MORE COMPETENT MIZU FICS PLSSS
Tutor Mizu x Reader
okay okay okay SO: competent, a little mean and degrading Mizu who is top of her class and is the TA for organic chemistry with a side gig of private tutoring for money.
Summary: You’re failing orgo, so you decide to hire a tutor—little do you know it’s your class TA who you happen to have a massive crush on.
1.1k words, Slightly NSFW
Mizu arrives to your apartment five minutes late, and you lay down your hair and fix your sweater before you open the door. She’s tall against the backdrop of your hallway, a loosely slung bag around her broad shoulders sits against her waffle-knocked thermal, the golden chains around her neck dance in the light.
You invite her in, ask if she’d like some water, she accepts and you both eventually make it to your desk in the corner of your room.
She deftly sets up next to your laptop and notebook, her fingertips pink and long against the wood of the desk. You force yourself to look away, a thundering in your throat.
You never thought you’d be such a cliché: crushing on your TA. Yet, as Mizu wraps her palm around the glass of water and takes gulps of water, you can’t help but trace the movement: your eyes entranced and distant.
“Okay, aldol condensations.” She grunts against the wet of her mouth, wipes it off on her wrist, the cloth of her long sleeve, “What did you get on the last exam, and what’s your current grade.”
“Getting right into it.” You joke, crossing your legs and picking at the edge of your paper: your nerves apparent.
“I’m efficient.” Mizu says tartly, pushing her curled bang away from her face with the eraser end of her pencil.
You tell her your grade and your last exam results. The look on her face reveals nothing but you can feel a sense of something there. You wait as she starts writing something on her own notebook.
“My email, my number. If you have any questions outside of class or tutoring—I’ll respond within the hour.” She tears the paper and sets it in front of you. Her hands almost fit against the entire page, very nearly.
You nod, taking the paper and watch as she bends over to grab highlighters and colored pens from her bag. A stretch of skin above her hip is revealed before it’s covered as quickly as it appeared.
Mizu doesn’t ask about your flushed face, instead starts on the mechanisms behind carbonyls and electrophiles. You keep up as best as you can, and when you ask for a recap on certain parts, Mizu backs up easily, explains it slower and asks follow up questions. She’s a good tutor, and you think how steadfast she is.
Even in lecture, she comes over to you after and lets you ask her questions about that day’s concepts, draws the mechanisms out on your notebook so you can reference it later. In those moments, she’s pressed above you, a pillar you can rely on, someone you’d do anything for: including getting a good grade on your next exam.
Mizu has made it clear throughout the tutoring sessions: you’ve gotta do fairly well on the next exam to pass.
So, the days leading up to the exam, she’d accepted your invites for extra sessions. You’d convinced her to come over more often and stay longer with the prospect of a meal.
Take-out of her choice since you couldn’t cook. You were getting the hang of it all fortunately, and Mizu was the happiest you’d ever seen her as she ate. It was nice, nearly domestic, almost.
So when you messed up on a fairly simple reaction, the cold of Mizu’s eyes opened a wide feeling in your belly, in your gut.
“This is clearly wrong.” She’d say, the pencil marks smeared against her fingers, “You’re smarter than this.”
And you’d nod, and you’d apologize, your legs rubbing together. A heat boiling.
The next time Mizu came over, you’d bought a bottle of wine for the occasion: the last session before the exam.
“Oh?” Mizu’s hands wrapped around the neck of the bottle, an easy grip, hold steady and warm. Your jaw went slack, nearly noticeable had you not looked away and hummed a yup!
You didn’t drink often, so you made sure to get a sweet flavored red wine. Mizu’s mouth was a dark wipe of sangria, her stained lips a near perfect sight in your bedroom—against your desk.
“This is wrong.” She’d grunt.
And oh, you’d think, her voice.
“I thought that—“
“This is a primary alcohol. It reacts with an acyl halide, to form a..?”
And she’d look at you. Her eyes dilated and her cheeks and jaw flushed, a strand of fair sticking to her forehead.
“A..um, a carboxylic acid?”
And she’d frown, a cute scrunched up thing, and you’d stutter an apology, head light and mouth heavy.
“Wrong.” It was mean, the way she said it. An annoyed thing that pushed out of her easily, you shivered at it all “You know I didn’t tutor you all this time for you to fail.”
She pressed her hand against your forehead then, your cheek, your neck, the curve of your shoulder.
“Are you that drunk you’d forget everything I’ve taught you?”
Her touch was a heated weight, and you shook your head and she grabbed your chin, directed your gaze at her: an anger flared in her eyes, one barely veiled behind the alcohol.
“Hm?”
You kissed her then. It was easy, the way you leaned in and tasted her. The wine on her lips was still there and you wondered if her tongue was stained in it too—wanted to find out desperately suddenly. So you opened your mouth, and found yourself shocked as Mizu followed, her breath a hot push into your mouth, the roof of it.
She pressed you against your chair, into the bend of the back and straddled you.
“Hah.” Her lips were puffy, a faint velvet. You watched as she observed your face, a hesitance there that dissolved when you let your jaw fall, mouth open, “fuck.”
She kissed you this time, an insistence that made you press your knees together and squirm. The kisses only became heavier, longer, then quick, then slow again.
By the time you’d both calmed down, Mizu’s dress shirt was ripped open, the bones of her chest exposed. A faint mole visible beneath her collarbone. You kissed it and left a mark.
“This isn’t very helpful for you right now.” Mizu commented. Her lips wet and dark. You wanted more, “Your exam..”
“‘ts okay.” You reassure, holding the small of her back in your palm.
She rolled her eyes, set both her hands on either side of your head and gave you a glare, “You better not fucking fail.”
You grinned, a dopey, kiss-happy one.
“Okay.” you whisper, kissing her once more.
The day your exam results arrive, you get the highest score, and Mizu eats you out as a reward.
———
So this was very long, but i kinda got really into it at the end so.. thanks for the ask!
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