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yunoclips · 4 months

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interruptions

Nerd!Haechan x reader

happy new year ;)

nsfw included

He remembers the first time he saw you. The sun was shining way too brightly and the heat was sweltering. It was a normal day on campus for Haechan. Following his normal routine of eating , studying and then getting to class. Leaving his dorm as quietly as possible trying his best to leave his roommate, Jaehyun undisturbed. Jaehyun was someone that valued his hours of “beauty sleep”.

He remembers the last time he accidentally disrupted Jaehyun’s sleep. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. But none the less he manages to exit successfully. Everything goes as planned. He gets to class without any interruptions. Interruptions are actually something that he rarely ever encounters considering he doesn’t have the most active social life.

Haechan has no friends—Not counting the ones he has online waiting for him in his overwatch server.

But he has no actual friends. The ones that you can go out with. The ones that let you crash at their place just because. The ones that keep you company when you’re lonely.

And while that might sound sad to any other person , it actually doesn’t effect him. Well at least that’s what he believes. He has good grades , a decent place to stay , food filling his belly and a computer than can handle everything else. Who needs friends when you already have the essentials.

Besides friends can drag you down. If he had friends he wouldn’t be able to get to class on time and sit in his favorite spot like he’s doing now.

Some people would consider him a Nerd, and he doesn’t blame them. He gets to class on time every day , always participates , never hands in an assignment late , gets perfect scores and to top it all of he wears these thick rimmed black glasses. Being called a Nerd is expected and he doesn’t mind it at all.

As usual class goes by quickly, with no interruptions of course. Haechan steps out into the sweltering heat once again. Using his hand to shield the sun that blinds his eyes , he starts walking to his next class. Everything goes smoothly with no interruptions. Until he feels something fall out of his back pocket. He turns around quickly and bends down to grab it but when he looks up he stares at the first interruption he’s had in a while.

There you were standing in the middle of the campus looking absolutely dumb founded. The light of the sun reflecting off of your skin perfectly. Your hair was beautiful , bringing out all the profound features of your face. Your body was mesmerizing. He knows he shouldn’t be looking at you like this but he can’t help it when he finds himself staring at your tits. Eyes wandering to your thighs. Every thought that he shouldn’t be having suddenly bombards his mind.

He tries his hardest to look away but something about you is so captivating. Maybe it’s the way you looked so confused. Holding the campus directory out , switching between looking down at it and then looking up to try and pin point your location. If he was a normal person he would’ve walked up to you and offered help. But he isn’t normal.

So he turns around and walks to class quicker than he normally would. That day he was 10 minutes early to class.

The next week was full of interruptions. If it wasn’t bad enough that he couldn’t get the image of you out of his mind. You just so happened to be in the same statistics class as him.

“Great”

Even more distractions for him. Today was the day he finally decided to stop allowing you to cloud his mind. He was just gonna keep his head down and do his work like always. You didn’t even know he existed. How could he be so obsessed with someone that doesn’t even know he exists.

His plans were actually starting to work. He managed to actually get some useful notes down on his paper without pausing mid sentence to daydream about how you would look ontop of him. But as the saying goes — all good things must come to an end. His bubble is popped instantly the moment you walk up to him.

“Hi, my name is y/n” You had this disgustingly bright smile on your face. It wasn’t disgusting because it was a bad smile , it was disgusting because it was so precious that it should be locked away in a safe and hidden from the world. Not just exposed like this in front of so many filthy people.

“ I know this is probably a rude way of introducing myself. But I’m actually quite new to campus.”

How pathetic he must look right now, he thinks to himself. His mouth is hung open and his eyes are drilling holes into yours. Instead of responding he just stares. Not thinking much of it , you continue

“Your name is Haechan right? It’s nice to meet you !”

Taking his limp hand off the desk you intertwine it with yours and shake it before softly placing it back down.

When you touch him he feels something inside of him jump. He doesn’t know if was his heart or his cock. Or both.

Still not receiving any response other than a mindless stare, you keep going.

“I actually came to you for a reason.”

There it goes. What a fool he would be to think you would actually come up to him just because you wanted to be friends. Of course you needed something.

“I was talking to our professor just a minutes ago. I had to explain to him that I was considering dropping this course. Math isn’t one of my strengths and I just can’t deal with the added stress right now. He interrupted me though and told me that there was actually someone in this class that could help me out a bit. Nd now here I am.”

You pause taking a moment to try and read his face. Trying to pick out any kind of reaction but you weren’t receiving any.

“You know , it’s totally fine if you say no. I know this is again , kind of rude and abrupt. If you can’t help I won’t be mad or anythi-“

“No!” He says a little too loud. So loud that a few of the students that were close to him turned their heads quickly just to check if something was wrong.

“Shit, this is why you don’t have any friends. What kind of response was that?” Internally scolding himself.

“I-i mean no, it’s totally fine. I would be honored to help you. I-i mean not honored but glad. Honored sounds kind of creepy. A-am I making this weird , fuck you probably think I’m crazy. I promise I’m not it’s jus-“

Cutting him off , you put your hand on his shoulder and give him a comforting look.

“It’s okay. It’s actually kinda cute.”

Cute. You just called him cute. Something inside of him jumped again , this time it was definitely his cock.

“So how about this Saturday at 1 ? We can meet in the park a few blocks down. It’s supposed to be really nice out. I can bring snacks and a blanket. It’s the least I can do considering you’ll be helping me out with something so short notice.” You finish with a smile painted across your face.

All he can do is nod. Still stuck in a trance , he forces his self to answer. “Y-yea , Saturday is good. I can do Saturday”

“Great ! See you Saturday Haechan”

And just like that you disappear. The rest of Haechan’s day was absolutely unproductive.

When he got home that night, he sprawled across his bed staring at the ceiling in darkness. That same night he jerked himself off with the hand you shook.

Removing his trousers with haste. The little glob of spit wasn’t enough to prevent friction. His hand was moving fast, faster than any other time. He was working so hard that his arm caught a cramp.

His stomach was burning , knots of pure pleasure —and humiliation— forming. Coaxing himself through orgasm after orgasm. His head started to fog , he could hear his own heartbeat ripping through his ears. Mouth hung open in a silent scream. Thighs twitching , toes curled.

Only when his cock started to burn from the friction, did he finally stop. He fell asleep with his cock still in his hand. The only thing he could see in his dreams was you.

The rest of the days leading up to Saturday went by like a blur. When the day finally came Haechan found himself sinking in desperation. For some reason the time leading up to your 1’o clock meet up was incredibly slow. He had made sure to take a nice shower with his good body wash that he spent way too much money on. He did his skin care routine , making sure to add an extra step. He even ironed his clothes , something he never does.

He got to the park 10 minutes early. Although he’s always an early person for no real reason , this time he needed those 10 minutes to prepare himself.

How was he gonna greet you? Was he gonna stumble over his words like an idiot or speak in confidence? How did he look , was his shirt crisp enough? Did he smell fine?

Just as he started to question himself more you walked towards him. That beautiful smile planted on your face , carrying a few bags and blankets. He was in a trance , and just like that everything he spent 10 minutes thinking about instantly disappeared from his mind.

You finally reached him and plopped everything down. Leaning in to give him a hug you noticed how stiff he got. Maybe you should’ve asked first , you say to yourself. But little did you know , that small gesture alone sent blood rushing straight to his cock.

“Fucking hell, get it together.” He says to himself.

“Hi! I’m sorry for having you wait like this. The bus was taking longer than usual” genuine sorriness lacing your voice.

“N-no , it’s fine. I wasn’t here that long”. And just like that a loud wave of silence washes over. He’s just staring at you like you have a spider on your forehead.

“Maybe the hug was actually way to much…” You say to yourself.

“Well… How about we take a seat. I’ll open the blanket.” Breaking the silence. You bend down to start setting up. Shortly after you start, you see the other side of the blanket being spread open. Looking up , you see Haechan bent down to help you. How nice.

The rest of the studying session goes smoothly. You come to learn that Haechan was indeed , very smart. You understood everything he was saying , with the exception of some hardcore things. But you weren’t worried , there was always room for another session with him.

After two long hours goes by , you sit up and pop a few grapes in your mouth. He seems to get the message and turns on his back, leaving the textbook forgotten.

“Let’s take a break.” You propose.

“Okay” Lifting himself up to face you , he continues. “I like breaks , breaks are cool.”

He was so cute , you chuckle silently to yourself.

“How about we tell each other one thing about ourselves. It can be anything.”

“O-okay” hesitance evident in his voice.

“I’ll start… I have this obsession with Kiwis. I know you’re probably thinking that I’m being over dramatic but no. I genuinely cannot go a single day without having one. It could be the middle of the night and I would literally wake myself up just to grab a kiwi , then go back to bed. It’s really weird I know… Actually you’re the first person that I’ve told. I guess today is your lucky day” Finishing off with a giggle.

He feels like a pervert when the sound of your giggling goes through his ears and runs straight down to his cock.

Clearing his throat , trying to calm himself down. He starts to speak.

“My name isn’t Haechan. I mean it is Haechan but my actual name isn’t. It’s Donghyuck , but only my mom calls me that.”

Donghyuck. What a nice name. It rings in your ears like the sound of wind chimes.

“Donghyuck.. I like it , I like it a lot actually. Would it be fine if I called you that ?”

At that moment he became even more obsessed with you than before. If that was even possible.

“Yea. I’d like that actually.” For the first time in a while , his heart is filled with warmth.

“Well...Donghyuck. This was really nice. I should get going though , it’s getting dark out here and I don’t wanna get caught at the bus stop. How bout we do this again next week? Same place, same time ?”

“Yes.” Answering almost too quickly.

“I mean , yes that’s fine with me. Same place, same time.”

Giving him a nod with a smile accompanying it , you get up. He follows after you, helping you pack up the snacks and the blanket. After you finish you give him one final hug. Leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Thank you again , Donghyuck.”

And before he gets the chance to react you walk off. Leaving him there in shock with a painfully erect cock in his pants. It takes him 2 minutes to finally move and pick up his backpack from the floor. When he starts walking he almost trips over something. He looks down and it was your perfume. The same perfume that you use in class everyday. The perfume that smells like flower petals with hints of sweet fruit and a pinch of spice. The same perfume that he smelt when you whispered in his ear.

He leans down to pick it up. Staring at it for a few seconds he decides to just put it in his bag. Any normal person would’ve just quickly given it to you considering the bus stop was literally down the street. But Donghyuck is not a normal person.

That night when he gets home , he does something so perverted. Something he’d never tell a soul about. He pulls out your perfume and sprays it all over his stuffed bear that he won at a raffle. Not even taking the time to get naked , he humps the toy with sloppy, inexperienced thrusts. His glasses fog up from the warmth of the room. His face is sweaty and sticky. He had drool seeping out the corners of his mouth. Mind gone completely blank.

He came so hard, that he blacked out.

When he regained consciousness two things were coursing through his mind. One of those things was him praying that his roommate didn’t hear him fucking himself silly. The other thing being that he was in trouble and it was all your fault.

For the next couple of weeks , the two of you had these study sessions. They had went well and you were actually starting to understand the class. You and Donghyuck got closer too.

Ending every session with a fun fact about yourselves turned into full conversations about anything that crossed your mind. You would talk and he would listen. Thoughts of Donghyuck started clouding your head , even when you two weren’t together.

Maybe it was because he never judged you for any weird thing you’ve said. Or maybe it was because he would let you talk your heart out — something nobody has ever done , and he would just listen happily. It could’ve also been the way he looks completely heart broken every time you leave him , like he’s worried you will never comeback.

He’s also pretty attractive as well, soft black hair, beautiful skin, beauty moles that were spread so perfectly across his face and those thick rimmed black glasses.

When you walked up to his seat in class that day , he assumed that it would just be for another study session.

“Hi , we’re still on for saturda-“

“Do you wanna go out with me?” Cutting him off quickly.

“Like on a date.” You continue. You wait for a response but it takes a while. Maybe he didn’t understand you ?

But Donghyuck definitely understood. He understood so well that he thinks he’s dreaming actually. When the words “go out with me” flowed out of your mouth , his ears started ringing. He forgot how to breathe for a quick second. And for some odd reason he feels tears well up in his eyes. But before you think he’s trying to deny you , he forces himself to respond.

“Are you asking me out ?”

“Yea I am actually”

This can’t be right. The girl of his dreams asking him out , this has to be some sick joke.

“Are you sure you weren’t talking to the person behind me , cause that would make sen-“

“No. I’m asking you, Donghyuck Lee, out on a date with me.”

The tears were starting to fall now. Not of sadness but instead of Joy and utter happiness.

“Y-yea. I would be honored to go out with you, Like on a date of course.” Bringing his hand up to quickly wipe his cheek before you notice how pathetic he is.

“Great ! I was thinking Friday , 5’ o clock ? There’s this really good looking burger joint around here.” There goes that beautiful smile again , so bright and big.

“Friday sounds good. I like Friday's …”

“Good,” Pausing to take a good look at his face, you noticed his eyes were a bit watery. How cute. “I’ll see you friday then , Donghyuck.” And just like that you disappear once again.

When Donghyuck gets home that night , he cries in his pillow. He cries because he finally understands what it feels like to not be lonely— something that he’s been for so long. He cries and then humps his stuffed toy once again , until the only thought running through his mind is you.

Friday came quickly. You two had met up a small little diner in the corner of town as promised. Everything was going perfect. The evening filled with jokes and you laughing at Donghyuck as he was having a mini panic attack after spilling ketchup all over his shirt.

The conversations were flowing so smoothly , it was like you two had known each other your entire lives.

And yet again as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

It was time to head back home but instead of taking the bus like you usually would you and Donghyuck decided to just walk.The entire walk was filled with you two telling each other things that nobody else knew. You felt this weird sense of comfort when you spoke to him. Almost like he was the only person who understood who you really were.

When you approached the front of your building you felt a wave of sadness wash over you. This was truly an amazing night.

“I usually don’t do this after the first date but… there’s just something about you Donghyuck.” For the first time since you met him , you felt nervous.

You were staring at the ground beneath you. You took a few seconds to recollect yourself. What was the worse that could happen? This is Donghyuck. Your sweet , understanding , shy , silly Donghyuck.

“Donghyuck.. do you maybe wanna go out with me? As like… my boyfriend?”

Boyfriend. The word boyfriend rang in Donghyuck’s ears. His breathing started getting shallow and his knees buckled a bit. A rush of euphoria washed over him , his mind was racing and his heart was beating out of his chest. The tears welled up in his eyes and started to roll down his pretty face like a waterfall.

“Y-yea , I’d love that actually” Pausing to sniffle and wipe his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

“Are you okay hyuck ? You’re crying…” There was genuine concern in your voice.

“N-no I’m fine. Just really really happy.”

What a dork. He was so infatuated with you that he started to cry when you asked him out. You found it endearing that he enjoyed you so much. A smile painted your face. There was an intense silence that enveloped the two of you in a box. It was as if you and Donghyuck were the only people on earth. Basking in each others glory.

Staring into his captivating eyes you start to inch in closer to his face. Finally planting a soft kiss on his lips. He had completely stopped breathing. When you pulled away he looked absolutely stunned. Cute.

You give him a final look before turning away , walking to the entrance of your building. His eyes following you in silence.

Before you opened the door you turned around to say one last thing.

“Goodnight , Donghyuck.” And just like that, you disappear.

After you left him , he stood still in front of your building for 10 minutes. The world was revolving but Donghyuck was absolutely stuck. He needed time to comprehend what just happened , he had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

That night when Donghyuck got home , he cried for a bit. Then he got on Overwatch to tell his buddies that he’d be gone for a while. Finally he sprawled himself out on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Occasionally bringing his hand up to rub over his lips, as if rubbing them would take him back to the moment you placed your soft lips on his. As the night got darker , his eyes got heavy. When he finally fell asleep he had a smile on his face and dreamed of you.

Everything was perfect.

#nct smut #sub!nct #sub!idol #sub!kpop #lee haechan smut #haechan x y/n #haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #sub!haechan

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prettyboykatsuki · 6 months

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TEXTBOOK CITATIONS ON IMMORAL SEX | S. GETOU ft. F. TOJI

✮ tags ; porn no plot, afab + fem!reader (good girl, little girl once sarcastically by toji, pretty), mild degradation (dirty girl, a bitch in heat), professor!getou + security guard!toji, dubcon, imbalanced power dynamics, age gaps(10+ years), mild coercion / blackmail, spit play, wet ‘n messy sex, face-fucking, oral (f +m!recieving), spanking, restraints, dirty talk, creampie / unprotected sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 10.6k

✮ synopsis ; You’re willing to do anything to pass your intro course. Whatever it takes. No cost is too high.

✮ a /n ; a comm for the beloved @fushironi !!! thank you for commissioning me and letting me post your work. if anyone is interested in a commission i will be reopening them at some point this month hopefully

A SIDE NOTE: THIS IS VERY CONSENSUAL!! but the relationship is inherently unethical so the dubcon tag is there. and this is. just smut. no plot no brain. just porn.

You're failing ethics.

You're failing ethics and failing it badly.

You refuse to take all of the blame for your failures. Some of it is your fault, but most of it is the fault of your good-for-nothing academic advisor. You're not sure what they get paid for, since it seems like there's an elaborate prank going on between staff and you're the only one not in on the joke. In what universe is it possible, plausible - that an individual could get paid for doing everything but their job?

Apparently this one. But whatever.

In your last semester of university, on the edge of graduating and totally on the right track - you're informed that you're not going to be able to graduate in the expected time frame because you are missing a single course. You learn this information about two days before registrations close, which means all the meaningful classes contributing to your major are booked and busy. Everything is full, and everything that isn't doesn't contribute to your degree. As in, even if you took it - it wouldn't give you what you need to graduate.

After a full-blown mental break, a long night crying yourself to sleep in your dorm, and an egregious amount of begging - you managed to snag yourself a class. It wasn't ideal by any stretch of the imagination, and it did put quite the strain on your schedule. Straight out of your 8am lab - you had to speed walk to the other end of campus and make sure you made it to lecture. The lecture time itself was an hour and twenty minutes, attendance mandatory, twice a week - which meant you had to delay lunch again till afterwards and learn on empty fumes till 1 pm.

Still, better than not graduating at all.

You'd hoped (expected?) that the course itself would be about average in coursework. For one, it's an intro class. Intro to Ethics or PHIL-2467, with Professor Getou Suguru. Secondly, the actual listed coursework seems simple enough. Discussion boards, reading analysis, and a few papers made up for most of the grade. The expectations were outlined as clearly as they could be.

You didn't really know anything about Professor Getou at the time, only that his ratemyprofessor described him as somewhat strict but mostly good.

In any case, you'd consider yourself lucky. And in an effort not to freak out about your circumstances, you'd practically chanted to yourself each night the same mantra. Everything was going to be fine. You've taken nearly 120 hours of coursework, and a little extra time won't kill you. At the start of the semester, you fully believed it too. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and utterly naive.

How could a single course torment you like this? You hadn't the faintest clue. At first, it struck you as odd that the course felt as difficult to grasp as it did. The readings were complex and extremely long but always said a lot of nothing. Much of your grade was dependent not only on assigned work but participation and discussion. The paper criteria was only simple on the surface, but proved to be too lengthy to comprehend and too difficult to fulfill.

Long story short, the class was kicking your ass. And the ass-kicking slowly progressed into a failure so bad it was laughable. You're in your final year, and that means taking a lot of difficult and specified courses in relation to your major. You were at the point where your classmates were starting to thin out, and you were seeing the same group of people you had as a freshman. As far as prioritizing goes, a 3-credit hour course that isn't technically meaningful to you falls to the very bottom of your priorities. You're more concerned with things like job-hunting and finishing your capstone and all the stuff related to your actual career.

So you've been half-assing all the papers and exams, falling asleep in class, and lowkey straight up ignoring the weekly discussion boards.

However, above everything else, the worst part of your class is your professor. Professor Getou Suguru. PhD in Comparative Ethics with a Masters in Cognitive Science.

You didn't really have a chance to speak with any of your friends about Professor Getou, despite it being in your best interest - because you only knew you had the class two days before it started. You'd come to learn only two things about him after attending. First, he's a complete hardass when it comes to grading any assignments, and second most of his merit comes from the fact he is ridiculously good-looking.

He can't be any older than his late thirties or early forties, which means he's young. Young enough to be attractive but old enough for most of your peers to thirst for him in unhealthy ways. He's at least a decade and a half older than you, and by god does he make it clear.

What they don't tell you about college is that there's nothing that can make or break a class more than your professor. Everyone is always too worried about everything else, about getting their schedule right - that they often overlook this basic tenet of college life even though it's so crucial. The worst part is that while various websites rating your professors are helpful, you won't truthfully know how you feel about a professor until you've met them in a classroom. You've had professors with lower ratings be absolute angels, and professors with higher ones being some of the most useless in your entire academic career.

You were hoping that Professor Suguru would be what you expected. That his astounding 4.5/5 would be a meaningful assessment of his character, that he would be tolerable and polite and understanding and that your semester would be smooth sailing because of it.

But of course, of course - that couldn't be further from the truth.

You don't know at what point exactly your relationship to Professor Suguru became as sour as it is right now. There's no real pivotal movement where mild intolerance became full-blown and outright distaste. But part of it, you know, stems from the fact your beloved professor is a snake.

You have no idea how no one else notices it. It genuinely feels like you're the only one who catches the subtleties of his behavior. There's just something about him that's a little…off. The irony isn't lost on you. He's an ethics professor, but something about him makes alarm bells go off in your head. A walking red flag, though a handsome one. He's off in a subtle way, but more than that - he's very openly smug to every single one of his students. It's just that no one else seems to really care. The air of pretension that surrounds him in his every movement is suffocating. Maybe that's part of the charm, if the way girls flock to him after class is anything to go by.

Even so, you just know there's something deliberate about his casual cruelties. He always seems to pick out the quiet kids, and from the beginning of your semester to now - he always, always manages to single you out of the crowd of students. In every class, in every discussion, in every chance he has to make you out to be a troublemaker he will.

Yes, you don't really have any idea how it started. But you've been keeping a long record of every single act of personal terror that damned man has been inflicting on you since the start of the course, and you're not unconvinced that your shit grade is in part because he wants to see you grovel in front of him.

The first time it happened - you figure it was a coincidence. He had called you out in class after you missed a discussion board. You hadn't done the reading, and it wasn't obviously humiliating but it singled you out all the same. When you fumbled coming up with an answer, he gave you a smug smile that so quickly morphed into a fake sincere one, you wondered if you were imagining things.

The second time was when you came in late after a walk of shame, and Professor Suguru greeted you by the door by asking if those were the same clothes you wore yesterday. After being completely mortified by it, the once dark gaze immediately rescinded to his usual fake-calm self. It was suspicious, but not the concrete evidence you needed.

And the third time was after your first project of the semester. Your grade was lower than you deserved, and you knew it - so you went to his office hours to bitch and moan to get it bumped up. But he wouldn't budge, saying that he thought his assessment was accurate. Made a smug face as he told you he just didn't think you thought your points out through. Unfair critiques shielded by flowery words and polite gestures. It was that moment that cemented the dislike, though it wasn't the start.

The beginning of the end, so to speak.

Ever since then, you've harbored nothing but dislike for him. You can see past his pretty face and you don't see anything good. You've had unpleasant professors before, but none have ever targeted you so specifically. None of your previous professors, even at the worst, seemed to hold such an unbelievable personal grudge.

You're all alone, fighting an invisible battle.

The worst of it though, is that you simply couldn't be bothered to give a shit about it for most of the semester. You had way too much going on, so you just had to put up with the inexplicable dread of attending that class until you had to deal with it again eventually.

And after months and months of avoiding the issue head-on, you're at a point where you can no longer do so. Your grade is officially below a C after bombing your last quiz, and there's only 5 weeks left until your semester is over and you're barred from graduation.

And you have no fucking idea what you should do about the situation.

There's a subtle pit of dread in your stomach as you enter your first philosophy lecture of the week.

For the first time since the start of the semester, Professor Getou doesn't antagonize you as soon as you enter the door. In a strange way, this makes you kind of uncomfortable. He gives you his usual fake smile, but the fact he's gone out of his way to leave you alone makes you feel like he's planning something.

You brush your paranoia aside as you take a seat in the back of your class. You don't have any friends in this lecture, at least not ones you do more than greet. You sit closer to the back of the lecture hall, tucked into a corner and up a few steps.

The charms on the end of your book bag zippers click together as you take your seat. You open your laptop - pulling up the lecture slides to pretend to study while opening 2048 to play while Professor Getou goes on about his business. You're hoping he's going to go easy on you today, and that his lack of interference is a sign of mercy.

More people start to trickle in and the classroom is the usual amount of packed it is by this point in the semester. The last day to drop passed last week, so the number of students has decreased despite it being spring semester.

Your professor starts his lecture as soon as the clock hits 11:30am. You look up from your computer, watching him as he sets up his slide deck and waits for all the conversation to settle before he begins talking.

He catches your eyes briefly before he continues, but he holds it for long enough that you know it's intentional. You frown at him, and it almost looks like he laughs - but you can't be sure your mind isn't tricking you into thinking that.

"Good morning everybody," His voice is smooth and pleasant - hair tied up neatly. He's wearing his usual attire. Black slacks, and a loose-fitting white shirt with some kind of canvas shoe. "How's everybody hanging in there? Good? Bad?"

He takes a look around the room, gauging peoples replies before chuckling.

"Not in good shape huh? Stick it out, a few more weeks and you'll be out of here. Today, we're going to continue on into section five of our coursework - the shortest of all of our other sections," He grabs something that clicks the slide into the next one, a few images next to a wall of text "We have a lot to cover in the last few weeks, but I want to start with a refresh of what concepts we've been learning for the last few weeks."

The swiftness in the way his eyes land on you is comical in its predictability. You give him an uncomfortable half-smile as he calls your name and brings the class's attention your way. A few looks of pity don't go unnoticed. You stiffen, straighten your back as he says your name slowly before asking.

"Do you think you can tell me, what are the four core structures that define modern Japanese philosophical thinking?"

There's real, uncomfortable weight to his gaze that makes you choke. You pull back slightly.

"Uhm, well - there's Shintoism, Confucianism, Buddhism and western ideology. Primarily German idealism."

He gives you a smug look, the same one you always see before it fades off to an uncannily brilliant smile. Not a sincere one, because when is it ever - but there all the same.

"Someone's been studying hard huh? But you are correct. We've spent the majority of this class going over the first three. How Shinto tradition, Confucianism, and Buddhism were experienced in Japan - isolated from Anglo-Saxon influence for the first few centuries of its establishment. We've also studied the vague historical timeline of these influences, mostly focusing on modern philosophy. We've covered Edo period philosophy as a precursor for what we know and understand now."

You can say a lot about Professor Getou, but more than anything - he has a certain way of commanding the room's attention that never lets you get completely comfortable. He has an air of charisma you've never seen in your life and being in close proximity to it makes you feel like you're being swept in by waves larger than life.

You fidget almost anxiously as you wait for him to continue his lesson.

"Our last few weeks are going to cover the culmination of your previous lessons, and what dictates both national morality and the hierarchy of modern Japanese social mores - Bushido. The way of the Samurai."

Professor Getou continues with this slide deck as he outlines Bushido conceptually. From its existence as a moral code in late 12th century Japan, to the many misconceptions about the strictness in which it was adhered. He starts the lessons like he starts many others, explaining misconception and myth before touching the surface of the subject at hand.

It's in his nature to advocate for the whole truth. From the start of your classes to now, Professor Getou always places the same emphasis. If only that truth is unable to be understood without opposition. It's like his whole being is constructed by it, opposition that is always radical and jaw-dropping. You've known this about him since he voiced his open critique for certain ideas about social welfare and about the emphasis of national morality.

You can't be certain what he really believes - only that he'll voice his views as critically as possible, if only to stir the room.

"Bushido is the heart and soul of modern and postmodern Japanese ethics, but it remains critically undefined despite its usage and citation functionally. Other philosophical schools of thought have strict definitions - Bushido is evolutionary in nature. Inazo Nitobe is primarily credited with the modern and popular interpretation of Bushido, but has received criticism for its obvious influence from Western ideas, and its comparison to chivalry."

Professor Getou sits back on the edge of his desk with a look on his face.

"The tendency of Japanese philosophy to lean into metaphysics does not align with the many values of infrastructure and military present in the culture now, but I'm not going to critique the philosophy for you," He skips to the next slide, your last project of the semester on the wall "For the sake of brevity, I'm going to have you write a paper on one of the eight outlined ideals in Nitobe's work, and I want you to reflect on that ideal in your paper."

A collective whispering erupts in the class as people stress about the assignment of their final few weeks. Not unexpected given the circumstances. Professor Getou doesn't flinch as he waits for the room to settle down.

"This will be your final project in this classroom, and will count as your final grade. On one hand, doing a good job on it means you have nothing to worry about for the last few weeks. On the other it's make or break," He locks eyes with you again as he says this, startling you as his smile grows coy and inauspicious "So if you're in need of a good grade to pass you, I'd recommend coming to see me during office hours or during one-on-one time so I can get you the grade you need. We'll discuss more at the end of class, but we've gotta get through more lectures so you can get an idea of what you can pick."

He gives you one another look, another pointed and obviously direct look, before he proceeds on with his lecture. It gives you a bad feeling in your stomach, and maybe you're being too self-centered thinking he's focusing too much on you.

But you can't help it, swallowing down your uncertainty as you continue on with the lesson.

You need to pass this class.

___

You meet up with Nobara after the fact.

She's a good sounding board for your problems as usual. Where you're always looking for the most civil solutions, she's good at giving it to you straight on what you should do. She's no bullshit and you like that about her. Whenever you need a kick in the ass or an ounce of courage, she's the person for the job.

So after meeting up for lunch, ranting again about Professor Getou (for the hundredth—no, thousandth time), and whining about his weird behavior, you're expecting some semi-sound, if not mean advice on what you should do.

"Have you thought about just fucking him?" She says instead, her voice full of sincere boredom. It comes out so casually, like she's relaying the news cycle to you - and you can't help but be utterly shocked listening to it. "Not that it was my first suggestion, but I mean…it's getting ridiculous."

"Hello? Where the hell did that come from? What do you mean just fucking him?"

She gives you a sideways glance of disdain as if you were the one saying something unreasonable. She leans forward into her hand mirror, gluing on her eyelashes for her afternoon date with Maki. She scoffs when she realizes your shock is genuine.

"Are you serious? Does this not read as an elaborate scheme for this total jackass to fuck you?"

You're flabbergasted. Surely she's not being serious with you.

"Nobara."

"Haah? Tch. Don't make that face. It's a gross abuse of his power but well, he's not ugly. If he were any younger of a professor, would you like… not assume that was the end game?"

"Nobara, he's a professor of ethics. His whole career is ethics."

"Yeah. Like. The perfect cover for wanting to screw his wide-eyed, desperate students. He's a hot, young professor. Not my type but you get me. Don't you think it's a little naive to assume his personal vendetta against you is shit, I don't know… totally lacking that motive? Think with your brain, not your tender little heart for a minute, okay?"

"It's not that!"

"Really? Just like your relationship with Mr. Fushiguro is totally platonic?"

"I said it was one-sided, not platonic."

"You're my whole heart and soul, you know that right? I didn't freak on you when you said you had a crush on Megumi's deadbeat dad. You're my salvation from the idiots we call guy friends. So I'm saying this with love, and not as the complete bitch you know me as - you're being dumb."

"Nobara, are you seriously saying you think this whole thing is about him wanting to," You can barely even get the words out. You're not that much of a prude but god. "Wanting to have… sex with me?"

"Yeah. What else would it even be? I think an awful man is interested in screwing you - a hot, capable twenty-something. Are you stupid? Is that like, sooo impossible for you to consider?"

"Well it's not the first place I would think to go, that's for sure."

"And that's your whole problem. Don't get me wrong, again, totally gross. Is it like.. a total abuse of his authority? Yeah. But that doesn't have anything to do with you personally. If I'm right, and you fuck him - you get a good lay and to graduate. And you need both."

"Nobara!"

"Don't be mad, I love you, okay? But I'm thinking about your future and your prospects. There's nothing wrong with it on a technical level."

"That is so untrue and you know it—"

"Look. I don't like it. I think it's a weak move and kind of corny and gross. But you've been planning your big graduation for years. And it's not a bad opportunity, and you're not a complete idiot. You said before that he's never inappropriate with the other girls right? You might even be the only one. As far as I'm concerned, there's no reason for you to not get laid and pass."

"Oh, so the student-teacher thing isn't reason enough?"

"Not if you wanna graduate it's not."

The two of you remain at a stand-still as his words trap you into a corner. How the hell do you even deal with this information? And how on Earth is she so sure of herself anyways? You think you're pretty good with signs, at least about things like this.

But it doesn't feel like flirting. He's never flirted with any of the students in class, despite how much they seem to fawn over him. Could this weird, psychological dance you've been doing for the last twelve weeks be some sort of unspoken foreplay ritual?

The more you think about it, the less it seems implausible to you. There's a wave after that, some cross between impending doom and shameful arousal blooming up inside of you as everything hits you all at the same time.

When you return to reality after being trapped in your thoughts, Nobara gives you a mindful (almost pitiful) smile and shakes her head. You frown at her in reply, squeezing the bridge of your nose.

"If it were like literally anyone else, I'd totally tell them it's a bad idea. But it's not like you're going on to date him, and you're what - 24? because of your gap year so you're not a preteen like some of the freshmen in your class. I just don't see any reason not to go for it."

You tamp down the small voice in the back of your head, encouraging you to do - and instead ask her a follow-up question.

"...Do you think I should attend his office hours tomorrow, yes or no? I have to email him by tonight to get the one on one."

"Yeah. Yes. And shave before you go."

You decide, for the sake of your sanity and everyone else's - to ignore Nobara's odd implications about what Professor Getou wants from you and to attend his office hours.

(That's a partial lie, you figure - given the fact you did shave, and shower before attending. You're wearing something kind of nice underneath. But you still don't think he wants to fuck you. It's more of a safety precaution than anything else.)

You made the game plan last night that you would go, present your idea, and then beg him to be kind to you during the grading process. You even developed a list of things to sob and cry about it to generate something of a sob story if everything went awry. You've forsaken your pride. The only thing that you need to get out of this meeting is a passing grade.

And that is, of course, by any means necessary.

Fearing for your life, the state of your mood improves as you approach the building hosting Professor Getou's office. Of all of the people you interact with semi-regularly on campus (all of which you are quite fond of), Nobara wasn't lying about your affection for campus security guard - Toji Fushiguro.

He's an older man. Older than you by double digits, and from what you can tell - older than even your professor. You've been fond of him ever since he brought you back to your dorm after a horrible break-up with your ex as a sophomore. He's got a rough edge, and there's plenty of unverified rumors of his past. You know that he has something of a criminal record too.

But for all of those rumors, and for all the things you hear about him - he's been one of the highlights of your campus experience. You've had a one-sided school-girl crush on him ever since that night, because you were sober enough to catch his body and how it feels. He was strong. Not in an average way. He made it so effortless when he was carrying you home in his arms - and it's not the first time you've seen him lug around things at least over 300 pounds like they were nothing.

But attractiveness aside, he is uncharacteristically good at cheering you up. He's funny and witty, all while maintaining a cool facade. He's endearing in his own way too, and you're a little head over heels for him though you'd never push yourself to make the first move.

Still, when he sees you come towards the building - he greets you with a wide smile. The scar over his busted lip - split open and welcoming as you run up to him for a hug. He's normally patrolling around campus, so it feels lucky to catch him where you least expect.

He wraps you up with a single arm, your feet temporarily lifting from the ground before you get put back down again.

"Mr. Fushiguro, what are you doing here?"

"I got moved over here since there's been some rumor about someone stealing from the labs upstairs. So I'm on lock up duty for this building 'till it gets fixed up and solved," He says, voice as smooth as ice "What about you sweetheart? It's gonna get dark out soon."

"Ah, I have office hours with Professor Getou today. I need to consult with him about a paper."

"That right? Just gonna be you in there, then?"

"Yep. I'm gonna go in there and beg him for a good grade on our next assignment. So for the sake of my sanity, please wish me luck?"

Mr. Fushiguro tilts his head to one side, grinning.

"Wouldn't that mean you graduate sooner instead of later? Can't wish ya luck on that." He says, making you flush and letting the feeling linger before continuing "Just kiddin'. A pretty face like yours should do you just fine. Knock 'em dead."

"I feel a lot better about it with your encouragement." You say honestly. Mr. Fushiguro gives you a laugh.

"Treat me to something if my luck makes any difference. And hurry in. Last thing you'd wanna do is be late."

You nod, wide-eyed and dazed by how charismatic he is before you rush into the building. It's silent, given how late in the school day it is. Most people have already gone home, with the exception of the other poor souls likely chasing down their professors for the same reasons as you.

You feel an overwhelming sensation of dread as you encroach upon Professors Getou's office. There's no one else in the close vicinity, only a few closed classrooms and students who are passing by the small corner where his door resides - most of which are making their way to leave.

You decide to take a deep breath, calming your shaken nerves before knocking politely once on his door and entering the room.

Professor Getou's office looks like how you'd expect it to look. It's clean, and sleek - and lacking almost completely of items of personal effect with the exception of his desk. It's the first time you've ever been inside of the room before, but it smells distinctly of him. He has that same scent surrounding him, like flicks of nicotine and a hint of bergamot. Sweet with the taste of metallic bitterness, like blood and sugar.

You feel the back of your throat bob as you see your Professor sitting at his desk. It's lacking his usual gracefulness. His shirt is unbuttoned down by three entire buttons, and his slacks seem looser. Most notable is his hair - classically long, now in a loose bun with pieces falling all on his shoulders and rolling down his neck.

You think of what Nobara said to you earlier in the day alone, a strange and overwhelming sensation of lust and embarrassment making it difficult for you to open your voice and talk.

It's Professor Getou who greets you first. He looks up from whatever he was reading and looks at you from where you stand awkwardly at his door. His smile widens, though it's just by a little.

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd be here. Looks like you're right on time." He says first, sitting up in his chair but not bothering to gather himself in any way otherwise "Come on in and sit. I assume you're here to talk about your grade."

You sit across from him hesitantly, hands folded in your lap as you put your bag down on the floor.

He studies you quietly. There's a long stretch of silence, where neither of you do anything but sit in each other's company.

He breaks the silence first.

"So, while I have a guess," He says, elbows on his desk "Do you want to talk to me about what you're here for?"

You've practiced the dialogue in your head so many times now. What to do and how to say what you need too, but the words seem to fizzle out completely when it's time to really say them. Leaving nothing but uncertainty, you open your mouth only to close it once again.

"Uhm," Your voice strains trying to make the words out into a coherent sentence. "I came to talk about my paper. And my grade, like you mentioned in class."

"So you decided to heed my advice? Good girl, that was a smart choice," You try not to be taken aback by the pet name - unsure if it's as inappropriate as you think it is "Do you know what virtue you want to cover?"

"I thought I would pick uhm, righteousness - and then pull from some of the Western ethics we learned about. Making uh, connections between deontological ethics and duty and how it relates to the defined idea of righteousness," You explain nervously, an uncomfortable laugh bubbling out of your throat "How practicing duty and righteousness relate to each other."

"Hmm. Sounds like you've had time to think about it a little, then."

"I uhm, haven't finished the reading but I did take a look over my section to see if I could make it work."

"I think you have something to work with. You'll need to straighten out the thesis of your paper into something more tangible. I know that's an ironic ask. But I think it's a good idea," He gives you a brief glance, studies you with eyes. Snake-like. Something coils inside of you, tickles and brushes against your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise "It seems like you have something more to tell me, though."

Do you? Is there anything more there? The answer lies indifferently on a scale from obviously to no. nothing at all and it haunts you that he's able to pick it out.

"It's just well. Uhm. You know, I don't have the best grade in this class so I was more prepared to go down with my grade. You approved quicker than I thought you would."

"Your grade is pretty abysmal. Did you come in here planning to beg?"

You refrain from an instant yes, even though it's what you feel. Something about the way he says it makes your stomach clench. Your heart quickens. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as you laugh uncomfortably.

"Something like that? Uhm, or at least try to hash things out between us. I know our relationship over the c-course of the semester has been kind of sour so I…"

He cuts you off.

"Has it?"

Your brain stutters to halt.

"Uhm. Yes?"

It's unpredictable, utterly and completely - the way he reflects on your words like you've said something incomprehensible. You aren't sure if that's sincere. You can't be sure if any of the words out of his mouth are. But he doesn't seem like he's lying. Your mind flashes to Nobara, and you find yourself speaking before you can stop it. It comes out like a flood.

"I j-just always assumed you singled me out in class because you didn't like me? I don't mean to be accusatory, though."

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong idea," He says, shaking his head "I don't harbor any negative feelings for you at all."

"Oh," You say, eyes falling down to your lap again "Right, then."

"You must be desperate for that passing grade, hm? If you're meeting with a professor you think hates you."

You glance at him.

"Well, yes. I want—need to pass this class. I've already planned my graduation for this semester."

"And you'd be willing to do anything for that, is what you're implying?"

"Yes," You say, with a sudden rush of unwavering confidence "Anything."

"Let me ask you another question, then." He lets his elbows rest on the edge of his table, a familiar coy smile "Do you think there's any other reason for why I've been paying special attention to you, aside from me disliking you? You're a smart girl, so I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out."

The weight of his words don't go unnoticed. The air feels heavy as it hangs between you. He couldn't be implying it so directly could he? Your mind drifts back to Nobara's warning to you, and your breath hitches. Your eyes widen as you glance up for the first time and give him a look of mild distress.

And he smiles. His grin widens as soon as it dawns on you.

"Seems like you've reached an important conclusion," He says, casually - as he sits up in his chair and leans back. Stretched like nothing could get in his way "Why don't you share with the class?"

"You," Your voice is a nervous tremor. You must be crazy. You must be completely out of your mind "...To sleep with me?"

"See? I told you, you're a smart girl."

The question is a burning one. One you've been wanting to ask since you started thinking about it last night.

"B-but…why? And why me? A-and,"

"You have a tendency for being combative. You know that? An air of defiance. I can tell you're a little older than your peers. A little wiser, and a little more knowing of when to ask for help," Getou outlines, staring you down "And seeing you with that sense of desperation was exciting for me. I'm a man of simple tastes. At my age, I know what I want."

"And I like when tough, combative, clever women turn into babbling, desperate, needy girls. I'm quite fond of it, actually."

He's detrimentally serious. Your stomach flips.

"Do you want to pass this class?" He asks you, an air of confidence surrounding him. You close your eyes, unsure if you can call it coercion when you're feeling so terribly willing about it.

"Yes. I need to pass."

"Then come up here," He gestures, widens his legs and leans back in his chair "And sit."

Your body is burning. You don't know if you're even really in the situation, or if you've daydreamed it into something impossible. Something phantom moves you. Stands you to your feet shakily before walking in short strides. Professor Getou looks at you from where you stand over him.

His hand brushes your outer thigh, patting it.

"Sit."

So you sit. You spread yourself and straddle your professor - and the reality dawns on you the minute you touch what you're doing. You haven't gotten laid in a bit, and he's nothing like anyone you've ever slept with. You feel out of your element. You get the impression he's a man, a grown one. There's a confidence in him that looms and looms and looms, overshadowing any of your doubt.

He's sexier up close. There's the faintest trace of smile lines on his expression as you look down at him. He guides your arms to loop around your neck, and holds your hips with his hands.

Then you feel it, almost instantly - something hard and bulging pressing against the seam of your pants and against your crotch. He's already half-hard and he hasn't even kissed you. He grins at you lazily, like a cat with cream.

"I'll pass you as soon as I put it in," His hands are so big - long, slender fingers gripping your ass "And give you extra credit when you cum for me. How's that sound?"

You feel dirty. It's all happening so fast. Almost vulgar, but it's impossible to feel cheap. To believe in the wrongness of it when Professor Getou is so undeniably sexy. Wrong, on so many levels, to do this for the sake of your grade. Or just in general. Yet you want it, yearn for it, find the culmination of all your annoyances melting as he graces you himself.

"I wanna pass," You say, uncharacteristically nervous about everything. You add the next part a little quieter "...I want it."

"What do you want, exactly?"

"Want you to fuck me." You admit, against your better judgment "Please?"

"Gonna make a real pretty mess out of you," He says, voice smooth and serene. You look down at him. His knuckles brush against your jaw, on your cheek before his thumb holds on your lower mouth. His fingers push past the edge of your lips, sliding against your tongue and gently running along your teeth. He gags you on it, so slightly - enough to startle you but not enough to hurt. You feel spit pour from your lips.

Thick messy strings of drool drip down the sides of your mouth. You want to back away in shame. But there's an air of intention behind the gesture. It's deliberate, the action - the mess and how it runs down your neck. Before you know it, he's kissing you in that same state.

Professor Getou kisses like he's done it before.

His hands grip on your ass as he kisses hot and heavy. Self-assured, he sucks and bites at your mouth - sticking his tongue in and mixing his saliva with yours in a way that feels downright dirty. Yet it makes you throb, white-hot flames licking at the back of your thighs. The sparks of arousal crawl up your skin.

Your nerves tighten as Professor Getou cups your face with one palm, kissing you with fervor. You melt into him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Been thinking about what you would look like bent over my desk all semester," He says as he pulls away, looking on with admiration at your messy complexion "You wanna go on ahead and show me?"

Another wave of embarrassment washes over you, but you find yourself standing to your feet. Sliding your sweats off down your legs - your lower half is left bare with the exception of your feet. You lay or stomach on his desk, the cold wood sending chills up your whole body and your stomach and tits lay flat and squishy against the hard material. You stand, shoulder width apart, and present yourself in front of him.

"That's what I like to see," His voice is rich and deep as he speaks. You can feel him inch towards you, pulling you apart with his palms before his hand comes down on your ass in one hard motion. The noise echoes against the walls of the room "See, I knew you could listen well when you had to."

You don't say anything in reply, pressing your cheek against the desk.

"W-what do I call you?" You ask, your voice trembling. You feel his fingers against the seam of your panties. He snaps the cotton waistband against your skin before humming thoughtfully, a light tap to your ass.

"Getou is fine. Suguru is too. Sir if that makes you more comfortable."

Getou makes a show of fondling you, though you can't see it - you can feel the way his eyes nearly swallow your naked lower half. How his fingers touch and prod all of your sensitive places, with some kind of keen observation. Everything Getou says is like that, keen and particular.

"Such a pretty pussy on you. Would've been such a waste if you didn't come to me."

You don't bother to ask what he means by that. Behind you, there's a noise. Of a chair rolling back, and the dull thud of knees hitting the ground. Before you know what's happening, there's a face dangerously close to your clothed pussy. The minute you try to squirm, there's a tight grip keeping you in place. He takes a deep breath. Without any real hesitance, you feel his tongue lick across the clothed material.

In one fell swoop, he pulls your panties to one side and kisses your clit without any more real introduction. You're gripping the edge of the table you're bent over as you feel his tongue slide against the wet folds of your pussy, making your voice cry out involuntarily. Normally people would urge you to be quiet, but you got the feeling he didn't care if anyone heard you crying out for him. You get a second wave of intuition telling you he might even like it.

A sensation of bliss washes over you as he sucks hungrily at your cunt. It feels good enough to be holy. There's such immense expertise in it that you can't help but succumb to it completely. The warm, heavy muscle gliding over sticky folds.

You're so lost in the pleasure, your mind completely blocks out the intrusion. The sense that would detect another person in the room disappears completely. You only know because of Getou, the way he stops and scoffs. It forces you to blink your eyes open. He speaks before you get the chance.

"What are you doing here?"

You recognize the voice instantly, and your heart drops through your stomach.

"Thought I heard a ghost howling," Mr. Fushiguro says, his voice is rougher and deeper and older "Turn out it was just a little girl wanderin' into the woods."

"If you can see I'm busy, why're you still here?"

You can't help but feel the second wave of overwhelming shock as you sit there, naked and unafraid. Still, they stand like nothing is wrong. Chat like they know each other somehow, but you have no idea in which way. All you can focus on is the bubbling, nauseating shame.

"Oh god." You voice, but both others ignore. Mr.Fushiguro speaks first.

"This one is off-limits, Suguru. What kinda professor goes around fuckin' their innocent little students?"

"Just the one, Mr. Fushiguro. And I'd like to get back to business."

"Ah, no way I'm letting you off the hook. I could report this y'know? Make headlines. Ethics professor coerces student into sexual activity. It'd be big.

Your heart drops.

"Fuck off, would you? Does she look coerced?"

A beat of silence. "Nah. Not with the way she's twitchin'. But it's not fun if I just let you go. How about you tap me in and I'll keep your little secret hm? She's gotta cute crush on me already."

Your heart flounces around in your chest, a muffled noise of shock escaping your lips as you squirm to move but are held, still, so firmly in place. Your expression and feelings all go through 5 stages of grief before settling at dumbfounded. They don't especially ask for your input, but you hear Professor Getou behind you.

"Fine, if it'll get you to shut up. And I'm fucking her first."

Strange. Nothing about today makes any sense. You don't miss the almost childish sense of competition in Getou's voice that changes your view of him in an instant. Humanizes him in the strangest and most unrecognizable ways. It lacks his usual virtue.

Mr. Fushiguro walks up in front of you, imposing. He's grinning, a well-worn smile on his face that you know. He helps you up, and you keep yourself upright on your arms as he grabs your chin with his palms. You look up at him wide-eyed, unsure of what to do.

"Dirty fucking girl aren't ya?" He says, though he almost sounds like he's impressed with himself

"You into older men or is it a coincidence you're screwing 'im for your grade?"

You're speechless, and you moan a little pathetically as Getou doesn't stop eating you out. This only seems to make Mr. Fushiguro even more excited. You look up at him through wet lashes, unsure of what to do.

"Don't mind either way, just curious. Guess I'm a little sad 'cause I thought your little heart eyes around me made me special," He tells you this looking down at you, eyes locked. You can tell he's just teasing you, and it makes you twitch "But I guess that's not true, is it?"

"You're different. I uhm. Well it's true at least."

"Yeah? You're just letting both of us fuck you 'cause you're like a bitch 'n heat?"

You flush. He gives you a smile and a well-meaning laugh that makes your body feel warm with heat.

"Mind if we're a little rough on you, sweetheart?"

You shake your head.

"Good. Stick your tongue out and open your mouth for me then."

You listen, oblige the instructions almost obediently. Your face is still covered with spit from before. You watch idly, intently - as Mr. Fushiguro pulls his cock out from his black pants. The loose material covers him well, but as soon as they're down past his thighs - the outline of his cock borders on intrusive. Your eyes widen, fluttering and unfocused because it's hard to think about anything while feeling such intense pleasure.

But Mr. Fushiguro is captivating as he pulls himself out for you. His cock is thick and heavy, protruding but too much that it can't stand up on its own. Weighed down by gravity, you stare at it wide-eyed. It's the size of your forearm, so thick you can't possibly imagine what it feels like.

Your heart stammers.

"It won't fit in my mouth." You say, gasping for air as if you're already suffocating on it "You're—you're so huge."

He laughs with an edge of snark. You blink at him in complete seriousness, taken aback. He lets the tip of his cock tap the plushness of your cheek before pressing against your lips. You stare at him, almost afraid.

"Of course it'll fit," He says in confidence "Just gotta make sure you're relaxed. So relax, sweetheart, and open your mouth for me."

Hesitantly, you open your mouth wide. You feel the corners of your lips stretch around the intrusive, thick head of Mr. Fushiguro's cock. The taste of sweat and skin is invasive and heavy, violating your senses. Just the tip and it barely fits in your mouth. You try and concentrate, sticking your tongue out and curling it around the underneath of his cock, focusing on sucking just the tip. He groans above you, a hand on the back of your head. He doesn't force you down, but you can tell by the twitch in his fingers that he wants to.

"Look at you," He says, his voice coarse with restraint and desire "You're drooling on my cock while you're professors busy eatin' your pussy. Thought you were an innocent girl, but now I don't know what to believe."

He says this as he eases more into your mouth, slowly letting you adjust. He rocks his hips back and forth until you relax. You open yourself up, trying to focus on blowing him.

But a hand comes down on your ass, hard and heavy - making you yelp. The noise is muffled but audible. A short squeal, you can't turn your head to look

"Don't you think you two are getting too comfortable upfront without me? I'm the one who decides your grades."

"Maybe you're not doing good enough for her to care."

You can feel a strange sense of competition between them, but you're too occupied to ask about it. How do they know each other, and for what reason do they seem so automatically hostile? It bothers you, but you can't think about it too hard.

"That's not true. Her pussy is soaking fucking wet." He punctuates his words with a harsh smack against your cunt, the force rippling through your as you bend forward and choke "Almost as messy as her face."

He's quick, again, to latch himself to your clit. He flicks it with his tongue, licking it mercilessly as your brain starts to fog up with desire. Like he's trying to prove a point, you moan around Mr. Fushiguro's cock as your pleasure starts to thrum up again. The back of your legs tense, trembling as a knot begins to uncoil in your lower stomach. The cock in your mouth moves too, using the distracted moans to ease himself even deeper into the wet, arm cavern of your mouth.

Your head feels heavy, body weak as the both of them use you to their contents. Your stomach starts to stir as a familiar feeling of euphoria claws at you.

You cum for the first time like that, your body pressed against a wood desk - restrained and under careful watch of two men. Your whole body explodes - white, hot nerves fraying off and ricocheting off your ribs inside of you. Your insides shake as the wave of an orgasm washes over your entire body. You gasp, clenching down hard and gasping as tremors of orgasm pulse and push through your whole body. Something in you ignites as you grip the edge of the desk for your life, trying to keep yourself upright as Getou pushes you through the orgasm.

You've barely recovered when Mr. Fushiguros pulls out of your mouth, pressing his spit-soaked cock against your face and cheeks with a smile. You let it slide against your tongue, eyes fluttering open as your face gets covered in precum and saliva.

"You look so fucking filthy right now, you know that? But it looks good on you. I'm dying to fuck you."

"Mr. Fushiguro," You groan. He clicks his teeth.

"Toji's just fine sweetheart."

You whimper helplessly as you ride out your high. Behind you, your professor pulls away. You peek behind you to see him, flush as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Toji looks down at your frazzled expression with a grin, teeth showing as he cups your jaw a second time and slides his cock back in one go. This time, he pushes his cock in the base - keeping your throat around him with a hand on the back of your head.

"Just focus on me for now, baby. Focus on sucking me off, yeah? Just like that, easy easy. He's gonna open you up. Stretch you nice and make your pussy all sloppy. That's what you want right?"

Getou leans over you, the weight of his body looming as you feel slender fingers slide through your sticky folds. His middle and index brush against your abused clit, rubbing a few circles into it before pulling away. He grabs your arms and positions them behind your back, gripping them in one hand to keep you restrained. You squirm against the gesture, unable to get any leeway as he holds you down. Then you feel his fingers move, middle finger catching on your wet hole as it trembles and sticks. He opens you up like this without any warning.

His middle finger goes first - delicately intrusive as your pussy widens to accommodate him. They're so much bigger than yours. Just one feels like two of your own. You push back out of instinct but Getou doesn't let you move. He buries himself, pushing in and out until he's able to fuck your pussy all the way down to the knuckle. Once there's no longer any resistance, he pulls back and makes room for another. The sensation is duller, lets you clear your head and think even as Toji rubs his cock on your face and fucks your mouth in short ruts.

Not enough to make you choke, but enough to smear something hot and nasty all over you.

Professor Getou repeats the process with his pointer, pushing and stretching and opening until you can't fight it anymore. With two fingers, he scissors them trying to make your insides soft enough for him to take you.

"You're stretching out for me like it's nothing. You must be turned on, hm? Like getting all your holes used like this? Getting your face-fucked by a man old enough to be your father?"

Toji laughs harshly, smacking your face lightly, enough it doesn't hurt but enough to make you feel it.

"She loves it. She's clenching down on you tight ain't she?"

"Sure is. All this for a grade. Maybe I should've bullied you about it a little more first. Since you're so eager."

"Gonna give her extra credit for this?"

"I should deduct points for the fact you're even near here."

He laughs good-naturedly at this point, and you're still having trouble making sense of their relationship. You manage to speak for the first time in forever, voice barely there as you go to question them. You're not expecting any solid answers.

"How do you two know each other?" You ask, before Toji starts fucking your mouth again

"Goes a long way back. And we're still on bad terms, so congrats on bringing us together, sweetheart. Kind of an expected reunion really."

"He's been working here since Professor Gojo and I were students here and we knew him from before. A long story. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

The burning question is quick to fade out of your mind as you feel your professor's clothed bulge rest against your cunt. You moan, a clipped needy sound as you nearly beg him to fuck you. Toji bends over you this time, reaching back to spread your pussy open by grabbing your ass. You can feel the grip of his hands, strong and assured.

"She's gettin' impatient. Give it to her."

"Don't need your help with that." Getou spits, irritation sounding in his words.

"Consider it an apology."

The air of tension is there temporarily, before Getou pulls his cock from the confines of his boxers. You can't see it, eyes squeezed tight as you work your mouth and tongue Toji's length. You can feel it though. He makes a show of rubbing his cock against your puffy, sore cunt. You get a feel for its shape as he pushes it between your thighs and lets it cling in between your lips. Professor Getou's cock is longer and more narrow, but it curves upright. It's hard, throbbing between your legs. Whining helplessly you wiggle your ass again. You feel increasingly restless about needing something inside of you. You're still bound though, completely and utterly unable to move. Toji's hand comes down heavy on your ass as you do, clicking his teeth in faux irritation.

"Don't fucking move unless you want my handmark on your ass forever," He says, his voice cool and forgiving "Impatient."

Getou must feel something inside of him merciful enough to keep you waiting. Even with all the stretching and prep, the minute you feel the head of your cock push through - something inside of you snaps. It's still so big, still too much, still reaches a part of you so deep you didn't know it was there. The position itself - still being on your stomach, makes it reach so much farther than other positions. The raw, skin-to-skin contact leaves your tummy fluttering, skin prickling with heat. Your top is pushed up enough to expose your lower back and your skin is pulsing. You feel like your whole body is on fire, suspended between men so much older than that want nothing more than to fuck you.

Every time you try to wiggle away from the sensations, Toji's hand comes down heavy on your backside. It doesn't matter how minuscule the movement. If he gets the idea that you're going to try and pull away, he spanks you hard enough that the room echoes with the sound. Your skin tingles, phantom sensation left before as you're held open and made to take your professor's cock - obedient and wanting.

Inch by miserable inch, it takes forever to take him down to the base. Your toes curl, eyes shut and mouth sloppily trying to keep up with the cock in your mouth and just barely succeeding.

He groans behind you, shuddering

"That's incredible," He praises, and it feels so good to hear him saying something so overtly kind you don't know if you want to laugh or cry "Your pussy is fucking incredible. Shit."

"You hear that? You gotta. Pussy's twitchin' like crazy. Ass is too, how cute."

"Feels sho good," You slur, brain clear of any and all rational thought as a string of saliva drips down your chin "Please fuck me, please,"

"You heard her teach."

Toji lets go of you and returns back to where you are. He pulls his cock away from you, instead holding you up and cupping your mouth open. He kisses you, after everything - with all of his pre-spend in your mouth before spitting into it harshly and kissing it again.

"Such a pretty face you're makin' right now." He says, something of a warm and unprecedented affection to it "So excited to get your pussy filled up."

He leans you on him, lets you wrap around his midriff, and squeeze tight while he pets the back of your hair in a strange streak of affection. You don't know what to make of anything. All you can feel is the long cock pounding into you without any mercy. Razor-sharp thrusts, nudging against your swollen g-spot and pounding into your cunt with immeasurable force. A man so much older than you is fucking you, pounding your pretty little pussy, and turning you into a complete mess. He's meant to be a mentor to you, but he has his cock imprinting itself inside of you over and over and over.

Your stomach feels hot again, but some other feeling takes you over as Toji cradles you - watching you just as intently. He talks you through with confidence you can't entirely understand.

"Yeah, that's it. Tighten up for him, just like that. Feels good doesn't it? I know baby, I know."

You whine out in Toji's arms as he talks you through it. Behind you, you feel Getou's grip hold you tight as he pistons you. The sound of his thighs smacking against your ass is noisy, almost as noisy as your pussy. Slick wet, sounding each time he thrusts.

"I'm not gonna last like this, shit." He pumps into you a few more types before his hips stutter to a halt. He cums with his cock buried deep inside of you, filling you all the way to the brim. You feel his white, hot seed fill your belly, cock twitching as he unloads and makes your legs shake.

A sense of emptiness overwhelms you as Getou pulls out, landing a hit on your ass as he shakes. He kisses your spine.

The two of them switch places without communicating with each other about it. Getou pulls out, and away - coming back in front of you and picking you up in his arms as Toji positions himself behind you. He spreads your cunt out with his fingers, examining the seed left over with a light laugh.

"Gonna fuck into your sloppy little cunt, give you another load where you need it and make you cum." Toji says, not hesitating at all. You feel your breathing start to quicken as he takes the same positions as before.

Toji doesn't neglect touching you as his arm curls around your waist, calloused fingertips brushing against your clit before his cock pushes into you. Your pussy takes him much easier, but even so - Toji is just so thick, you can't help but feel him all over again. This time, Getou has you in his arms, holding and guiding you. Your hands are curled around his bicep and lower spine as you're held up.

Toji's thrusts are slower, but just as rhythmic - focused on bringing you to another orgasm. It's duller this time, the sensation more focused and spread. Toji is so big you feel it in your hips, your entire lower half tingling as he pumps his cock in and out of you. He gives you all of his attention, staving off his own orgasm as Getou encourages you with his own words.

"Gonna cum again, pretty? Take another man's cum in you right after me? You want to, right? Take it all in, every drop. You've earned it."

You feel your insides tighten again, for a second time - in a miraculous span. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts as both sensations work in tandem to bring you closer to your edge.

Your nerves fire off a second time as you push yourself to the limit. Toji fucks you through another orgasm with ease, thrusting with each tremor until you've ridden out your high. His own orgasm and chase come not long after that fact.

As soon as you've gone totally limp underneath him, he sheaths himself as deep as he can. Bent over you, he cums hard and deep, filling you to the brim a second time.

There's a brief moment of silence as Toji rides out his high, where all three of you sit in silence.

You find yourself limp as you lay there, Toji pulling out and Getou slowly letting you down before you look up with a tired expression.

"...So, did I pass?"

Your professor laughs harder than you've ever seen him laugh.

"With flying colors."

#toji x reader #getou x reader #toji smut #getou smut #writing tag #jjk x reader #dubcon cw #age gaps cw #blackmail cw #coercion cw #lmk if i missed anything

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whereserpentswalk · 9 months

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Your new roommate is an android. You could tell when you saw them, their skin is pretty obviously artificial material, their eyes glow a little, and they have that voice and those mannerisms that a lot of them have. They're warm to the touch, warmer than any human, most androids are warmer than humans despite the serotypes. This isn't surprising, you've met a lot of androids before, and you know a lot go to this school.

What is surprising is that they don't admit it. They call themself a human, act dismissive towards the idea of androids as part of human society, try to avoid anything that's part of android culture. You adapt pretty quickly to referring to them as a human, but you'll always know they aren't. You assume it's because of bigotry, you know androids still face a lot of social issues, but bigots can still tell they're an android as much as you can. And it's not like things are like they were back in the 21st century, especially in a college in a large city, bigots can't just openly say they hate nonhumans, they're subtle in ways that make pretending to be a human hurt even more. But you are human, so you think it's best not to say anything.

You see how much your roommate sacrifices just to look human. They never show any skin other than their face and hands, which makes overheating even worse. They waste hours trying to fake sleep, when everyone knows they can't sleep, they always make excuses as to why they can't eat any given meal. And you can't even mention nonhumans around them without them being dismissive of anyone openly nonhuman. They don't have solidarity with any other androids, can't participate in any of the things on campus specifically designed for people like them. You want them to be happy, and you know they'd just be happier if they admitted being what everyone knew they were.

There's a lot of nonhumans in your friend group, a lot of clones and cyborgs, and one or two androids. Most of the time you don't think about how they aren't human. But not your roommate, you always think about how they're an android because you have to in order to pretend you think they're human.

And they become so proud of their humanity. Humanity they don't even have. Like they're loving the fact that they can say that they're human, that they can say they're part of the most privileged group in the solar system. It's almost like they're larping as a character, they've mentioned family on Mars at this point, family that you know they physically can't have. It's best to just pretend.

Your roommate knows a lot about certain places, about how certain practices work, places and practices that are horrifying to think even still exist. Places where android suffer in ways that make you feel guilty just to be a human. Places only someone whose been there could know about. It's a miracle this person is in college at all. They don't want to be an android, don't want to be able to be hurt the way only their kind is hurt.

Eventually they cut their face. Cut it deeply enough so that you can see they don't bleed, so that you can see the metal under their plastic skin. They have to walk around like that for a while, they can barely go to class, barely talk to anyone, knowing they can't pass for human. By the time they get the cut fixed everyone knows, well everyone always knew, some people are confused because they didn't even know your roommate wanted to be a human.

When you talk to them again you realize they expected you to want nothing to do with them. They're still uncomfortable around other nonhumans, they don't want to be one of them, but they can still talk to you. They're not even wearing clothing, they don't need it, their only skin is on their head and hands, everything else is raw steel, but they still look themself despite everything. They expected you to see them differently, if anything you see them as an android less now.

When you hug them, it's warmer than any human hug could be.

#android #robotics #robot #robots #scifi #writing #writeblr #worldbuilding #writers on tumblr #my writing #196 #urban fantasy #near future #cyberpunk #fiction #origional work #origional content #original fiction #writers

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headspace-hotel · 9 months

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I've been able to neither read nor write stories in a long time. Poetry too, for the most part. I guess what I mean is that the art of the written word has become a stranger to me.

I hate what poetry classes did to my writing. Yes, the Wikipedia poems, but they are easier because they're not my own words, and I have gotten so many comments on those saying they are powerful pieces of art, but for me personally they're a way of hiding from the awfulness of trying to assemble my own words into poetry.

I hate the poems I wrote in poetry classes. I hate the version of me I showed others in those classes. I hate the way poetry classes taught me to draw from my own experiences and thoughts for poetry. I hate everything I learned about how to interpret poetry, the eye with which I learned to read poetry, and the vocabulary I learned to talk about poetry, and ultimately, I hate "literary" poetry.

"Literary," by the way, is the category of art that has more meaning, value and legitimacy than the "other" category, which is not "literary." A "literary" poem is published in special, fancy "literary" magazines and almost invariably written by a person with a MFA or PhD in poetry.

You could say that the distinguishing feature of "literary" art is its overwhelming sense of legitimacy. A "literary" poem is a poem in the same way that a nonprofit organization is charitable, that a CEO is rich, or that an SAT score demonstrates your academic prowess. It is a poem completely immune to the possibility that someone will think it sucks. It expects to be absorbed, analyzed, studied, and discoursed upon because something feels "official" about whatever designates it as Good Art.

Literary poems are not only written by and for a special subset of people that have been formally taught to read and interpret poetry, they are written exclusively for audiences that will automatically assume they are Good Art; beautiful, meaningful, and worth interpreting. Because of this, most literary poems are literal incomprehensible nonsense.

Just take this one:

Say I climb the ladder of wheat/and at the top there is a faucet dripping beads of water/but the water takes a year to turn into an eagle/and the sky's forty-three shades of gray pierce/the first inflection of my heart, the point where the signals/throw grass into the river. Say the river sags/and the horizon sucks the lance out of the ghost's hands/like the moment of being born, the point where a shadow's/tongue slides through the faultline./Grace. Sunlight, cherries.

(it continues like this)

And conceptually, I love art as collaboration between the creator and viewer, where abstract, indeterminate and murky things are forced to take shape through the participation of the viewer as they interpret and associate things that stand out to them in the work! The "aliveness" of art in the abyss between what the artist attempts to communicate and what the viewer feels is the coolest thing to me!

But this philosophy of art is incompatible with the idea that there is an elite category of art that is worthy of interpretation, analysis, and reverence. I can fuck around with this random word generator and get something that is roughly as meaningful as the above. I don't mean that as demeaning to the poem, I mean that I feel demeaned by the poem, because its linguistic play and experimentation is something that everybody can do, that everyone should try doing, but this poem has been designated as something exceptionally meaningful and worthy and its writer teaches writing at the University of Chicago. You can click through that website for hours and not find a single soul without a MFA or above in poetry or creative writing.

For me, the world of "literary" writing was like a room with a splatter of vomit across the floor that no one else would acknowledge. The ability to formally study poetry in college was a privilege, but I was constantly aware of privilege, and the thing about privilege is the more you have, the less you think about it. What of the ability to pursue a PhD in poetry? What small fraction of people could expend so much time and money on something that didn't really have a career associated with it? And of that fraction, which fraction would be seen as "good enough" to publish poetry books and to teach? With poetry this indeterminate, how were the "good" poets selected at all?

Literary writing excludes poor people, and the existence of published literary poets who are immigrants or minorities doesn't negate this. Increasingly, published writing in general excludes poor people. A LOT of popular authors graduated from very elite schools!

But literary poetry I hate especially, because it puffs itself up on unlocking the universe and human experience and pain, as if insight into those things is a seldom-appearing gift instead of something many people have, except they don't have the time and money to train themselves into expressing it in a way that appears Literary.

The "literary" vs. "non-literary" paradigm had an inescapable rottenness to it. I couldn't stop thinking about the luminous conversations I'd had with people who lacked the formal training to express ideas in a "literary" manner, but still showed me something vital about the universe.

I've been bitching about literary poetry for like two years now, and really, I just hate what studying all that shit has done to my own writing style. It's so frustrating that the joy and playfulness won't come back.

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hadesoftheladies · 10 days

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why you should have hope for separatism:

-this is one of the first times in history where women en masse are educated and (are expected to) participate in the working class which means now more than ever women are better equipped to take care of their own financial needs (even with all the tradwife influencers, not many women will be able to convert because house-wifery is strictly limited to the upper-class, which is shrinking more and more, so most women will always have to work anyways, and most women see this! even the ones that joke about being housewives/strippers are serious about their careers!)

-separatism is mostly non-action. it is strategic non-interaction with men or male media which makes it extremely accessible and easy to replicate across cultures. it removes women from exploitative relationships with men. this means the only thing you need to do to convince women to become separatists is attack the idea that their lives will be unfulfilled without men. and more women and girls are embracing that culture simply because of their experiences (and access to education)!

-late stage capitalism and the rise of blatant misogyny men display is radicalizing women. which means more and more women are open to living together and raising children together romantically/platonically. (literally every woman i've talked to who's unmarried lives with their parents or wants to live with women because men are genuinely an unattractive option--thank you men for showing your asses <3)

-the internet and globalization positions women from all over the world to share their experiences (and we have many shared experiences), which means consciousness-raising has never been faster or easier or more powerful!

-men and boys are failing and dropping out of school way more than women and girls which means that women and girls are on the way to dominating academia and relevant industries! women will make up more of the skilled workers in future job markets which means that women who are educated now will likely be better off and more pursued financially than men. women's influence in society is increasing! think about it. as much as male violence is increasing, male literacy and competence and skill is DECREASING (even nepotism or sexism will not be enough to fix that problem because hiring men will still result in profit losses and other financial inconveniences). in short, male culture is killing men!

-resistance to pornography and understanding the evils of pornography are also increasing. awareness of male violence is increasing!

please read more literature on separatist strategies and don't think whatever is happening on tiktok/IG is how all women think. most women irl are not stupid enough to trade in their jobs for prostitution because women don't actually want that. many women i've talked to in real life also don't want children (in these conditions or at all)! they aren't radfems but they still have self-preservation instincts and intelligence!

there is literally so many ways we can use the current sociopolitical climate to our advantage. it is too early to give up. like wayyyy to fucking early.

#radblr #sometimes things aren't as dire as radblr makes it seem #or the internet #start talking to women at work!#separatism #hope tag #feminism

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mikavlcs · 1 year

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Spotlight

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: During an unprompted visit, Wednesday discovers something that you’ve been trying to hide.

Warnings: competetive!wednesday, overuse of parenthesis, this exists outside of canon bc i didn’t wanna come up with characters to replace thornhill and weems lol

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: this was requested by an anon (dino, hi), hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Wednesday could not stand most of the Nevermore population.

Normal teenagers were already grating enough but throw in the various quirks and abilities that came with being an outcast, and you were left with a supernaturally aggravating group of people that Wednesday wanted nothing to do with.

Most of them managed to vex Wednesday without even speaking—their mere presence an irritation to her. And that went for both students and teachers alike. No one was safe from Wednesday’s wrath.

But amongst the outcast-driven chaos and adolescent body odor, she managed to find a few people that she tolerated. Diamonds in the rough (though she would never describe them as that to their faces).

People like Enid, whom she was slowly and unwillingly warming up to, and Eugene, who reminded her too much of her brother for her to not become somewhat attached to him.

Xavier was still able to agitate her by merely being within her immediate vicinity, but he had his rare, fleeting moments of tolerability. Though they started off on the wrong foot, Bianca had earned her respect, solidifying her place on Wednesday’s short list of acquaintances…until they entered fencing class.

And finally, there was you.

A truly unlikely friendship. One that actually began as an initially one-sided academic rivalry.

You were the unfortunate soul that she got assigned to sit next to in a few classes. Because of this, Wednesday found out quickly that you were very smart.

Not as much as Wednesday (no one was), but enough to earn her respect and allow the competitive air between you to form.

She, of course, was winning but you were never far behind, and she refused to let you win.

For your part, you participated in her competition without complaint, but you seemed to do it more out of interest than a need to best Wednesday. Which shifted the dynamic in a way she didn’t expect.

Because unlike Bianca, you didn’t return her insults or instigate fights. You were kind to her. Always. Even when she was anything but kind to you. It made her feel… unpleasant.

So she resolved to stop being excessively rude to you, toning down the insults and leaning into apathy which was her first mistake. Her second was the decision to engage with the small comments you made during class rather than ignoring them outright because once she started lowering the wall between you, she couldn’t help but let it fall a little further each day.

The more she got to know you, the more her indifference morphed into something unrecognizable. The coldness she extended toward you melted, and the acquaintanceship turned into an actual friendship.

It shouldn’t have. In theory, she should have never grown close to you. You were shy, unnaturally clumsy, and you had an absolutely ungodly obsession with puns. But you were also sweet and endearing and pleasant to be around.

It worked in spite of the odds because you somehow exploited the same weakness within her that Enid and Eugene did. A fact that should have upset her but didn’t.

Still, the rivalry, though much friendlier now, endured. Both because Wednesday’s want for challenge never ceased and because you began to enjoy the competition as much as she did.

(Wednesday also enjoyed the look of wonder you had whenever she showed you a perfect test score. But she would never tell you that because you would then think that she was trying to impress you. She wasn’t.)

Whether she was influencing you or not was unclear, but you came out of your shell, matching her usual light insults with playful jabs of your own. Teasing slowly replaced the shy comments you made during class, and you grew just a bit more confident around her.

It only served to warm her up to you further.

The amount of time Wednesday would spend with you outside of class unknowingly increased. And with this newfound closeness, she started to notice some…oddities about your supposed clumsiness.

At first glance, it appeared that you were just chronically uncoordinated—tripping over things that were in plain sight was an everyday occurrence for you—but she discovered that this lack of coordination was a symptom of a greater issue.

That issue being that you had terrible eyesight.

The first time she really picked up on it was while working on a project together outside. You were working under the shade of a tree in the field behind the school and a flash of movement from above caught Wednesday’s eye. She went to inspect it and had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

Thing, the attention seeker that he was, was trying to wave to you from her balcony.

She commented on it so you could wave back and get him to stop, but when you turned, you didn’t wave back. Rather, Wednesday watched as you struggled to find Thing above you, unfocused eyes flitting in every direction without finding their target.

It got to the point where she took pity on you and pointed to where he was hopping on her balcony railing. You waved in his general direction and got right back to work but Wednesday’s mind lingered on the incident.

She began paying more attention to your behaviors in class, the way your eyes squinted, and you had to lean forward slightly when trying to read something that was just a little too far away.

You struggled most in Miss Thornhill’s class, which Wednesday couldn’t really blame you for.

Thornhill moved at a breakneck pace, something Wednesday liked about her class, but she wrote terms in a small, nearly illegible cursive that even her well-trained eyes had trouble deciphering at times. Being assigned to sit at one of the tables near the back surely only exacerbated the problem.

And if it were anyone else, Wednesday would be happy to know that she had a leg up on the competition. But you weren’t anybody else and instead of finding victory or satisfaction in your hardship, she found herself wanting to help you.

An urge she obviously resisted, but it persisted nonetheless.

During a particularly rough class, Wednesday watched as you constantly tried and failed to understand the things written on the whiteboard up front.

You were so distracted with your notes that you made no attempts to tease her, nor did you tell her a single joke. Not even a terrible pun when she sat down in her seat. It bothered her far more than it had any right to.

After class, Wednesday stayed behind longer than usual. You noticed—if the glances you sent her way were anything to go by—but didn’t say anything. That only bothered her more.

She sighed, slid her class notes over to you. “Here.”

Startled, you looked over to her, then to the papers, then back to her.

“You’re letting me borrow your notes?” you asked, astounded.

“Just this once,” she warned, cold eyes piercing. “It would be a shame for one of my only worthy academic rivals in this outcast prison to fall behind because you refuse to act on your eyes’ obvious inadequacies.”

Before you had the time to comment on her admittance of your intelligence, she was swiftly packing her things and walking off. Just before she left the classroom, she heard a bemused, but grateful “Thanks, Wednesday!” called out behind her.

She ignored it, just as she ignored the disgusting fluttering feeling that accompanied it.

Unplanned setbacks were nothing new to Wednesday.

Honestly, this one wasn’t even really her fault.

One of the gorgons—tall, loud, and annoying—called her tiny. Him finding three uncovered, full-body mirrors in his dorm bathroom was simply what she would classify as karma.

When confronted she denied any involvement, citing it as “a truly unfortunate accident” but Weems, for all her faults, was no fool.

So now, Wednesday was confined to her dorm room for the week as punishment. Thornhill was stationed outside to make sure Wednesday didn’t leave her room after classes for anything other than meals and extracurriculars.

Wednesday didn’t have the heart to tell Weems that this feeble excuse for “solitary confinement” was more an escape for her than a punishment.

Though it was proving to be an obstacle for her now.

There was a Botany test scheduled for the next day. That was part of the reason why Wednesday chose to lend you her notes. But she wanted to get some studying done before her quickly approaching writing hour, so she had to get them back.

(Not that she needed to study—she had every word written on those papers memorized, but another sweep over its contents wouldn’t hurt. Especially if it guaranteed her a higher score than you.)

She had planned to retrieve them after harvesting hives with Eugene, but now it wouldn’t be that straightforward.

Fortunately, security measures as amateur as having a teacher stand outside her room were as simple for her to bypass as performing an autopsy. Something she could do in her sleep.

“Thing,” she called to her disembodied companion, “fetch me one of my spare grapples and some rope.” When she didn’t hear his tell-tale scuttling, she begrudgingly added a low, “Please.”

The sound of scampering finally reached her ears and Thing appeared beside her, the grapple and rope she requested nestled between his fingers.

She took the items from him and began tying the rope to the grapple’s end. “Thank you, Thing. If Enid returns before I do, then tell her to cover for me.”

He flashed her a thumbs-up and crawled over to Enid’s bed, no doubt intent on raiding her magazine collection.

After knotting the rope, she kicked the window open and ducked onto the balcony, connecting the hooks to the balcony railing. She threw the rope over the edge and gave it a hard tug to make sure it was anchored properly.

The grapple didn’t budge. Satisfied, she grasped the rope, climbed over the railing, and rappelled down to your balcony below with ease, spotting your hunched form through the glass of your window once her feet hit solid ground.

Silently, she pushed the window open, slipped in, and approached you. “Are you finished with my notes?”

You jumped, hard, knees banging against the underside of your desk and scattering your papers. Chest heaving, you spun around, relaxing when you saw her. “Wednesday, oh my god. Don’t scare me like that.”

She would have laughed or given you a sly remark, but she was distracted. Her attention completely taken by the glasses on your face.

The sleek, thin frames sat steadily on the bridge of your nose. She despised how she noticed the way the color accentuated your eyes. Even more so, she hated how she couldn’t deny that they looked…nice on you.

How unfortunate.

“So you do own a pair of glasses.” The words slipped from her lips as her eyes traced them for the fifth time.

You paused, then settled back against your chair, hands moving to reorganize your jumbled notes as you avoided Wednesday’s eyes.

“Two actually.”

Confusion coursed through her. You had the solution to your problem within your grasp this entire time, yet you decided to not use them? It made no logical sense.

“Then why don’t you wear them to class?”

“I-“ you sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“More stupid than knowingly impairing yourself and your performance in your classes?” Wednesday deadpanned. You stayed silent. She exhaled. “I vow not to use the information to blackmail you in the future if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The promise pulled an airy chuckle from you, and she cursed the warmth it spawned deep within her chest. “I actually wasn’t worried about that, but thank you for the assurance anyways, Wednesday.”

Wednesday gave you a nod and kept her eyes on you. Her expectant gaze didn’t go unanswered for much longer. Your eyes moved to the floor, apparently finding your socks a more interesting sight than her. Not that she cared.

“It’s just-I don’t like the way they look,” you admitted, soft and unsure. “I know you don’t care about others’ opinions but I’m not like that. I’m afraid people will laugh at me if I wear them outside of here. You probably think that’s stupid.”

You were right, she did think that was stupid. Because it was. She knew that insecurities were rarely rooted in logic, but this was just ridiculous. Ridiculous enough that she had to unpack it in steps.

First, the idea that anyone would laugh about you wearing glasses was odd. Thornhill and Eugene wore glasses without issue or ridicule. And if the vampires could walk around in their moronic sunglasses with no shame, then you should have no problem traversing the halls with your glasses.

And second, the ludicrous idea of yours that you looked bad with them on. If anyone were to see you now and say that you looked bad, she would question their own need for glasses.

Even she couldn’t find a single negative adjective to describe how they looked on you. In fact, she was having the exact opposite issue.

Wednesday debated just not saying anything in case she let her unsavory feelings slip accidentally, but she didn’t like how downtrodden you looked. Especially when it was because of something as insignificant as this.

“Well, if you’re going to listen to anyone’s opinions then listen to mine since you know I’m always correct.” The tiny smile that crept onto your face threatened to derail her thoughts, but she pressed on. “I think that you should wear them more often, and if anyone laughs, I will personally see to it that it’s the last sound that they ever make.”

You looked up, surprise flashing across your features. “Really?”

“Considering you literally need them to see, it just makes good sense to wear them, does it not?” she drawled out evenly. Seeing your remaining hesitance, she continued. “And in spite of what you may believe, they don’t make you look any worse than you normally do.”

Despite the blatant insult she included to try and distract you, your face lit up. Wednesday nearly looked away. “You don’t think they look bad?”

“No. I think they frame your face quite nicely actually.”

She didn’t catch her mistake, too busy fighting off the heat spreading in her cheeks to notice her fatal word choice. But you did. You gasped, a wide smile pulling at your lips. “Was…was that a pun?”

The words hit Wednesday like a punch to the stomach. She recoiled slightly, but knowing she couldn’t take it back she heaved a heavy, defeated sigh. “Not an intentional one.”

“Oh my god,” you said through a burst of giggles, “I can’t believe Wednesday Addams just made a pun.”

“Please stop pointing out my linguistic shortcoming. I hate being reminded of my personal failures,” she grumbled, trying to minimize the damage as much as possible. But you paid her plea no mind.

Your soft laughter filled the dorm, a melody almost as pleasant to Wednesday’s ears as the ones she played on her cello. The radiance you exuded in that moment was overwhelming.

She should have been upset with you, she really should have, but she could muster no negative feelings in the face of your unbridled joy. Even if it was at her expense.

So she let you have this victory. Just this once.

And maybe, just maybe Wednesday would be willing to accept defeat more often if it meant seeing you like this.

#pretending tyler doesn't exist is practically my full-time job at this point #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega

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thatdammchickennugget · 3 months

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Slytherin Boys Headcanon Game Results

PART ONE - GENERAL QUESTIONS

-> these are based of the results from the headcanon game polls! a big thanks to everyone who participated! <3

[written in collaboration by @jayybugg , @finalgirllx and me]

wordcount - 3.6k (we might have gone a little overboard here...)

What are their zodiac signs?

Mattheo: He is a Capricorn: hardworking, practical, disciplined and ambitious. Mattheo, unbeknownst to most people, is very intelligent and takes pride in knowing he gets work done (although that work is usually a sketch or anything other than his actual schoolwork). He usually keeps school on the back burner but still gets pridefull when he performs well. Mattheo likes for things to make sense. A plan to sneak out into the Forbidden Forest? It has to make sense. A plan to prank Draco? It has to make sense. If it doesn’t make sense, he won’t do it or he will argue until it does. Mattheo is very disciplined which shocks a lot of people. If he says he's going to stop doing something, trust, he's going to stop doing it. He always has to succeed in what he does. But Mattheo has some Scorpio tendencies, for example he’s obsessive. If you’re his, YOU ARE HIS. He loves everything about you, he knows everything about you. When something peaks his interests, he researches all he can about it. A certain subjects seems interesting? He’s an expert on it the next day. Scorpios are also known to have jealousy problems and Mattheo gets JEALOUS. He can’t stand to see other boys touching you or even making you laugh. It took weeks for him to stop glaring daggers into poor Enzo’s head for making you snort one time. Another Scorpio trait he has is loyalty. He is super loyal to the people he cares about and deems worthy, and he expects that same loyalty from them.

Theo: He is a Pisces: adaptable, moody, intuitive, lazy and a natural healer. Even though he is more introverted and laid back, he has no problem making friends with all kinds of people. If he tries, he actually gets along well with students from any of the houses. He is able to adapt quickly to his surroundings and can easily change how he acts if the situation calls for it. This also makes him a pretty good liar too. Theo is also hella moody. His mood switches faster than most people blink and he can go from very happy to enraged in a matter of seconds. His friends tend to avoid him when they see his mood begin to change for the worst. It’s just better for everyone that way. Theo’s intuition is amazing. Mattheo always jokes and says that he is half Kneazle because he is usually right about untrustworthy people. He has saved his friends plenty of time in pursuing relationships with the wrong people. Because if Theo doesn’t like you then you’re probably a terrible person. Theo is also lazy as fuck. He prefers chill days rather than running around and doing things. He will wake up just on time for class and lay in bed until he ends up being late. He would try everything to get out of doing warm-ups for Quidditch practice: Arriving late, taking a long time to come out the changing room, talking up Hooch to pass time, etc. It usually ends up with him doing extra warm-ups, though because even he can't fool Hooch. He's also really good at taking care of others. Whenever one of the boys gets sick they go to Theo first. He has a cabinet full of potions and probably natural remedies he learned about from his mom to help them. He comes and checks on them, bringing them soup and scolding them if they aren’t resting. The boys call him Mama Theo when he’s like that.

Enzo: He is a Libra: fair, charming, a great listener, romantic and liked to avoid conflict. Enzo is the mediator of his friend group. With Draco, Mattheo, and Theo often resorting to yelling and arguing, someone has to be be the calm one who makes them sit down and talk it out and that is usually Enzo. He usually comes up with solutions that work for everyone. He's also known as a charmer among the other students. He can smooth talk his way out of a lot of things (detention, responsibilities, classes, etc.) but he can also smooth talk his way INTO a lot of things, too (Iykyk). He has a whole fanclub of girls. Like he can throw one wink at them and they’re doing his homework for the rest of the week. Teachers also love him and hee has gotten Mattheo out of detention more times than he can count. Enzo is very romantic. Once he gets into a relationship or serious about someone he goes all out (gifts, flowers, dates, love notes; he does it all). That's why he always has Theo vet his dates because he tends to go overboard. He doesn’t like fighting, he will do anything to avoid physical fights. But that doesn’t mean that he CAN’T fight. He has been known to people in the infirmary if they cross the people he cares about. Even though Enzo is a Libra, he has many Virgo traits. He’s analytical and detail-orientated like a Virgo. He pays attention to everything: A mood shift in your voice? He noticed. You don’t eat your favorite candy anymore? He noticed. Because of this, he tends to over-analize everything around him. It makes him spiral a lot into a million of thoughts and his friends always have to tell him to stop looking so deep into everything.

Blaise: He is a Virgo: kind, a perfectionist, reliable, intelligent and kind of a control freak. Blaise is second to Theo when it comes to being able to befriend students from other houses. He is usually the one who volunteers to help people, which shocks people because he’s usually so quiet and stoned faced. For Blaise, everything needs to be a certain way. He has the neatest dorm out of the entire friend group. Draco’s dorm is only clean because he has elves come to clean it but Blaise slaps on the gloves and pulls out the cleaning supplies himself. You can’t go in his room and just move things, tt sends him into a complete rage. Mattheo once moved all of Blaise’s things 1 inch to the left. Enzo and Theo had to stop him from hexing Mattheo. His perfectionism also plays a part in his love life. If a date doesn’t go exactly how he plans it, he will be in a foul mood for the whole night. Blaise is the most reliable out of the group. You need him to meet you somewhere at a a certain time? He’s there 15 minutes early. He's the one who brings the back up anything. He carries around extra lighters for Theo even though he doesn’t smoke. He also has a spare tie for Enzo when he spills food on his first one. He carries around a small first aid kit and small notebook filled with healing spells for Mattheo when he gets into fights. He has a small tube of cologne for Draco whenever misplaces his big one. He's always ten steps ahead of everybody else and has thought of almost everything. Blaise is super smart and he knows it. He likes to show it off, always sending his grades off to his mother and teasing the Ravenclaws and Hermione when he bests them on tests. He’s the type to keep every single academic award he’s ever gotten. Blaise is a control freak and it goes hand in hand with his perfectionism. He has to run things his way. He has group project to do? You have to follow his lead or he will cuss you out. It sometimes land him in a lot of arguments with his partners because he never knows when to loosen the grip on things. But ultimately he has good intentions.

Draco: He is a Gemini: communicative, quick witted, impulsive, blunt, indecisive and inquisitive. Draco is very quick to tell you how he feels about something. If doesn’t like it, you will know that he doesn’t like it. He’s strict on his boundaries and if you cross them you have about .02 seconds to correct yourself. Miscommunitication isn’t a thing for Draco. He is always clear and concise about what he says and what he wants. Draco is very quick witted. His comebacks are very legendary and funny. Most of the time, it’s really just the first thing that comes to his mind. Him and Pansy are always bickering and having sass offs because of this. Draco usually wins those sass offs. He tries to teach Theo and Mattheo how to be more quick-witted too. It never works though, they end up in fights regardless. Draco makes irrational decisions all the time. It’s weird because he’s indecisive too, so he ponders on the choices for a long time. Then picks the worst, most impulsive one. It usually lands him into some kind of trouble. He’s impulsive with his money too. He will buy a bunch of stuff due to his inability to make a rational decision. His mother has cut off his spending money multiple times because of this. Draco is also very blunt. Most people perceive it to be mean and borderline bullying (sometimes it is). But usually he’s never wrong about what he says, he just says it at the wrong time or in the wrong way. If you ever want someone to give you the cold hard truth, he's the person to go to. He is quick to snap Pansy and Enzo out of their delusions, always giving them a reality check. Never ask Draco to pick where you should eat, he will take hours to decide and by the end of the night, you will have eaten everything he suggested because he ended up buying all of it. He takes the longest to get ready and can’t pick an outfit to save his life. It irritates the boys a lot because they don’t understand how he takes so long, especially because most of the time they have to be in uniform. Draco asks a lot of questions and wants to know everything. He doesn’t understand something? He asks a question. He needs clarification? He asks. He asks so many questions that he is usually the one with all the latest gossip. People think he’s nosey (and he can be) but most of the time its because he’s confused.

What do they smell like?

Mattheo: He smells like a mix of cinnamon, vanilla and cider wood. It was probably the first cologne he ever bought and just stuck with it. He tries to mask the stench of cigarette smoke on his clothes with it but is never quite able to hide it.

Theo: The first smell you notice in his presence is tobacco and smoke and he doesn't try to hide it. The cologne he uses has a woodsy smell, something pine and sandalwood, and if you get close enough you'd also be able to pick up on the smell of books and parchment.

Enzo: He likes to buy more feminine soaps and isn’t a fan of most of the more masculine marketed ones, so he often smells like honey and flowers. A lot of the times he also smells of the pastries he would always go mad over during breakfast.

Blaise: He smells like candles, roses and the chocolate he likes to snack on while he studies. The smell of roses reminds him of his mom, so he always wears a cologne heavy on roses.

Draco: He smells of mint and apples and weirdly enough like rain, even when it's sunny and hasn't rained in days.

How tall are they?

Mattheo: He is 5'11 (1,80m), which doesn't make him short in any way but he would still call himself a short king.

Theo: He is 6'2 (188m) which makes him the tallest of the group, but he doesn't really care about it.

Enzo: He is 6'0 (1,83m) and is someone who will let everyone know how tall he is.

Blaise: He is the second tallest of the group at 6'1 (1,86m) and will use this to make fun of Draco all the time.

Draco: Is the shortest of the group at 5'9 (1,74m) and can be pretty salty about it.

What other languages do they speak?

Mattheo: He speaks fluent spanish and learned it from his mother. He also picked up some italian from Theo. Also speaks parseltongue but only told his friends about it.

Theo: Speaks fluent italian as his parents don't speak much english at home. Can also speak some broken spanish that he learned from Mattheo and some french that he tried to teach himself.

Enzo: He can speak fluent german and some french. His grandparents are german so he learned german from them and they live somewhere near the french border in germany, so he picked up some french as well.

Blaise: He speaks fluent french and is pretty good at latin. He probably knows bits and pieces from a lot of languages because he loves to learn and teach himself new things.

Draco: He is really good at latin even though he's self taught and he also tried to get Mattheo to teach him parseltongue.

Are they extroverted or introverted?

Mattheo: He's an ambivert and it strongly depends on his mood and what people are around him. When he's in the mood to party he loves it but he definitely needs time to himself to recharge. When he's in a bad mood it's better to leave him alone.

Theo: More introverted but really likes being around certain people. He hates everything that includes people he doesn't like or knows.

Enzo: He is the most extroverted out of the group and loves being surrounded by people. He gets a huge energy boost when the attention is on him, but once in a while he doesn't mind some time to himself either.

Blaise: The most introverted of the group. He likes being around his friends but that's about it. Parties or gatherings with people he doesn't like or know drain him and he needs at least a whole day to himself after.

Draco: Pretty much like Mattheo, it depends on the day and his mood.

What do they like? What are they into?

Mattheo: His favourite colours are maroon red and black. It pains him that red is Gryffindor's colour, but he also knows how good he looks in it. He's really likes creating art, especially sketching but he also likes to paint. He has his sketchbook on him pretty much all the time and spends most of his time in class doodling instead of taking notes. His fingers are stained with charcoal or paint colours most of the time. It helps him calm down and sort out his mind. He's also really into music and can be a little pretentious about it. He likes dad rock and indie music the most and his all time favourite band is the smiths. Another one of his hobbies is smoking. He knows it's a bad habit and if he actually wanted to stop he'd be able to, but he would need a reason for it other than his health.

Theo: His favourite colours are blue and green but only the dark shades. He likes muted colours and everything bright tends to give him a headache. His favourite thing to do is reading. He'd be into a variety of genres but around other's he likes to show off that he reads the classics. He's also into fantasy and sci-fi, but that's something he will read alone in his room. He also writes but keeps it to himself, like he tries to write poetry and I think he would keep a journal. He's a foodie as well, he loves all kinds of food and also likes to cook and try new things. When he's not on school he can often be found in the kitchen alongside his mother, copying down whatever recipes she teaches him. Also he's obsessed with olives. He's the biggest cigarette addict out of the group and also likes to indulge in a couple drinks pretty much every weekend. Like Mattheo, he's aware that it's a bad habit but he doesn't care about doing anything to change it.

Enzo: Favourite colour is green, specifically sage green. But he also likes anything bright and pastels and is just a colourful person in general. He likes to be active and is pretty sporty. He goes for runs on the Hogwarts grounds every morning and swims in the lake all the time to get his energy out. He's super hyper and needs to be moving at all times. He likes popular music and pretty much anything he can dance to, especially white girl anthems. But when he starts liking a less popular artist or band he also likes to gatekeep.

Blaise: His favourite colour is purple, magenta specifically but he also really likes grey. His favourite thing to do is studying (he's a nerd) and learning new things. History specifically is something he is super interested in and he will read actual text books for fun, making flashcards and taking notes and everything. Because of that he's a pro at trivia games though. Blaise is a sucker for romance. Romance books are one of his guilty pleasures and he will take that information to his grave. He's someone who would believe in soulmates and when he's into you, he'd go all out to get your attention and make you feel like the most special person in the world. He's also a coffee snob and very particular about how he likes it. He would make fun of his friends when they add syrups and sweeteners to their coffees. He also secretly really likes doing hair, especially Draco's but they hide it from the others. He would like classic rock and EDM and one of his guilty pleasures is listening to opera and musicals. He would be the friend to whip out the board games at every gathering.

Draco: His favourite colours are emerald green and black. Those are also pretty much the only colours he got to see at his family manor growing up. He likes to play chess and brags about how good he is at it. He is also completely obsessed with Quidditch and that obsession is fueled even more by Harry being better at it than him. He is secretly obsessed with sweets even though he's the one to call out his friends that it's unhealthy to stuff their faces with candy all the time. He has a secret stash beneath his bed. He would like calm music, maybe classical and anything piano heavy. Would probably also be into lofi. His main hobby, though, is bullying Harry.

What is their type in a partner?

Mattheo: He would be into someone feisty and and loyal. Mattheo is 100% loyal to the person he cares about and he expects the exact same from a partner. He also likes someone with a bit of spunk who can dish out as well as take it. I think there would be a lot of (affectionate) razzing with him and he needs someone who won't be offended by it and can match his energy. He likes his partner clingy. This boy is touch starved so once he is able to get physical contact he would crave it all the time. But he would also just like to be in your presence, even if you're not doing anything and just chilling next to each other. Wouldn't care much about appearance but would prefer someone shorter than him. Also someone who is calm and able to talk him down when he's having a moment.

Theo: Someone who's calm and smart. He's into the nerdy types and needs someone he can have deep and meaningful conversations with. Probably someone a little more talkative because sometimes he doesn't feel like talking himself and just wants to listen and enjoy the sound of his partner's voice. But also someone who's able to challenge him and keep him on his toes and calls him out on his bullshit. A sunshine type of person who can light up a room just by entering it and is able to get him out of bad moods, but also feisty and won't take shit from anyone. Also someone who is confident.

Enzo: He would like someone who's sweet and bubbly, easy to talk to and who gets along with pretty much everyone. Someone who can match his hyper energy and likes to keep moving. His partner needs to be up to try new things and go on random adventures. They need to be sponatneous and outgoing. But also a little competitive and able to challgenge him. He likes a tall partner and he's a boobs>ass guy.

Blaise: Someone smart and quiet who cares about their studies. He wouldn't be into someone who's favourite thing to do is party. He's looking for someone who's reliable, hardworking and responsible. I also think he'd be into more of a traditional type of relationship. He'd like someone he can spoil and that makes him feel needed. He likes curly hair and maybe goth types? Also someone who is quick witted and funny. -> special shoutout to the person who wrote "blond, annoying, ferret" for this question

Draco: Someone dainty and cute who's also able to call him out on his bullshit. He's looking for someone who's able to reassure him, who's able to communicate clearly and is absolutely honest with him. Preferably someone his parents approve off. But he also likes someone with a bit of a rebellish side to them, like the good girl who's secretly bad but just really good at not getting caught.

#slytherin boys headcanon game #slytherin boys #slytherin boys headcanons #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle headcanons #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott headcanons #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire headcanons #blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini headcanons #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy headcanons

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merakiui · 5 months

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thinking about androids again, but rather than the plot seen in android jade,,,, consider android floyd who is being developed by tech genius idia shroud with input and funding from business magnate azul ashengrotto.

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, vaguely implied non-con/dub-con, android floyd)

He's designed to be a companion for those who are lonely and in need of the company (whether physically or socially). You're just a tired, overworked university student, so it's mind-boggling to you when there's a sleek limousine parked just beyond campus property. Security guards are insisting you come with them because there's someone who'd like to meet you.

In the limo, you find yourself sitting across from Azul Ashengrotto himself. He doesn't bother with flowery introductions, instead cutting to the heart of the matter. You've been randomly selected to help with a very important phase of his and Idia's project. The general idea is to test how well the android interacts with a normal, ordinary person in a monitored setting.

You're very confused. You never signed up for any lottery, and you certainly aren't affiliated with anything of that sort. You're just trying to get through your degree, survive two part-times, and hopefully make enough to keep afloat for another month. Azul tells you this isn't an issue; you'll be generously compensated for your time and efforts. It's only three months; you'll be permitted to live your life as you normally would, only now you'll be accompanied by a highly intelligent android.

Despite hearing all of this, you hesitate when he reveals the lengthy contract. As you flip through it, analyzing each clause and category, Azul says something that piques your interest. "We don't expect you to house an android in your little apartment. Goodness, that's simply ludicrous. We'll provide your housing for these next three months. After all, we must be able to monitor your progress."

"Housing? What do you mean?"

He smiles at you. Backdropped by leather interior, the lights casting odd shadows on his face, he looks near-sinister. But he leans forward to press a ballpoint pen into your hands and the illusion vanishes. "I think you'll find it quite to your liking. If you've finished your classes for the day, why not visit the property with me? Then you may decide whether you wish to participate."

You're not worried about that part. What worries you the most, however, is the fact that he's right. You are finished with classes for the day and you have nothing planned. You took today off from work. Your schedule is perfectly free.

But of course the Azul Ashengrotto wouldn't know that, would he?

The house is a smart home, equipped with every necessity and appliance. Everything's controlled by a remote here. It's not very far from your university either, built on a hill that overlooks houses below. It feels a little isolating and smells very new and clean. Like that fabled new car smell, only it's a house. But everything is so unique to you. Its minimalistic design is oddly cozy, and you can't help but feel enchanted the deeper you venture through the two-story home. It's all so unreal!

Azul gives you the rundown, explains how the remote and each button works. You can lock doors, open and close windows, mess with the thermostat, turn the home security on and off, and even start the oven. You hold the power to this home in the palm of your hands. It's immensely fascinating.

By the end of the tour, you're shaking his hand and signing his contract, agreeing to three months of study. Not only are you provided this nice home, you'll also be paid per week. And the pay is far more than you were making with your two jobs.

The android has a long, tongue-tying serial number, so to make things easier he's named Floyd. They even gave him a surname in preparation for the twin android who is being designed to complement and mirror him. He certainly looks human when you meet him, but there's this uncanny nature to his presence that slightly unnerves you. He's too perfect. Skin too smooth. Eyes too bright. Hair too soft. He towers over you, having to bend down to walk through the doorframe, and every movement he makes is very mechanical and stiff.

Still, you smile at him and offer your hand. "Hi there. I'm (Name). Your...housemate, I guess."

He nods, peering down at your hand before lifting his own. "Floyd Leech. At your service."

You were expecting to feel coldness, so you startle when his hand fits into yours and it's warm. It feels so very real. So deceptively lifelike. You wonder if he can regulate his own internal temperatures. Just how advanced is he?

"Right... Um, I look forward to getting to know you!"

He nods again, releasing your hand after a perfectly timed handshake.

Azul had given you a special number should you need to reach him or Idia. All you needed to do was phone it if at any point you were to feel confused or unsafe. "But I don't think you'll utilize it," he told you when you stood in the lab, watching Idia Shroud flit around to do final maintenance checks to ensure Floyd was ready for his first trial run. His eyes were open the entire time, two mismatched lights centered on you. His stare was listless, but somehow you felt as if he was looking through to your very soul. "He's very safe. In fact, he's programmed to assess and react appropriately to dangers of all kinds. You'll be safe with him around."

And safe you are.

You've always been alone, so it's nice to have a roommate, even if he only speaks when spoken to. It's awkward for all of one week until you ease into his pattern. From various vantage points throughout the house, Idia and Azul watch through hidden cameras. You cook your meals for yourself and Floyd watches, assisting when you order him to. You leave for class and Floyd waits by the door for you to return, standing stock-still for hours.

You lounge in the sitting room and put on all kinds of films. Action. Comedy. Horror. Floyd's eyes never leave the screen. But sometimes he watches you more than he watches the movie, noting all of your reactions. He doesn't understand why you get so emotional over sappy romances. So you explain it simply: "It evokes emotions. We all have emotions, and these movies make us feel them. Happy. Sad. Angry. Upset. Things like that."

But Floyd doesn't feel. Even so, he listens and he nods along, filing your answers away for later dissection. It's interesting.

By the end of the first month, Floyd's adopted new habits. Ever since you told him he's free to do as he pleases, he's taken to cooking your meals for you, doing your laundry, preparing your bag for the day. He's surprisingly good at it. He does chores when you leave for classes or work. And for the first time in a while you're excited to return home, knowing he's there waiting.

Floyd adds new words and phrases to his ever-expanding vocabulary. You watch a lot of TV together and he starts to use some of what he hears in his own speech. He picks up informal language quickly, and it isn't long until he's using words like sup or dunno instead of the rigid how are you? and I am unsure he was previously programmed with.

The first sign of unrest comes when you realize Floyd's also connected to the smart home. At first you didn't think it was a bad thing. After all, with him controlling it you won't have to worry about getting up to grab the remote if you've already sat down. Floyd can do that for you. But then the remote goes missing, later turning up shattered. You ask Floyd what happened and he looks at you and says, "Why use this piece of junk when you've got me?"

"Still... What if you're not able to help? What if you're in sleep mode and I need to open a window or something?" you argue, cradling the splinters of remote like they're an injured baby bird.

"That won't happen," he replies smoothly, issuing you a soothing smile. "I'm always gonna be here for ya. Count on it."

And you do because, by the time the three months are nearing their end and Floyd's developed into quite the companion, more and more human than he's ever seemed, you find yourself stuck.

No, not stuck. That's not quite right. You're more so trapped.

Floyd locks the doors, shutters the windows, turns off the lights. You're cowering in the closet, the only place that feels just a little safe in this moment. You can't reach Azul or Idia either. He's shut the power off, the internet connection, everything. The smart home on the hilltop feels like a tiny island now, and Floyd's the shark always circling it, waiting for you to dip your feet into the depths.

"C'mon, Shrimpy," he calls out, and it's a nickname you were once so fond of because he thought of it himself. "I already told ya I ain't gonna hurt ya. So just come out and talk to me."

You have no idea where you went wrong. Was it too many horror films? Was it the fact that you started to rely so heavily on him for companionship, ignoring your human friends in favor of staying in with Floyd? Or was it because he was blocking their numbers that you never received any messages and automatically assumed they were cutting contact? He said he'd always be here for you, so why to this degree?

The closet doors are thrown open. Floyd drags you, kicking and screaming, out by the ankles. Every camera has gone dark on Azul and Idia's end. All but one. The one in the bedroom. Floyd stares directly at it when he lifts you up and lays you on the bed, gentle and sugary-sweet.

He smiles and waves before that screen blanks out, leaving you truly trapped with him.

And because it's all experimental, morbid curiosity trumping ethical morals, no one comes to rescue you.

Three months is more of an indefinite forever in this lonesome smart home.

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst

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aloeverified · 5 months

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daring being the equivalent to a pg-13 fuckboy was really funny, but i think it would've been so sad and compelling if he geniuely was in love with apple.

they know they're destined to be together, they grew up together and have talked about their relationship many times. they agreed to not date until their destiny takes its course, as apple is paranoid about messing with their story and doing anything ahead of time.

daring sees how hard she works and how far she goes to strive for perfection; following ever task her mother gives her, always being ontop of her studies, never missing a chance to be kind and help others. she inspires him to do the same; topping his sword-fighting classes, using his strength and athletic skills to help others, always seizing the chance to save the day and protect others.

daring falls more and more in love with her each passing year, whereas apple just keeps waiting for the feeling to come to her. she reasons that she doesn't feel anything for daring because he hasn't awoken her from her coma and swallow her worries.

many people still fall for daring, but he tells them his heart is taken and his destiny is sealed: apple white is the only girl for him, and it's his duty to stay loyal to his future wife.

perhaps apple even visits the charming kingdom often, under the guise of spending time with her future in-laws to get away from the heavy pressure she faces at home. she grows closer with darling during these times, who admires apple and her ability to be satisfied with the royal life and expectations she has as a princess.

i think daring could still have a few small and tender moments with other girls, such as his admiration for cerise — but he does his best to push those feelings aside, maybe even feels guilty for them.

it's only after he fails to awaken apple in dragon games, where he is able to start his process on moving on. he agonizes over not being her prince, as it changes everything he knows: his destiny, his true love, and even the fact that he would participate in an out of destiny romance (something so taboo to a royal such as himself).

when finally given the chance to do so, daring asks apple if she loves him — if she ever had or ever could, in the same way he loves her. they have a long conversation, one that ends with both of them in tears. apple does daring, but she's not in love with him. she's always known there was something different about her when she didn't long for her prince charming like other princesses did, and now thanks to darling, she knows why.

daring learns how to move on. it's a tedious process, and one that hurts, but he moves on. and so does apple. he still loves her, and she still loves him. only now, they also love themselves.

#i hope this doesn't come across as me trying to make daring the victim in the situation where apple is a lesbian #i just think that with all the topics eah talks about it would also be really interesting to see how they handle moving on from #being in love with someone #and respecting their boundaries as well as understanding that no one owes you reciprocation #not only that but i feel like a lot of people overlook how daring essentially had the rug pulled out from under him #everything he thought he knew was wrong and he had his whole future taken away in the blink of an eye #bro is grieving #ever after high #dapple #dappling #daring charming #apple white #darling charming #eah headcanons #aloeverants

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xtruss · 1 year

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At Long Last, Mathematicians Have Found a Shape With a Pattern That Never Repeats

Experts have searched for decades for a polygon that only makes non-repeating patterns. But no one knew it was possible until now

— Will Sullivan | March 29, 2023 | Smithsonian

Infinitely many copies of a 13-sided shape can be arranged with no overlaps or gaps in a pattern that never repeats. David Smith, Joseph Samuel Myers, Craig S. Kaplan and Chaim Goodman-Strauss (CC BY 4.0)

From bathroom floors to honeycombs or even groups of cells, tilings surround us. These patterns cover a space without overlapping or leaving any gaps. Like a rug filled with diamond shapes, where each section looks the same as the one next to it, every tiling ever recorded has eventually repeated itself—until now.

After decades of searching for what mathematicians call an “einstein tile”—an elusive shape that would never repeat—researchers say they have finally identified one. The 13-sided figure is the first that can fill an infinite surface with a pattern that is always original.

Repeating patterns have translational symmetry, meaning you can shift one part of the pattern and it will overlap perfectly with another part, without being rotated or reflected. The shape described in a new paper does not have translational symmetry—each section of its tiling looks different from every part that comes before it.

The designs on these rugs have translational symmetry—the patterns on the rugs repeat themselves. Juli Kosolapova via Unsplash

Sarah Hart, a mathematician at Birkbeck, University of London, who didn’t contribute to the finding, tells New Scientist’s Matthew Sparkes that she had thought finding an “einstein” (named for the German words for “one stone,” or one tile) could not be done. “There are infinitely many possible candidate tiles, and even the existence of a solution feels quite counterintuitive,” she says to the publication.

“Everybody is astonished and is delighted, both,” Marjorie Senechal, a mathematician at Smith College who did not participate in the research, tells Science News’ Emily Conover. “It wasn’t even clear that such a thing could exist.”

David Smith, a retired printing technician and nonprofessional mathematician, was the first to come up with the shape that could be a solution to the long-standing “einstein problem.” He shared his ideas with scientists who took on the challenge of trying to mathematically prove his conjecture, per the New York Times’ Siobhan Roberts.

The team published a preprint paper detailing the findings on the site arXiv last week, and it has not been peer-reviewed yet. But experts say the work is expected to be supported with further investigation, per Science News.

“This appears to be a remarkable discovery,” Joshua Socolar, a physicist at Duke University who did not contribute to the finding, tells the Times. “The most significant aspect for me is that the tiling does not clearly fall into any of the familiar classes of structures that we understand.”

Each "einstein" tile has eight kite shapes inside of it. David Smith, Joseph Samuel Myers, Craig S. Kaplan and Chaim Goodman-Strauss (CC BY 4.0)

The “einstein” tile is made up of eight kites, or four-sided polygons with two pairs of adjacent, equal-length sides. Researchers call it “the hat” because of its resemblance to a fedora.

The shape is simpler than some experts expected it to be. Chaim Goodman-Strauss, a mathematician at the University of Arkansas and one of the authors of the paper, tells Science News that if he’d been asked to guess what the shape might look like before the finding, “I would’ve drawn some crazy, squiggly, nasty thing.”

In the 1970s, mathematician Roger Penrose discovered that two shapes could form a non-repeating tiling pattern together, prompting hopes that a single shape may be found to do this one day. Researchers have been able to make other non-repeating patterns in the past, but the challenge has been finding a shape that can only make a non-repeating pattern, Goodman-Strauss tells the Times.

The shape of “the hat” can also be morphed to form additional tile shapes that make non-repeating patterns, as shown in the video above.

This new finding could lead to materials science investigations—for example, shapes that form non-repeating tilings could help design stronger materials, Hart tells New Scientist. The elusive shape might also spark creative inspiration for new decorative designs or art.

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aclowntiny · 11 months

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🦉 Seventeen as Hogwarts Students 🏰

This picture filled me with so much serotonin 🥹 y’all can refer to these headcanons as the basis for all the Hogwarts AU fics I’m going to be writing 😌👀 get ready I can’t believe I held out this long 😂

S.Coups

☆ When the sorting hat was placed on his head, it paused in thought for a moment as it decided between Slytherin and Gryffindor. In the end, though… “Must be Gryffindor!” His caring heart won out the ambitious houses’ battle! At least, that’s what the hat said, and Seungcheol is determined to prove it right!

☆ Seungcheol is a Half-Blood, but both of his parents are wizards, so he grows up pretty chill on all the purity stuff but not knowing much about how people with no powers live. It’s definitely a curiosity for him, though.

☆ His favorite subjects are Defense Against the Dark Arts because he likes the idea of being able to protect others from harm and Charms because he likes small, quick, useful spells.

☆ He signs up for Ancient Runes because it sounds cool then highkey regrets it. It just kind of goes over his head.

☆ Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team right here 😌 Athletic and a great leader, Seungcheol is honored to receive this role even though it’s so obviously well-suited.

☆ Intimidating AND adorable. Seungcheol’s Patronus can do it all! His guardian takes the form of a Rottweiler dog: brave, loyal, protective, sweet to those who it cares for 😌

Jeonghan

☆ When the Sorting Hat hits his head, it immediately rumples in confusion. “Oh, you’re an interesting one, aren’t you?” It waffles between Hufflepuff and Slytherin before finally declaring… “Can you hear him trying to bargain? Must be a Slytherin!” Jeonghan, for his part, just laughs.

☆ The Yoons are an old wizarding family and their son knows next to nothing about the Muggle world. Thusly Jeonghan makes up a bunch of bullshit at school about Muggle life to convince everyone he totally does. It works every time…so long as no Muggleborns are present at least.

☆ Jeonghan adores Charms class because it paves the way for so many useful spells and gives him a whole arsenal of things to use. He also loves Divination aka bullshitting class because he thrives, duh 😌 the professor loves him, too, because he participates so much and knows what to say, but somehow it escapes his notice how often his predictions are actually accurate.

☆ History of Magic is a lot to remember and not an interesting enough class to give him the drive to study hard, so it’s his hardest subject.

☆ He plays on the Quidditch team because his friend convince him to, but man does it turn out he’s a skilled Beater. This man is a menace with a Bludger.

☆ Thinking of his happiest memory, Jeonghan exclaims “Expecto Patronum!”, unsure what to expect until he sees the burst of light come flying out, taking the shape of a little crow that lands on his shoulder. Not what he was expecting, but the bird charms him immediately with the way it playfully tries to get his attention.

Joshua

☆ “Oh, aren’t you a fun one?” Joshua, frankly, isn’t sure how to take that. Try and be more fun? “What are you planning?” The hat chides, bringing a slight flush of embarrassment to his face. “Lot of crafty ones this year, eh? We have another Slytherin!”

☆ Joshua’s a Muggleborn, so sometimes he feels like a fish out of water, but man is he liking the air. He wants to see it all, understand all that’s moving around him, and use magic to his advantage and enjoyment as much as possible!

☆ Being skilled at languages, Joshua takes up Ancient Runes as an elective and actually really likes it. Decoding is fun and it could prove useful if he decides to become a Curse-Breaker. He also likes Potions because it’s a nice, calm class.

☆ Transfiguration lowkey stresses him out, like what if he goes to transform his stuff and it never comes back??? Or a person?

☆ Slytherin’s Keeper. Good luck trying to score when Joshua is on the pitch 😌

☆ A bunch of other students ooh and ah at Joshua’s stag Patronus because that’s the one famous people get. Or something like that. The tall, antlered figure is elegant, imposing, and yet with a gentle side as it bows its head to its caster regally.

Jun

☆ “You spend a lot of time thinking about others.” Junhui’s eyes widen- he wasn’t expecting to have so much revealed through the hat. “I- I try to,” he replied modestly, at which the hat chuckles. “An innocent mind. Hufflepuff it is!” He’s still trying to wrap his head around how the hat read him and what it meant as they help him off the stool.

☆ He’s a Half-Blood, his mother being a witch and his father a Muggle. He got more experience with Muggle culture than his brother did, so he ended up getting to bond over showing him non-magical inventions 🥹

☆ Care of Magical Creatures is absolutely his favorite class, like Jun gets so excited every day they meet wondering what amazing being he’ll interact with next. The day they had a kneazle cat was pretty much his favorite day at school ever. He also enjoys Muggle Studies because it gives him lots of materials for letters home to his lil bro 🫶🏻

☆ Doesn’t really have a class he hates, but Arithmancy takes the most work so 🤷🏻‍♀️

☆ He tries out to be a Hufflepuff Chaser, but doesn’t make the cut 💀 avid fan and watcher of Hogwarts matches who sometimes tries to follow the commentator up to his post.

☆ Can’t suppress a grin in Defense Against the Dark Arts when a cute little striped cat bursts from his wand, turning around to rub against his legs.

Hoshi

☆ “Bravery aplenty!” Exclaims the Sorting Hat, which makes Soonyoung grin even wider, his excitement growing, “Eager too. A hard worker, sure, but this one’s too daring for Hufflepuff. Better be Gryffindor!” “Yes!” Soonyoung knew he’d be happy anywhere, but he wanted to be sorted with the lions and it looks like he got his wish!

☆ Soonyoung is a Half-Blood. Pretty much all of the Kwons are wizards, but somewhere up the family tree are some Muggleborns, maybe even a Muggle or two. All are welcome in Soonyoung’s family, so he grows up with little understanding how anyone could care about things like that!

☆ Loves to fly! It’s his favorite thing ever, like good luck getting him out of the sky. He also likes Defense Against the Dark Arts because it’s an active class, one where he can move, duel, and practice being in a real-life situation.

☆ Feels like History of Magic is all in one ear, out the other 🤕 that class is a cram before the test vibe for sure.

☆ One of Gryffindor’s Beaters. A little too excited about it, so some accidents have nearly happened but hey, it makes for an exciting game 🤷🏻‍♀️

☆ When that time comes in Defense Against the Dark Arts, a bunch of his friends tease him that he’ll have a small Patronus like a hamster or something, but he insists it’s going to be a powerful tiger, and he’s right 😌 is too overjoyed at the sight of the glowing tiger to rub it in their faces, though 🐅 big memories and emotions = big Patronus??? Not guaranteed, but in Soonyoung’s case certainly!

Wonwoo

☆ “Smart kid,” the Sorting Hat comments when it’s set upon Wonwoo, “sure, you’ve got a bravery about you, you’re kind, but you’re a Ravenclaw!” Wonwoo just nods, thanking the hat- he agrees with the verdict, happily joining his table.

☆ Being a Muggleborn, Wonwoo has a drive to learn about how magic works. Why do some people have it? Why don’t witches and wizards seem to know this or care, especially if they care about bloodlines so much? He also wants to be one of the best just to put the people who doubt him in their place.

☆ One of the few Hogwarts students who actually enjoys Arithmancy and History of Magic. To him, they’re just calm subjects he can focus on and pore over, which is kinda his study method anyway tbh. It kinda works out though because then they go to him for tutoring.

☆ Boy is good at everything, none of the classes are really a struggle for him. Divination seems like the biggest waste of time, though, once he gets in there.

☆ Joins Quidditch as one of Ravenclaw’s chasers. He isn’t sure how much he’s going to like it, but he loves being part of the team! Quite an adept scorer.

☆ People all assume it’s going to be a cat, but Wonwoo casts a polecat Patronus. So, you know, he gets it in the name even though it’s more rodent. Polecats are crafty, comfortable in their home groups, and probably more similar to their caster than everyone might have originally suspected.

Woozi

☆ “Someone’s a hard worker,” comes the Sorting Hat’s teasing comment upon touching Jihoon’s head, “you’ll study well, won’t you? But that dedication…that’s Hufflepuff for you!” Jihoon is a bit surprised, his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the news, but he likes to think the hat is right: he’s dedicated to his dreams, hardworking. Maybe that is his home.

☆ Being a Muggleborn, Jihoon has a bit of a tough time adjusting to magic. In some ways, he’s almost a bit resistant simply because he doesn’t want to rely on waving a wand for every little thing he could handle himself.

☆ There’s something so inspiring to him about looking at the stars, so he looks forward to Astronomy class. He also enjoys Transfiguration, the ability to make something new totally amazing him. He wonders what it feels like to transform like that.

☆ Defense Against the Dark Arts is kind of a boisterous, stressful class in his mind. All the running around and fighting isn’t really his style.

☆ Has enough other extracurricular stuff going on that he passes on Quidditch tryouts, but enough good friends play that he tries to make it to every game he can!

☆ At first, he isn’t sure why a bat Patronus would suit him, especially when everyone thought he was going to get a cat, but bats are known for using their voices to guide their way. They rely on their music and take time to trust, and Jihoon sees that as he bonds with his little guardian. Both of them take time to themselves, but thrive best in their circles when they come out of their shells.

☆ “Bad thoughts don’t often cross your mind, do they?” The voice of the hat muses upon its placement atop Seokmin’s head. “And you’ve a big heart, yes, indeed… most definitely a Hufflepuff!” Seokmin claps, happy to be in a house with some friendly-looking people and a bit shy to hear the hat say such nice things.

☆ Seokmin is a Muggleborn, both of his parents so proud to have magical children. He thinks it’s super cool too and always says he knew all along his family was magical 🥲 all the magical stuff absolutely amazes him, even the most tedious things are things he wants to experience!

☆ He loves Care of Magical Creatures because omg look! A unicorn! A real-life hippogryph!!! Bowtruckles! It’s all so unbelievable, yet so real, like dreams have been laid out before him. That’s the same reason he looks forward to Herbology, like where else can you see sentient plants?

☆ Loves every class! They are all exciting! *Ancient Runes has entered the chat* Ok, maybe classes can be stressful.

☆ He wants to get over his nerves on a broomstick, so to do that he tried out for Quidditch and makes Seeker. He likes that position because it’s a little removed from the pandemonium of the game and he can think like a Snitch 😌

☆ He’s honestly expecting a small animal, not feeling very brave as he shouts “Expecto Patronum!” but well aware he’ll just be ecstatic if he gets any animal form. Imagine his surprise when he gets a magical creature, a beautiful unicorn leaping from his wand! “I- I made that???” He grins, immediately reaching up to try to stroke its mane, awestruck at the beautiful, pure creature even if he doesn’t realize how perfectly it suits his heart.

Mingyu

☆ “You’re a bit bold, aren’t you?” Mingyu nods, thinking he’s supposed to answer the hat. “Not exactly the most courageous…” “Hey!” “Confident, confident certainly…” “M-hm,” he nods again. “You believe you have skills to offer Hogwarts.” “Yes,” Mingyu agrees. “Send this one to Slytherin!” The hat chuckles.

☆ The Kims are an long line of wizards, Mingyu one of many Pure-Blood sons. He doesn’t know much about Muggle culture, frankly, but has more privilege in lifestyle than he does prejudice against people with different blood.

☆ Potions ace. So good at it sometimes the other students are salty at him, but he just shrugs. It comes naturally for him, whether it’s preparing the ingredients or knowing just how much to add. He also likes Divination just because it’s fun. What do his tea leaves say? He legitimately wants to know.

☆ He does have a fear of flying, so broom lessons are not his favorite 😅 he’ll stay on the ground, thank you.

☆ Obviously does not join the Quidditch team, but is on the stands cheering super loud at every game!

☆ Everyone can’t help but tell Mingyu how perfect his husky Patronus is once it manifests, the goofy, vocal, affectionate dog running around practically looking like his twin!

The8

☆ As if drawn in by his aura, the hat muses as it rests upon Minghao’s head. “An artist, eh? Kind, forgiving, wise, and very calm too. A bright one. Ravenclaw, certainly Ravenclaw!” Between what he felt was a suitable sorting despite telling himself he’d be happy with anything and all the attention, Minghao practically glows at the hat’s words.

☆ The Xus are a Pure-Blood family, but Minghao’s parents are both avid Muggle Studies enthusiasts, so their son grew up with lots of knowledge and no prejudice. They all see magic as a chance to help others with less.

☆ Nature is important to this boy here, so Herbology is where his gifts lie. He’s so gentle with the plants and genuinely appreciative of them all, it’s a rewarding class to be able to track their lives. Following the movement of the stars is another joy of his as well as sketching the sky and making star charts, so Minghao does great in Astronomy too.

☆ There’s no class he really hates, but his magic isn’t as Charms-suited as it is focused on creative magic, so those quick spells actually take him more time.

☆ Because he likes flying, he tries out to be Ravenclaw’s new Seeker when the position opens up and earns it 😌 he’s so calm yet fast as he flies, it looks like he always knows exactly where his little gold friend is!

☆ People make jokes about his Patronus being a frog or something of the like, but they’re sure proven wrong by the beautiful swan that slides out, skating gracefully on the air around Minghao.

Seungkwan

☆ The moment the Sorting Hat hits Seungkwan’s head, it shouts out “Oh, we have a loyal one here. This one is a Hufflepuff!” A very decided ceremony for Mr. Boo 😌 he’s both shook at how little time it takes and happy the hat thinks he’s loyal.

☆ A Half-Blood! His mom is actually Pure-Blood, his father a Muggleborn. He loves magic, but also really enjoys learning about the Muggle world. Totally open to differences. Would even consider marrying a Muggle.

☆ LOVES Care of Magical Creatures. One of the students who almost always volunteers for demonstrations because he wants to touch all the animals! Unless they’re, like, giant bugs or something that’ll try to kill him, of course. Muggle Studies is really fun because it’s a way to connect with a part of his heritage and understand others. It gives him social ground with Muggleborns and even non-magical people he’ll interact with in life.

☆ Who made Arithmancy a class??? It stresses him out just to look at 💀 You’re allowed to drop electives, so he straight-up nopes out of Arithmancy and signs up for Divination instead.

☆ He enjoys flying, but being up that high and being chased by sporting goods that want to break your bones? Nah, he’s good, thanks. It’s much more fun to watch and offer comment, so Seungkwan becomes the school Quidditch commentator…and often gets chastised by professors for sassing rival times and whining about missed shots that were so easy, come on.

☆ Really really hopes his Patronus is strong enough to take an animal form, so when it comes out looking big he’s kind of proud yet shook. The light forms a dolphin that bobs back over to his owner, leaping in circles in the air around him and bringing a smile to his face.

Vernon

☆ “Interesting mind on this one, eh?” Those are the first words the hat speaks when it’s set on Vernon’s head. “A perfect fit for Ravenclaw, this one!” He’s proud. His mother was a Ravenclaw during her Hogwarts days, part of the most artful and creative-minded house. He can’t stop smiling all night!

☆ He’s a Pure-Blood wizard, his maternal grandmother having actually attended Beauxbatons before settling down in England. His father’s side always attended Hogwarts, so the school is really what joined his family. People tend to assume Vernon’s a Muggleborn, though, just because he looks so spaced out or amazed sometimes.

☆ Yet another lover of magical creatures right here! They love him right back too 😌 other students get jealous of how much they approach Vernon. He’s also quite good at Arithmancy, there’s just something about it that clicks in his head.

☆ Accidentally set something on fire in Potions class once. Enough said.

☆ Enjoys playing Quidditch for fun with his friends, but doesn’t try out for the formal team. He’s happy to support Ravenclaw alongside his classmates.

☆ Can’t help but laugh when his Patronus comes out as a small turtle. It’s cute, though, he and others defend it, a good embodiment of happy memories.

Dino

☆ Another pretty fast sort. “You’d make it in Gryffindor, sure,” the hat mutters, “but I believe your place is in Slytherin!” And with that, Chan is off to his table! He’s a bit surprised, having expected Gryffindor, but hey, Slytherins are ambitious, so the hat’s probably right. He’ll do anything to succeed.

☆ The Lees have a whole-ass family tree on display- they’re Pure-Bloods. A little proud of it, but frankly Chan himself doesn’t care, almost feeling that much more like being the one to break the line just to shut them all up about it.

☆ Defense Against the Dark Arts star! That one kid that always gets called up to show everyone how to do it right 😤 such a natural dueler and just really good at dispelling negative vibes 😌 he also enjoys flying a lot, it just helps him feel free to soar into the air!

☆ Conversely, he has a lot of difficulty in Potions class, which makes him want to double down on it so he’s no longer stressing about it!

☆ Slytherin’s Seeker 😌 he’s such a nimble flyer with great control, Chan was born to play this role!

☆ He lowkey wants something big and intimidating like a dragon or a rhino, so when a small burst of light appears he fears he’ll be disappointed. The moment the otter slides into view, though, all he can do is smile and reach for it, taking its hand to run after it and play, too.

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ghostchems · 9 months

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kisses to keep your lover quiet during sex + with copia ?

this ended up bein 1.1k words because i missed writing cardinal copia. 18+, mdni, it’s smut, there’s SMUT. basically… two people desperately fucking in public.

The Cardinal had stolen you away after class. You weren’t sure why at first — you always tried your best to pay attention and participate, especially due to his reputation among the students. When a lesson was going well, he was gracious and kind, but when it wasn’t, he had no problem humiliating students and being generally cruel to the class. He scared you but you couldn’t help but be intrigued and drawn to him, wanting nothing more than to be a perfect student for him. Copia pulls you down the hallway and into a small, dark alcove.

“C-cardinal, I am sorry if I’ve done something to upset you. It was never my intention, I-“ He cuts you off by resting his finger on your lips, then traces the outside of them and then continues down your jaw. You swallow thickly as your wide eyes meet his mismatched ones, blown wide with lust. “Cardinal…” Your voice is low but the way it lilts at the end of his title makes it sound like a question. Copia’s hand moves further down your jaw to your neck, wrapping around it and giving it a soft squeeze. You gasp, feeling the coldness of the glove’s zipper against your throat.

“Sorella, you are la mia studentessa preferita.” The Italian rolls off of his tongue and he presses in closer to you, cornering you in the alcove. You’ve never been this close to him before and you notice that he has freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and a few on his lips. His lips. You stare at them, taking in the crisp black paint on his upper lip and the fullness of his bottom one. They tug into a small smirk and he squeezes at your throat again, forcing your eyes up from his lips. “Like what you see, eh?” You open your mouth to speak but before you’re able to, he’s already kissing you. His lips feel just as soft as you imagined and his mustache tickles.

Copia slots himself between your legs, his free hand moving to cup your ass as he grinds against you. Your hands fall to his chest, smoothing over the red suit he is wearing, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. The kiss is hungry, his lips working feverishly against yours and you part them for him. You taste each other and he moans into your mouth, his tongue dipping inside it. Your head feels light, your eyes squeezing shut as you kiss him back, your hands drifting slowly up and resting behind his neck. The Cardinal presses into you as far as he can, the hardness between his legs only growing and rubbing against your legs.

You’ve often thought about him this way, his lips on you and his body painfully close but you never expected to find yourself in this position outside of your own imagination. But here he is, hands tugging the hem of your habit up as he breaks away from your lips. The two of you are left breathing heavily, his warm breath hitting your face while he continues to bunch up your habit. His hands slip between your legs and you mewl as his fingers start to ghost over your panties.

“Do you want this, sorella?” Copia’s voice is low and husky, his eyes half-lidded and his lips already swollen from kissing. Your brain is too scrambled to formulate words so you respond the only way you can think of – leaning in and pressing your mouth to his neck, right above his black collar. The sound he makes is delicious, a deep throaty moan as his fingers slip into your underwear. He presses a gloved finger against your entrance and you groan against him, your hips jerking into his hand. The Cardinal pushes his finger inside you, pumping it steadily before adding another. You are gripping onto him now, your nails digging into the back of his neck as you bury your face against him.

He curls his fingers inside of you, your mouth dropping open and giving a soft groan into his suit jacket. The added friction of his gloved leather fingers inside you hits you in all the right spots, your hips rocking against his fingers. Your muscles start to tighten and there’s fire on your abdomen as he continues. Your hands move from the back of his neck and frantically reach for his cock, already hard and throbbing between his legs. The surprise sound that vibrates up his throat makes you flush, his fingers pulling from you swiftly to help you undo his pants.

The two of you fumble, the heat growing between you. You almost giggle at how difficult it is for both of you to unzip his pants, your hands getting in the way. Finally, his thick cock is free with a grunt and he grabs you roughly by the hands, forcing them away as he settles himself between your legs.

“P-please, Cardinal, please.” You huff. He lets go of one of your hands and clasps one over your mouth and you can taste the zipper. His other hand drifts down and helps guide his cock into your entrance. Copia pushes in slowly, your hands finding his shoulders as you moan against his hand. His eyes are almost fully shut and his lips part with a soft sigh. He removes his hand from your mouth and drifts both of them down to cup your ass and lift you up against the wall to get a better angle.

You wrap your legs around his waist and his hips stutter at the new sensation. He holds onto you tightly and he keeps up a steady pace, his hip thrusts into you with measured strokes, aware of being in a public place. You get lost in the way he looks while fucking you, his smooth brown hair falling into his face and his mismatched eyes boring into yours.

“Y-yes, dolcezza.” The Cardinal hisses, his fingers digging into your ass hard enough to bruise. You already feel it rising inside you, your breath hitching and your blood rushing to your cheeks. His thrusts become more erratic, more wild as he struggles to keep his moans quiet. You feel one of your own rumbling up from your throat and though you try to stifle it, the sensation is too strong. Your orgasm washes over you and the loud moan slips from your lips. The Cardinal is quick, his mouth crashing into yours to swallow up your sweet sounds. He groans into your mouth as he buries himself deep inside you, spilling his seed.

Your legs slip from around him and your feet hit the floor but he keeps his hands still firm on your ass. His seed spills down the inside of your legs as you try to smooth out your habit. Copia presses his forehead to yours, the both of you panting quietly.

“E-eh, perhaps we can use the classroom next time?” He breathes, his lips quirking into a smirk.

“Next time? Will there be a next time, Cardinal?”

“I hope so, Sorella.”

#copia #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader #Cardinal Copia #papa emeritus iv

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galescafe · 1 month

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old philosophy readings / new sunset play

28 MARCH 2024 | 70/100 DAYS OF PRODUCTIVITY

took my physio exam this morning,,, disappointed in myself because i know i could have done so much better if i had just started studying earlier, but alas, life moves on

attended my sociology recitation, and i'm so behind in the work for that class too, but i was able to participate in the discussion at least

had my research capstone as well! continuing with research presentations, and i love hearing about everyone else's work, there's so much cool stuff out there

my ballet company had a little watch party for our show so i went after class! what fun to just laugh and be a little silly, especially in a field that is so critical

holy thursday mass <3 (i fell asleep during the homily, which is to be expected when i pulled an all nighter, i suppose) i always love the music for the holy thursday mass, feeling so ready to go into this weekend

currently working on writing a piece i'm performing at my friend's coffeehouse tomorrow, recovering from a long and stressful week

🎧: blue - joni mitchell (biggest blessing is that she's back on spotify!) 📚: confederates in the attic - tony horwitz (54%); we are a haunting - tyriek white (69%)

#studyblr #100 dop #100 days of productivity #study aesthetic #studyspo #study motivation #uni #college #academia #galestudies

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decarbry · 10 months

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Yabureme 2-3

It’s weird, the boundary between professionalism and emotion. Some people have a good one, or act as though they do. Shou was one of those people. When it came to saving lives and doing his job, he seemed like he could put anything at all behind himself for a moment just to make sure he got it done. But it was more than that. Shouta tended to find ways to let those emotions fuel his work. That was why he flourished as a teacher. Oboro did that for him.

For better or for worse.

Hizashi wasn’t like that. He was a good pro hero, and a good radio host, and good with the public. And though daily failures could eat at him, he didn’t take them so personally that he couldn’t work. Hizashi knew that pro heroes couldn’t save everyone. It just wasn’t possible. Early on, it was tough to shoulder through. As he got hours under his belt, he faced reality. Shouta and Nemuri helped him with that.

He might cry in frustration the night after a rescue failed, but he would trot himself back to school the next morning, a smile on his face. It was something every single hero student had to come to terms with. It was no different back then and now. Every class, every generation. He had never been special for it.

This was different. This wasn’t just some failed hero work. This wasn’t some daily torment.

Half of himself was gone.

Nemuri had stepped away after he confirmed his intentions to lead commentary at the sports fest as usual. She had her own preparations to make, her own stage to step onto. Despite his words, she had to know he wasn’t okay. He wouldn’t put it past her to have someone waiting near the host station in case he needed some support while she couldn’t be there. He had doubts in himself too. But he wanted to at least give Nezu a good ol’ Plus Ultra try. He wanted to be there for Shouta’s kids. They were expected to move on too. To participate in a series of games that seemed so trivial compared to the loss and peril they’d all just experienced. Shouta might not have been as important to them as he’d been to Hizashi, but… no, he shouldn’t think like that. He was just important in a different way. Those kids did experience something horrible. So, to make this work, he’d resolved to channel Shou.

If it worked, maybe those kids would be able to find a foothold. Maybe he would too. Maybe together they could stabilize and find a way forward.

Fuck. He hadn’t even opened the door any further and he was already shaking. One of Shou’s methods for reining himself in was counting to ten. Hizashi shut his eyes and did just that.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, blah, blah, 9, 10.

Opened the door.

The roar of the stadium suddenly came into existence as he stepped past the threshold, surrounding him in a way it hadn’t while outside. This was his element.

He could do this.

“HEY HERO FANS!” Hizashi— no, right now he was Present Mic— his voice had somehow found its same old familiar energy, like nothing was wrong. Yeah. Good. Maybe this could work.

He’d somehow transitioned from the door to the chair at the console without much trouble, hand gripping the base of the microphone to hold it up to his mouth. He stood with the other hand on the back of the chair, channeling the energy of an excited announcer, and that required standing. He hoped no one in the crowd was paying attention, or knew him well enough to hear the agony he was masking.

Down below, he could see the empty field, and Nemuri standing on her podium, waiting for her introduction. Her back was turned to his announcer’s box, but he knew she’d be able to tell.

“Welcome back to the UA Sports Festival! Once again we’ve got the strongest, brightest new hero prospects in the world ready to show off their stuff in today’s heart-pounding competitions.” He wasn’t using his quirk, of course, but his voice still boomed around the stadium, each exclamation eliciting a surge in the roar of the crowd. They were excited even without his encouragement.

An unexpected pit of disgust formed in Hizashi’s stomach. The same event that had taken his heart and those kids’ teacher was only fueling the crowd’s anticipation.

They couldn’t help it. They weren’t as impacted. Heroes died and were injured every day. That was what they signed up for.

The morning before, Nezu had made a statement to the press that kept things short and sweet, using Aizawa’s family name rather than his hero name. By design, few people knew of Eraser Head on any wide scale and nearly no one in the public knew his real name in connection. All the press really cared about was that a first-year UA class was attacked, less so about the teacher that was missing, especially when that teacher had just acted like he was meant to. There wasn’t a sensational story in that part. Most of the people here, the civilians, probably had no idea anything had happened beyond the threat to the students. The spectating heroes might have simply considered the loss sad, with a small handful that knew the missing sharing more legitimate concern.

But the vast majority just wanted to be entertained.

The teachers, the few that weren’t on the current search teams, were seated in their box below his, and though Hizashi couldn’t see their faces, he knew they were tense. Some of them wouldn’t be able to watch the entire sports festival as their turn on the search rolled around. But they were here to support the students too, while they could. Even now, Hizashi watched Thirteen check a time piece and leave the seats, her large helmet’s eyes carefully avoiding his. He was glad for that. He didn’t want to blame her, but his anger was still too hot to consider anything else. He didn’t trust himself not to meet her gaze with something cruel.

Snipe was there, and All Might. Snipe was his usual mask of vagueness, having been all logic and consideration, but All Might, drained of energy for the moment, was tense. Hizashi could see the man’s knee jumping as his foot tapped anxiously, eyes on the empty field. All Might had been the only other hero at the USJ, the only other one to see those monsters drag Shouta away. He had been busy, of course, trying to defeat that monster with the bird head. All Might perhaps deserved some of his same blame as Thirteen, uncalled for as it was, but it felt harder to throw it at him. Unlike the rest, this was the first time Hizashi had seen him take a break since it’d all gone down. He must have been exhausted. Hizashi had never considered that a burden of guilt might be something the Symbol of Peace allowed himself to deal with so completely.

Hizashi didn’t realize he’d been gripping the microphone hard enough to hear the more fragile mechanisms straining. He released it quickly before accidentally breaking it, readjusted his hold, and took a breath.

“I want to hear you roar, listeners! You’re in for a spectacular showing of powerful quirks, entertaining games, and heroic hearts. I can’t wait to watch these future heroes go all out to show that they’re going to be the best of the best! How about you, part—“

Oh. Right.

The utter lack of a body. The missing glower of the disinterested eyes that struck him every minute with their quiet intensity. The subtle quirk of a reluctant smile to tail his silly quips, both of them fully aware that they were manufactured just for that reaction. Just to weasel that little smile out into the air.

Hizashi’s resolve began to shatter. He stumbled on through the introduction of Midnight and the classes. If the crowd hadn’t noticed before, some of them surely would now. His energy had dulled to a forced simmer, and every other sentence a word shook.

The students stood on the field now, a strange restlessness to them. A certain class exuded it most, and their seriousness was spreading through the rest.

Those kids.

He’d been avoiding them since it’d all gone down. Classes had only been ongoing for a few days, but in those few days he’d taken them into his care. Just for his one subject. Grammar, language, all that jazz. His notoriety with his radio show meant most of them knew who he was before they’d become his students, but they didn’t see him as anything more than that. He had memorized all their names, their quirks, some of the things about them that stood out the most. Ojiro’s calm reasoning. Koda’s shy listening. Jiro’s sassy commentary. Kirishima’s supportive bolstering. Kaminari’s energetic laughter. Yaoyarozu’s infallible memory. Asui’s logical points. Sero’s easy demeanor. Tokoyami’s observant silence. Hagakure’s startling appearances. Mineta’s… distractions. Ashido’s friendly jabs. Todoroki’s burdened intensity. Shouji’s thoughtful questions. Aoyama's flamboyant poses. Sato's quiet presence. Bakugou’s explosive attitude, Midoriya’s studious eagerness, Iida’s diligent focus, Uraraka’s soft determination.

They barely knew one another. They wouldn’t have needed him as moral support. Nezu told him to use this sports fest to connect with them, find a grounding. Instead, he felt separated by miles. He could do nothing for them.

Right?

Shouta would have been frustrated with him for leaving it all to All Might and Nemuri.

They were a strong class. Even just a few days under their belt had shown them all that. He couldn’t see their faces at this distance, but he found his eyes drifting to them constantly. None of them spoke amongst themselves like some of the other classes did, unable to stand silently while amongst their friends. Class 1-A was focused.

Some of them were tense, some of them with their chins angled low, as though they were staring daggers into the field beneath their feet. A couple of the more withdrawn ones fumbled with their hands before them. But they all stood together, shouldering the burden just like he did.

Maybe it wasn’t the same… but it was just as heavy. Nezu had been right. They had just been shown a nasty reality of the future they’d chosen for themselves. It hit fast. It hit hard. And just like in the real world they were expected to move on. They were still here because they were doing what Shouta would do. For them, this was a lot more than just some sports festival, some competition.

Fuel the fire.

The League of Villains, or whatever they called themselves, hadn’t just taken his husband away. They’d taken these kids’ hero away. Their shining example.

Their guide.

“THESE STUDENTS ARE GOING TO MAKE THEIR TEACHER PROUD!”

The words burst into the microphone without his realizing it, the windows around him jittering in their tracks, and a hairline fracture split one of them in half just before his face.

His hands had slammed down on the console in front of him, but it hadn’t been a loud enough impact to drown his words out.

“THEY’RE GOING TO MAKE VILLAINS TREMBLE IN THEIR PATHETIC SHOES KNOWING THAT THEIR TIME IS RUNNING OUT! SO LET’S MAKE SURE THEY HEAR IT ALL ACROSS THE WORLD!”

Uncaring of anything but the entertainment set before them, the crowd surged louder than ever. Midnight’s shoulders tensed somewhat, and she finally turned her eyes worriedly up in his direction. Some of the students followed her example of their own accord.

No one else noticed the change in their umpire, too consumed by the energy flowing around them.

Hizashi sagged backwards into his chair suddenly, everything wrung from him in that moment. It was rushing up on him with an intensity he could sense a mile away. Panic. He had the wherewithal to slap the mic switch to off before the sobs started in earnest.

Outside of the box, the sports fest carried on. He faded in and out of focus, scarcely noticing Midnight’s voice as she smoothly stepped in where he had weakly slipped out.

Thank god for Nemuri Kayama.

#Yabureme Comic #nomu aizawa #present mic #Hizashi Yamada #boku no hero academia #I'm so nervous posting this LMAO I have never actually posted legit fic content before #like in writing #I'm definitely going to start posting this on ao3 when I get to make an account #for now uhhh enjoy??#there are images within the text #Yabureme Aizawa AU

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