#college makes me wanna sob when i think about it and i am. incapable of functioning :)

[mayonakano-archive]

love when my dad talks to me about Adult Things and Uni like yeah i know nothing about my senior shit nor the colleges i'm applying to, nor have i done anything we discussed when i turned 18 a month ago. peace and love <3

[inkykeiji]

i like the way they run, then fall, then die

character: shigaraki tomura

genre: gore/violence for torture, then smut

notes: this takes place before the events of break my bones but act as my spine! please, please heed the warnings. the entire first half of this is a torture scene. if you’re just here for the smut and would prefer not to read the torture, scroll all the way down to the three stars dividing part one from part two - you can still read the smut without reading the torture if u wanna, all you need to know is that tomura tortured + murdered a boy who had been harassing the reader at university and now he’s coming home. please please please stay safe <33 | title credit: nitro cell by city morgue

warnings: 18+, torture, murder, blood/gore, graphic depictions of violence, daddy kink, spanking with a belt, edging, mild degradation, possessiveness/generally toxic relationship

words: 4.6k

synopsis:

He isn’t usually one for torture—all this pleading drives him absolutely insane, makes it feel like a thousand tiny bugs are crawling under his skin. However, when it comes to someone who has wronged you, well…that’s a different issue entirely.

Men who bother you deserve to be tortured within an inch of their lives, and Tomura will gladly endure their pitiful begging; he wants to hear them beg and plead and cry like the pathetic pieces of shit they are. He wants them to suffer, and to suffer immensely, for even thinking about touching something that’s his, for daring to utter a disrespectful word to something that’s his.

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Bleary hazel eyes open, blinking twice then squinting as they try to adjust to the bright light, a head full of orange curls lolling back heavily. It takes the boy’s hazy mind a few moments to register the fact that he’s tied to a chair, thick rope binding him to it.

Tomura knows the boy recognizes him almost instantly when their gaze meets and his hazel eyes widen in an almost comical manner, breath hitching painfully in his chest as he chokes on a gasp. A wicked, toothless smile spreads across Tomura’s face.

He’d have a hard time forgetting those ruby eyes that, impossibly, seem like they’re glowing under the fluorescent lights of the old abandoned A.F.O laboratory; those same eyes that had glared at the redhead over your shoulder only a few days ago as Tomura caught you in his arms.  

This boy had been pestering you for a while now. You hadn’t thought much of it the first day it happened, wrote it off as some overeager and overconfident college boy, but by the third day you were sure this classified as harassment. Sick of repeating yourself and firmly telling the boy that you have a boyfriend and you’re not interested, you whined to Tomura about it that night after dinner, your head in his lap as his slender fingers carded through your hair—and inadvertently sentenced the boy to death, right then and there.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt more relieved in your life when you spotted Tomura leaning casually against the Maybach after your last class had ended, the day after you had voiced your complaints. Taking off the moment your eyes met, you ran into his waiting arms, cutting the boy off mid-sentence. Tomura must’ve given that boy an awfully nasty look, because the harassment magically stopped.

Or so you thought.

Nevertheless, the boy manages to spit out a shaky, “Wh-Who are you?” as he begins to struggle against his restraints.

“Aw, come on, you know who I am,” Tomura says like their old friends, walking a few feet towards him with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Where am I? What am I doing here?” his eyes dart around the room wildly, barely pausing on the three men leaning against the wall behind Tomura before they find his face again, big and frenzied.

Tomura’s smile spreads, revealing sharp white teeth. He isn’t usually one for torture—all this pleading drives him absolutely insane, makes it feel like a thousand tiny bugs are crawling under his skin. However, when it comes to someone who has wronged you, well…that’s a different issue entirely.

Men who bother you deserve to be tortured within an inch of their lives, and Tomura will gladly endure their pitiful begging; he wants to hear them beg and plead and cry like the pathetic pieces of shit they are. He wants them to suffer, and to suffer immensely, for even thinking about touching something that’s his, for daring to utter a disrespectful word to something that’s his.

He doesn’t answer the boy’s questions, instead opting to pull out his phone and scroll through it quickly.

“You wanna see the love of my life?” there’s a slight bite to his tone as he shoves the device in the redhead’s face, pale hand gripping it so tightly it trembles a little.

The kid’s eyes fill with tears as he stares at your smiling face, tiny sobs beginning to sound from deep in his throat. His eyes flit between the screen and Tomura, an impending sense of doom looming over him.

“She’s real pretty, isn’t she?” he asks mockingly, a hint of a pout in his voice. “Pretty enough to harass, yeah? Pretty enough to render you incapable of understanding the word no, eh?”

“I’m sorry,” the kid’s already wailing, pathetic sobs beginning get under Tomura’s skin, blunt nails absentmindedly scratching at his wrist and forearm. “I-I didn’t know she had a boyfriend, I swear!”

“Ah?” Tomura stops for a moment, blinking at the kid with wide eyes, mimicking astonishment. “Now I know that’s a lie,” he smirks. “I heard her tell you, several times. Do you have hearing problems? Is there something wrong with your memory?”

The kid stares at him, mouth opening and closing quickly, exhaling shallow breaths in rapid little huffs.

“You seem to be hearing fine right now,” Tomura continues, voice still painfully calm. “And you remember her, and me, so I doubt there’s something wrong with your memory, right?” he stops, only a few feet from the kid now. “Right?”

The poor redhead can’t find his voice, only able to emit these tiny, pitiful sounds in the back of his throat, peppered between his obnoxious sobbing. He shakes his head, then nods, then shakes his head again, movements jerky and frantic.

Tomura’s eyebrows knit, and he tilts his head to the side. “Well, which one is it?” his voice is so casual, and he sounds almost as if he’s worried about the boy’s inability to decide.

Sighing after a beat of silence, Tomura tuts his tongue and shakes his head, cocking his gun. “Shame,” he points the gun at the kid’s head, closing an eye as he adjusts his aim, tongue poking his cheek.

“No!” the kid cries out, squirming against his restraints. “I-I—You’re right! There’s nothing wrong w-with my hearing or my memory, please—”

“Mm, thought so,” Tomura says softly to himself, nodding as he swiftly readjusts his aim and pulls the trigger, shattering the kid’s right kneecap.

The redhead lets out an absolutely bloodcurdling scream, throwing his head back as he thrashes wildly against the thick rope again, the legs of the chair scraping against the concrete.

“Ouch!” Dabi laughs from his spot on the floor, leaning back against the far wall, blue eyes dancing with mirth.

“Ugh,” Chisaki groans beside him, looking away in disgust.

Tomura takes a moment to admire his work, Dabi’s encouraging laughter inspiring another bout of confidence to surge through his chest. He had been close enough that the bullet caused the entire kneecap to explode, sending little bits of bone and flesh flying, thick blood immediately beginning to cascade down the boy’s leg, soaking straight through the denim of his jeans.

“Now,” he continues, speaking over the boy’s shouting with a levelled voice. “I’m gonna cut those pesky ears off your fucking head, since you don’t seem to use them,” he looks over at Dabi and nods once, prompting Dabi to hop up and leave the laboratory.

“But before that,” he stops in front of the kid and leans forward, his face only a few inches away. “Do you wanna know what her pussy tastes like? Hmm? I bet you do. I bet you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

He’s still blubbering, Tomura’s words barely registering, ears ringing from the gunshot. Crimson eyes search his face intently, bright with the intoxicating mix of adrenaline and exhilaration that the rush of torture affords him. Tomura wrinkles his nose a little at the snot running down the kids face and onto his lips, face red and streaked with gleaming tears.

“I’ll tell you,” he says, voice dropping into a growl. “It’ll be the last thing you hear before I take those good-for-nothing ears from you—what a treat!” he laughs a little, resting his hands on his bent knees, inching forward just a hint more. “She tastes like strawberries and honey; the perfect balance of tart and sweet. God, her cum’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, the most decadent cream…Fuck,” he breathes, pulling back with a malicious grin. “Now you got me craving her,”

Dabi returns then, coming to stand beside Tomura, and the kid’s so consumed with pain that he doesn’t even notice the little reciprocating saw in Dabi’s hands.

“Ah, thank you,” Tomura says as he takes it, a devious smile spreading across his face. He turns the saw on, testing it by squeezing the trigger a few times. “Perfect. Now,”

He grabs an ear by the cartilage and yanks, holding it taut from the head. The kid squirms, trying to wiggle his way out of Tomura’s grasp and he growls, asking Dabi to hold his head steady.

The saw slices through the ear like butter, cleanly slashing it from his head in one quick motion. Blood begins to gush from the wound immediately, streaming down the redhead’s cheek, thick, sticky drops dripping off his jaw and onto his collarbone.  

“One,” Tomura counts gleefully, tossing the ear to the side. It hits the concrete with a sickening splat! a few feet away.

“Very Mr. Blonde of you, Tomura,” Chisaki rolls his eyes as Tomura moves onto the next ear, Dabi nearly snapping the kid’s neck as he forces his head to tilt the other way, allowing his boss easier access to the second appendage.

“Oh!” Dabi gasps as the saw neatly slices the second ear off. “We should set him on fire,” he suggests, sapphire eyes glittering at the prospect.

“Oh?” Tomura looks up at him, intrigued, decapitated ear still hanging between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you have any kerosene in your car?”

“Nah, but I could go get some—”

“Can we please finish this, already?” Chisaki whines, pushing off the wall and walking towards the two men. “My lunchbreak is almost over,” he checks his watch, frowning.

“Alright, Mr. Head Chemist, your lunchbreak is almost over. You have to head back to work—we are gonna find some kerosene,”

Chisaki sighs, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. “Your father would like you at the lab today, Tomura,” he says flatly.

Tomura groans, shoulders slumping as he dramatically throws his head back to glare at the ceiling. “But the lab is so boring when there aren’t any experiments or testings going on,” he complains with a slight pout.

“I could finish him off, if you want,” Dabi offers.

“No! Where’s the fun in that? What good is torturing him if I don’t even get to see him die?”

“Look, I don’t care how you do it, just hurry up,” Chisaki spits, turning to walk away. “I’m going to my car—you better be in yours in five minutes,”

“God, he’s no fun,” Tomura mutters to Dabi, who nods in agreement.

“I heard that!” Chisaki hollers as he continues walking, not bothering to look back.

“You were supposed to!” Tomura calls in response, rolling his eyes. “Damn,” he sighs in disappointment, turning back to the boy. His face is slippery with blood, pouring down either side and streaking his neck and the collar of his polo shirt. He’s gone into shock from the pain, screams cut off into choked little whimpers and hiccups. “Looks like our playtime ends here,”

He shrugs, almost indifferent, cocks his gun again and fluidly aims at the boy’s forehead, pulling the trigger without a second thought.

Wet splatters of crimson stain the concrete, echoing throughout the mostly vacant building, the boy’s quiet little sounds cutting off abruptly. Tomura watches as the light fades from his wide, terrified eyes, watches as the hazel goes from vibrant to dull, and the kid’s head falls back, blood beginning to trickle down the bridge of his nose.

A car honks twice outside and Tomura snarls a little to himself, whipping his head around and glaring at the door to the lab, hanging half open and letting pale sunlight leak in.

His grip tightens around his gun, fingers flexing around the metal warmed by his palm. “I’m gonna kill him,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

“Nah, don’t be stupid,” Dabi laughs, shaking his head a little. “We still need him,”

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Tomura returns to the penthouse earlier than expected, startling you when large hands wrap around your hips just as you’re removing a loaf of freshly baked banana bread from the oven.

“Aw, baby, playing housewife?” he coos, breath hot against your ear, before taking the lobe between his teeth.

A sigh slips through your parted lips and you lean back against his chest, tipping your head to the side and eyes closing.

“Our bananas were going bad,” you explain softly, in a bit of a trance as nimble fingers rub small circles into your hips.  

“Oh?” he asks, as if he’s genuinely interested, lips leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck. “It’s so cute when you get all domestic,” tender hands slide up your torso, coming to cup your breasts as he kneads them gently, tweaking a nipple through the thin material of your dress.

Your back arches as you try to press into his palms more, quiet mewls spilling from your lips.

“What’s gotten—” you cut yourself off with a sharp intake of breath as teeth sink into your skin. “What’s gotten into you?”

Tomura usually isn’t this…soft. He’s affectionate for sure, but his after work affections usually include slamming you up against the nearest wall, counter, or table and almost violently claiming your mouth with his, tongue invading viciously as rough, eager hands rip off clothing.

“Missed you,” he mumbles against your skin, tongue tracing the fresh bite. “What, daddy can’t miss his baby?” A hand snakes down your body and slips between your thighs while the other stays preoccupied with rolling your nipple between his index finger and thumb.

Little hands fly out to grip the edge of the counter as you yelp in surprise, steadying yourself as he pinches your clit. A dark chuckle sounds deep in his chest, vibrating against your back.

“Already so wet?” His fingers prod at your little hole through the flimsy material of your panties. “Did you miss daddy as much as he missed you?”

“I-I always do,”

“Oh yeah?” Moving your panties to the side, the pads of his fingers tease your slit, collecting wetness. “And did you happen to be thinking of something naughty while you were playing housewife?”

Two fingers push into you just as you open your mouth to respond, a small strangled hiss escaping your throat. It burns a little, tiny hole stretched around the digits, sucking them in.

“Hmm?” he frowns, looking almost concerned. You’d believe he was, too, if it weren’t for that wicked glint in his dark eyes, shining every time you emitted a soft noise of pleasure instead of an answer.

And then he’s curling his fingers against your spot every time you try to speak, frustration building in your chest until you’re finally able to force out, “D-Daddy, fuck me al-already!” lips set in a deep pout and eyebrows pushed together.

His fingers halt their ministrations entirely and he pulls back to look at you, ruby eyes studying your face intently, firmly pressing his lips together. It takes your clouded mind a few moments to register the words you just said, the high, whiny tone you just used…then your eyes are widening and a gasp claws its way out of your throat, shaking your head vigorously as if to say, I didn’t mean it!

“I’m feeling good today,” he begins slowly, voice even and controlled. “So you’re getting off with a few spanks for that attitude of yours. Now go bend over the dining room table,”

His voice sends chills pebbling across your skin, spikes of ice shooting up your spine. You want to protest—he can see it in your eyes, the urge tickling the tip of your tongue. You want to tell him you didn’t mean to talk back to him, promise! It’s just that you want his cock so bad! You swear! Scarlet eyes watch you sharply, daring you to utter the words, looking almost as if he’s hoping you do, just to give him an excuse to lengthen your punishment.

But you don’t want that—a longer punishment means you’ll have to wait even more before his cock’s finally inside you—so you force yourself to swallow the words and nod solemnly, sulking towards the table and draping yourself over it.

Calloused hands run up your thighs, taking the hem of your little dress with them and bunching the material around your waist. He smirks at your cute little panties, hands running over your ass and kneading for a moment before he hooks his thumbs in the waistband, pulling them down your legs. You step out of them and a low laugh rumbles in his chest as he feels the soaked material, bunching it up and stuffing it in his pocket.

The wood of the table is cool against your cheek, your heart palpitating in your chest as you anticipate the first hit.

Except it doesn’t come, and a beat of silence passes before you hear the gentle clinking of his belt buckle.

“No!” you gasp, little fingers curling around the edges of the table as you hug yourself closer to the surface, eyes snapping open and consciously forcing your head to stay pressed against it, not daring to look back at him. “No, daddy, please, not the belt,”

“Aw baby, you’re precious,” he chuckles a little, the sound making your stomach flutter. “Good girls take their punishments without complaint, and you want to be good for daddy, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, nodding against the table. He hums to himself.

“You will get twenty lashes for your behaviour, and you will count each one aloud,” Tomura explains as he folds the belt in his hands, the leather squeaking softly. “Do you understand?”

You nod again, earning yourself a superficial slap on your bare skin from the back of his hand. It still stings.

“Use your words,”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, feeling the smooth leather in his hands.

A tense, heavy silence settles in the air, your chest swelling as you subconsciously hold your breath in expectation of the first blow, crying out when the belt finally collides with your ass. The leather cuts into your flesh, leaving thin welts across the soft skin. Sharp slaps echo throughout the empty penthouse intermittently, mingled with the soft sounds of your uneven breath and pathetic little whines.

By ten, you’re whimpering into the table, tears leaking from your eyes and sharp edges biting into your palms as you grip it.

By fifteen, you’re full-on sobbing and having difficulty staying still, hips wiggling and legs trembling as you cry out the numbers, muffled by the table.

“Daddy,” you hiccup, blinking your bleary eyes furiously to clear them from tears. “Daddy, I’m sorry,”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” Tomura says a little breathlessly behind you, cock straining against his slacks. “You’re almost there baby, five more to go. Be a good girl and finish your punishment,”

The statement makes you cry harder, but you manage to force out the words, “Yes, daddy,” between your wailing.

The last five are, admittedly, the most difficult for the both of you. Your soft whimpers of “Please, daddy,” and “Hurts, daddy,” nearly enough to make him forego the final five. But an intentional brat like you must learn her lesson.

When the final hit comes, you unclench your fingers from the edges of the dining room table and flex them, feeling proud of yourself for taking all twenty. Tomura’s pressed up against you in an instant, his body folded over yours, pinning you to the table.

“My pretty little baby girl, you did so well,” the words are whispered into your hair as cold hands caress the stinging skin, using his feet to nudge yours further apart. “So good for me,”

A hand trails down and between your thighs, nimble fingers slipping between your folds. He groans a little as the pads of his fingers collect your slickness; you’re still so wet.

“Such a good, good girl, getting this wet for me,”

“Please daddy, c-can I—” a little hiccup cuts you off, the pad of Tomura’s thumb swiping across your cheek to catch a stray tear as you struggle to look back at him. “Can I have your cock now?” you whimper out, eagerly pushing your hips back and into his hand, almost as if you’re trying to grind against it.

Christ, what did he do to deserve such a good little slut like you? Your lashes are still wet, little droplets of water clinging to them, soft sniffles still catching in your chest. And you’re staring at him with those wide, glistening doe eyes, your lips puffy from crying, desperately awaiting his answer as your hips move in little circles, trying to catch your clit on his fingers.

You can feel his cock, pressed up against your ass through his pants, and it only makes you crave him more, little hole fluttering around nothing.

“Yeah?” he breathes, lips at your ear. “You want it?” he pushes his hips against you more, laughing a little when you whine and nod your head fervently, rubbing your ass back against him despite the way your sensitive, wounded skin snags on the rough material.

“Yes, yes, please, I-I want it,” you babble, your head gone hazy from the intense, heady mix of pain and desire, no longer able to think about anything else except how badly you need him to fill you up.

“Do you think you deserve it?” his voice drops an octave, smooth and low as two fingers dip into you again.

“Yes,” you respond without any hesitation.

He hums softly to himself, fingers pumping in and out of you slowly, knuckles curling periodically, pressing forcefully against your gummy walls and pulling broken, needy whines from your throat. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough, intense spikes of pleasure that have your stomach swooping as your hips squirm, trying in vain to bounce on his fingers, to speed up the pace just a little more.

“Please daddy,” you’re sobbing again, words garbled through spit and tears. “Please, please fuck me,”

“I am fucking you, baby,”

And you hate how unaffected he sounds, just a slight breathiness to his voice, hate the way you can hear his smug smirk.

“With your cock!” you cry in demand, a violent shiver coursing through your entire body as his knuckles press into that spot again, hard and ruthless in his assault of your poor pussy.

“There you go again,” he says, voice fading into a growl as his fingers begin to viciously curl over and over, rapidly picking up the pace. “Being a fucking brat. And you were doing so well, too…Didn’t your punishment teach you anything? Only patient little girls get daddy’s cock in their soaking little cunts,”

“Oh, daddy, please, please, I-I’m sorry! I just—”

“Maybe I’ll fuck your throat instead,” he muses, sadistic smile spreading across his face as you weep loudly, shaking your head with vigour and chanting out the word no. Tears are steadily streaming down your soft cheeks and Tomura’s not sure he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight. It makes his cock throb, laughing at the way you moan wantonly when he grinds it against you again.

“You’re a greedy little slut, y’know that?” he whispers in your ear as the tempo of his thrusts increase more. “You’re lucky daddy’s giving you anything at all after the tone you used in the kitchen,”

“Bu-But I took my punishment!”

“Oh, my poor baby,” his voice is sickly sweet, fake and syrupy and absolutely dripping with derision. “Poor thing, has to take daddy’s fingers instead of his cock, poor thing has to have her tight little pussy stretched out before she can take my cock, you poor fucking thing,” a hand collides with your ass, the resounding slap! of your skin against his palm ringing in your ears, a pretty handprint already beginning to form on your abused skin.

You nearly scream, cutting yourself off midway to bite down on your bottom lip hard enough to leave little purple indents in the flesh, breathing out harshly through your nose.

“Insatiable little whore, thinking she’s entitled to my cock,” he spits, thumb finally finding your clit and rubbing quick circles into it. He can tell you’re close, pussy pulsing around his fingers, entire body jolting with each swipe of his thumb over your sensitive bud.

“Feet apart, damn it,” he growls as he kicks at your ankles, forcing your legs to spread again.

Teeth bite into your tongue, refraining from nearly blurting out that you can’t help it, it’s too much, the pleasure is practically blinding, your thighs instinctually squeezing around his wrist.

And, God, you’re so close. He knows, of course, is able to read every micro-expression perfectly—every hitch in your breath, every mewl bubbling past your lips, every twitch, jerk, quiver of your body—and every time you’re teetering on that edge, he stops, slows his pace, takes his thumb away completely, until you’re a sweaty, shuddering mess, until you’ve gone dazed and numb from how badly you need to cum.

Finally, finally, when he thinks he’s tortured you enough, when your legs are nothing but trembling jello, when you’ve been fucked stupid by just his fingers alone, vocabulary seemingly reduced to the words daddy and cock—finally he removes his fingers and pushes the head in, and it stings a bit as your cute little cunt struggles to stretch around him.

“How are you still so fucking tight?” he breathes out, as if he isn’t the one who doesn’t ever fuck you with more than two fingers even though he knows that the girth of his fingers are, obviously, no match for the girth of his cock. Merely able to whine in response, you impatiently push your hips back, and then he really fucking snaps.

Before you even know what’s going on, your aching little hole is being filled entirely with one harsh, quick thrust.

He sets a ruthless pace immediately, growling about how much of a little cockslut you are, how you’re practically starving for his cum, how his cock must be all you dumb little brain can think about.

Your sweet cunt is clenching around him after only three drags of his cock against your spot, and the laugh he barks out is nothing short of vicious. His thrusts don’t slow, fucking you right through your orgasm, grunting about how pathetically easy it is to make you gush all over him.

The legs of the table screech as they scrape against the hardwood, Tomura moving the entire piece of furniture with the force of his powerful thrusts. And all you can do it take it, eyes rolling back as your fingers grip the edges of the table again, desperately trying to keep your legs from giving out entirely, body gone limp and bouncing vehemently as his hips piston into you.

Then he’s spilling himself into you, spurt after spurt of hot cum filling you up as his hips stutter, cock pulsing, strands of silvery-blue hair stuck to his forehead and neck.

Christ, you look so gorgeous all fucked out from his fingers and his cock, thick cum leaking out of you and down your inner thigh. The head of his cock drags over your ass, smearing excess cum across your skin, an extra little reminder that you are his, that you belong to him.

It glitters under the low light of the dining room—the sun’s almost completely sunk below the horizon now, the dim neon glow of the city spilling into the penthouse through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Mine,” he says softly, just a huff of breath forced from his heaving chest, thumb swiping though the cum and rubbing it into the deep, swollen welts.

Yes, you think, too far gone to use your words, throat sore and raw from your crying. Yours, forever.

[sellingmysoulforbts]

You're having second thoughts about your career choice. BTS x Reader Reaction

Genre: mild angst, fluff. College AU. Gender neutral.

Warnings: strong language, self degradation.

as requested by @erraticsoul

A/N: I just wanna say that it is okay to change your career path. You're really young when you are forced to choose what you want to do for the rest of your life and we sometimes make mistakes. The most important thing is that you are happy.

Kim Seokjin

He was there for you, every single time you needed that extra support. This madness began when you started having trouble with some of the subjects that you had to take in college. Thoughts like 'how can I become a professional if I can't solve this simple exercise?' clouded your brain. Jin came on time only to find you crying over your homework.

"Tell me, how am I supposed to do this my entire life?"

"By giving your best, like I know you do, and if that's not enough then it's probably not what you should be doing" he would answer.

Then he proceeded to tell you one of his terrible jokes about the subject your having trouble with. Like if you weren't having it with chemistry he'd go "hey, are you made of copper and tellurium? 'Cause you're CuTe" and if that didn't work, he'd always come to you with a new plate he's made in class because he definitely a culinary arts major.

Min Yoongi

He was confused, like he didn't get how you felt at all. Since he was really young he new what his goals were and started working really hard to achieve them. You, on the other hand, have thought about every single career path, none of them seemed to completely fulfill you. Like you went from wanting to be a model to a rocket scientist in the span of two months, so you knew as soon as you filled that application form to enter college, with whatever career you had landed eyes on at the moment you weren't going to stick to it. Yoongi would try so hard to help you find something you like and would like doing for the rest of your life, just like he did.

"Okay, how about being a teacher?" He suggested one time.

"But I'll have to know the subject first, so what can I teach?"

"Never mind" he said.

He would just enroll you in a bunch of classes that have nothing to do with your current major, just to see if you'd like any of it.

Wanting to become a producer was his lifelong dream, the feeling he got every time he got a step closer was something Yoongi wanted you to experience as well, so he'd never give up on you.

Jung Hoseok

He would be the one to notice and call you out on it. Hobi was a dance major, so he had practice almost every day and you'd come, even if it was late or skip classes to see him. At first he didn't think much about it, and he appreciated the effort you were putting into the relationship, but then you stopped coming like once a week or just skipping a class to have lunch together and began coming like three times a week, and he would see you around campus with friends when he knew you had class.

"Hey, I saw you today walking out of campus" he said one day, after he was done with practice and you were still there.

"Oh, really? I didn't see you, I'd have said hi. At what time did you see me?"

"While you were supposed to be in class" he answered, trying not to sound mad.

"Yeah, the professor cancelled it last minute, so I didn't really have time to tell you" you genuinely thought he was jealous because you were hanging out with boys, but he wasn't. You'd you really be here so late if you were cheating on him? No, and he knew you would never, but he was concerned.

"And has he cancelled classes all week, and last one?" He inquired.

His tone gave away he was implying that you had been skipping class for the whole month.

"No" you answered softly.

"Is everything okay?"

"No" you answered again. He took your hands as a way to show you his support. "Why?" "I just don't feel happy anymore, like when I first got in I was so sure this was what I wanted and now I find it hard and I'm really stressed. I've been looking for other career options and I might change majors so I guess I lost interest and just stopped making an effort to pass" you shrugged, he kissed your hands.

"It's okay. We're still very young and I want you to do something that makes you happy"

Kim Namjoon

You. Felt. Dumb. You were having such a hard time in some classes, and not understanding anything your teacher said. At first you just worked a little harder and visited your professor to ask some questions, but seeing your classmates getting good grades or putting a minimum effort to understand, made you feel out of place and dumb, like actually stupid. Namjoon was an extremely intelligent human being, and that's no secret. He was an English major, and an outstanding student.

He was going to surprise you, you had been busy all week with schoolwork and he knew how hard you worked so he gave you your space, but it was Friday and he missed you like crazy. He didn't expect, when he walked into your apartment, to see you crying over your homework. Like actually balling your eyes out. Your brain was so chemically imbalanced at the moment that you barely felt arms wrapping around your sobbing form.

He managed to calm you down a little bit, and finally asked what's wrong.

"I can't do it Namjoon, I actually am incapable of doing it. I'm just a stupid piece of shit who can't even solve her homework. Why am I even trying at this point? I'm going to fail because my brain does not have the capacity to understand this subject" you basically yelled out and broke down crying again. He was so pained to see you like that and hearing that horrible things from your mouth broke his heart.

"Shh, don't say that baby, you are not dumb" "of course you'd say that, mister my IQ is 148, I only get As with minimum effort. I've being working on this thing for a week. A WEEK, and I can't do it. My teacher is sick of me for going every single day to ask him something." You were getting angry at this point, not with him but with yourself. Maybe throw in your parents as well for making you this way, but not at him, never at him, even though your words proved otherwise.

"Baby, look at me." He said. You shook your head embarrassed at your attitude.

He squatted right in front of you and took your face in his hands, dried your tears and smiled.

"You are not dumb, not because you have to work a little harder does it mean you're less capable of doing something. Besides, you're so far from stupid. When I look at you I see a wonderful human being, smart and kind, and that's what I love about you. Your perspective on the world, and your unique way of understanding things." He told with a sincere voice and that made you smile a little. "Also, I do put effort into my work but I like what I do so much that I doesn't feel like it, now tell me, do you like what you're doing?" He asked. " I don't know anymore" "okay how about this? Let's take a break right now, we go grab something to eat, we get back, cuddle, watch a movie. Just relax and not think about college for a while. And we can discuss this in the morning with a fresh mind."

Park Jimin

He was mostly sad, you didn't choose this for yourself, it was your parents dream. He would just try and comfort you, by hugging you and whispering words of encouragement. You were sad, angry and scared. You couldn't do what you wanted because your parents didn't support you but you also didn't want to disappoint them.

"I'm so sick of this Jimin, I don't think I can keep doing this." You said one day, you had to study for your upcoming tests but finding motivation was hard.

He couldn't fully comprehend your dilemma, his parents were super supportive.

"I know baby, but the semester is almost over."

"And then comes the next, and one after that, and on and on, not to mention the years ahead of me of working in this" you wanted to cry, just let out your frustration.

"Hey, how about, you start taking classes for what you really want, until you build up the courage to talk to them." He suggested. "I don't know I'm so scared." Your voice broke a little. His caring instincts kicking in immediately, so he hugged you. "It okay, I'm sure what they want is for you to be happy and have a safe future financially, that's why you're here, but you can prove to them that you'll succeed doing whatever you want, and I'm here to support you every step of the way. I believe in you, and besides I'm quite thankful to your parents for picking that for you or we might have never met."

"You're right" and with him by your side you had the motivation you needed.  

Kim Taehyung

It was hard, Tae, your boyfriend, always seemed to have more free time, and enjoy his college experience way more than you did. He was one of the few things you were grateful for, during your time in college. The little study dates you had were like the only way to get you to open a book, and they were a 2x1 deal for him. Taehyung was an art history student and it required to read a lot so he could do his school work and spend time with you. You weren't irresponsible or anything but you started to wonder if you chose your career right, because the lack of motivation was really dragging you down. You were in the coffee shop you usually went with Taehyung to study just contemplating how you wanted your life to look in ten years, when he came.

"Hey" he said. "Hi" you answered still a little distraught. "Did you order?" You nodded in response. "Is everything o-" he started but you soon interrupted him "how did you know what you wanted to study?" "well my school took us to a museum for a school trip once, and I was fascinated by the art, but also intrigued as to what led the painters to do such masterpieces and I guess I got hooked on that. Why?" "I'm just not sure with what I'm doing,I never had a revelation moment so I just went with what sounded the least unpleasant at the moment" "Well how about we finish here and we can go find some counselling for you?" "You think I should change majors?" "Baby, when was the last time you felt happy and satisfied with your work and what you learned?" He asked and you grew quiet at that. "Exactly. What you do for the rest of your life has to be something that you enjoy and you're clearly not enjoying this." So you did just that, found help to discover what makes you happy.

Jeon Jungkook

I mean he would be kinda disappointed that you didn't told him first thing and that he had to discover it for himself. You were thinking and rethinking if you had made the right choice, so you turned yourself into a little help from the internet, trying thing from quizzes all the way to astrological birth charts, of course when he wasn't around.

As you were spending the weekend together doing homework and watching movies, he stumbled upon a word he didn't quite know the meaning of. He was studying animation, and taking classes for film production, but he was trying to do some homework for an English class.

"Babe, can I use your phone real quick? Mine ran out of battery" he asked. "Sure, what for?" "I just want to Google this word" he said and have you that bunny smile, you handed him the phone unblocked, not worrying in the slightest. He got it,and quickly clicked on the  navigator, as he was about to type he peeked at your search history, things like 'how to choose your major', 'how do I know if I made the right decision','best careers based on your zodiac sign' that last one made him chuckle but he was generally preoccupied, because something was definitely wrong. He made a mental note to talk to you about it. Jungkook quickly made the research and completed his task. He then approached you, to give it back to you. You were just in the couch reading something, as he handed you the phone with a smile you sensed something off. "So, what's the best career for a virgo?" He wondered. It took a minute for it to click. "Kook…" you trailed of, not sure as to what to say. He sat down next to you. "Why wouldn't you tell me?" "I just- I was.. am so confused. I believe I chose what I did for a reason but now I'm not so sure and it been going on for a while. I guess I didn't want to bother you with stupid problems like that." You told him. He just shook his head. "That's why I am your boyfriend, so you can come to me with whatever is bothering you and we can fix it together cause we're a team, and it works the other way around too." "You're right, sorry" "It's okay, but promise me you will from now on" " I will, I promise" you smiled at him and he answered back "now that that's out of the way, let's find your perfect major" and with a kiss on your cheek, you then proceed to go through a lot of lists and quizzes a lot of websites suggested, together.

~~

a/n: I’m so sorry this took so long but the scenario really hit home and I got distracted, anyways i hope you enjoy it and like it. 

gifs not mine

[punkscowardschampions]

Bea & Fraze

Bea: Hey Fraze: What do you want, red? Bea: Talk Fraze: Didn't gloat enough last night, yeah? Fraze: Go on then Bea: That wasn't even what I intended then, even though I was obviously shitfaced, so yeah Bea: Christ Bea: I'm sorry, alright? Fraze: Fuck sorry Fraze: I was shitfaced last night too, I didn't stick my tongue down anyone's throat Bea: Well, you could've Fraze: Cheers for the written permission Fraze: I'll go make a friend, gimme a sec Bea: I'm just saying, not the point, is it Fraze: Your point is, it ain't fun unless you can throw it in my face, like Bea: It wasn't actually about you, sorry to disappoint Fraze: Funny way of showing it Fraze: Should've kept your hands busy, babe Fraze: It would've avoided this Bea: Don't be disgusting Bea: it was bad enough what I did Fraze: You came to the wrong place for sympathy Bea: I'm not after it, I'm just trying to tell you I've sorted it, alright? Fraze: Now you've said it. Run along and pat yourself on the back Bea: Yeah got it, you hate me Bea: but I don't love him, hear that Fraze: What do you expect me to do? Like I could cast my mind back to how it feels pining for someone but I was only a kid Fraze: Fuck off Bea: That isn't close to what this is Bea: How do you manage to still be so arrogant whilst being totally fucking wrong? Bea: A real talent Fraze: Better mine than yours Bea: Obviously Bea: Hope its good company, like Fraze: We done or is there more sob story to come? Bea: Fuck it Bea: You've heard it all before and if you're incapable of connecting the dots by now, you never will Bea: why waste any more time Fraze: Wouldn't want you keep from walking the fuck away again Fraze: Off you go Bea: Again? Seriously? Bea: Where have I gone that you haven't Fraze: You tell me Fraze: The distance ain't being measured in miles, is it, babe Bea: Exactly Bea: Don't act like it was all my idea Fraze: Likewise Fraze: Not for one second was your hand being forced Bea: Didn't say it was Bea: Doesn't mean I had it under control, all cold and calculated, so fuck you Fraze: Hurts doesn't it, when people reckon you're that cunt Bea: I haven't accused you of fucking anything Bea: That's all you Fraze: Bullshit Fraze: Ever since uni started it's like I masterminded this whole fucking plan to fuck you over Bea: You're the one bringing that up Bea: What, you want me to say I'm perfectly capable of that all on my own? Bea: Got the proof, now who's fucking gloating Fraze: Fucking hell Fraze: If the cap fits though, babe Fraze: Go ahead and gloat about how you picked someone who was off limits and broke what few rules there were, on your way out Fraze: Proud of you, like Bea: Fuck off Bea: You don't get to be faux angry on his behalf Bea: You don't even think he's legit or like him and now you're his defender? Don't make me laugh Fraze: You fuck off Fraze: I'm angry on my own behalf Fraze: I don't get attached, deliberately, but you just had to one-up me and go harder, yeah? Congrats Bea: I'm not attached! You aren't listening Fraze: I could give less of a fuck what you're TRYING to say Fraze: You didn't pick him up at the club, no names Fraze: And you knew how I'd react Fraze: You fucking love this Bea: You don't get to listen last night and not now Bea: not how it works Bea: also no Bea: I know it's hard when you're so self-involved but consider for a second that it was actually about HIM and not YOU Bea: pushing HIM away Fraze: Shut up Fraze: I know how important he is to you, no need to shove that down my throat after you've tongued his Fraze: I can think, do and say what I fucking like Fraze: That's how it works Bea: Then do Bea: if this is the hill you wanna live and die on Bea: but you're being ridiculous Bea: frankly Fraze: And that's only for you to be, yeah? I forgot Fraze: You're a fucking farce Fraze: And still judging me Bea: Least I'm owning it Bea: what the fuck are you doing? Fraze: I'm not the one shitting on everything from a great height last I checked Bea: You're complicit, you said as much Bea: but nah, all me Bea: wouldn't that be helpful for your complex Fraze: You're wasted not studying psychology, babe Fraze: Truly Bea: Whatever Bea: I know I'm right and so do you Fraze: Feel good, does it? Fraze: I hope so 'cause it's all you've got to show for this Bea: Yeah, great Bea: Can't you tell? Fraze: Yeah Fraze: Doesn't take a genius Bea: Thank fuck Bea: 'cos you're a total moron Fraze: Fuck you Bea: No, you Fraze: That's the best you've got? Fraze: We ain't 7 any more Bea: Stop sulking then Fraze: Stop messing me about then Bea: I ain't Bea: it was just drunk texts, we've all been there Fraze: Still fucked me up Bea: I said sorry Bea: I am sorry Bea: what can I do? Fraze: Say it like you mean it Fraze: Say it to my face Bea: Really? In the middle of a School week? Bea: You are high maintenance Fraze: Fuck it Fraze: I can own how much I miss you Fraze: How shit this is Bea: Still? Fraze: Do you want me to come or don't you Fraze: Simple enough Bea: Yes Bea: obviously Fraze: Shut up then Fraze: Always fighting me Bea: Yeah, like I'm letting that one slide when I've got at least a solid day before you get here and can make me Fraze: We both know when I get there you'll only be making more noise Fraze: That's why I need you to give in now and let it happen Bea: I'm not stopping you Bea: student loans might have something to say about how you utilize your funds; your profs, your time Fraze: That shit's the least of my worries Bea: Cheers, I ain't THAT bad.. Fraze: Don't get it twisted, babe Bea: Well what else would be giving your grief? Fraze: It's the lack of you Fraze: You're not the problem like, it's that bullshit getting in my way Bea: Yeah Bea: I get it Bea: Got to be done Fraze: Yeah, but I've got to see you first Bea: Come Fraze: No pretty please? Bea: Pushing it, boy Fraze: Would you rather I didn't? I don't reckon Bea: You know what I'd rather Fraze: As a total moron, might need it spelled out, like Bea: Aww babe, you need your ego stroked after that one? Bea: Gone soft on me, like Fraze: It ain't my ego Fraze: And not unless you've lost your touch, babe Bea: Doubting my talent after lauding it only seconds ago? Bea: Hot and cold you are Fraze: Making sure you're listening and keeping you interested Fraze: Bit of multitasking and that Bea: Hmm Bea: Bit tryhard but appreciated Fraze: What else do you reckon I'm learning at college? Fraze: Might as well be an arse kissing degree this Fraze: They call it business but Christ Bea: Whatever gets you the deal, babe Bea: 😂 Bea: Love to see that in action Fraze: You and all these other cunts Bea: You don't like your course? Fraze: What gave it away? Bea: You could change Bea: Not too late Fraze: Not technically but we ain't all loving dealing with superhuman workloads, babe Fraze: Fuck starting over Bea: Alright Bea: It'll still be worth it in the end Fraze: Yeah Fraze: I'll get it done, it ain't that bad Bea: Good Bea: Not just saying it, yeah? Fraze: I'm not a pussy I've done this much, I can handle the rest Bea: I know you aren't Fraze: Don't treat me like one then Fraze: Take my word for it, like Bea: Alright Bea: Calm down Bea: Only asking Fraze: Only saying Bea: Yeah Bea: well I'm sick of not knowing how you're doing Fraze: You are losing your touch if you ain't keeping decent tabs Bea: Fuck off Bea: I've got a life, thanks Fraze: Did have, before you fucked it, like Bea: Shut up Bea: Not funny Fraze: Not laughing Bea: Not what it sounds like from here Fraze: Well, you've got it wrong Bea: What else is knew Fraze: Your turn to sulk now then, yeah? Bea: thought you was being nice Fraze: Now who's gone soft? Bea: Fuck you then, gonna go back to icing you out, like Fraze: You reckon Bea: Yep Fraze: Gonna slam the door in my face, like Bea: Bold of you to assume I'm answering the door Fraze: Come on Fraze: You didn't want me to laugh a second ago, make your mind up Bea: Joking Bea: Keep up Fraze: Hilarious, of course Bea: Yeah, now you've got not nothing, not even a pity laugh Bea: Rude, tbh Fraze joined the chat 14 hours ago Fraze: Like you said, what else is new Bea: could pretend to be nice 'til you leave Bea: not asking for much Fraze: Could do, yeah Bea: Promising Fraze: Not tryhard, like? Fraze: Changing the rules to suit yourself again, babe Bea: You're so bloody awkward Fraze: Cheers Bea: Are you still moody or what? Bea: I've not got a clear enough head for this Fraze: Hanging too hard? Bea: Big time Bea: you reckon I was fucking up my life sober? Bea: little more credit Fraze: I thought you could handle the morning after, but that's too much credit clearly Bea: What can I say? Not an old pro like you Bea: not that this was your finest hour Fraze: Being away from the homeland is making you weak Bea: you reckon Bea: i should come to you then Fraze: You'll have to work harder than that to keep me away from your former bestie Bea: Yeah right Bea: as if that's happening regardless Fraze: Yeah right Bea: You've not been arsed to meet him so you aren't showing up now for a scrap Bea: I'm going back to Cambs so Bea: enjoy your reunion with Joe if you show up there, like Fraze: Fuck off Fraze: You're not funny, babe Bea: Who's joking Bea: Pure facts Fraze: Whatever Bea: ain't getting you nothing from the shops then Fraze: Don't act like you were gonna Bea: might've Bea: got a twofer in the perfume bit but I'll just treat myself x2 now Bea: 'cos I'm such a bitch, obvs Fraze: Again, if the cap fits like Fraze: Think on and buy your friend back Bea: Way ahead of you Bea: Not out for my health, am I Fraze: As per Fraze: I know, priorities Bea: talking to you, ain't i? reckon if i was really into him wouldn't be looking at my phone, yeah? Fraze: Not when you gotta play your cards closer to your chest after last night's fuck up Bea: Oh yeah Bea: playing it cool, like Fraze: Better late than never Bea: What's my master plan here then, like? Bea: be his beard for life Bea: not exactly what I had in mind Fraze: 'Cause he rejected you, he's gotta be gay, yeah? Bea: Duh Fraze joined the chat 2 hours ago Fraze: Whatever you say, babe Bea joined the chat 2 hours ago Bea: Not me who needs reassuring Fraze: First time for everything Bea: If its SUCH a struggle for you Bea: don't bother Fraze: Don't start that shit again Fraze: Christ Bea: Just saying Bea: If you're gonna be this moany Fraze: Don't Fraze: Trying to give me a headache to match yours like Bea: You ain't already? Fraze: It wasn't a challenge Fraze: No, I ain't Fraze: It's all woe's you Bea: Ook. Fraze: Get some hair of the dog on your date you'll be grand Bea: I dunno if the tea room in John Lewis is gonna be up to the challenge Fraze: Unlucky then Bea: as far as dates go Fraze: No shit Bea: good thing i'm just running errands really Fraze: Fair enough, gotta stay sober round that lad now you can't trust yourself like Fraze: Wouldn't wanna fuck up the making up with another kiss Bea: Yeah right, just can't help myself Bea: Is that actually what you think? Fraze: Fuck off Bea: Seriously? Bea: I thought you were joking Bea: you actually think I fancy him Fraze: Don't be an idiot Bea: You first, babe Fraze: What the fuck do you want from me, right now? Fraze: This ain't how I aspire to kick off my mornings Fraze: You got your bestie back. I'm thrilled for you Bea: To hear me! Bea: and yeah, to maybe give a shit Bea: I've never fancied anyone but you Fraze: Act like it then Bea: What else can I do? Fraze: Tell me what the fuck you need him for? Fraze: You've got me Bea: It's completely different Bea: it's just good to have someone a little more Bea: I don't know, impartial? Less...involved Bea: You know, you have friends Bea: That's all it is Fraze: Forget it Bea: No Bea: Don't Bea: when we're finally getting somewhere Fraze: To you making me look a cunt Fraze: Cheers Bea: No I ain't Bea: How is that what you take from that Fraze: What can I say, must be that thick, don't you reckon? Fraze: No worries. It is what it is Bea: Nah Bea: I'm not saying I don't want you to be those things Bea: but that's just you Bea: I'm saying, he ain't Fraze: And I'm saying, you never needed mates before Fraze: So what's different, him or me? Bea: Not like I had much say in the matter, was it? Fraze: I've just never been good enough from day one then, yeah? Fraze: You already spend all your time with those dossers. Fuck's sake Bea: Shut up, no! Bea: What do you want me to do, commute back every day? Bea: If it was feasible, I would Fraze: Jesus Fraze: You want me to have all the answers, but newsflash, red, I ain't Bea: Well, me neither Fraze: Nah Bea: So, what? 'Cos you ain't, you're just giving up, yeah? Fraze: Fuck you Fraze: I'm not a quitter Fraze: I'm still fucking here, ain't I? Bea: Are you? Bea: Prove it Fraze: I'm already getting a flight, what more do you want? Bea: Say you still love me Fraze: Of course I fucking do Bea: Not what you said last night Fraze: Last night I was drunk and angry Fraze: End of Bea: Alright Fraze: You're not the only one who gets to fuck up, you know Fraze: I still love you, Bea Bea: I know Bea: I love you Fraze: Prove it. Leave that twat to his own devices for a sec and call me Bea: [Calls] Fraze: I change my mind, you are funny Fraze: What's not to love, like Bea: It was you trying to make me laugh amongst other things in the middle a busy shop Fraze: You love it Bea: Yeah Bea: didn't need to change my mind there Fraze: Good. Enough of a battle getting here Bea: Shh Bea: Enough of that for one day Fraze: Yeah