out at the boy who still had his arms secured around you.

“Very funny, Nishi.” you pouted. “At this point you’re not even trying to be discreet.”

Nishinoya was the first player on the team to pick up on your attraction to Karasuno’s prized decoy. You had nearly walked into the wall of the school gymnasium while shagging volleyballs during a hitting drill, watching intently as Hinata did his approach before jumping and slamming the ball onto the other side of the court with ease. It would have been incredibly embarrassing if anyone else had witnessed your distracted movements, but fortunately Nishinoya was the only one to see, and had prevented you from smacking straight into the side of the building.

Initially, the libero thought the mishap was merely because you didn’t want to get nailed by Kageyama and Hinata’s quick attacks, but then he watched you nearly choke on your water when Hinata tossed his practice shirt off the same night, leaving the you to gape in silent astonishment as the middle blocker searched for a less sweaty replacement. Since Nishinoya was already quite close to you at the time, he was quick to corner you about the instance and declared himself an unofficial wing-man when you admitted you had feelings for the ginger.

He may or may not have let the secret slip to Tanaka one night when the three of you were walking home - and then profusely apologized to the point where tears visibly brimmed in his eyes - but Tanaka promised that he wouldn’t say anything to Hinata. Besides, even if he did make a not-so-subtle mention about you to the aspiring ace, you doubted that the dense boy would even understand Tanaka’s implications.

Little did you know, you were just as oblivious as Hinata when it came to people crushing on you. And the two second years beside you knew much more than you did.

“Awe, you look so cute when you get all pouty,” Nishinoya chuckled, reaching up to tap you on the nose.

“Oh, hush. Don’t make me bring up the time when you went completely rigid after Kiyoko-senpai gave you a high five at the scrimmage against Nekoma last month,” you countered.

“Don’t you mean the greatest moment of my entire life?”

“Wow, I’m hurt that she gets a higher placement than me in that regard.”

Despite being quite a bit shorter than you, Nishinoya easily hoisted you a few inches in the air and spun around, eliciting a surprised yelp on your part.

“Nishi, put me down!” you squealed, albeit laughing while doing so.

“You know how much I love you. Kiyoko might be my queen, but you’re definitely an angel sent to grace us with your presence!” he declared playfully.

The libero gently placed his friend back on the floor, a lopsided grin on his face as she ruffled his hair fondly.

“I know, and I love you too, little Guardian Deity.” you conceded. “Now, show me what kind of snacks you bought. I forgot to grab money before I left the house, so I could use some food.”

“You got it!” Tanaka opened up his backpack filled with goodies and offered it out to you. “Take your pick. We stocked up on a lot of food to munch on for the team meeting later today.”

“Speaking of which, you should come and sit in on that! I’m sure the rest of the guys would like to see you,” Nishinoya added.

“Actually I was already planning on going,” you mentioned while acquiring a bag of pretzels from Tanaka’s stash. “I texted Kiyoko that I was going to be here today, and she said that if you boys got another win that I should come to the meeting.”

“Sweet!” Tanaka exclaimed. “Since it’s not all that late, some of us were thinking about having a small practice in the gym after. If you had the time, it would be fun to have you stick around and maybe play if you wanted.”

“That sounds like fun!” you smiled, “just make sure you all don’t tire yourselves out completely before tomorrow’s game.”

Tanaka gasped dramatically, “We wouldn’t dream of it.”

“-I’m just saying that you have a serious obsession with milk, Kageyama. It’s almost unhealthy.”

“Milk is a good source of calcium, you dumbass. So what if I drink a lot of it?”

“If you had the chance to marry a carton of milk, you absolutely would.”

“Would you shut up already?”

Two voices bickered back and forth as they approached the area near your little group. To anyone even barely associated with Karasuno’s volleyball team, these two arguing idiots would be easy to recognize from a mile away, and sure enough, a head of fluffy orange hair rounded the corner, quarreling with his dark haired teammate.

“Are they seriously having an argument about Kageyama and his milk?” Tanaka questioned.

“I’m honestly not even surprised at this point,” you sighed.

“Hey, morons!” Tanaka yelled at the two boys, who snapped their heads in the direction of their senpai’s distinct voice. “Quit fighting with each other and get the hell over here!”

You could feel your stomach flip involuntarily. Despite seeing the aspiring Karasuno ace many times during Wednesday practices and around school, it was always a sight to behold whenever he was suited up in the official team uniform. Hinata always got into these moments of intense focus during matches, which you deeply admired, and you affiliated such occasions with the jersey he always donned during each game. The look quickly became one of your favorites, but that piece of information was never shared with the boys. Only Kiyoko and Yachi knew about that secret preference, which they had promised to never bring up near any of the Karasuno team.

You were thrown out of your stupor when Nishinoya nudged you knowingly, a single eyebrow raised in a playful challenge. You only scoffed and shook your head, giving the libero a little nudge in return.

“Such a schemer, Nishi.” you murmured.

“You’re such a scaredy-cat.” he muttered in response. “Go compliment him about the game or something, you do it all the time with me and Tanaka.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Excuses, excuses~”

You huffed in exasperation, sparing another look at the little ray of sunshine with which you were so enamored. At this distance, the boy was close enough to recognize you, and you felt a gentle smile grow on your face when warm brown eyes met your own. You offered him a small wave in greeting, as you both were still a ways away from each other.

Hinata was quick to close that distance upon seeing you from across the hallway, making a beeline for the familiar girl that he had grown to love seeing walk through the gymnasium doors every week. He was glad to see you whenever he got the chance; you were always there to help him and Kageyama practice a few more quick attacks after practice concluded, always ready to try a few serves of your own when the boys wanted to get in some extra receives, always happy to help the young decoy with his studies when a particularly difficult exam was near. Not to mention, he found you to be the prettiest person out of his entire class of first years, so that was a plus.

The whole team may or may not know about Hinata’s very obvious affections, despite the boy not telling a single soul about the way his heart goes bwah!! whenever he thinks about you. Tanaka and Nishinoya found the entire ordeal utterly agonizing, being the only two boys on the team knowledgeable of your own feelings, and being sworn to secrecy about that fact. The Karasuno manager and the manager-in-training also knew the irony of the situation, but they didn’t dare meddle in your love life.

If your friends were all being honest with themselves, as torturous as it was to watch you two timid first years dance around each other’s feelings all the time, it was also incredibly adorable to watch your interactions. The usually loud and energetic middle blocker would lose all sense of function every time you would praise his game play, to the point where Kageyama had to kick his teammate from behind to get him to focus again. Hinata swore he nearly ascended when you had launched into his arms after beating Shiratorizawa in the Spring High Finals.

Yet, despite these moments of mutually lingering gazes and light blushes that often dusted both of your faces, the ginger rationalized that you acted this way towards every player on the team, and brushed such encounters with you off as nothing but platonic. He didn’t mind simply being friends, if that's all he could be. He was content so long as he got to be near you.

“Hey, Y/n! I didn’t know you were coming to watch the game today,” Hinata addressed you with a smile that put a blazing summer sun to shame.

“I wanted it to be a surprise! The student council meeting ended up being shorter than expected, so I called Kiyoko and let her know that I was on my way,” you explained. You then turned to Kageyama, who had eventually made his way over to the small group. “Nice game today, Kags. That one set you sent to Asahi in the second match from behind the attack line was insane.”

Karasuno’s starting setter nodded in acknowledgement of the commendation. “Thank you.”

Tanaka and Nishinoya, now standing next to their two teammates, aggressively attempted to gesture to Hinata with their eyes; a silent urge to get you to say something to the boy.

“And I think that one super fast quick attack you guys pulled off in the final set was really cool,” you tagged on. “It’s always fun to see the other team’s reactions whenever that happens.”

The two second years shot you a deadpan look. That’s not exactly what they meant, but they could see you struggling to string together any coherent sentence to your crush and decided not to press any further. You just couldn’t help it! You wanted to tell the present ray of sunshine that he played a great game, that he always played amazingly, despite his occasionally awkward receives or missed serves. He always gave each match 110%, and you wanted to express to him just how phenomenal he was, but just couldn’t find the right words without the fear of sounding completely obsessive and embarrassing. Nishinoya and Tanaka both glanced at each other, a silent agreement occurring between them in a matter of seconds.

Unlike Yachi and Kiyoko, the two boys weren’t opposed to a little meddling.

“Y/n is going to come to the meeting and maybe stay for that extra practice time we have planned,” Nishinoya mentioned, saving you from trying (and failing) to say anything else.

Hinata’s eyes lit up at the news. “For real? That’s great!”

The middle blocker enjoyed your presence at the Wednesday practices you’d attend, especially since it was where he got to witness your competitive and athletic side. So, getting to see more of that was welcomed any time.

You nodded in affirmation and popped a miniature pretzel in your mouth. “And since I was just dropped off at the complex and kind of need a ride, Kiyoko said that there was plenty of room for me to go back on the bus.”

“Hell yeah there is!” Tanaka grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “You can sit with me and Nishinoya, duh.”

You smiled up at him. “Well obviously. Who else would I sit with?”

Nishinoya cheered, picking his game bag off the floor and gently grasping your hand. “Well let’s go find the others, then! Coach Ukai is probably getting impatient waiting for us at this point,” the libero insisted, pulling you towards the doorway of the building with Tanaka in tow.

“Alright, alright! Don’t make me drop my pretzels, Nishi,” you warned, letting yourself get dragged by the excited teen.

Hinata, Kageyama, and Tsukishima also started to gather their things to get on the bus, Yamaguchi doing the same after exiting the bathroom not long before the previous trio ran off to claim their seats. Tsukishima looked over at Hinata, who still had his eyes glued to the door from which his friends had just left, and seized the opportunity to try to get under Hinata’s skin just a little.

“Nishinoya and her are pretty close, don’t you think?” he mentioned briefly, before turning on his heel towards the doorway with Yamaguchi beside him. The pinch server spared a glance back at Hinata as he fell into step with his childhood friend. “Tsukki…”

Now Nishinoya was clearly a close friend to Hinata, as both of the boys were big balls of energy all the time, and as they both shared an immense love for volleyball. Hinata acknowledged his teammate’s tight knit relationship with you, and he was totally okay with that fact. But occasionally, the middle blocker would get a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had never really experienced before as he watched you interact with some of the boys on the team. It wasn’t an excessive amount of instances, but that feeling would bubble up from time to time - most notably when you would spend time with Karasuno’s libero. And whatever that feeling was, Hinata didn’t like it in the slightest.

“Oi, you coming, dumbass?” Kageyama questioned, snapping the ginger out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m coming, Bakeyama,” the middle blocker replied, readjusting his backpack and following Kageyama to the door.

******

The team was glad to see that you had come to watch them play, and you were quick to praise the boys on their well fought match. The ride back to school was relatively quiet, as many of the players wanted to either relax and listen to music or take a quick nap after their tiring game. As the bus continued on its route to Karasuno High School, it was evident that the energy and adrenaline felt earlier in the complex had calmed down, the boys given a chance to rest from the day’s events.

You, Nishinoya and Tanaka were seated near the back of the bus, with Hinata and Kageyama in the adjacent row. Tanaka was out like a light, his face pressed against the cool window next to him, while Nishinoya was struggling to get situated in the spot beside his teammate. From the corner of his eye, the libero could see Hinata sneaking subtle glances at you, as you unsuspectingly gazed at the passing scenery. With a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his lips, Nishinoya decided to kill two birds with one stone: try to help out with his friends’ crushes, and try to get himself a more comfortable napping spot.

“Hey, would you mind doing me a favor?” Nishinoya asked you in a soft tone, but just loud enough for the boy on the other side of the aisle to hear. You turned your attention to the libero, tilting your head to the side. “Sure thing, Nishi. What do you need?”

“Could I maybe lie down on you? It’s been a little difficult to find a decent position to get comfortable in,” he asked sheepishly. “If not, I totally get it.”

You smiled at the light pink that dusted his cheeks, and you patted your lap. “It’s alright, go ahead. You deserve to get some rest.”

Nishinoya offered you a smile of his own. He placed his legs over Tanaka’s snoozing form, knowing that his friend wouldn’t mind as they had been in similar positions on previous team bus rides. He then placed his head gently in your lap, gazing up at you before speaking up once more. “Thank you. You’re seriously the best.”

“It’s not a problem at all,” you waved it off.

The libero closed his eyes, sighing contentedly when he felt your hand brush through his hair. You absentmindedly hummed the soothing melody to a lullaby as you let your fingers carefully undo any tangles on his head. You paid special attention to the blonde streaks of hair that you always told the second year you adored, twirling the strands between your fingers and letting them fall back into place.

You were completely ignorant to the fact that the boy on the other end of the aisle felt a burning envy in his stomach as he witnessed the display from his peripheral vision. Your voice, which would have mesmerized Hinata under any other circumstance, did nothing to ease the emotions licking at his insides like unpleasant tendrils of flame. He desperately wanted to be able to sidle up next to you, wanted to feel your hands weave gently through his messy ginger hair. The fact that it wasn’t him made Hinata feel nauseous - worse than how he felt before a big game.

Because although Hinata was absolutely fine with you being close to the boys on his team, it didn’t mean he couldn’t get jealous.

Seated beside the middle blocker, Kageyama took note of his friend’s clenched fists and slightly tightened jaw, a stark contrast to Hinata’s usual happy-go-lucky enthusiasm. One look at the opposite side of the bus blatantly explained why. Kageyama was confused, though; Nishinoya knew just as much as the rest of the team that the decoy had his sights set on you, so why was he disregarding that fact right in front of him? The libero either didn’t realize what he was doing would upset his friend, or he knew exactly what he was up to. Was the whole thing intentional?

*****

Ohhh, it absolutely was. Kageyama figured that much out as soon as the team meeting started.

Nishinoya had been occasionally looking at Hinata to gauge the boy’s reaction, being careful not to overstep his boundaries, but pushing it just enough to see if the ginger would step in and make a move on you. From what Kageyama could tell, Tanaka was also in on this plan, but the wing spiker let his fellow second year handle most of the interactions with the brunette.

You were settled next to Kiyoko on the gymnasium floor, sitting with your legs stretched out as you listened in on the meeting. Nishinoya had his head resting on your shoulder the entire time, only shifting from his spot to steal more snacks from Tanaka’s backpack. If it weren’t for what Hinata had witnessed in the bus earlier that evening, he likely would have thought nothing of the second year’s actions. But now it was all he could think about, barely even focusing on the words coming out of Coach Ukai’s mouth. That feeling in his gut still hadn’t left him alone.

His discomfort was even more apparent when a number of the boys stayed behind after the meeting for some extra practice. Sugawara, who was the only third year who decided to postpone his walk home (mostly to keep an eye on his rambunctious children juniors), helped divide the group of six players into teams. Kageyama, Nishinoya, and Tanaka were on one team of three, while Suga, Hinata, and you were on the other. Despite the fact that he was on the same team as you, the middle blocker was still in a distant mood, and this showed when he completely botched the first two sets Suga tossed to him.

“Are you alright, Hinata? You seem a bit off at the moment,” you spoke softly behind him. When the ginger didn’t answer, she frowned slightly. “Shoyo…”

His first name coming from you had Hinata’s face heating up, not just because he loved the way his first name sounded on your lips, but because he was embarrassed. His bitter emotions had completely messed up his game, and caused him to practically ignore your concerned inquiry.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just a little tired is all,” he brushed it off. “I‘ll be good to go now that I’ve warmed up a bit.”

“Oh, okay. Tell me if you need some water or anything, your face looks hot.” You instantly flushed at the choice of words. “I mean, it looks warm! Like a red - you know what I mean.”

Tanaka snickered at your stammering, and you shot him a glare of annoyance before turning on your heel to retrieve the volleyball that had rolled away from the group.

After that, the three-on-three game went pretty smoothly. Hinata was in a better mood, working well together with his two partners. You even got a few good spikes in during the match (although a majority of them were thwarted by Karasuno’s Guardian Deity). Before you all realized it, the moon was shining brightly in the sky, and Suga instructed everyone to go home and get rest in preparation for tomorrow’s first game. After putting back the equipment the group had borrowed from the storage room, you were on your way out the gym doors, until the voices of Tanaka and Nishinoya stopped you midway.

“Wait up, Y/n!” The libero called out to her. You turned her attention towards him, a soft smile resting on your face after the impromptu practice.

“There’s no way you’re walking home all by yourself at this time of night.” Tanaka declared firmly, and Nishinoya nodded his head vigorously.

“I’ll be fine, you guys. Besides, neither of you live all that close to me, so it would be unreasonable of you to walk me home,” you told them.

“Well, doesn’t Hinata live in the same area as you do? Why doesn’t he walk you home?” Nishinoya suggested.

On the other end of the gym, Hinata had caught wind of the conversation. The ginger’s head perked up at the idea of accompanying you home, and standing beside him, Kageyama finally realized what the two second years had been up to the whole day. You narrowed your eyes at the boys in suspicion, but you couldn’t deny that it was a good idea to have someone else with you at this hour. You gazed over at your fellow first years, finding that Hinata was already looking your way, and a light shade of pink dusted your face.

“I mean, if he wouldn’t mind it, I suppose it would probably be smart,” you shrugged.

“It’s not a problem at all,” he uttered out.

Tanaka and Nishinoya shared a sly grin. This was the most that the two could do for their two dense kohais, so the rest was up to you both.

“If you’re uh, ready to go, my bike is just outside,” Hinata sputtered.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m good to go,” you responded with an awkward thumbs up that you mentally smacked yourself for.

“Don’t go having too much fun now,” Tanaka smirked. “He’s still gotta play tomorrow.”

His raised eyebrows and overall suggestive expression were met with a playful smack on the arm.

“Shut up, you big weirdo,” you scoffed, and before any more comments could be made by your two dorks of friends, you rushed out the gym door after Hinata.

Seeing the boy waiting outside for you, his fiery orange hair illuminated by the glimmering starlight like a cliche movie scene, you nearly tripped on the staircase by the school’s entrance. When he turned to you with an easy smile, your heart practically busted out of your chest. Damn him and his cute face.

You approached him at the gate and readjusted the bag on your shoulders, trying to remain calm at the realization that you were going to be alone with her favorite ray of sunshine. Beginning on the path up the hill, Hinata decides to push his bike alongside him in order to stay closer to you.

“I didn’t realize you lived that close to me until Noya said something tonight,” the middle blocker mentioned.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? I’m surprised you haven’t been over before.”

“Maybe I should come visit sometime.” Hinata’s eyes widened at the implication and quickly added, “Like, with the rest of the team!”

You laughed softly. “That sounds like fun.”

You both walked in a slightly uncomfortable silence for a moment, before Hinata spoke up.

“So, does that mean Nishinoya has been over to your place before?” he asked.

“Yeah, he’s been over a few times now,” you confirmed.

“Oh, that's cool.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his response, his voice laced with what you could only recognize as disappointment.

“Why do you ask?” you inquired.

“Well, you both just seemed really close is all.” The first year ran a hand through his hair. “Even Tsukishima noticed.”

“Well, Nishi and I are really good friends, and we know a lot about each other, so I guess that’s an accurate description.”

Hinata glanced at you and titled his head a fraction, which you thought made him look like an adorable little puppy.

“Really good...friends?” he murmured.

You nodded affirmatively. “Yeah, he’s like an older brother. Did you think we were dating or something?” you laughed. You meant it as a joke, but when the boy didn’t reply, your eyes widened a fraction and you stopped walking.

“You thought me and Nishi were, like, together together?” you gaped.

At this point Hinata was burning red. He nodded bashfully, and you fell into fits of giggles, placing your hands on your knees for support.

“H-hey! It was a justified question!” Hinata defended himself. “He fell asleep on you in the bus today and it looked like a normal thing for you two, so I just figured!”

You stood straight and composed yourself, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you started walking again.

“As much as I love Nishinoya, we’re definitely not dating,” you explained. “It’s a platonic relationship, nothing more.”

Hinata mentally celebrated at the confirmation that there was nothing going on between you and the libero, although he was embarrassed beyond words at this point in the conversation.

“I’m super sorry!! I just thought- I shouldn’t have assumed,” he apologized, scratching the back of his head.

“Awe, it’s okay, Shoyo. I guess we do act a bit like a couple sometimes, but...I’m not actually seeing anyone at the moment.” You added on without a second thought, “Nishi knows who I really like, though.”

Hinata frowned a bit at the latter sentence, but he remained in a better mood than before.

“So…do I know this person?” he inquired, feeling quite courageous himself.

You hummed, a blush creeping up your neck. “So what if you do?”

“Is it someone on the team?”

“Are we playing twenty questions or something now?” you laughed nervously.

Stupid! Why did I even mention anything in the first place? you mentally cursed yourself.

The ginger felt his heart rate pick up. Out of hope or anxiety, he wasn’t exactly sure.

“What’s he like?” Hinata heard himself asking.

You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the ironic inquiry, and decided to answer his question.

“He’s probably the most energetic person I’ve ever met, but in a good way. He’s really kind to everyone, even though he can get very competitive. While he’s not the most studious, I can tell he tries his hardest to do his best in everything he does. Not to mention he’s incredibly cute.” You chanced a glance at the intently staring first year for a brief moment before focusing your attention back on the sidewalk, thankful for the dim lights of the street. “Sometimes I find it just…so difficult to not mess with his hair, too. It’s so overwhelmingly fluffy.

Hinata let out a small sigh. He didn’t think there was any way he could compete with the special someone that you had described so fondly.

“Well, it sounds like you really like him,” he said simply, a halfhearted smile on his face. “He’s a really lucky guy, whoever he is.”

At his genuine tone, you raised her head to lock eyes with Hinata, who was looking at you with such an honest expression that your breath hitched in your throat. You slowed down in the middle of the empty walkway.

“It’s you, ya big dummy,” you admitted quietly, fiddling nervously with your sweatshirt sleeves.

Hinata heard it. You could tell that much from the way his eyes widened as he stopped dead in his tracks.

“It’s me?” he echoed.

You nodded once, not able to speak as you evaluated his reaction. Hinata clumsily pushed the kickstand of his bike down with wide eyes, maneuvering around it to step closer to you and examine your face, trying to determine if this was real or all in his head.

“I like you too. Like a lot,” he managed to confess, a delighted grin gracing his features.

You felt like you were dreaming and about to wake up at any moment, the urge to pinch yourself just for confirmation that this was all real itching at the back of your mind. But your train of coherent thought quickly dissipated when Hinata gingerly moved a hand up to your flushed cheek, brushing your jaw with his thumb and looking up with warm brown eyes.

“Could I kiss you?” he asked gently, voice barely above a whisper.

“Please do,” you conceded.

Hinata brushed his lips with yours, in a brief but sweet exchange. He did so the second time in the same manner to experiment, and again, just to confirm that this moment was actually happening, before all but backing you into the bike behind them as you tugged at the collar of his shirt. His lips were softer than expected, and you tasted the fruity flavor of what you assumed to be lip balm lingering on them. You could feel the boy grinning into the kiss, this one longer and firmer than their predecessors, and you eagerly tangled your fingers in his fluffy orange hair that was impossibly softer than imagined. His own hands found themselves planted firmly on your waist to secure you from losing balance, drawing small circles into your sides with his thumbs. Your entire body was buzzing with excitement, practically melting when Hinata traced your bottom lip with his tongue.

Hinata pulled away briefly to catch his breath, a fire blazing in his eyes that had you shying away from his gaze. He took a hand off of your waist and tilted your face back towards him with his index finger, a newfound confidence radiating off of the first year in droves that had you flushing darker than you thought possible.

“Shoyo,” you spoke his name softly, pulling a bit at the fiery strands of hair still twirled between your fingers. The little hum elicited from Hinata’s throat was one of your new favorite sounds.

“Please use my first name more often,” the boy breathed out, and you couldn’t help but laugh airily at the request, Hinata unable to suppress the satisfied smile that bloomed across his flushed face at the sound.

“That was… unexpected,” you murmured.

“Good unexpected?” the ginger inquired playfully.

“Very good unexpected,” you joked lightly.

Hinata wrapped you in a warm hug, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. You reciprocated the action, arms encircling around his figure, taking in everything that had happened with an enormous smile.

You might just have to thank Nishinoya later.

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