#despite almost missing my deadline this was so fun !!

[zenyuumi]

mall date <3 for @bindingthreads

my entry for @valensemblestars :D

#yuumi draws #zen esposting #ill tag properly later maybee #waugh im tired #despite almost missing my deadline this was so fun !! #i love tgem

[seventeenpins]

Can we perhaps have something where stepdad Joel makes reader squirt-😗

alskdfjal yes of course this is so perfect :))) thank u for the prompt 💕

practice makes perfect

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: follow-up to bad girl. your mom decides to go out one night, leaving you and your stepdad at home alone together. feeling hurt and petty in response to his wife's cheating, he has no qualms with fucking you in your mom's bedroom. you make a mess.

warnings: okay lets go, a lot of fucking (so much fucking), stepcest, infidelity, oral sex (mentioned), unsafe piv, SQUIRTING, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, multiple orgasms, creampie -- let me know if i missed anything?

a/n: i am so completely blown away by the response to my first stepdad!joel fic -- thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs and messages, i fuckin cherish them all. as always, pls feel free to reach out. i hope you enjoy this instalment!

for the first week after joel walked in on you, you were half convinced your entire experience with him had been a fever dream. you hadn't seen all that much of him on account of a big project he's been grumbling about, something about a delayed material delivery that pushed him closer to a deadline than he'd prefer. you were busy yourself, too, going out with friends and spending long hours on some of your freelance work.

there were moments, though, that you'd catch one another and there'd be a glint of something in his eye.

one night, you, your mom, and joel are all sat at the table for a family dinner. your mom has drained her wine glass twice already, and is reaching for the bottle again as she tells you both, "i'm afraid i can't stay for long tonight, i just got a text from vera. sounds like she's having a bad night and needs a friend."

joel makes a sound like a snort that he follows up with a cough. "poor vera," he says, "she's been havin' an awful rough time lately, hasn't she? it's like she's inconsolable every other day."

"yes," your mom says, "she has been going through so much."

joel stares at her for a moment and you almost expect him to challenge her on it, but then he lets out a breath and smiles.

"you're such a good friend, baby," he tells her and she grins before turning back to her glass of wine and taking a big gulp. joel fixes you with a knowing stare and smirks. you both know she's not going to vera's.

after she finishes picking at her plate, she announces that she needs to get ready and dips out of the room.

"so, vera, huh?" you ask and joel snorts.

"can't believe your momma forgot she made me follow that woman on instagram months ago. according to her recent posts, she's currently travelling through iceland."

you roll your eyes and laugh, "seriously?" you ask, and joel nods.

"you'd think she'd be a better liar by this point," you say, and joel smiles but winces a little too.

it's not a game. you know it's not a game. just because you're used to your mother's antics doesn't mean it isn't new to joel, and he's only known for certain for a week that she's been unfaithful to him and that's gotta hurt. despite whatever's going on between you two, you know joel's heart is aching.

you're pretty sure you've just poured salt in the wound.

"i'm sorry, joel," you say, suddenly embarrassed, "i didn't mean to- i don't know. i didn't mean to make fun of it. i know you're dealing with... a lot."

joel shrugs and relaxes, "ah, it's alright sweetheart. just something i need to deal with. but you've done nothing wrong."

"okay," you say, and it's only then that you realise how close you've been leaning towards one another. at the sound of your mother's heels on the stairs, joel clears his throat and the two of you put more distance between yourselves.

your mother's voice carries down the hallway. "will you two be alright without me? i know you haven't had a chance to spend much time together."

"i'm sure we'll manage." you say, and joel smirks.

"she's a real good girl," he says, "'m lovin these opportunities to get to know her better."

"i'm glad to hear it," your mom says, and smiles between the two of you as you do your best not to choke.

"ya look great, baby," joel says, eyebrows raised as he looks your mom up and down. "cute dress. that makeup's gonna get ruined with your face masks, though, huh?"

she blushes and waves him off, "you know i like to get all get dolled up for my girls night," she says, "i can wipe the makeup off later."

"i'm sure you will," he says, and though you can hear the edge to it, you don't think your mom can. he presses a kiss to her cheek.

"i might be home late," she tells you both, "don't wait up!"

"no worries, baby," joel says, "in fact, if vera's having such a hard time, maybe you should make it a sleepover"

your mom grins and it's dazzling and heartbreaking. it's moments like this that you can see exactly why so many men have fallen in love with her. "that's a great idea, honey," she says, "i think i'll do just that! i'll see you both in the morning."

with a swish of her hair, your mom has left through the front door. joel groans, folding forward and resting his head in his hands, letting out a low "fucking jesus" before he sits back and composes himself. he lets out a deep sigh and then turns to look at you and shakes his head, closing his eyes, resigned.

you're not sure what's appropriate. you nearly reach out to deliver a comforting pat to his hand, but change your mind at the last moment, instead batting your hand out like a cat's paw and then recoiling.

joel's eyes weren't, apparently, closed. he sees your indecisive gesture, frowns, and gives you a look, before laughing. "you're okay, sweetheart," he says, his voice still tinged with the rumble of laughter, "it's all a lot to deal with. but i'm managing. and guess what?"

"what?" you ask.

"we've got a whole night to ourselves. just the two of us."

"oh yeah?" you ask, and you suddenly feel hot all over. joel's staring at you with such a darkness in his eyes that you're certain you're already wet.

"'f that's something you'd like, that is." joel smiles and it's almost unexpected the way he checks in with you, that he still has the capacity to focus on your needs. in his position, you might just be out to take what you could get, wholly and selfishly.

he's so... considerate. fuck he turns you on.

"i've got an idea," you say, and you take him by the hand and lead him upstairs.

you can feel his body stiffen when you stand in the doorway to your mother's bedroom. "you want me to fuck you in here?" he asks, and you can't parse his tone.

you're worried that you've gone too far, that despite the filthy way he fucked you only a few days ago, you've hit a barrier you should never have crossed, but you nod. before you can ask is it too much? he's growling "yes" and dragging you into the room.

he pulls you into a kiss, frenzied and feral, his teeth biting at you, nipping at your lips and cheeks, laving kisses down your throat. before you know it, you're both fully naked, clothes littered all over the floor of the room and joel's teeth are gently biting down on one of your nipples as he rocks his hips against yours.

"are you gonna let me take care of you? gonna let daddy take care of you?" he asks, "use your words."

"yes, daddy," you tell him.

"ya know," he tells you, running a hand down your sternum and resting between your breasts, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing, "there have been a few times i've gotten home late these past few days, and when i walked past your bedroom door i could swear i heard the sweetest little moans."

you blush and look away from him.

"uh-uh," he says, tipping your chin up, making you look at him, "were you thinkin' bout me?"

you nod. "yes daddy" it's the truth, after all.

"good girl," he smiles, "thank you for being honest with me. now i already know you're a dirty girl, what with all your naughty videos. and i know you're a fuckin' slut the way you spread your legs so easily for me."

"yes daddy," you echo.

"but what i don't know," he says, and his voice is velvet and dangerous, his pupils blown with hunger, "is just how many surfaces in this room i can bend you over and fuck you till you're so cock drunk you can't speak."

your eyebrows shoot up and your jaw drops.

"i ain't even started with you, honey," he smiles, and he drops to his knees.

it's a fucking marathon.

he eats you out at the foot of your mothers bed till you're panting, his lips glistening with your slick and he makes you feel so good you're certain you're gonna die.

then, your positions are reversed, joel trying his best to plant his feet into the carpet so he doesn't melt off the bed altogether, while you kneel before him. he fucks up into your throat, delighting in every vibration your moans and swallows provide.

soon, you're pressed up against the dresser, your fingers gripping onto the drawer handles as he fucks into your pussy from behind.

then against the bookshelf. the closet doors. there's a moment where joel gets closer than he'd like to coming and he has you grab onto the floor lamp as he eats your pussy again on bended knee, only this time you're standing up and trying your best not to crumple onto him when he makes you come a fourth and a fifth time.

you're starting to get overstimulated. no, you are overstimulated, but it's in the most oddly delicious way. joel has you folded over the foot of your mom's bed, your knees on an ottoman, the rest of you pressed against the mattress, fists groping at sheets, holding on for dear life.

it's a good angle, hell, it's the perfect angle. not only does it feel incredible, it helps prop your ass up to a height that allows joel's huge cock to fuck you deeper without too much more effort, gripping your hips as he pounds into you. the best part, though, is that you're both at the perfect angle to see yourselves in the full length mirror.

"jesus christ, baby," joel is saying, "you see how deep i am? feel how deep i am? pussy's so tight around this cock. can almost feel myself in here," he says, and presses two fingers against your tummy.

you moan, using every ounce of strength you have left to keep your ass in the air and take joel's cock so nicely.

"it feels so good, daddy," you sob, "it's so big, making me come so many times. fuck, i can feel it building- it feels so good, you make me feel so good-"

"yes, baby," he growls, "let go for me, let me feel you come stretched so pretty 'round daddy's dick."

"fuck, daddy," you whine, because you realise it's a different sensation that's been building and even though you know what it is, you've never quite reached an orgasm like this before. "i'm gonna come, daddy! i'm gonna fuckin come-"

"shit, baby," he says as he starts to feel hot wet spurts of liquid splashing out of you, "oh fuck, you gonna wet my cock with your cum?"

you're screaming now, so fucked out and overstimulated

"oh, shit honey, yes-" joel shouts, a man possessed, as he pulls his cock out from you and rubs furiously at your clit, moaning loudly as you gush all over his hand. "oh, i'm gonna need more of that," he groans, and you can't find words to argue. he fucks back into you, hitting that same spot, finding that same pressure.

"could fuckin drink this, baby," he says, "comin' all over my cock like the fuckin whore you are. look at us, baby, look in the mirror and don't you dare close your fucking eyes."

you obey. it's a struggle to get your eyes to even focus, but when you do, you're sent over the edge again and again and again.

the two of you look so fucking good, the jiggle of your ass, the angles of your bodies and the way you slot together, the tan of joel's arms, his muscles, his control, the silver of his hair.

his breathless mantra "good girl, good girl, fuckin' take it, such a good girl-," as you take everything he gives you and more.

he finds a rhythm for fucking every last drop out of you. he'll give you a few harsh, deep thrusts and then pull out and rub your pussy till you aren't gushing around him anymore. then he'll slap your pussy with the head of his cock, making you shudder before he stuffs it back in and builds you up again.

your thighs are drenched and the wetness down your legs is cooling. you've lost count of the number of times he's made you come like this, but finally, you're shaking so hard you can't bear it and his thrusts are getting staggered.

he's breathless when he manages to ask, "you want me to fill up this lil pussy? fill it full of daddy's cum?"

"yes, yes, yeesss-" you beg, and you watch your reflection as joel's hips stutter a final time and he lets out a strangled groan as he loses control and fucks his release into you.

the second after he comes, he collapses onto you but you're so weak and fuck-drunk you collapse, too. joel rolls off of you so you can breathe, but then both of you are laughing. you're disgusting, covered in sweat and spit and squirt and cum, but joel dips a finger into your pussy and then licks up the combination of juices.

seeing your awed expression, joel shrugs and then smiles, a little embarrassed. "just needed to taste ya like this," he says, and it's incredibly endearing.

after a few more minutes of laying around in messy, sticky comfort, joel gets up. and then- "shit".

"what's wrong?" you ask as you look up at him and he's- laughing?

you look down at what he's looking at -- the ottoman. you've drenched it entirely. it's at least three shades darker than it was to begin with, and reeks of sex.

"well," you say, "that's not ideal."

"guess i'll have to buy your momma a new one," he says, rubbing against his temples and barking out a short laugh. then he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and one to your forehead.

"you go have a shower," he tells you, "i'll take care of this mess, and then let's get some snacks," he winks, and you smile.

he starts to back out of the room when you call to him, "so, mom's gonna be gone all night-" you start to say, tentative.

"you already askin' for round two?" he asks, incredulous.

"if we're calling all of that-" you gesture around the room, "round one? then yeah. i'm asking for round two."

"dirty girl," he laughs, "you're fuckin insatiable!"

"that's not a no-" you point out.

"no, it's not a no," he says. "let's refuel. rehydrate. and get right back to it."

#joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x f!reader

[missingmark]

― who you gonna call? pt.3

the boys know they'll always have someone to call when they need them. that someone in question being you, luckily that feeling is more than mutual.

‧₊˚ chris x gn!reader

‧₊˚ warnings: light swearing (?), the tiniest itzy bitzy bit of angst in the beginning, mutual pining (?)

‧₊˚ word count: 700

‧₊˚ pt.1 ( matt ) | pt.2 ( nick ) | masterlist

( 𝖈. ) ; you don't have to call him. you always find eachother.

your finger rested over your chat.

snickerdoodle [5:32 pm] : have fun on your date!!!!

you [6:34 pm] : i will, thank uuu

snickerdoodle [5:34 pm] : & tell me if he's a creep

snickerdoodle [5:35 pm] : ill find him.

Despite the tragic circumstances, being you sitting alone in the library, you had to hold back a smile at his words.

You've contemplated calling him multiple times over the last hour, your date had cancelled about half an hour after he should have picked you up. But instead of changing back into some more comfortable clothes and asking Chris to come over for a spontaneous movie night that he would most definitely say yes to in an instant, you decided to search for some comfort in your third favourite place in the world (the first being the triplets' couch and the second being your bathtub).

You actually missed the deadline on returning some of the books you borrowed just to give your full attention to this date that you were really looking forward to.

You sighed.

Those were 30 cents you would never get back.

The same thought taunted you as you walked through the shelves of said library, hoping to distract yourself and not wanting to waste a perfectly good outfit, you found yourself here.

The eerie silence you usually loved felt tauntingly grim tonight and the thoughts that were racing in your head sounded even louder.

Though it did help with recognizing a familiar voice at the librarians desk.

"I'd like to return these please."

You peaked your head out of the bookshelf, the familiar brown locks covering up the familiar and only face you wanted to see tonight.

You had totally forgotten about your date as you tapped him on your shoulder.

"Chris?"

He turned towards you, his face brightening at the sight of you, automatically pulling you into a side hug, his other hand still occupied with an oddly familiar set of books.

"What are you doing here? I didn't know you could read," you mumbled, watching him roll his eyes.

"Ha ha, very funny. You forgot these books at ours and I noticed the return date."

Your eyes widen a bit, A Brief History of Mixed Media Film Making, Directing Explained with Chloé Zhao and Color Theory in Stop Motion

Those were definitely your books.

"And I almost had hope you cared for Chloé Zhao's breakdown of directing," you murmured with a smile.

He shoved you a bit to the side, "Not even my undying love for you would make me pick up a book."

"Undying?"

"Don't get smug. I did it only because I knew you were busy because of your date."

He watched the smile in your face fade a bit.

"Speaking of the date, that you so rudely cancelled our movie night for, how is...did it go?" Chris mumbled, pulling a face at the change of mood he witnessed.

"Didn't show up." You shrugged, your voice didn't waver, but Chris could still make out some hurt.

"I'm sorry."

"It's whatever."

"It's not, this is all my fault," Chris mumbled, his face towards the row of books, though something told you he wasn't actually very focused on Biographies of Philosophers A-G.

"How is this your fault?"

"Should have never let you go on a date with that idiot..."

"Chris," you frowned, concerned.

"Should have taken him out when I had the chance."

"Chris." You warned, amused.

"And I should have taken you out instead of him as well."

He was now toying with Aristotle's biography, but even in the dim library light you could make out his blush and the occasional glance he'd send your way.

"As in on a date or do you want to beat my ass."

"Maybe both if you make fun of the fact that I don't read on our date tomorrow."

You giggled, fully turning your body towards him now.

"Tomorrow? Do I get a say in this?"

"No. Because you have terrible taste in men," he teased, leaning down towards your face.

A beat of silence, the two of you just stared at eachother.

"I'm starting to doubt that," you spoke, lowly. It was more a mental note to yourself than anything, though it flustered Chris nonetheless.

"We'll see," he leaned away again, putting the book he had paid no mind to back and dragging you out of the library.

The rest of the way towards your home was spend in silence, but his hand never left yours, and you had a giddy feeling every time you'd catch him staring at you.

"Thank you, really," you whispered once you eventually made it to your front door.

"You saved this night...and spared me a fee of 30 cents."

"Don't mention it. I'm just happy we spent some time together today."

"So humble," you mumbled as you unlocked the door, for the first time in what felt like the whole night you were turned away from him.

"Take all blame, duck all credit," he quoted, shrugging casually but his smug smile told you otherwise as you turned around with your mouth agape.

"You did read the Chloé Zhao Direction book!"

i hate the word agape. u say it ag-ape, scientifically proven. (real)

i hope you enjoyed, luv u <3

#chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x yn #chris sturniolo #fanfic #fanfiction #real person fiction #sturniolo triplets x you #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets x y/n #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfiction #missingmark

[dont-f-with-moogles]

Hi Terra Darling ❤️

Festive fic request with prompt number 6 "family invited an old crush/first love to a dinner party" for Levihan

My headcanons for this prompt:

Hange or Hange's family invites Zeke to a dinner party & Levi is far from happy OR fed up by Levi being single for a long time, Kuchel invites Hange to a dinner party OR Levi or Hange or their family invites an old crush (Zeke/Erwin/Petra, pick one) & it turns out they both used to date him/her lol OR you come up with your own because it will be amazing whatever you decide!!

Happy holidays 🎄❄️

Now or Never (Part 2) Characters: Levi x Petra; Levi x Hange; Mike x Nanaba Word Count: 2188 words

The dining room lay almost bare. No photographs adorned the walls; their ornaments were still wrapped in paper, stored in boxes upstairs. Even the low, wooden dining table didn’t quite suit this new room.  As he sipped his wine Levi considered how it had once sat in Mike and Nanaba’s old flat, centrally occupying the square-shaped space. The table still proudly displayed the tiny tree which Hange had bought for the couple as a flat-warming present over a year ago. Of course, they had never planned to live there forever. This new dining room was longer and in want of furniture to fit it. Its walls were a pale, non offensive shade of magnolia - the exact choice of homeowners intending to cover over the marks - the mistakes - they had once made before moving on. Mike was pouring refills into their glasses. Levi placed a hand over his whilst, beside him, Petra quietly accepted.

“Come on…” Mike urged, “you’re getting the train back right?”

“I’ll take a tea instead.”

“We’ll put the kettle on after dinner.”

Reluctantly, he removed his hand.

“This it then?” Levi’s eyes shifted to the empty seat beside Mike. Of course, if they had been expecting more than two guests, then there would be a fifth floor cushion set out. Despite his uncertainty, Levi’s shoulders relaxed a little. He had experienced the same gnawing sensation when he and Petra had arrived at their house. Removing their shoes at the door, Levi had glanced down to see several discarded pairs beside theirs. He had assumed that someone had arrived before them, only to discover that they were the first.

“Yeah,” Mike replied, “Hange got caught up with an assignment as usual. Something about a deadline.” 

Levi exhaled through his nose. He doubted that very much.

His hand brushed Petra’s shoulder with renewed reassurance as Nanaba appeared in the doorway. The fragrant scent of spices seemed to waft after her.

“The rice will be done in five minutes,” she announced. “Hope you guys are hungry!” “Can’t wait,” Levi commented, “... and nice place you’ve got here. What’s it like living somewhere with two floors?”

“Ah you know, it’s better than being cooped up in the flat.” Nanaba shared a sentimental glance with Mike. “We’ll miss it… but this is better. Even if we’ve got some decorating to do!”

She smiled over at Petra, who was nodding along politely despite not having been part of this previous era… an era of small apartments, of Mike and Nanaba as university graduates… of Levi and… Hange.

“So, how was your holiday? Where did you say you-” Nanaba frowned, reaching over to grab her phone from the side table. “Sorry - hold that thought. Hello?” 

“It was so beautiful…. and just nice to spend time with family you know?” Petra continued to address Mike in Nanaba’s absence. “I’m sorry that I missed out on your New Year’s party though! I heard it was a fun night…”

Levi took a long sip of his wine.

“I don’t know if you’d call it much of a party,” Mike chuckled, “Nana and I were asleep just after midnight so we missed the excitement… guess you’ll have to ask Levi.”

“Hange’s outside!” Nanaba reappeared just as Levi knocked his glass sharply against the table. “Apparently they made their deadline after all.”

There came the sound of a door closing, followed by footsteps in the hall. Petra gave Levi’s arm a little squeeze. He smiled at her in response, though with a warmth which did not quite reach his eyes.

Voices echoed outside; Hange fawning over the staircase and laughing with Nanaba about the previous owner’s choice of carpet. Levi’s jaw set. Then, both of them emerged in the doorway.

“Evening!” Hange beamed around at them. Briefly, their eyes met Levi’s before they glanced away. “Sorry for almost flaking!”

“Why quit the habit of a lifetime?” Mike teased. Levi reached for his wine again. His mouth felt parched; his tongue lay heavy and useless. He craved water - something hydrating - rather than more alcohol.

“Nice to see you again Petra.” Hange gave a little bow of their head as Nanaba dragged another floor seat over to the table. “Heard you’ve just come back from your travels! Was it a good trip?”

“Oh yes, it was so beautiful and relaxing. The new year is the best time to go…”

Levi listened intently to Petra’s story for a second time, refusing to allow his eyes to stray from her face. 

“...but it’s a shame I couldn’t spend New Year’s with you guys.”

Casually, Hange picked up the glass of wine which Mike had just poured. 

“Oh you know, it was a quiet one in the end. Nothing much happened.”

Levi stared at them, utterly astounded by their nonchalance on the subject. 

“Mike said you were all asleep just after midnight!”

“Well, Levi and Hange were up, weren’t you? Mike said he heard you both-” Nanaba walked in with a pot of steaming rice, just as Levi’s floor seat lurched out.

“Whoa!” Petra turned to her left. “Levi, what’s the hurry?”

“Seat got caught on the rug,” he lied. His eyes flew to Hange’s face who appeared quite composed by comparison. They blew out a little sigh as they lifted their glass again.

Nanaba set down the pot of rice. “No jogging the table. I’ve slaved away at this!”

Mike raised his eyebrows as Nanaba began serving heaped spoons onto plates. Petra received hers gratefully. Levi was just thankful to have something to occupy his hands.

“This smells amazing…” Hange praised her. “I love curry rice!”

“So… you had a late night, huh Levi?” Not to be deterred, Petra had rerouted from Hange’s interjection to their earlier conversation. She grinned at Levi expectantly over her plate of food. As he opened his mouth to explain, Mike cut in with a rumble of low laughter.

“Oh yeah… took him years but he finally got Hange where he’d always wanted them.”

Levi dropped his plate on the table, spilling rice onto its wooden surface

“Yeah…” Mike continued as Petra’s head whipped round, “...never thought we’d see the day, but there the two of them were, getting busy-”

Horrified, Levi willed Petra to look away from him as he frantically tried to scrape up rice grains from the wooden tabletop. He could feel her eyes on him; the more she stared, the more the tips of his ears burned. 

“- at the sink.” Mike took a large spoonful of rice and curry, savouring its flavour alongside his own unendurable comedy. “Who would have thought you’d finally get Hange to wash a plate?”

Hange’s forced laugh was lost in the more genuine giggles from Nanaba and Petra. Although the threat which had been silently hanging over Levi had not fallen yet, he could still feel it swaying over his head. He set his spoon down on the side of his plate and let his trembling hand fall into his lap. 

“...yeah, I heard you doing the dishes,” Mike explained as the laughter around the table died away, “...at like, four in the morning.”

“Well, a little cleaning up is the least you guys could do, seeing as you all insisted on staying at my place,” Levi muttered bitterly.

“You know we appreciated you sharing your floor with us!” Nanaba sighed, widening her eyes.

“...and some of us even got to share your bed,” Mike teased Levi again with a hearty wink.

“Gunther,” Levi told Petra automatically.  He reached for his wine again. By this point, he was going to need several refills to endure the rest of the evening.

“...I’m guessing he wasn’t who you really wanted sleeping next to you that night… huh, Levi?” Nanaba joined in, much to Petra’s delighted ‘shh-ing!’

Levi waved away their jokes again, his mouth twisted as though he was being forced to chew on tiny white grubs rather than rice. As he lifted his head he caught Hange’s eye again… and held their look. 

This was dangerous. 

That same rising dread intensified; remained suspended over Levi as he continued doggedly through one of the most excruciating dinners of his life. And yet, there was something which threatened to consume him whole; a feeling caught halfway between fear and fascination. Like oil and water, his conflicted emotions lay beside one another; equal parts danger and desire. They could never be reconciled, but only hold firmer in the presence of one another. Ever since New Year’s, something had started to take form… something that any and all other distractions hadn’t managed to douse…

Levi felt the brush of gentle fingers on his wrist. Petra was smiling at him. He closed his hand over hers, watching as their fingers lay entwined upon his knee. He couldn’t look at Hange again.

“What was it you said that night, Levi?” Nanaba continued, “just this once, then then never again?”

Levi’s thumb stroked over Petra’s knuckles as his mind drifted back to that night. He didn’t want to remember the warmth of the blanket enclosed around his body and Hange’s. He didn’t want to breathe in their scent; to feel the heat lifting from their cheeks; to have his throat run dry as they drew towards him…

“Levi, we can sleep here and never talk about this again. Or…”

Back in the present, Levi squeezed Petra’s hand.

“And I meant it…” he managed huskily, “...you guys can stay at a hotel next time.”

In part it was due to his own habit, but also out of a desire to extract himself from the table, as Levi took up their empty plates. He carried the dishes out to the kitchen and set them beside the sink. For a moment he gazed through their kitchen window at the view of Mike and Nanaba’s new neighbourhood. Rows of detached, two-storey houses stood adorned with gleaming windows and wooden balconies. The pair of them had taken the next step of their journey… their wedding was to follow in a few months…

Behind him there came the tinkling of glass and the sound of a door closing. Levi glanced over his shoulder.

“Um… just getting more wine.” Hange lifted the bottle they had taken from the fridge. Levi uttered a throaty sound halfway between a cough and a derisive snort.

“Sure as fuck you weren’t coming to wash these up…” Levi glowered at them until Hange took a step closer. They set their glass down beside Levi’s stack of plates. Through the open door and across the hall they could both hear the chatter of the other guests.

Levi turned away and began to run the water. Behind, Hange poured a little more wine into their glass. He couldn’t help but turn his head again. Hange was checking the label as they set the bottle down. With a sigh Levi lifted a plate and sank it into the dishwater, missing Hange’s eyes as they moved over him.

“Levi… do you want…”

He shifted around again to look at them. His mouth dried up before he could speak. He took in Hange’s broad shoulders beneath their white shirt; the deep, rich brown of their imploring eyes… There was always something so earnest, so fearless in their expression.

Levi’s eyes remained upon their face.

“...I’ll leave the bottle here.” They turned to leave the room, but stopped after taking a step. When they spoke again, their tone was low, conspiratorial.

“You know I won’t say anything, right…?” 

Levi felt a ripple of tension travel down his arms. His hand seized up; the brush he was holding clattered onto the kitchen floor.

“Anyway, nothing happened that night…” Hange gave a little laugh without a trace of humour in it, “...after all, you made it pretty clear what you wanted.”

Slowly, they began to approach him.

“Just like I have to… right now.” Hange was smiling at him, a gentle blush dusting their cheeks. “You know when it’s your shot right? Now or never…”

The air itself lay thick and heavy. Levi was rooted to the spot, his mind clouded with them as they took another step. Oil and water. They couldn’t-  Petra was seated in the next room, laughing with their friends.

Again, he remembered the blanket that had embraced them as they lay together on his couch. Levi could feel their warm breath on his mouth. It was just the two of them under night’s black canopy, threaded with the lights of a million stars. Whilst the rest of the world had slept, they had lain so closely together… they had almost…

“So Levi…” 

Hange’s lip trembled before their jaw set. Behind their glasses, their eyes were glazed with a love so profound that it took Levi’s breath away. 

“If I told you now that… despite it all… bad timing, lack of communication, people and work and life getting in the way… despite my initial hypothesis and all the test runs in my head… my findings are still the same.”

Hange took a shuddering breath.

“You are all I ever wanted. That’s… what I’ve decided.”

He felt their fingers trace his shirt sleeve.

“...what about you, Levi?”

Part 1: Now or Never (NSFW)

#sorry I kind of ran with my own thing! #hope you like it Val <3 #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levihan #levi x hange #petra ral #rivetra #levi x petra #mike zacharias #aot nanaba #mikenana #mike x nanaba #aot vets #tw cheating #attack on titan #snk #my writing

[sadghoststudios]

STATE OF PLAY 12/23: a little news and updates roundup!

Howdy all! Squeaking in just before the new year, I thought now's as good a time as ever for a little roundup of anything you might have missed, and what we're currently working on! Aiming to do these quarterly from now on 🫡✨

If you wanna keep up with posts like this from us without relying on social media, you can also sub to our newsletter! Promise not to annoy you. Good emails only.

Recap and news under the cut!

2023 Roundup

DemiDato

We had two releases this year, but DemiDato was the big one! For those that don't know, this game spent a long 5+ years in and out of development hell, so it was a big relief to finally put everyone's hard work out into the world back in March.

We were also lucky enough to feature DD in the Queer Games & Queer Halloween bundles this year, so even if you haven't had a chance to grab the game outright, check your itch library - you might already own it!

As for the future of our monsters, a 1.1 update is still on the cards! The bulk of it is already complete - there's some script tidying and quality of life improvements already in the WIP build, as well as a fancy schmancy CG Gallery (which you can see a little preview of in the devlog I wrote). 

1.1 development has admittedly stalled a little, as I really want to implement some animated video transitions plus an animated intro and trailer into its final build, but it's been hard to find the time to teach myself a whole new skillset while also being in preproduction for our new title (more on that in a bit!). In my head for all the years of development, the game has always had a really cheesy reality show intro with horribl(y good) graphics, just like the real life shows that inspired it. So even if the feature didn't make it to 1.0, I still really want it to happen eventually. (Plus, when we do eventually rerelease on Steam, a trailer is very important for the store page! That means it counts as futureproofing, right...?)

If you want to hear some more about what the release was like, my dear friend Kaiju of Digital Diversity interviewed me right after the game came out! You can read the interview on Digital Diversity over here.

GrandNya

Our second game of the year was a short little nugget written for 2023's Josei Jam, and devved almost solo by timepatches (hi! that's me!)

It'd been a long time since I managed to get anything off the ground in a jam setting, and I still find it a little intimidating (it's really difficult for me to get new ideas & iterate on them fast enough to meet the start deadline and recruit others), so solo dev it was! My art is hardly intricate but it gets the story across, and I'm proud of the VN as a whole - whatever you think of 'wholesome games' as a movement, it's hard to deny that we all need a cosy space now and then, and that’s the kind of story I like to tell most. And it's not like GrandNya is all sunshine, either, which you'll know if you got to the end!

I also managed to apply to Hand-Eye Society's Super FESTival with GrandNya, and was somehow accepted, which I'm still pinching myself about! What a stellar lineup of games to share a page with.

Fest aside, it was a pretty quiet release all things considered, so don't worry if you missed it! Your grandmas are still there on our itch page anytime, to give you a lil’ pocket of safe queer story to live in whenever you need it.

Intoxicated

Now for something completely different!! Despite some prior medical commitments around the jam date (which then got moved, typical), I was VERY stoked to be able to hop on the team for Kristi HusbandoGoddess' Yuri Jam game, Intoxicated!

It was an absolute blast. Turtles were drawn in the group chat for reasons I can no longer remember. It singlehandedly made me decide that I want to do more jam work on others' teams, because I forgot how fun it can be working toward a common goal in a more relaxed environment! 

And the game turned out incredible. Check it out if you support women's wrongs! ♡

Plans for 2024

[Codename BAT 🦇] (the big otome/amare game)

Oh yeah. It's big.

I won't spill too much just yet, but just know that I've had this idea as a vague plot bunny in the back of my mind for years. Then, as my dear friend Charlie and I were on VC beta testing a late DemiDato build, it came up and they were so excited about the idea that I couldn't help but start seriously thinking about how to make it.

Well. That was in March. After I took a break and worked on GrandNya, I've been working ever since on building out the world (it's set in the same universe as the rest of our library, but deals a bit more with the actual ramifications of it all, so I had to set some things in stone I haven't before). More recently I've been building out the most coherent, easy-to-follow outline I can (not my strong point, and bless my beta readers for their support while I complain about it). 

Very soon I should be able to start writing! Terrifying! I can't wait. Once I'm a fair way into the script writing you'll get to hear about exactly what I'm cooking, and I think... you'll like where we're going.

[Other Redacted Thing]

Not my project so I won't spoil exactly what it is, but I get to do some UI work for an upcoming jam project and I am SO excited! I get to work with some very familiar faces again! You'll know what it is as soon as I'm allowed to tell you 👀

What I will say is that it shares a coincidental similarity with my long project...

That's it!! ✨

Thank you for reading all my waffle (being long winded is my special talent), and for sticking with us through the inevitable periods of radio silence! We're still just little fish in a very big pond, but every time someone plays something I made and feels some type of way, I remember what the point of all this is. 

It makes me very happy to be able to share stories with y'all. Here's to more in 2024!

♡ Madi Wander (@timepatches)

#indie game #visual novel #interactive fiction #sgsroundup #sgsnews #thanks to those who stuck with us thru this + past years! onward and upward for 2024 :)

[natashxromanovf]

natashxromanovf's 1k followers writing challenge

hi my angels! i wanted to thank you for 1000 followers. that's huge. there's so many of you here that i could fill a small town! i am infinitely grateful for every single one of you. i have met great friends on here, the nicest people, so thank you. i love you all, you deserve all the kisses in the world xx

⍟ rules:

- please choose max. 4 prompts

- fandoms: HP; MCU; Outer Banks; Stranger Things; The Vampire Diaries; The Originals; Teen Wolf; Descendants; criminal minds; 911; 911: lone star; shadow and bone; shameless; shadowhunters

- there's no deadline, however the final date for entry is october 28th :)

- you can mix prompts (ex. choose one from angst, one from fluff etc.)

- no nsfw fics please!

- you have to tell me the prompts + character for which you want to do this via asks

- you must tag me @/natashxromanovf and use the tag #tajas1kfollowerswritingchallenge so we can make sure i see it!

- tag the warnings approprietly, and most importantly, have fun while doing it. don't force it if you don't feel like writing, i don't care if you post the fic in two years or if you don't post at all. my intention is for people to have fun <33

۞ fluff

1. “I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your apartment for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.”

2. “I refuse to stop irritating you until you give me attention.”

3. “You’re like... everything good that has ever happened rolled into one adorable package.”

4. “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this.”

5. “Well, I am pretty irresistible.”

6. “Oh, you’ve started started stealing my socks now?”

7. “Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?”

8. “Everything alright?” “I just missed you.”

9. “You getting so flustered is one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

10. “I would like my good morning kiss now.”

11. “I love to hear your voice, even if you’re so far away.”

12. “There is no better way to start the day than seeing your face.”

13. “How come you always end up under my blanket?”

14. “Believe me, I will never be tired of you.”

15. "So, who..." "Not going to talk about that."

۞ angst

1. "I told you not to fall in love with me.”

2. “I will leave now, or I’m going to say things I will regret later.”

3. “This is not how family is supposed to feel like.”

4. "I didn't want it to come out like that. That's why I wanted to leave." "Without ever telling me?"

5. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” “It’s ok. We’ll figure it out - together.”

6. "I love you, okay?! And I can't stay in your life when I'm just ruining it." "You can't just say that and don't wait for me to answer."

7. “You’re going to be okay. Just keep breathing. Please.”

8. “You’re supossed to be mad at me! Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

9. “If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.”

10. “I don’t hold people close. It makes it easier for them to hurt you.”

11. “I had a nightmare. Can I stay with you?”

12. “Nobody has seen you in days.”

13. “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

14. “We found you crying. What happened?”

15. "How could you do this to me?" "You're so naive, it's almost adorable."

۞ misc + situation prompts

1. Person A gets a phone call from Person B around midnight, in which Person B is clearly panicked.

2. “What do you mean they’re my new partner? They tried to kill me last week!” “Sounds like your problem.”

3. “Did you just slap my ass?” “Actually, I firmly grasped it.” “Did you just quote Spongebob?”

4. Person A hasn’t been sleeping due to work, and they of course get sick. Despite person B’s wishes, person A continues to sneak out of bed and stay up late to get more work done, and person B is not happy.

5. “Didn’t you two used to hate each other?” “Yeah, but now we hold hands and shit!”

6. “Walk it off!” “I literally can’t walk.”

7. “Hold on... you’re bilingual?” “Yes?”

8. “I’m too sober for this.” “You don’t even drink.” “Maybe I should start.”

9. “Can I pet your dog?” “Do I know you?”

10. "You owe me." "I owe you $20 not a day of pretending to be your boy/girl-friend to get your parents off you're back."

11. Seeing videos of yourself and not recognizing the person you see, is a horrible feeling.

12. “How much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”

13. “You said to be honest stop hitting me!!”

14. “Ew, that is so sappy, I might vomit.”

15. Seeing their lover getting hurt ignited a fire full of rage inside of them that nothing could’ve held them back.

uff, that was a long post. anyway, thank you again for all the support, i couldn't have made it without you. all prompts belong to @creativepromptsforwriting so make sure to check her blog out!

and now, for the end, i'm tagging some people who might be interested in this and/or would be so kind to boost :) i love you all, remember that <33

@pregnant-piggy @mirclealignr @velvetcloxds @cxoffeeaddict @arkofblake @jackys-stuff-blog @leossmoonn @sarahisslytherin @milkiane @cupids-crystals @sheraayasher @f4irydaydreams @fairydxll @griffxnnage @henqtic @kimoralov3 @serpentargo @melin-oe @of-apollo @annab-nana @sabstfu @rorybutnotgilmore @shadesofvelma @awritingtree @imabee-oralizard @mendesxruel @messers-moony @dunbarsjersey @spring-picnics @robinbuckleyluvr @just-a-smol-spoon @peggycartervariantbetty

#tajas1kfollowerswritingchallenge #taja talks #thank you!!! #harry potter #marvel #outer banks #stranger things #the vampire diaries #the originals #teen wolf #descendants #criminal minds #911 #911: lone star #shadow and bone #shameless #shadowhunters #mcu

[here-there-everyfuckenwhere]

Fic prompts!

I’m not sure how specific you want them, so here goes:

All of these are for Ted/Trent, can be established relationship or not, rating’s up to you, whatever you want!

-snow

-they spend the night at a hotel room

-they are apart for whatever reason, and they miss each other

-celebrating each other’s birthdays

Okay okay, so I got this request almost a year ago and I never ever responded to it even though I had something just sitting in my WIP folder this entire time. I didn't think this one was good enough to post considering I took quite a diversion from the original prompts, but in honour of Ted Lasso Season 3 Teaser Trailer Day, I have decided to break my year-long silence.

Enjoy

+++

Title: ???

Pairing: Ted Lasso/Trent Crimm

Prompt: Hotel, snow, apart, birthday, missing each other,

Word count: 1.7k

Other tags: fluffy, oneshot

+++

Read on AO3

+++

To anyone else looking out at the dark streets of Richmond from their window, it appeared to be like any other Winter afternoon. The air was the sort of cold that would bite at your skin if you stood outside for long enough. Thick, white snow delicately framed every window in town, including the window that Trent Crimm, formerly of The Independent, sat beneath, longingly staring at the reflection that seemed to be staring back at him.

The day itself shouldn’t have felt significant to him anymore; he managed to make it through 41 other birthdays just fine after all, and his 42nd was shaping up to be no different from the rest. Trent was never really in favour of celebrating his birthday. As a child he never really enjoyed celebrating his own birthday or having parties with his friends from school (not that he ever seemed to make many…), and the habit of ignoring his birthday until it finally washed over him and became just any other day had well and truly followed him all the way throughout his adult life. 

On this birthday in particular, Seraphina happened to be staying with her grandparents. The situation seemed unfamiliar to Trent; having a completely empty, quiet house all to himself without having to write a detailed report on Richmond’s win the night before in Liverpool as a deadline drew closer and closer. In a way it was oddly freeing, but simultaneously terrifying, and Trent found himself unsure of what to do. Which explains why he sat, staring out of the window at nothing for at least half an hour that night. 

Fortunately, a sound snapped him out of his trance, startling him at first until he realised it was the  specific ringtone he had set for whenever Ted called him. Which, he had noticed, had become his nightly ritual. 

Trent picked up his phone, taking a deep breath before answering. 

“Trent Crimm, The Inde-“ he stopped himself. Old habits. He cleared his throat gently. 

“How may I help you?”

“Aw, I know who I’m calling,” he heard the familiar voice of Ted Lasso assure him. He couldn’t help but smile. 

“How is Liverpool?” He asked, genuinely curious despite having been there himself what felt like a million times to attend various football matches during his career. 

“I’ll tell ya, Trent, it’s a lot more fun being in a city right after you’ve actually won a game,” he answers, followed by a low giggle that makes Trent’s heart race a mile a minute. 

“And the hotel…?” He asks. Decades of working as a journalist leads to some terrible habits, like not being able to hold a normal conversation without just firing questions at the other person. Ted doesn’t seem to mind it, handling each one with the same sincerity and charisma he brought to the press room where they first met. 

“Nice. Almost a little too nice, if I’m being honest. Which reminds me, I’ve got something I need to give to you,” Ted tells him, which is.. strange, to say the least. 

“That’s very kind of you, but.. why?” Trent asks, fidgeting with his glasses in his hands absentmindedly. 

“Well, I know you said you don’t like gifts, but I figured it was the least I could do,”

Trent stops fidgeting. 

“…for what?” He asks. A strange feeling, something between dread and excitement, took a hold of him as the question comes out far more stern than he intended. 

“Aww, come on now, Trent, you didn’t think I’d forget your birthday did you..?” 

Trent sighs. Of course he would never forget. He tries his hardest not to read too much into it- Ted probably remembers all of his friends’ birthdays… right?

“I’m not totally sure how you even remembered in the first place,” he said, returning to fidgeting with his glasses again, this time more anxiously. 

“Remember that time Keeley was trying to guess what your star sign was…?” Ted prompts him. 

Trent cringes at the realisation that yes, he actually did volunteer that information and yes, that was the context. 

“Thank you very much for calling, but you should know I am staunchly opposed to celebrating birthdays. Mine in particular,” he attempts to explain, though he’s almost certain he’s not going to get very far. 

“Now, why is that…?” Ted asks, his signature, almost child-like curiosity laced through every word of his question. It was hard not to want to tell him everything. 

He wasn’t like Trent; he didn’t ask questions to manipulate or make people feel a certain way. He asked questions simply because he wanted to know what the answers were. 

Trent takes a moment to consider this before answering. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe just the thought of being.. older,” he shrugs even though Ted can’t see him. 

“Aw, there’s nothing wrong with getting older, Trent. It just means you’re finally growing into your reading glasses,“ 

Trent gasps, taking mock offence, but can’t help laughing slightly. His day definitely seems to be improving. 

“So you’re sure there’s absolutely nothing you want for your birthday..?” Ted asks, but in a way that makes Trent think he’s definitely planning something. Some grand, Lasso-style gesture that would probably just embarrass the hell out of him. 

“Yes, I am quite certain, Coach Lasso,” he says carefully, making sure that there is no way any word in the sentence could be misconstrued. 

“Nothing at all…?” He repeats. Something inside of Trent lights up, either fear or excitement. Or possibly both. 

“Yes, I am sure. Nothing at-“ before he can finish his thought, the familiar sound of the doorbell permeates the silence in the apartment. 

“-all,” he finishes, before carefully inching towards the door, completely unsure of what to expect. 

Of all the things he might have suspected before opening the door, Ted standing by himself, beaming at him on his doorstep was not one of them. He was holding a cupcake, topped with a lit birthday candle. 

Trent hangs up on the phone call, standing in utter disbelief at the scene before him, trying to remember this moment as best as he could. A million questions flooded into his mind, 

Like “Aren’t you supposed to be coming back from Liverpool tomorrow?”

But instead of asking any of them, he stared in silence just for a moment, trying to savour it for as long as possible. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Ted asks him, gesturing down at the candle. 

“I- what?”

“Come on! You have to make a wish!” He smiles expectantly. As Ted holds the cake out towards him he can see something on his face that he has never seen before- something fond, and soft, and truly happy. Trent could feel the slight sting of tears in his eyes that he choked back as he eventually blew out the candle. 

“Woo! There ya go! Now, for obvious reasons you can’t tell me what you wished for, but-“ 

“Ted...” He said gently, cutting him off from whatever digression he was bound to launch into. 

He took a step closer and shut the door behind him. 

He suddenly felt a wave of new-found confidence come over him in that moment as he slowly dragged his gaze eyes up from the unlit candle, all the way to Ted’s eyes, which were widened in curiosity and anticipation. 

Ted could feel his heart thumping against his chest, and suddenly he felt as though he was witnessing Ms Scanlon’s tan lines again for the very first time, but this was new. Different, somehow. Because this was real, and it was with Trent Crimm, formerly of The Independent, the man who he had been thinking about since the moment he saw him in the press room on his first day at work. 

“Thank you. For everything,” Trent smiled at him slightly as he gently plucked the cupcake from his hand and placed it down on the small table just inside his front door. As he reached for it, his fingertips grazed Ted’s just for a moment, but it felt like maybe just a moment too long, and now Ted’s insides were twisting and knotting. It was a feeling he was familiar with, whenever the panic would settle in and it felt like he couldn’t breathe, but this was different. This was comfortable and warm and good and he never wanted it to end. 

He tried to keep his imagination from going wild; Trent was a good friend of his, and he just wanted him to have a good birthday. Nothing else. But he couldn’t help but wonder if Trent was thinking the same thing. 

“Oh, no, that’s okay, I just swung by to-“ Ted’s words are cut off by Trent’s warm hands cupping the side of his face, curing the chill with his gentle touch before pressing his lips against Ted’s in one swift motion.

Ted stands there for a moment, stunned, before reaching for Trent’s waist to gently pull him closer. After all, he has only really kissed Michelle, and felt completely unprepared for this scenario. Even though he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it once or twice.. 

Something inside of Trent felt as though it was bursting at the seams, as if months of wondering if all of Ted’s grand gestures and late-night phone calls and little nods to each other in the press room meant what he thought they meant this whole time. What he wanted them to mean all along. 

Ted feels his breath catch in his throat as Trent takes his bottom lip between his teeth gently as they pull away from each other. 

They stand for a moment like that, in Trent’s doorway as Ted stares at the ground nervously and shoves his hand in his pockets, trying desperately to ignore that  every single cell in his body felt like it had caught fire.  

Trent studied him for a second, unsure if maybe he had made a huge mistake and ruined any shred of trust the two of them had only moments ago. 

Then he remembered the candle in Ted’s hands, how he had been told to make a wish and blow it out. How he wished for just a moment, a brief moment in time, that he had the courage to say how he really felt. 

He took a deep breath in before filling the silence that had settled in between them. 

“Would you like to come in…?” 

Ted nodded before slipping politely past Trent and in through his living room. 

Maybe Trent could come around on this whole birthday thing after all.. 

+++

#Ted lasso #tls3 #ted lasso season 3 #ted/trent #trent/ted #Trent crimm/ted lasso #ted lasso/trent crimm #ted lasso fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic #ray rants and junk #personal #fluff #Trent crimm is absolutely the type of person who says shit like I Dont Want Presents :) #but LOOOOOOOVES getting presents #ted lasso #my writing #my asks #requests #asks

[carcharsaur]

cannae fucking sleep so I'm trying to think about my less developed wolnpc ships

kozu and cid - I think in ARR kozu is just kind of a cid fanboy due to the engineering stuff and defecting from garlemald and wanting peace etc. all very admirable to kozu so he's like a living legend, and he wouldn't even attempt to approach him because he'd be too insecure and also kind of panicked about the idea of it considering how his not-quite-a-relationship went with The L'kozu. over time he's quite fond of him and works with him/the ironworks a lot and I think a fucked up insane love triangle but not unrequited with cidnero and kozu is the funniest thing on earth but I don't see it as a serious lasting ship just like. they have fun. kozu shows up for a collaborative project and they have an insane week but finish ahead of deadlines

kozu and stephanivien - fruity elf spotted. also the engineering stuff again and even though kozu wouldn't enjoy mch class as a killing thing they would've still experienced the class plot mostly intact. and I think kozu might actually use mch in SB and later for situations where it's like, yeah I do actually want to kill what I'm fighting instead of him seeking deescalation but it's really context sensitive. stuff like beasts that cant be calmed and sineaters are free game though. (realizes I've gone off track) anyway this is another ship where I'm like he'd visit the steelworks and have a little fling decently often but it's not home for him

kozu and loifa - honestly if I had more material to work with this might be one of the endgame ships for kozu I'm so depressed about job quests I don't like making stuff up about ingame characters... but they are basically narrative foils but they are so... lonely viera boys who dream of making peoples lives better and found redemption in the love of their friends rise up... the homoerotiscm of haima'ing each other... insane to me I miss him every day

kozu and x'ruhn - I have no clue I have to replay the rdm quests . he fucked that old man. x'ruhn is the one who wanders around and kozu waits to see him though

kozu and erenville - this is another one where I need more content to say anything meaningful about it. but what can I say 2 viera men momence. this one fits really well with the "we don't see each other often but when WE DO..." type of vibe I seek out for kozu

I FUCKING FORGOT <- like 5th time editing this

kozu and leofard - tl;dr he turns kozu into a tsundere. at first kozu is like seriously we're working with actual outlaw sky pirates? -_- but over time comes to admire them and their freedom and their engineering as well. and when leofard gets his ass busted to hell kozu is like "you damn idiot" but treats him personally himself. and when it's just the two of them admits his fondess for him and the wings. he doesn't push it beyond that though because he knows leo is in a vulnerable position and just leaves. but after that a switch flips in leofards brain and he starts actively trying to woo kozu and kozu puts up a front of being annoyed about it but semi secretly secretly revels in it. and then they have fun on their own etcetera but idk how often kozu could realistically visit them after mhach raids are done (<- hasnt done 2nd leg of tataru quests yet)

there's more for kozu that I haven't thought of beyond "he'd see what thats about" like the lancer guild guy. the blacksmith guy. even fucking jannequiard or whatever even though kozu learned ast from urianger and didn't do the class quests. almost anyone that's taller than him just on that basis as well (funny enough not haurchefaunt though because he gloms onto the wol/caranar enough the kozu is uninterested in getting involved). all guys also kozu is gay as fuck forever. also beatin is nothing romantic but he's like a father figure to kozu (despite kozu almost undoubtedly being older, it's more that beatin along with miounne are the first ones to make him feel truly at home in gridania) and he finds joy in his eccentricities

caranar and y'shtola - this one only occured to me when I realized the similarities between the wol eryna (who in the joint timeline is caranars wife) and her. powerful no nonsense sorceresses. I haven't thought about it much beyond going "yeah that could happen" though because to me y'shtola has soooo much wlw energy so it feels a little wrong to put her with my lizardman but they would be insane together. caranar and his dead abusive heretic ex baggage on top of y'shtola assumed dead means he would have been COMPLETELY unhinged in HW also. they just keep almost dying for each other back and forth and having mental crises about it idk if this is good for them *closes the box*

caranar and yda/lyse - this is borne of my gridania starter status but idk what to do with the idea at all tbh. I think they'd be good together though because lyse is the never give up always smiling type she could push away the gloomy clouds over caranar. NOT fix him but inspire him to be genuinely better. also after the yda/lyse reveal caranar would internally be like "oh just like kozu" and his fondness with her would increase 100% insantly despite him being testy with kozu so often. actually as I'm writing this out I'm liking it more and more wtf

caranar and yugiri - *pretending auri players dont exist* hed attach to her instantly because of the "another au ra in eorzea" thing although her hiding herself would deal 1 BILLION psychic damage to him he'd never bring it up with her. this is the type of thing where I think he would just be longing from a distance for a looong time thinking it's not okay for him to get closer. but the scene by the riverside in SB... trying to go assassinate zenos together... it's so much to me. I could see him becoming devoted to her

I ALMOST FORGOT

caranar and mikoto - doesn't go anywhere imo but caranar finding someone else with future vision echo makes him feel saner and normaler instead of "LIVING PORTENT OF DOOM AND DISASTER" and so he likes her a lot and enjoys getting to talk with her even though he's not remotely the academic type. gets really protective of her though because of how important all that is to him

sorry caranar for making you a bi king but thinking about your gay ships more until now. at least he has his canon wife

#caranar #l'kozu #the kozu ones could all happen in the same timeline whenever basically but caranar is monogamous once he's dedicated I think

[lavendertowerarchives]

I feel absolutely swamped by my responsibilities. I have a Senior Capstone project to do, which will take over my next 9 months, so for the next 9 months I will not be able to relax. I do not exaggerate when I say I will be fully stressed out, because I don't do well when I have things to do.

This is just a static property of me. If I know I have a deadline looming, however far away, I will stress about it. Even if the project is completed, or even if I have done all I can, I will still think about it. I will dislike the fact that I have a responsibility, and it will take up a stupidly large portion of my mind.

I always get into a slump when school starts (be it the start of the year, quarter, or week), and it always seems to be the worst I've encountered yet (usually because I have terrible memory). This time, it's bad.

I want to Leave. I really don't want to go through with this. Most of all, I want to escape. But I don't want to miss out on my friends. If I postponed my Capstone project another year, I would be giving up on having classes with most of my friends, since we're all graduating (aside from a couple buddies, S and JH included). If I Left, I wouldn't have any friends, not like I'd really mind.

Besides, if I really pushed my capstone year back once, I would be almost as badly situated as I am now. I'm only taking one other class besides this, and it's one that seems fun (distributed systems) despite it currently taxing my time and energy.

This stress is monstrous. I cannot deal with it. I don't say this lightly. I am currently folding under the pressure I perceive to be lain on my own damn shoulders. I need something to come rescue me because the mental torment is unbearable. I don't like sounding like this, I don't like talking about this, I don't like feeling like it's all in my head. The unfortunate truth is that it is really all in my head.

If it's all in my head, and I take my head, then it'll be gone, right?

Hopefully.

Thanks for finding me.

Thanks for staying.

#lavender town #mental health #lavender tower #therapy #college #social anxiety #stress #distributed systems #capstone #senior year #technically 5th year of college #got fucked out of some credits when I transferred from community college #help #send help #let me out #I hate it here

[zipzin]

The Law of Entropy Chapter 4: Does Life Hand You Lemons or Do You Grow Them Yourself? (Also on Ao3)

Ao3 is back up, so that means the next update!

Rosita’s eyes blinked open and she let out a hum, today she got to sleep in. One of the nicer things about being a grad student was that she didn’t have classes in the morning. There had been that one her first semester, but she swore never again. And her department had so far allowed her to keep that promise.

She stared up at the ceiling and counted to ten to try and will herself out of the cozy embrace of her comforter. On her fourth try, she managed to pull herself from bed and wander to her coffee maker.

In between last minute formatting changes and almost missing deadlines, she had managed to set it to automatically brew. She let out another hum after her first sip and felt some life flicker back from beneath her eyelids.

Rosita grabbed her phone and flicked the screen on. Wynonna hadn’t texted her. Not, that it mattered. No, in the two days that had passed since their very memorable time in a bathroom (and really why was it in a bathroom), she hadn’t heard anything from Wynonna.

She’d also mostly been studying. 

But still.

Not that she had reached out to her, Rosita reminded herself. Last night, during her shift, she’d managed not to break anything (thank god), but did overpour a couple drinks when they barely made eye contact across the bar.

Wynonna hadn’t come up to her once, sending Doc or Dolls or, on one occasion, going to Waverly when Rosita was getting stuff from the basement.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

She was not freaking out. She hadn’t thought about it at all. It was not distracting her from getting her paper finished in a reasonable hour. It was just a kiss. Between friends. Who were fake dating other people and couldn’t tell anyone else and needed to let off a little steam. Sure, they both thought the other was attractive, but that’s just the cards they were dealt.

“Oh my god,” Rosita muttered aloud, “Did I really do this to myself?”

Because only she would end up fake dating someone’s sister who she’d sloppily made out with. What was she going to do?

Should she text? Rosita clasped her warm mug of coffee, no, she decided. It was nice, it was fun, she wouldn’t be opposed if it happened again, but she was not going to make this situation any more complicated than it needed to be. Not on purpose.

“You need to help me.” Rosita slammed her books onto the table and Jeremy jumped, clutching his chest.

“What?” He asked as he pulled off his headphones.

“You need to help me.” Rosita repeated, “I don’t know who else to ask.”

“Um thanks?”

Rosita took a seat. She had fifteen minutes before Waverly’s last class ended which gave her a max of thirty minutes to explain, “I have a problem. About Wynonna.”

“Waverly’s sister?”

“Yes, and she’s an idiot who almost blew our cover,” Rosita gestured at herself and where Waverly usually sat, “So she’s fake dating Nicole-”

“I already knew that.” Jeremy said.

“Yeah, that’s not the problem, the problem is that we sorta made out a bit in the bathroom after my shift one day, and now we’re both ignoring it, but I don’t know if I know how to ignore it. Because one, she’s super hot, and two, despite her horrible ideas I do enjoy plotting with her, and three, it’s not like I can kiss anyone else.”

“So, wait,” Jeremey said, “You’re asking me for relationship advice?”

“No! Well, fine, yes! Now, my problem.”

“I just, I’ve never even been in a relationship.”

“Jeremy.”

“Okay, okay, I can focus. Um,” He stared at her, “What exactly are you asking?”

Rosita laid her face on the table. It was the one they always used, so she hoped it was relatively clean. Of course, there was no way of knowing what went on when they weren’t here. She lifted her head up quickly. “Do I like her?”

“Wynonna?”

“Yes.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you.”

Jeremy opened his mouth and closed it several times. “Why would I know?”

“Jeremy!”

“Okay, okay,” Jeremy said, “So you’ve already mentioned that you think she’s hot and that you like spending time with her,” He put up two fingers, “I’m ignoring the part where you mentioned she’s the only one you can date,” He gestured around the library, “We literally go to a school that no one else in Purgatory does. You could date someone here.”

“Ugh.” Rosita grumbled.

“What else, oh, do you think about her a lot?” Jeremy asked.

“Wh-”

“Not when you’re annoyed about her and Nicole and keeping that from Waverly.” He cut in and Rosita’s mouth snapped closed.

“I mean yeah? I keep wanting her to text me or show up at my apartment.”

“Did this happen before?” He waggled his eyebrows in such a way that Rosita momentarily contemplated giving up men forever.

“Not really? I mean it’s happened since the whole situation, but I didn’t know her that well, so this is all new, but I do like seeing her.”

“I’ll give that a half.” Jeremy said and curled a finger so it looked like he had arthritis. “Let’s see, let’s see,” They settled into silence as he drummed on the table trying to think of something else. “Have you thought about a future with her?”

“A future?”

“Yeah, like are you imagining what it would look like if you were dating?”

Rosita leaned back, “No? I’ve never considered it,” Her mind now whirled with images of what it would be like and realized she’d never seen Wynonna in a serious relationship before, “But Wynonna doesn’t really date and stuff.”

“Oh, so this would just be a hookup,” He smirked.

“Jeremy!” Rosita kicked him under the table.

“What’s wrong?” Waverly’s voice came from nowhere and they both whipped around and stared at her in horror. “Do I have something on my face?” She asked.

“No! Everything’s fine!” Jeremy screeched. Rosita kicked him under the table again and he gave a smile that looked like a grimace.

“Nothing you can help us with.” Rosita said. “Just biochem.”

“Yep those pesky molecules.” Jeremy kept the dumb smile on his face.

“Okay?” 

Rosita sighed, that didn’t help. She should have known there was no point in asking Jeremy.

Rosita sees them before they see her, and she can only thank god for small miracles. Wynonna and Nicole are leaving the police station, likely ending their shifts, and Rosita isn’t proud that she tries to hide behind a car.

It’s a good thing that no one in Purgatory knows her mother.

Of course, Purgatory also means that there’s no alleys between here and her apartment, no shops she could justifiably duck into. So, unless they are completely wrapped up with each other they will see her.

And since Nicole and Wynonna aren’t in love, she will just need to grin and bear it.

It was just a kiss.

There’s nothing to be weird about.

Not even if she’d thought a lot about getting Wynonna into her apartment for something more than a kiss.

Rosita smiled at them once Nicole spotted her and immediately grabs Wynonna’s hand.

“Hi Rosita.” Nicole said. “Wynonna and I were just on a date.”

“A date?” Rosita and Wynonna both say.

Rosita bit her lip to keep from laughing as Nicole slammed her boot onto Wynonna’s foot. It wouldn’t have worked even if Wynonna didn’t let out a grunt and stumble, only to be caught by Nicole still gripping her hand.

“At the police station?” Rosita can’t help herself.

“Yes,” Nicole agreed, “Wynonna and I just have so much fun together. Anywhere.” 

Wynonna stared at Nicole like she’d announced they were both going sober.

“What did you do on your date?” Rosita never claimed to be a good person.

Nicole’s eyes widen and she elbowed Wynonna, “Just got released.” Wynonna said, “I picked up Nicole, she got a bit drunk last night. You know how it gets. ” Nicole’s jaw dropped in an expression of pure outrage. Wynonna winked at Rosita, “Nicole’s a wild thing.”

“I’ve heard that about redheads.” Rosita questioned like they were talking about the weather.

Wynonna and her ignore Nicole choking beside them.

“The rumors are true,” Wynonna nodded and cocked her hip, “They’ll suggest things you’ve never dreamed of.”

“In her uniform?” Rosita questioned.

Wynonna leaned forward and for a split second Rosita swore Wynonna’s eyes darted down to her lips. “You would not believe what we’ve gotten up to with those handcuffs.”

“Wynonna!” Nicole pulled Wynonna down the street by her collar, practically dragging her through the street. “Sorry, need to go. Dinner!” And marched her off.

Rosita watched them, trying and failing to keep from laughing. As they disappear from sight she made her way into her apartment. She shivered, despite the fact it, for once, isn’t actually that cold. She could have sworn Wynonna’s last words were a promise.

Waverly: is it true????

Wavelry: you have to tell me!!!

Rosita: tell you what?

Waverly: did Nicole spend the night at the station?

Rosita: why would i know that?

Wavelry: Nicole said she saw you with Wynonna

Rosita: i just saw them leaving the station

Waverly: i can’t believe this

Rosita: did nicole really not come home last night?

Waverly: I have no idea

Waverly: I went to bed early and got up early

Waverly: I didn’t hear her last night

Waverly: I can’t be around her right now

Rosita: you can come over if you want

Rosita lifted the squealing kettle off her stove, hoping that the tea is as calming and soothing as the packaging suggests. She took a glance at her couch, where Waverly is still laying down pretending that she’s not crying.

She felt horrible. She’s questioned herself multiple times since this charade started, but this time, well, they don’t have any excuse.

Why Nicole had felt the need to tell Waverly the obvious lie that Wynonna said was beyond her. She hadn’t even had a chance to text Wynonna because Waverly had shown up almost instantaneously after she offered. 

“I just, I can’t believe it!” Waverly had hiccuped. “Wynonna’s getting her in trouble and she’s getting thrown in the drunk tank.”

It really had to be the only time that Waverly hadn’t clocked all of her roommate’s movements.

Though, what would Waverly do if she knew that Nicole was lying?

Maybe the two would finally talk about their feelings?

No, Rosita admitted to herself, if that was the case they would have been together a long time ago.

“She didn’t look that bad,” Rosita said.

“And that makes it better?”

Rosita handed the tea cup to Waverly, who took it with a sniffle. “It’s going to be alright.”

“I thought Nicole would help balance Wynonna!”

Rosita sighed, “I don’t think anyone can balance Wynonna.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

It really wasn’t.

“It will be alright.”

“How?” Waverly cried.

Rosita rubbed small circles on Waverly’s back and tried to come up with an answer. It was fake? Nicole definitely did not get mini arrested? She’d probably be fired if she got thrown into the drunk tank in uniform, so obviously it wasn’t real? “It was one date,” Rosita settled on, “Did you think they wouldn’t go on dates?”

“I don’t know!” Waverly took a sip of the tea and frowned at it. Great, Rosita thought, it probably tasted horrible and full of anxiety. “I just, I forget, you know, when Nicole’s home and we do dinner together, that she’s dating my sister. And this, it just hit me. They’re together doing things without me and will for the rest of their lives.” Waverly sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“No. It’s nowhere near as stupid as deciding to fake date your coworker to make your roommate jealous.” Waverly gave a weak smile. “You’re allowed to be heartbroken, you can’t just bottle this up and will it out of existence. I mean, are you getting a little ahead of yourself about the rest of their lives? Yeah, let them get through a month first.”

Which they wouldn’t, Rosita was certain. She was privately betting that Nicole would break it off after getting fed up with Wynonna’s antics. It really was a shame that Jeremy refused to put any money up because he “hadn’t actually met them.”

“Well I want to,” Waverly said with a determined pout that made her look absolutely adorable, “I don’t want to feel this. It’s pathetic.”

Rosita rubbed circles on her back. “I’m sorry, that’s just a part of being human.”

“It sucks.”

“Yeah.” Rosita said, “Sometimes it does.”

She hoped this would still be a fun story to tell at their wedding.

Rosita: why did you NOT TELL NICOLE I KNEW YOU WERE LYING

Wynonna: about wut?

Rosita: nicole being arrested

Rosita: duh

Wynonna: obviously she knew you knew

Wynonna: duh

Rosita: well she’s an idiot

Rosita: and so are you

Rosita: because she told waverly about it and i just spent the last TWO HOURS calming her down!!!!!

Wynonna: oh shit

Rosita: oh shit is right earp

The only nice thing about grad school (okay that was a little dramatic) was that it was able to completely distract her from the mess of her personal life. Wynonna and her were, well, not avoiding each other, but not not avoiding each other. Wavelry and Nicole were both still reeling from the supposed date, and Rosita was able to focus on the fact that her professors hated her.

She couldn’t prove it, but the fact they’d all assigned papers due in the same week had to mean something. They were in the same department! They probably had some academic calendar where they had to put all the major assignments and tests, and yet, Rosita did not have her laptop open underneath the counter during her shift.

Not for lack of trying.

Her behemoth of a laptop didn’t fit neatly into a spot that didn’t contain seventeen water hazards, and she really couldn’t afford to break her laptop. Not just for figuring out where she would get the money to replace it. If her school work disappeared into the ether she would probably just drop the program.

She was not going through these headaches again.

At least Wednesdays were chill enough that she couldn’t keep a notebook and pencil out where she could write anything that swam to her head as she tried to figure out these stupid proofs. If Professor Di Vito wasn’t so fucking respected she would have quit his class the first week of the semester.

But no, she needed that sweet, sweet recommendation letter.

“Can I get the usual?” Sheriff Nedley’s rasp woke her up from her last scribblings (ones she knew were pointless, but if she didn’t get them out of her head soon she would drown herself and probably break something).

“Yes, of course.” Rosita nodded and then went to fiddle with the ancient coffee maker that only knew how to burn coffee. Not that Nedley seemed to mind. “Is that all?”

He let out a hum, one of the annoying ones that residents here did to mean, you’re not a fucking local, if you were you would know what I was saying with this monosyllabic grunt, and stared at her as he took a sip of the coffee. Rosita barely prevented herself from wincing. That stuff was not good.

She’d tried it once when she’d had to come straight from a lecture and two labs and work to closing. She still wasn’t sure the caffeine was worth it.

“You know that Waverly’s a very special girl.” He said.

Rosita bit back a cough and straightened up. Oh, so it would be one of these. “Yes.” If she was Nicole or some other suckup she would add a sir, but they were in her place of work. Granted, this was the only place Nedley and her ever saw each other, but that was beside the point.

His eyes narrowed at her. “I’m sure you know how much Waverly means to Purgatory, and I hope you understand that if you hurt her,” He trailed off, his eyes dark, and Rosita understood why Nedley had survived as the Sheriff for so long.

“I have no intention of that.” Rosita said. “I promise.”

He gave a tiny nod, the look on his face clearly saying he didn’t believe her, but he went back to his usual booth. Rosita stared after him until Jimmy waved for another beer.

Well, one good thing happened during that horribly uncomfortable conversation, she wasn’t thinking about that stupid proof anymore.

Damnit.

#wayhaught #rosita/wynonna #wynonna earp #my writing: wayhaught #my writing: rosita/wynonna #my writing: wynonna earp #my writing #mine

[palbabor-writes]

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

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

Words: 12,857

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

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

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

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

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

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

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

Ugh, why is this so stressful? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s watching you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

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

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

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

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

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

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

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

Wait. Sexy? 

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it’s those eyes of his. 

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

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

“Did you need something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

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

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

God. 

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

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

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

No. No, no, no, no. 

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

God fucking damn it.

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

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

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

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

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

“Gimme the paperwork.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N). 

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

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

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

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

“Something came up.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, yeah. But–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. Didn’t you just…  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank God.

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what? The cell… ah–” 

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

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

“I said, answer me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is the cell membrane?” 

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

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

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

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s try another.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a faint clicking sound. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hold still,” he commands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#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

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Maeve//i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Request: Could you please do something else with Maeve? Perhaps something where reader works with Maeve on an English project and she's surprised that they have so much in common. She realizes she has feelings for her somehow after that? Sorry that's sort of rubbish, have a swell day/night.

hey! what’s up everybody! i hope everyone is well, and i hope you like this!! title is from ‘the lakes’ by taylor swift! 

- English projects are never fun 

- I mean, who finds constant stress and a deadline that’s always far too close fun?

- Nobody

- That’s who

- Well apart from Mrs Jones

- Your year 9 English teacher who made every minute of her classes a living hell

- And who mysteriously went missing half way through the year after having a screaming match with a fellow English teacher

- When she was supposed to be teaching you Romeo & Juliet. 

- One day she was accusing Miss Newman of being a terrible teacher and purposefully bumping up students grades so she looked better 

- And the next day both her and Miss Newman were gone 

- And you only got a replacement teacher when you moved into year 10

- Right now though 

- Its seems Miss Sands is going through some stuff 

- Because not only did she give you an assignment on Friday with a deadline of Monday 

- She also chose your partners instead of letting you choose your own

- Which is why you’re stood outside of Maeve’s in the pouring rain

- On a frankly miserable Saturday morning 

- It seems the weather knew exactly what sort of weekend you were facing 

- And decided to make it even worse. 

- By the third knock 

- You’re about to give up 

- The curtains are still drawn 

- And you’ve seen more movement in a graveyard 

- Plus

- You kind of already assumed you would be doing the project alone 

- Maeve Wiley was known for being very...

- ...independant 

- And group projects are no different 

- You actually think she may be more independent during group projects

- So as soon as Miss Sands paired you together 

- You knew 

- You were 99% sure that 

- You’d do your thing

- She’d do hers 

- And then five minutes before the presentation 

- You would figure out a way to connect the two.

- Anywayyyy

- While daydreaming about a time when you won’t have any assignments 

- And making awkward, accidental eye contact with Maeve’s neighbours 

- The door in front of you opens 

- Simultaneously giving you a fright and almost knocking you out

- She yawns and scratches the top of her head 

- ‘what are you doing here?’ 

- She sounds both tired and annoyed and you blink at her a few times before answering 

- ‘er - i - the project. for english.’ 

- It takes her a few seconds to process what you’ve said 

- But when she does 

- She looks even more miserable than she did five seconds ago

- And you brace yourself for a long weekend 

- She sighs and rolls her eyes 

- Before slowly opening the door properly and letting you in

- You feel slightly nervous as you walk in 

- But you really have no idea why

- It’s not like she’s a complete stranger 

- But then again 

- She’s not exactly a friend 

- ‘don’t worry, i’ve hidden the drugs. i don’t really like to share anyway.’ 

- ‘what?’ you ask confused and she rolls her eyes again 

- She huffs and crosses her arms before nodding to the slightly messy living room

- ‘i get it. we’re a bunch of benefit fraud chavs that do nothing but drink and smoke all day.’ 

- ‘that’s not what i was thinkin-’ 

- ‘sure it wasn’t.’ she rolls her eyes and you stare down at the floor. ‘i need to get changed so make yourself at home I suppose.’ 

- She walks into what you assume is her bedroom and slams the door behind her 

- Leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room

- It’s small and slightly cramped 

- And most people would say that all the stuff makes it look busy 

- But to you 

- It’s wonderful 

- It’s filled with stories and memories 

- Some self explanatory 

- Some slightly more bizarre 

- Like the wonky blue and yellow clay swan living on the coffee table 

- You really want to know the story behind it 

- But decide it might be a little early in your partnership to start asking about her attachment to a half swan, half moth looking ornament

- So instead you pick up a pile of books on the dining table and move them onto the floor 

- You can hear Maeve opening and closing drawers while humming a familiar tune 

- And you feel yourself relax slightly as you place your laptop and books where the books were previously sat 

- Even if it does feel like you’re using all of your braincells to try and figure out where you’ve heard it before 

- ‘wow, do you actually trust me around that?’ 

- ‘what?’ you stop humming and look up at her 

- She looks between you and the laptop, staring at you expectantly 

- ‘oh no. i mean of course i do.’ you blush and she shakes her head before sitting opposite you 

- ‘so what do we know about women in fiction?’ 

- ‘historically they are written as either a femme fatalle type or some sort of innocent angelic being.’ 

- ‘they still are’ 

- ‘true’ you agree and flick through your textbook

- ‘why don’t we write about that then?’ 

- ‘what? how we’re still depressingly far back in the equality movement, despite being told otherwise?’ 

- She stares at you for a few seconds 

- A mixture of shock and surprise 

- Before nodding 

- And smiling 

- An actual genuine smile 

- You didn’t even know she could do that 

- Well you did 

- Of course you did 

- But you just haven’t seen it a lot 

- Usually when you see Maeve 

- She’s either mad, grumpy or very, very, very angry

- But her smiling 

- Puts a smile on your face 

- And this was definitely not where you thought this was going 

- ‘yeah...that’ 

- ‘okay.’ you shrug. ‘you can do classic literature because i know you prefer them and i’ll cover modern works.’

- ‘how do you know i prefer classics?’ 

- ‘the pile of books’ you nod towards the floor and she follows your gaze, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. ‘they’re all ripped and folded. you either love them or really, really hate them’ 

- ‘okay’ she eyes you suspiciously as you focus on your laptop 

- And you can feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze 

- However as quickly as they were there 

- They disappear 

- And the two of you fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence. 

- After about half an hour 

- Maeve stops what she’s doing to stretch 

- ‘is it okay if i play some music?’ 

- ‘sure, it’s your place. do what you want...as long as its not awful’ 

- ‘and what constitutes as awful?’ she asks, a smirk playing on her lips

- ‘well’ 

- And with that one question 

- Your entire day disappears in front of you 

- Laptops and books are closed and long forgotten 

- And instead you talk about music and movies 

- Books and plays 

- Characters that you love and hate 

- And the fact that her favourite character is the one you hate the most 

- She makes you lunch while you debate between movies and books and which adaptations are good

- And which ones should never have been made

- And you clean up and apologise profusely after a stray cushion (possibly thrown by you) ends up knocking the pan over 

- Surprisingly 

- She finds it quite funny 

- And you let out a relieved sigh

- Soon the sun goes down on another day 

- And you’ve barely written two paragraphs done between you

- ‘do you want to stay?’ she asks while your putting your jacket on

- If she’d asked you that this morning 

- You would have thought she had lost it 

- But now it feels almost inevitable 

- And you feel genuinely lucky to be asked 

- Not many people get to know Maeve 

- The real her 

- And that last person she told all of this to broke her heart 

- Very publicly 

- And she told herself she would never let herself be that vulnerable with someone ever again

- But this just feels right 

- For some reason you feel right 

- She feels safe with you 

- And part of her hates herself for it 

- But then again 

- She hates herself for not getting to know you sooner

- She feels far too attached to you 

- And it’s barely been twelve hours 

- You of course agree to stay 

- Shocking yourself and her 

- And while she sorts to sofa out 

- You excuse yourself to the bathroom 

- Under the pretences of telling your parents where you are 

- It takes two seconds to text them 

- And the other 28 to ask yourself 

- What the fuck are you doing? 

- Why are you agreeing to this? 

- Why do you feel like this? 

- What are you feeling?

- Who knows?

- Not you 

- Great 

- Now you’ve been in the bathroom for a suspicious amount of time 

- Just get it together, Y/n

- It’s just a study sleepover 

- Maeve gives you a questioning look as you leave 

- ‘you know how mums are. always worrying about where you are and what you’re doing’ 

- ‘i wouldn’t actually’ she shrugs and your eyes widen 

- ‘oh shit, sorry. i’m so sorry. god, i’m an idiot.’

- ‘it’s fine’ she forces a laugh and you wince. ‘i got you an extra duvet and little women is ready to watch so i can show you that the book is better’ 

- ‘that’s not what i said and you know it’ 

- ‘i’m sorry. i can’t hear you over the sound of me being 100% right and you being 100% wrong.’ 

- ‘you may be good at english, but you suck at maths’ 

- The next day you wake up to the sun shining through the curtains 

- And a clump of Maeve’s hair in your mouth 

- You splutter and cough and wake her up quickly 

- And she jumps away from you and smacks her head of the table 

- The two of you ended up moving the blankets to the floor while watching Pride and Prejudice 

- And neither of you bothered to move back 

- Maeve yawns and scratches her head

- Exposing a small part of her stomach and you feel yourself become a little breathless 

- ‘are you okay?’ 

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and she eyes you suspiciously 

- ‘whatever’ she shrugs and starts making breakfast 

- You watch as she pours to bowls of cereal

- Giving you the last of the milk 

- And for a second you’re a little worried as to how she knew you liked it 

- But then you remember that she also likes it and you had a whole discussion about the best and worst types of cereal at 2am 

- And half way through breakfast 

- You remember the original reason you’re here 

- And both of you curse loudly 

- Before rushing to finish eating 

-You get half way through your project 

- When Maeve asks if you want to go out for a bit 

- And well 

- She doesn’t need to ask you twice 

- And by the time you come back 

- The feeling you had last night returns 

- And has settled in your stomach 

- For the foreseeable future it seems 

- It makes you feel both light and heavy at the same time 

- And when you look at her 

- You feel dizzy 

- So you rush to finish the project 

- So you can go home and pretend nothing has changed 

- And yeah 

- With the need to leave 

- You get the rest of the assignment done fairly quickly 

- But you end up leaving feeling more confused about Maeve as you did when you started this 

- Maybe Miss Sands was right about a weekend project 

- Any longer and you would have gone insane trying to figure out whatever the hell this is 

- You just have to get through tomorrow and then you’ll be okay 

- Everything will go back to normal 

- You and Maeve can go back to being neutral to each other

- And you won’t have to deal with all of these confusing feelings that have decided to make an appearance for some reason 

- Wellll

- Turns out Miss Sands was wrong 

- A weekend is not enough time 

- And the first few presentations are awful 

- To put it nicely 

- So you spend the next week in a permanent confused state 

- Confused as to why you start looking for Maeve whenever you enter a room

- Confused as to why your heart skips a beat whenever you hear her laugh 

- Confused as to why you never want her stop talking in class 

- Even if the bell has rung and it’s lunch 

- Confused to why you keep looking for excuses to go over to see her 

- Despite your assignment being long done 

- And even more confused as to why you feel anxious when you’re waiting for her to answer the door

- The next Monday rolls around both painfully slowly and far too quickly 

- And while you wait for Ola and Danny to finish their presentation 

- Your hands shake with anxiety while your grip your papers 

- Maeve reaches over the table and gives them a reassuring squeeze 

- But it just makes them shake more and she slowly pulls back 

- Your turn can’t come quick enough 

- But then it’s over far too quickly 

- And you slump back down in your seat disappointed 

- Despite Miss Sands’ praise 

- Because it’s over 

- You no longer have an excuse to hang out with her 

- You never talked before 

- So why do you care about after 

- But there’s so much about her that you want to know

- Like the weird swan/moth hybrid 

- And the ugly plate that sits on top of the bookshelf 

- You want to be part of these stories 

- You want to be able to point to these things and say

- ‘yeah, i know exactly why that is special to you’ 

- You want to be the reason to add to this random collection of stuff 

- You want her to smile when she looks at them because they’ll remind her of you 

- You want her to smile when she looks at you 

- ‘y/n? are you okay?’ she asks making you jump 

- The classroom is now empty and you didn’t even notice the bell go 

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and grab your bag

- ‘are you sure?’ she grabs your arm forcing you turn around 

- ‘whats the weird swan thing on your coffee table?’ you ask and she furrows her eyebrows at you. ‘it’s just i saw it when i first came over and i really want to know the story behind it’ 

- ‘oh. aimee went through a pottery phase last year and that was the only thing she made that didn’t have a hole in it.’

- ‘and the plate?’ 

- ‘birthday present from my neighbours’ 

- ‘they got you a plate?’ 

- ‘yeah, they don’t have any kids’ 

- ‘clearly’ 

- Silence fills the room and you stare at the peeling posters behind her head 

- You can feel Maeve move closer to you and your breath hitches when she stops a few centimetres in front of you 

- She grabs your hand and squeezes it again 

- And your heartbeat increases 

- ‘y/n?’ 

- ‘yeah?’ 

- ‘i’m really, really confused right now. like more confused that i have ever been in my life. but what i do know, is that if i watch you walk out of that door without saying anything first, then i’d regret it for the rest of my life. i’ve only ever felt like this about boys before, but now i feel this and more about you and i have no idea where it’s come from or what i need to do, but i do know i need to tell you. because otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair for either of us’ she whispers and you stare at her wide eyed 

- ‘can i kiss you?’ she asks and you nod your head quickly 

- Slowly she leans in

- Her eye flutter closed and you follow 

- Your lips brush over hers 

- Her hands wrap around you waist to pull you close

- And then your lips connect 

- And you feel everything change 

- She kisses you slowly 

- And when you pull away you both feel breathless 

- Her cheeks are bright red 

- And there’s a shy smile playing on her lips as she looks at you bashfully

- And all of a sudden you feel really grateful for Miss Sands and her personal issues 

- Although you really hope they are resolved now 

- For your sake as well as hers

support my writing! if you want! 

#sex education #sex education imagine #maeve wiley #maeve wiley imagine #maeve wiley x reader

[mrpenguinpants]

Albedo HCs: Coming Home [Christmas Celebration 🎉]

For the Christmas Celebration Requests, please read this [we have 2 more days but I’ll possibly extend the deadline to Jan 10. I’m tackling all the Mondstadt rq first before moving onto Liyue]

---

Ohhh, I love idea a lot (might have gone overboard anon haha). No worries about being specific, I love getting specific requests. I just finished a super depressing fic and I’m back at it again. Though I will do my best to make this one happy because that Mona fic hurt me. But I’m glad to hear you love my writing haha 💕💕

I also know nothing about Albedo and have never written this man in my life but I’m going to ignore everything because these are happy hours. I love his man so much so this is some self-indulgent stuff (if you couldn’t tell from the word count) istg hcs have turned into fics just without the dialogue. I took many liberties lol what the hell is formatting?  

Also, shoutout to @asheseiler​​​ A beautiful human being that started chatting with me because we both love Childe haha. But seriously, I appreciate you 💕💕💕

---

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji​​​​​  @mikeysbike​​​​​ @unionwitch​​​​ @musekala​​​​ @twistedsunnshiii​​​ @stanzastic​​​ @akaasea​​​ @xoneaboveallx​​​ @adoring-ghost​​​ @asheseiler​​​ @childelover​​

---

Albedo HCs: Coming Home

As you finally reached the hill top by the Stone Gate, you could just make out the stone walls of the City of Freedom in Mondstadt. You were almost there and the butterfly’s racing through your stomach only seemed to fly faster. You had been on a long trip away by travelling between Liyue and Inazuma. From practicing your alchemy to finding new secrets, it had been awhile since you last saw Mondstadt. While it had been fun going from place to place and seeing all the new arts and techniques, you couldn’t stop the feeling of loneliness of not having an occasionally smug but talented ash blond companion at your side.

You hadn’t seen Albedo since Master Rhinedottir had left and sent Albedo to Mondstadt with a letter of recommendation. You travelled with him to the City of Freedom but you only stayed for a few nights before you departed to Liyue. Your master had different plans for you and you didn’t know how long your own journey would take but you both promised to stay in touch through letters. 

He was now acting as the Chief Alchemist and Captain of the Investigation Team of the Knights of Favonius. He managed to get a lab from Alice and he even had an assistant named Sucrose. He sent over some sketches for you and even if the bottom half of “Sucrose” was just a stick figure, you were happy that he wasn’t alone and cooped up in his lab all the time. You were, however, worried about these “Klee disasters” but happy that he still had the energy to write to you. At first it was hard, you found yourself talking to the air as if Albedo was still there but even after all these years, you couldn’t help but miss him. The occasional letter you received did help to lighten the mood however and you always made sure to store them carefully.

It seemed that your dapping mood was noticeable because even the ever stoic Zhongli asked if you were okay. He was nice and easy to talk to, even if he had a problem with Mora that you sometimes had to bail him out off, but you trusted him so you explained to him your growing loneliness. Which he simply replied that if you missed someone, you should go see them.

So here you are right outside the gates. The knights at the front were nice enough and let you through with ease once they checked that you didn’t have anything destructive. Now the hard part was actually finding Albedo. The knights had mentioned that despite being a highly respectable alchemist and one of the Captains, no one really knew where he was most of the time. Originally, you were thinking of planning some sort of surprise, even had made an entire game plan, but now that you were here. You just wanted to tackle the man, pride be damned.

You began to wander around the city, in comparison to Liyue it was quite small but so much more lively and warm. Christmas was right around the corner so everyone was rushing around hanging up lights and finding presents but it was nice. Everyone seemed to know each other and unlike Liyue, you didn’t need to be afraid if the walls were listening. You looked around for a man with bright teal eyes and ashy light blond hair, even asking around, but no luck. No one seemed to know where he was and if he was even in Mondstadt right now. You were beginning to loose hope and that your trip might have been in vain when you felt a small tap on your shoulder and-

Sweet jesus, what the fuck?

You were almost jealous at how good he looked now. He was always handsome when you were both younger but now it felt like cupid decided to descend from the heavens, laugh at you, then riddled you full of arrows. Was your pulse working? Brain still computing? You knew you had a small crush on Albedo when you were younger- who were you kidding, you were in love with this man since he helped you create cecilia flowers from a dead denro slime - but this was just unfair!

“Albedo! I was looking around everywhere for you. This place is actually a lot bigger than it se-”

“You’re back.”

Albedo was surprised to see that it was really you. He only caught a small glimpse of your profile but he knew it was you. He almost suspected that his vision was tricking him or that he might have accidently set one of his sketches of you to life but you were here. Albedo has always treated friendships with a constant degree of distance, always working or traveling to gathering materials to avoid social interactions even if it wasn’t intentional. He also had no memory of any family, only adventuring deep within the domains with his master and you. But when his Master left with one assignment left for him he couldn’t help but feel a bit hollow, but you were always there to lift his spirits up even if on the outside he didn’t appear upset.

But then you had left and gone on your own journey.

“Hm? Oh, sorry I didn’t mention it in my last letter. It was a bit of an impulse trip. But I’m not intruding in on anything right? You’re happy to see me...right?”

“You’re here.”

At first he was alright with it, even encouraged you to set off to Liyue since it was the closest. Promising that you would both keep in touch even if he found relationships a taxing cycle. But when a few months had passed and it began to settle in that you weren’t anywhere near him. That he couldn’t talk to you about new discoveries, that he couldn’t hear you voice anymore, that he had even forgotten how to sketch you. It felt...weird. He knew what he was feeling was loneliness, he wasn’t deluded or naïve, but even when he had Sucrose or Timaeus it wasn’t the same. But now you were here. He could see you and how the lines in his sketchbook were wrong whenever he attempted to re-create you. He could feel your warmth that sketches he brought to life couldn’t do. He could feel your presence and how it slowly but surely filled the void in him until it was bursting at the seams.

“Albedo? Are you alright?”

“You’re here.”

You were almost afraid that the holidays had broke Albedo. You knew he would sometimes get too deep in thought and wouldn’t register his surrounding but it was just you two. With the sun slowly going down, the snowflakes dancing around you both, and the Christmas light reflecting off his unique blue eyes. You took a slow blinked at him. Once. Twice. The same way you would when you were studying something, trying to unveil its secrets. Before sighing amusingly and opening up your arms to him. He was still the same. 

“I’m here.”

The final assignment Albedo received was too hard, too complicated, far beyond his own limits and he was worried that if he never completed it, would he ever see his teacher again? When you took your first step outside the walls of the city, waving back to him as you set off on your journey, he couldn’t help but feel that like his teacher, you were leaving him too. But when you looked at him with those warm but understanding eyes, opened your arms to him, he let go and stepped into your embrace. He was sure he was borderline crushing your frame but you hugged him back just as tightly. 

“My apologies. I got overwhelmed. Come with me, let’s get out of the cold first.”

You tried to hold it in but you laughed at his statement. He didn’t seem to mind as you felt him smile into your neck. Even with those words he hadn’t let go or slackened his grip in the slightest. So you both stayed there outside in the cold, the christmas lights reflected off snow, the sounds of laughter and singing playing in the background as you both embraced each other. 

I’m home

You’re home

---

Although Albedo was happy to see you again, he was wondering why out of all the years you had been away, all the other holidays you had missed, you decided to come to Mondstadt today. You were at his lab and marveling at all his new devices when he popped the question. You flushed a bit but quickly brushed it off, saying that after all the letters he sent you were finally curious as to what Mondstadt was like and the people he met. Plus, Liyue and Inazuma didn’t celebrate Christmas as much as Mondstadt so it would be nice to finally celebrate the holiday again.

He simply smiled smugly and nodded along before you eventually caved, because that look could steal your heart away, and revealed that honestly, you just really missed him and wanted to spend Christmas together. There wasn’t anything wrong with that was there? So what if you missed him? It was natural. It wasn’t like you were wondering what he was doing on slow days in Liyue. It wasn’t like you we- 

“You can stop laughing at me. I know you’re doing it even if I can’t hear it Albedo.” 

“I’m sorry you must be mistaken. Perhaps your observational skills have rusted?”

You huffed at him before turning your attention to a small but worn sketching book. It was different from the ones he had showed you and much smaller compared to the ripped out sketches he sent you. Albedo noticed your curiosity and almost flushed before striding over and showing you what was inside. It was either he do it now or you would constantly eye ball it until he finally let you see what was inside. 

He took out the old sketchbook and flipped all the way to the first page. They had been sketches of you. When it had just been you, Albedo, and your teacher he would often ask to draw you but he never showed you the finished product. What was surprising was they were all full sketches. No simple lines or unfinished colours. His interest in things, especially when he draws, were fleeting leading him to always create unfinished or basic lines. 

“Wow, was this your first sketchbook? Did you draw anything else? Oh, like your assistant perhaps?”

“No. I only drew one thing here. It’s been sitting here ever since but I tend to make sure it’s in good condition. Should I ever need to draw in it again.” 

Albedo almost reached for his pencil to sketch your smug but bright smile. But set his hand down. While he wants to capture moments so they remain forever with him, he felt that perhaps, it would be nice to live in them. Just for a moment. 

---

I never write at the bottom of my fics but I wrote too much at the start haha (plus tagging my screaming doesn’t work anymore). Not gonna lie, this was going to be different and you and Albedo would have role reversed AND I WAS GOING TO WRITE MONA IN but that didn’t happen. I made it so disgustingly sappy at the end that I want to throw up but when do I not? 

But I kind of like this version more. He’s super out of character but I don’t care and you’re gonna have to take this hcs out of my COLD DEAD HANDS. But I hope you enjoyed this and I’m using this as my Albedo catalyst so come home elevator boy. (cough celebration hcs are still open if you wanna feed me 👀 this )

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact albedo x reader #albedo x reader #albedo x lumine #albedo x aether #albedo #albedo headcanons #albedo imagines

[riotgirl21]

Kisses with Haikyuu boys- Part 3

Bokuto is by far my favourite boi in the series . This was fun to write... plus wishful thinking ya know. His is also a bit naughty (thigh riding) but Daichi is pure fluff.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Bokuto

"Kisses?"

You stifled a giggle as your cute boyfriend's grey head flopped on to your lap as you did some work. You had a deadline to meet and bought it home to finish in time, it had been going okay until he had came home. Usually he would leave you alone and let you get on with it, but he had been away for a week at training camp and was missing you something fierce. The video calls every night hadn't been enough, he missed your sweet voice and cuddles. Missed the way you made him breakfast every morning and gave him a massage when he was in pain. He especially missed your cooking and the way your scent washed over his clothes.

"Puppyyyyyyyyyy... I want kisses."

"Kou-"

"One kiss then I'll start on dinner. I promise."

Putting your pen down, you glanced down to see a huge pout on his face. His bottom lip jutted out, hair flopped down as he stared at you. He was in a vest and some joggers, hands crossed over his chest, arms bulging as he stared you down. You couldn't help but smile a bit as he propped himself up, planting a small kiss on your cheek before rubbing his nose against it.

"One kiss, then I need to do work."

Bokuto leaned up and kissed your lips hard, a loud smacking noise erupting that made you laugh before you swatted him away. His eyes full of glee and mischief as he bounced away screaming about the dinner he was making, leaving you laughing and only slightly concerned for safety of your kitchen.

A few hours later, a familiar grey head popped around the side of the door and called your name. Glancing up, you could see his vest now covered in stains despite the apron you had bought him, moving up his body you couldn't help but laugh when you saw his hair tied into pigtails. His face full of glee as his lips curled up into a familiar playful grin.

"Kou, what happened?"

"My hair was in my face. And I didn't wanna get hair in the food."

Putting your books and papers to one side, you padded over to him and poked one with your finger, laughing again when it bounced around. You shook your head as he pulled you close, ignoring your yelp as your clean hoodie pressed against his dirty vest. His lips millimetres away from yours, rubbing his nose against yours cutely.

"Payment please."

"For what?!"

"For dinner. I demand payment in kisses."

This again.

"Kou-"

"Payment... or there will be a punishment." His eyebrows waggled, holding you tight as you tried to move past him. Easier said than done, since your boyfriend was huge in every way and often used it against you to pick you up and spin you around.

Huffing, you pressed your lips against his quickly, mimicking the one he got earlier only for him to pick you up by putting his hands under your ass. Spinning you around, Bokuto pressed your back against the door as he devoured your mouth. Groaning when your hands found purchase in his hair, tugging the pigtails free and running your fingers through the thick strands. His hips pressed against yours as he pinned you, his thick thigh pressing between your legs as he held your hips and ground your down. You felt rather than heard his laugh when you whimpered, the angle hitting right against your clit in an amazing way.

You couldn't help but moan when his fingers pressed into your ass, holding a cheek in each hand as he forced you to ride his thigh. Whimpers and gasps leaving your mouth only to be swallowed by him, tongue licking and flicking against yours only for him to pull away quickly, ignoring your whine when you tried to chase his mouth.

"Eat dinner, puppy." His mouth pressed against your ears before he kissed a sensitive spot on your neck. "Then if you're good, maybe I'll eat you."

Daichi

You weren't even sure how you ended up in this situation. Seriously. Who would have thought a walk down to the supermarket would have ended up like this. One second, you're stepping onto the road to cross over towards the car park, the next a car had come plowing around the corner leaving you mere centimetres to jump out the way. The impact had caused you to land on your arms and hip.

Some nice passerby had seen what happened and had called the ambulance. Even going as far to accompany you and wait outside while you got checked out. Since Daichi was on shift you were 90% sure that he wouldn't find out and you'd be able to get home without him realising. The injuries on the other hand... you weren't sure how you were going to explain them.

"Where is she?"

Oh damn.

"Can someone tell me where my wife is? She's this tall and has-"

You dropped your head back on the pillow as the conversation halted, you imagined him freaking outside and trying to maintain his composure while being angry as hell. The door creaked open and you were greeted by your uniform-clad husband, dark hair matted to his head and sweat making his face shiny. His usual calm demeanor was almost frantic as he rushed towards you and patted you down, a little too hard.

"Daichi... Daichi... ow!"

"Sorry. Sorry." A hand cupped your face as his lips touched your forehead. "I was so worried. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

"Mostly."

"Liar."

A sigh left your lips, taking inventory of how you were, you actually felt like crap. Your hip was bruised, wrist sprained and your had scrapes and grazes down your legs. You had a brace on your wrist and painkillers but they had only taken the edge off, there was still a dull ache all over your body.

"Fine. It hurts like a bitch. Happy?"

Daichi peered down at you, his eyebrows drawn together in worry. His hair messy compared to this morning, lips turned down into a frown as he thumbed your cheek.

"Why would I be happy?"

A sigh before he lifted you up bridal style, ignoring your please and screams to put you down as he carried you to his car. The drive home had you burying your head in embarrassment, your lovely husband had decided to put the siren on because 'getting you home was an emergency'. You dare not think what would happen if the chief found out, even Daichi paled a little at that.

Placing you gently on the bed, Daichi quickly stripped off his uniform. Placing his belt on the dressed before untucking his shirt and vest. Looking up only when you made a noise.

"You in pain, baby?"

"Yes I'm in pain."

Suddenly you found yourself being patted down. "Where? Shall we go back? Do you need pain meds?"

"No. I'm in pain because my husband is doing a strip show!"

"Oh."

Removing the rest of his gear, Daichi pulled on some shorts and lay down next to you. Long body stretching out against yours, his hands tracing the marks and bruises where you had been injured. The warmth of his skin against yours, his long legs intertwined while he wrapped an arm around your body as he thumbed each one. His brows furrowed as he palmed your body, hands light as his fingers traced the edges of your clothes.

"Baby, I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

"Daichi-"

Sitting up, he began placing small, light kisses on each mark. His lips gentle, fleeting kisses as he lovingly handled your sore body. Leaning his head against your stomach, he listened to your heartbeat thumping against your ribcage, alive and loud. Cementing your presence in his arms, his bed and his life, the fear of losing you all too raw. He remembered the feeling, the horror when he heard about your accident. The way his stomach dropped, the sick feeling as he rushed to the hospital... he never wanted to feel that way again.

"I can't lose you."

You felt a lump in your throat as you looked down at him, suddenly looking so small like this. Stroking the back of his head, you pulled him up until he was eye level with you, kissing his lips slowly, small pecks to show your appreciation.

"I can't lose you either, Daichi."

#haikyuu #bokuto #bokuto x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto x y/n #bokuto hq #bokuto haikyuu #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto headcanon #bokuto scenario #bokuto fanfic #bokuto koutaro #daichi x you #daichi x reader #daichi x y/n #daichi hq #daichi sawamura #hq daichi #daichi #haikyuu daichi #daichi headcanon #daichi scenario #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu!!

[wonderlustlucas]

home - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.” ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 2.7k ⇢ genre fluff, kind of angsty? ⇢ warnings insinuated that this takes place during covid & that reader has some case of depression/anxiety i literally wrote her as me so like ⇢ summary In which Hyunjin shows you just how special you are.—college!au ⇢ a/n happy birthday to my love, my comfort, my home

What am I doing here?

Unfortunately, there is no one else to blame but herself for being left without plans on this Friday night. Regretfully so, she instead finds herself alone on the upper level of the business building. Scratch that, the whole building, probably – she’s been here since four, and the few students that were once alongside her left hours ago. Initially here to work on an essay, she now occupies her time bouncing between YouTube, Twitch, and Crunchyroll, watching whatever she is feeling at the moment despite Monday’s deadline looming over her.

Sighing, she looks away from a boring page of YouTube recommendations, stretches her neck, and reaches for her hot chocolate. Well, not hot anymore, she realizes with a wince after taking a sip, struggling to swallow the now cold drink. Gaze flicking to the time on the corner of her laptop, she frowns. 9:43. She considers walking home once it hits ten, the unstirred silence of the building starting to prick up her spine like needles. Home, she thinks with an amused exhale from her nose. A too small, overheated double dorm room that technically is a single now that her roommate has gone online for the rest of the semester. Home.

She wonders, briefly, if anyone were to miss her if she were to go home home. If anyone would even notice, anyway.

She wouldn’t expect them to, honestly. It’s not as if she goes out of her way to hang out with anyone, usually opting to cozy up in her room and pretend she does not see the groupchat blowing up with plans to meet at the dining hall, a study session at the library, a trip to the mall. She loves her friends, really, but can rarely find it in herself to actually participate in said friend activities. Sure, there are some nights she actually leaves the confines of her room to join them, but to be quite frank, she’s glad they have learned to simply stop inviting her. Makes the whole looking for an excuse problem a lot easier.

Besides, who would want to go out on a night like this, anyway?

Just as she has flipped to page fifty-three of The Old Man and the Sea, she looks away in boredom, instead opting to gaze out the window. Focusing past her reflection on the tall glass pane, a warm feeling she can only describe as peace seems to settle over her, watching the snow fall like moonlit glitter across campus. The snowstorm had started light when she first arrived, soft enough she could manage with her hood down, dotting her with only miniature droplets of water. Now, though, the flakes are so large she can focus on one at a time as they fly past, covering the ground with a solid two or three inches at this point. In the distance, she can spot snowplows making their rounds to clear the pathways, the route to the business building already turned slushy blue as salt melts the continuous snow.

She sighs, eyes wide like a child as she represses the urge to go outside and grab a handful of it, maybe fall onto one of the lawns and make a snow angel, stick her tongue out and try to catch one of the large flakes. Tomorrow, maybe, she thinks, looking at her grey sweatpants and deciding walking back with soaked pants in this weather would not be the best idea.

So late into March, she cannot help but chuckle at the number of students complaining about the snow and cold temperature on SnapChat, even her friends having to change their plans. She, on the other hand, finds such last chance snowstorm beautiful; sure, she was ready for spring and eventually a break from school, but watching the snow dancing under the streetlights, choreographed by the gentle wind, she thinks it’s something to hold on to, keep her grounded to reality that albeit the stress and monotony of college, such moments like these still exist.

She jumps at the sound of the front entrance slamming closed.

Who the hell? She frowns, annoyed at whoever decided now was a good time to come inside, subsequently ruining her little moment of serenity. Turning red at the thought of some raunchy couple thinking to spice things up in the presumably empty building, she considers packing her bag and heading out. But no matter which exit, they would still see her, and that would be painstakingly awkward. Maybe she could escape into one of the smaller reservation rooms, or at least make some exaggerated noise so they at least know they’re not alone.

Could just be a janitor, or maybe someone else deciding to shelter somewhere other than their dorm to buckle down and do some work, she thinks. No matter who it is and what their intentions are, her leg is already bouncing a mile a minute having gotten used to having the space to herself.

So caught up on how or when she should take her leave, she does not hear the footsteps coming up the stairs until they’re right behind her. Tensing up, she watches in the window’s reflection as the business building’s second occupant steps up onto the platform and… heads towards her. Panic setting in, she tries to decipher who it is through the blurry reflection but to no avail, heart racing at the thought of a stranger approaching her, one of her friends finding her here on a Friday night, a janitor going to ask her to leave.

She turns her head as soon as they stop beside her.

“Hyunjin?” She blurts, taken aback. This was the last person she expected to be here. Somewhat relieved but heart still beating in her throat, she blinks up at the tall boy to make sure it’s really him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he returns, pulling his mask down below his chin and smiling cheekily at her. “I went to go pick up my food and saw you in the window,” Hyunjin explains, tugging the beanie off his head and shaking his hair out, showering her in the tiny droplets. Wrinkling her nose, she takes notice of the Chipotle bag in his hand and how soaked his coat is.

“Here,” she offers, reaching for the bag. Passing it to her with a grateful smile, Hyunjin unzips his coat and sets it over a chair beside her alongside his beanie, wipes the melted snow and sweat from his eyes, and tries to fix his now mused bangs. “So, what are you doing here?” He asks while doing this, regarding her with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Work,” she sighs. Then, glancing to the screen of her laptop and realizing it’s still the home page of YouTube, she grimaces. “Trying to do work. Not really. Just watching the snow.”

“It’s a lot prettier when you’re inside,” Hyunjin comments, following her gaze to watch the frenzy of snow before taking the bag from her and offering a quiet thanks. “But I meant more why are you here?”

She isn’t quite sure what her relationship with Hyunjin is. Having been one of the many acquaintances she barely made at freshman orientation, he did not seem like the kind of person she expected to still be in her life. She wouldn’t exactly say they were close, but she considers Hyunjin a friend, she thinks. After a good month or two forgetting he existed, she randomly bumped into him at the dining hall, recognizing that unfairly attractive face of his in line for chicken nuggets and immediately falling into conversation. Turns out, he was mutual friends with her lab partner, Kim Seungmin.

She does not see Hyunjin as much as she wishes she did. She had not shared any classes with him in the past three years, and even if her friend group and his overlapped in the slightest, it was not always a given that they both would be able to hang out as much as their closer friends do. Still, there always seems to be a random occasion, such as now, where they bump into one another. Each time is a pleasant surprise, of course, and not just because of his pretty face and wide shoulders, but because he has always seemed to care for her in a way no one else does, and that in itself is enough to have her heart racing every time he comes close.

Not that she has a crush on him or anything, but it definitely is hard trying not to fall in love every time he even so much as smiles at her.

Face heating up in embarrassment at his question, she avoids looking him in the eyes and randomly minimizes the Chrome tab on her laptop. “You know,” she drones on, “just taking it easy for the night.”

Hyunjin hums in agreement, opening the lid of his burrito bowl and stabbing a fork into the layers. Even her mouth waters. “I feel like I never see you,” he contemplates, finally taking a bite. His words surprise her. “Uh, yeah,” she coughs, forcing herself to look away before she gets too enraptured over how beautiful he looks even after trekking through a snowstorm, long hair messy but falling over his face in a way that has her fingers twitching to tuck away. “I usually don’t go out with everyone. Not my scene.”

“Aw,” he coos, “I get that. Sometimes I’m the same way, I just want to relax on the weekends after working so much all week.”

Thank you!, she almost shouts, but bites her tongue. She agrees, but even she does not know why she can’t find it in herself to go out and party with everyone else. She’s just lazy, to put it simply. Nevertheless, his words put her at ease, no longer worried that he might think she’s a loser for staying in every weekend.

“Exactly,” she agrees, “parties are fun, sometimes. But I just prefer laying low. I don’t think my friends like that, though.”

Gaze finding his, her heart does somersaults at the smile he offers. “Nah,” Hyunjin says, confident, “no one thinks that. Everyone has their way of having fun. Honestly, all I’ve ever heard is your friends complaining how they miss you and that you would make going out more fun since you’re so funny.”

“Which is true, by the way,” he adds.

She feels as if she is going to combust. “Oh,” she croaks, throat dry, “um, thank you. That’s sweet of them. And you. I guess I didn’t consider that they miss me when they go out.”

Hyunjin scoffs, raising a brow but finishes chewing before speaking again. “Are you nuts? You’re so fun to be around, of course they’re going to miss you.”

“Okay, stop that,” she laughs, burning from the inside out at his compliments. “Just being honest,” he laughs, opening the bag of his tortilla chips. “Want any?”

She looks at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay,” she huffs out an airy laugh, rolling her chair closer to his. Miscalculating that he was going to move, too, she quite literally feels her blood pressure skyrocket as her knees bump into his. And he doesn’t move. “Here,” moving the bag closer to the edge of the table, Hyunjin glances at her for only a split second before focusing on his bowl again.

Reaching into the bag, she feels emboldened not only by his previous flattery, but his proximity as well, and scrambles to continue the conversation. “Why are you eating Chipotle so late?”

“Pre-birthday celebration. Also, DoorDash took forever,” Hyunjin laughs.

“When’s your birthday?” She asks, munching on a chip.

“In,” he pauses, tapping his phone, “two hours.”

Oh. “What?” She gasps, blinking at him. “What? Why aren’t you out? It’s your birthday weekend and you’re here eating Chipotle?”

“Woah, okay Miss I-Prefer-Laying-Low. Maybe I wanted to chill tonight, since tomorrow I’m going out? Hm?” Hyunjin chuckles at her scowl, pursing his lips. “Okay, yeah, I guess but—”

“No but’s,” he interrupts, the amused glint in his eyes disappearing, “I’m here now, and that’s what matters, right? I’m lucky I saw you in the window.”

“I guess,” she mutters, realizing her heart has not stopped its staccato frenzy since moving closer, “you scared me, by the way. I’ve been here alone for hours and suddenly someone is walking up to me, I think I shit my pants.”

Hyunjin bellows out a laugh, and such an airy sound momentarily leaves her awestruck. Oh, god, she’s in deep. It’s over.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggles, battling her hand to reach for a chip. Even the touch of his long fingers against hers has the entire butterfly population roaring to life in her gut. “Look, I made up for it by gifting you chips.”

“True,” she hums, licking residue salt off her fingers before leaning back in her chair to catch a breather. Too much physical contact and emotion for one night.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Hyunjin asks, taking her by surprise. Again. She thinks she is going to faint if she isn’t able to wrap herself around him within the next fifteen seconds.

“Um,” she starts, then remembers her previous idea of going home after this week was over. “I was probably going to go home next Friday.”

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin says, seemingly disappointed. “Why?”

She grits her teeth. Why? Really? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, not even convinced herself, “I’m bored and lonely here. I love everyone here but I miss my friends at home. I might as well be slightly less bored at home.” Hyunjin frowns.

“Okay, what about this,” he starts, leaning close enough she can count his individual eyelashes and nearly smell the flavor of his lip balm, “you go out with us tomorrow night and if you have fun, you hang out with us next weekend, too. Oh, and whenever you want some company, you text me and we’ll come here or somewhere else and do homework together or just chill. How does that sound?”

All she can do is blink at him. Her initial thought is how dare he try negotiating whether I go home or not? But, there it is, again, she realizes. That extra step he takes, the genuine care he shows her, acting like her well-being is his responsibility. “You don’t have to do that, Hyunjin. I don’t want to bother you every time I feel lonely. I’ll be fine.”

“Christ, you’re dense,” rolling his eyes, Hyunjin sets his fork down, wipes his hands on his thighs, and suddenly leans in to hold her face with both hands, “I wouldn’t offer to sit around and do homework with you when you’re in need of a friend if I didn’t want to.”

Her heart is racing so fast she fears he may be able to hear the thud of it against her chest. What he’s saying is starting to sound a lot more than some friend-to-friend comfort, and it’s making her head hurt, especially with his thumbs ever so slightly swiping against her cheeks. At her silence, he starts again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice dropping an octave, “don’t go home. This is your home, too, you just don’t want it to be.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she thinks she is going to say something, but nothing comes out. There is nothing to say. Hyunjin is right, he has read her like an open book, and he’s here to offer his shoulder to lean on. “Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go out with everyone tomorrow. And I’ll try and stay here for the rest of the semester.”

“That’s my girl,” Hyunjin smiles, leaning closer and pressing a featherlight kiss to her lips. At first, it takes her by surprise. But then it all starts to make sense. The snow makes sense. Her essay makes sense. Being here makes sense. Hyunjin makes sense. His birthday makes sense. She makes sense.

Outside the glass windows, the wind starts to howl, blowing the composed ballet of snow to its final act, covering the pathways and the streetlights and the roof of the business building in perfect white glitter. Inside these windows, she realizes they would notice if she were to go home.

Why would she ever do that when her second home is right here in front of her?

#kwritersworldnet #kpopficsnetwork #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fluff #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin angst #hyunjin angst #stray kids angst #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin imagines #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hwang hyena #hyunjin x reader #stray kids x reader

[loki-hargreeves]

Klaus Hargreeves x You - Morning After

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, the tiniest hint of angst if you squint, but mainly fluff, making coffee (sorry if you hate it irl) Pairing: Klaus x You (The gender of the reader is not specified) Word Count: 2,1K Summary: Waking up early with Klaus and deciding to stay in bed all day instead of doing anything else. Prompt: is that my shirt? / You mean our shirt? Author’s Note: writing fluff is hard and scary. I tried to publish this for Valentines day but I’m bad with deadlines. I hope you like it though! :)

Your POV

The first thing you noticed as you slowly came to your senses was the warmth of someone’s body pressed so close to yours. A smile spread on your sleepy face when you remembered the previous night. Klaus was still right next to you and it made your heart flutter with pure joy and love. 

It was still too early to get up, you decided without even looking at the clock. It was the weekend, and if it were up to you, you’d spend it all in his arms. Softly, you turned around on the bed, making sure to hold onto the blanket so your naked body wouldn’t get exposed to the cool air. The sheets and pillows smelled so much of him, which you didn’t mind. Klaus was someone you could get lost in anytime. He was irresistible. 

Through narrowed eyes, you looked at Klaus, who was still asleep. His long eyelashes were touching his soft cheeks and his hair was messy, yet adorable. He looked so peaceful in his sleep.

Being unable to resist yourself, you traced your fingers up and down his arm where you had touched him last night as well. Long story short, your hands had been all over each other. It had been pure bliss. There were a few faint love bites and scratches on his skin and without a doubt on yours as well. Your mind already played with the idea of kissing him all over once he’d wake up. Or perhaps you could wake him up with a few affectionate pecks? It was definitely a tempting idea.

After a while, Klaus began to wake up too. He felt the lingering gaze on his skin and slowly he opened his eyes, not wanting the rising sun to blind him. As he saw your eyes meeting his, he smiled sheepishly. 

“Staring is rude y’know,” He murmured tiredly, his voice sounding slightly deeper and raspier than it usually did. 

“I’m not staring at you,” You defended yourself with a small laugh, “I couldn’t look away. You’re kind of precious like that.”

Klaus couldn’t deny that waking up to such sweet words was nice. A little stroke on the ego here and there was good for anyone. 

“Hmm,” He blinked a few times, trying to fight the weariness, “good morning to you too.”

“Tired?” You wondered although it was obvious. The way neither of you could keep your eyes open for more than two seconds said it all. 

“Mm-hmm, we stayed up quite late,” Klaus remembered as he ran his hands over your sides, then your back as he pulled you closer to him needily. His touch was so gentle and caring that it sent shivers down your spine. 

“How about,” you paused for a moment as you played with his small curls, “-we go back to sleep?” 

“I would love that,” Klaus admitted right before a yawn escaped his lips. 

As if it was second nature, you snuggled against him like you had done many times before. The feeling of being close to him never grew old. He shut his eyes once more and it didn’t take long for him to return to his slumber, not when he was with you. Just like that, you fell asleep again in each other’s arms. You were lulled to sleep by his deep breaths and heartbeat. You were safe and sound in bed where nothing could’ve possibly disturbed you. 

         Klaus was beginning to wake up ever so slowly. He wanted to sleep for just a little longer, but the sunlight wasn’t going to let him. It crept in softly from behind the curtains that were flowing gently because the window was open. It hadn’t been open before, but he didn’t pay too much attention to it now. 

He took a few deep breaths before opening his eyes, only to see that he was all alone. It was weird because he had fallen asleep with you. How much time had passed since he last woke up? Ten minutes? Several hours? He had no clue.

Tiredly, he sat up just enough so he could look around your bedroom. It was a little bit past ten in the morning, which felt way too early to be up. When Klaus heard noises coming from the kitchen, he was relieved. 

Despite how much he was tempted to stay under the warm sheets, he forced himself out of bed. After all, he just wanted to see you and hold you just a little longer. The night before had ended far too soon. 

Klaus didn’t find his shirt anywhere on the floor. Had he left it in the living room? He wasn’t too sure when or where he had taken it off. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him without it before. Just like that, he waltzed into the kitchen with a small smile on his face. The moment he saw you, it grew much wider and brighter.

“Is that my shirt?” Klaus noticed his shirt which was the only thing you were wearing. The lazily buttoned button-up didn’t leave much to the imagination. The sight of you in his clothes was adorable. You still had a sleepy look on your face because you hadn’t been awake too long either.

“You mean our shirt?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Our shirt,” Klaus repeated your words and made his way to you, “if you say so, Y/N. You look cute in it.” He snaked his arms around your body and pulled you close. He buried his head in the crook of your neck as he hugged you from behind, allowing you to continue making coffee without being too distracted. His touch was so affectionate. It made you happy.

The radio was on and music was filling up the silence. The song that was playing was Unchained Melody, which was almost too cheesy for the soft moment you were sharing. Almost. 

It reminded you of the time you and Klaus had watched the movie Ghost. It had been a lot of fun, and Klaus definitely had a lot of strong opinions about the movie and what or what not ghosts could do.

Klaus started swaying to the song and you did so too. You finished the steps it took to make coffee and now all you had to do was wait. You turned around in his arms so you could hug him back, which felt so relaxing. It felt like all the stars aligned when Klaus was by your side. Everything was so good. Despite the challenges life brought your way, you always made it at the end together. 

“I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” You told him after a while. 

“You should’ve been quieter,” Klaus teased you, which made you fake gasp. 

“Klaus!”

“I’m sorry, I’m just messing with you,” He pressed a kiss on your forehead. “We can still have breakfast in bed.”

“That would be nice,” You enjoyed the sound of that. Just the two of you and some coffee and toast. It was the weekend so you had nowhere to be. The two of you could spend all day in bed if that was what your hearts desired. Knowing Klaus, it wouldn’t be a challenge to come up with things to do either. He was rather creative in his own way, which you adored about him. 

Your arms wrapped around his waist and you held onto him a little together as you wished to savor the moment. Lately, things had been so hectic in your lives. A lot had happened and it felt like moments such as these were rare. His father had just passed away, but they had never been close. You couldn’t help but wonder if it affected him more than he let you know. 

“What are you thinking about?” Klaus noticed that you were getting lost in your thoughts. 

“Nothing important,” You didn’t want to think at all at that moment, honestly. A smile decorated your face and it convinced Klaus for now. You were happy. Nothing else mattered.

“Actually, I think toast is quite important,” You changed your mind. “Does that sound good to you?” 

“I would never complain about good old toast,” Klaus stated seriously. 

“Glad to know we’re on the same page here,” You were happy to hear that. 

Before you could even think about doing anything, Klaus cupped your face and looked deep into your eyes. He had a very piercing gaze. It felt like he could reach your soul without even trying, but you didn’t mind it at all. He simply took your breath away and turned your legs into jelly. You didn’t fight it, but you wondered what he was up to. 

“You know that I love you, right?” Klaus suddenly confessed to you, which was so unexpected. Just a moment ago he seemed like he was still half asleep, but now he was telling you those three little words so sincerely - like the fate of the world depended on it. The change was so sudden but you didn’t mind it. Hearing those three words was like music to your ears. 

“I love you too,” You answered without a doubt. The two of you had known each other for so long and usually, you let each other know your love through actions. Hearing it out loud was so special each and every time.

“Is everything alright?” You asked him cautiously. 

He nodded quickly and tried to relax his shoulders, “Yeah. I just needed to let you know.”

“I’m here for you if you want to talk about anything,” You reminded Klaus.

“I know,” Klaus seemed content with that. As if to make the moment less serious, and more cheesy, he grabbed your hand delicately. Without breaking eye contact with you, he brought your hand to his lips and he kissed you. After all the years you had spent together, he still made your cheeks heat up somehow. 

“What are you doing?” You wondered but made no effort to stop his amorous actions.

Klaus kissed a trail up your arm until he reached your neck and he paused, “Do I need a reason to kiss you?” 

“Not really, no.”

You decided to grab his jaw ever so softly so you could face each other properly. Something told you that there was something Klaus was hiding, something that was on his mind. But you also knew that there was no use in trying to figure that out until he was ready to talk about it. Perhaps he was still in shock over the fact that his brother who had been missing was back in their lives? It was surreal, even for you and you hadn’t even known Five before. 

Klaus spoke before you could, “I’m pretty sure we agreed on making toast.” It seemed like he wanted to get lost in the moment for now. You were right there by his side and you would be there when and if he wanted to talk about anything else. You’d be all ears even if he wanted to tell you about the most wicked of his stories. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” You wondered, already eager to finish making breakfast so you could waste the rest of the day in bed. If not all day, then certainly the next few hours. 

“Let me help you. I can’t possibly mess up making toast,” Klaus said once you parted from your embrace in order to get things done.

“Don’t jinx it,” You warned him. 

Klaus grabbed a couple of slices of bread and stuffed them in the toaster. “Worst case scenario, the toaster sets on fire and technically we would still have toast.”

You rolled your eyes and failed to hold back a smile.

“I mean you’re not wrong,” it was hard to argue against his logic. 

Klaus pressed the button and watched the bread disappear into the slots, “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Oh you better not set my toaster on fire!” You warned him playfully, because you knew the odds of it setting on fire were slim. Harmless banter with him was always nice. It certainly made mornings much better than they usually were. 

Klaus leaned against the counter as he waited for the bread and he gave you a curious look, “what are you going to do if I happen to set it on fire?” 

You recognized the tone in his voice with ease. The little gleam in his eyes said more than words. He was certainly awake by now. 

“Do you really want to find out?” You grabbed all that you needed from the fridge and closed the door with your hip, then placing all the ingredients on the table, never taking your eyes off of him. 

Klaus seemed positively intrigued by your answer, “Oh, I do.”

A/N: I realized after writing this that I could’ve just made this into a headcanon post. Oh well. I hope you liked it! If you did, I would love to hear your feedback 🥺

Forever Taglist:  @iraniq  @embrycallsgirl  @blackroseyaz @badass-psycho  @r-alexandra01 @p3aches13  @your-pixels-are-showing @disasterren @iamsuperjenna  @yuna-belikova @ornella0910 @optimisticpeacecollector5 @thehumanistsdiary @your-pixels-are-showing @klanceiscannon14

#klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x you #klaus hargreeves x Y/N #Klaus Hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves one shot #klaus hargreeves fluff #tua #tua fanfiction #umbrella academy fanfiction #klaus hargreeves fanfiction #klaus hargreeves/you #klaus hargreeves/Y/N