#tw.sexual harassment

[maliciouslove]

𝕍𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟

NSFW, dark content, aged up characters (21+)

ʚ pairing ɞ scumbag villain!izuku midoriya x morally corrupt hero!reader

ʚ word count ɞ 2.7k

ʚ summary ɞ izuku grew up with all power taken from him, so he became the type of person that enjoys making others feel powerless. nothing feeds his ego more than a cute girl crumbling under his touch and feeling powerless to stop him from sliding his hands all over her body in the packed train. until he meets you—a peculiar, equally fucked in the head girl that actually enjoyed the things he was doing to her. enjoyed the thrill of almost being caught. enjoyed having power taken from her. a debauched, morally corrupt hero in disguise.

ʚ tags ɞ frotteurism (fetish for groping people in crowded places), tw dubcon, tw noncon, tw sexual assault, tw sexual harassment, tw exhibitionism, tw power imbalance, pussy job, public sex, creampie, cw degradation, use of “whore” once

Just like any other child, Izuku Midoriya grew up wanting to be a hero, however, despite his aspirations, the boy never manifested a quirk. Still, he never gave up and never lost hope—that is, until he failed the UA entrance exam and was brutally made fun of by everyone else.

“Look at this loser, thinking he could pass the exam without an actual quirk, what a joke.”

“Jokes are funny, this guy is absolutely pathetic. Go home kid, become a policeman or fireman instead, leave the hero work for those with quirks.”

“Maybe if you take a swan dive off a roof, you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life.”

Some heroes they were going to be.

And that was when his mind started getting corrupt. Izuku went down a different, darker path than the one he had envisioned as a child. He mixed with the wrong people and little by little he shed off his hero dream, discarding it alongside his morals, being perfectly content being a scumbag villain instead.

All power was stripped away from him once the world learned he was quirkless, so he sought ways to make others feel even more powerless than he did. Nothing stroked his ego more than making cute girls squirm and crumble under his touch in paralyzing fear, as his hands wandered over their bodies on a packed train. He enjoyed the way their eyes would shut tightly as if to avoid confronting the reality of their own powerlessness in the situation. The way their bodies stiffened the moment he leaned in closer to take a whiff of their perfume.

Why aren’t you saying anything, pretty girl? You have a quirk, don’t you? That already makes you more qualified than me to be a hero. So why are you letting me touch you? Why are you keeping your eyes shut? Why are you giving me so much power?    

Every little squirm, every hitch of their breath, every shake of their hands, and the way they would hope somebody would notice—it made Izuku feel powerful.

Do you know why you’re weaker than even me, sweetheart? Because you’re waiting for someone else to save you, you’re waiting for a hero.

 That’s how his days went by—hop on the train, find the weakest target, the insecure girls, the quiet ones, the ones whose eyes still sparkled with hope that a big strong hero will always be there to protect them. Once he found his victim, he moved in, ready to prove them wrong—show them how little heroes actually care. Towering over them, he would stare down their cleavage, letting his imagination run wild as his hands slide up the side of their hip. An accidental grind against their ass, a swift trace of his index finger down the inside of their thigh. His ministrations would make his targets shrink even further, the thrill of being found out feeding his power hunger further and making his cock painfully hard in the confinement of his slacks.

It became routine until he was able to pick out the perfect targets with a single glance, until he was able to predict what each girl would do and how everything would play out. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to find someone equally as debauched as him one day.

With your car being in the repair shop for the next week, you had started using public transport to get to work. That of course meant having to travel during peak hours, more often than not finding yourself pressed against strangers, sometimes absolute creeps, and yet some very dark and hidden part of you enjoyed that, the unwanted attention making you buzz with excitement.

And today was no different—you found yourself pushed in the very corner of the train car facing away from the other passengers. A large green-haired man stood right behind you, muscular arm holding onto the ceiling rail as his entire body loomed over your much smaller one.

The train was fully packed and everyone was minding their business— some sleeping, some listening to music, and others glued to their phones. Yet, the man behind you seemed to focus all his attention on you. You could feel his gaze travel down your nape, studying the curvature of your spine, eyes moving downwards to your ass and legs. It felt like prickles on your skin, like an invisible hand stripping you of all your clothes and the thought made you rub your thighs together.

The lack of space forced you both to stand very close to each other, the motions of the train pushing you into his chest every so often. You could tell he was using every opportunity to smell your hair, craning his neck downwards to also look down your shirt. You wonder if he could see what color your bra was, if he could see the lace poking out from under the collar of your shirt.

The train changed tracks again and you found yourself pressed against his chest once more. This time his large hand found purchase on your hip, thumb gently stroking the bit of skin that was showing above the hem of your skirt. In the reflection of the window, you see his green eyes staring into yours, full of lust and hunger. His aura threatening to consume you entirely and for a second, your body filling with fear, a heavy feeling settling in your chest.

You look away, quickly.

Your heart is hammering in your chest and you fear he can hear it, taste the blood that’s currently coursing through your veins.

The train shifts and you can feel his hard cock pressed against your ass, his fingers on your hip tightening their grip. Your body feels paralyzed under his touch.

But not by fear.

Excitement.

You let your body be swayed by the motion of the train, making sure to circle your ass back onto his cock, licking your lips and buzzing with pleasure when your skirt hitches on his bulge, lifting and revealing part of your panties. You take a swift look around to see if anyone is looking your way, but as usual, everyone is consumed in their own thoughts, too absorbed by their own miserable existence to notice anything else.

You’re dragged out of your momentary haze by his breath on your neck.

“What do you think you’re doing there, sweetheart, has your mommy not taught you any better?”

His voice is deep, feigning concern for you while his eyes ooze vile lust and need for control. His presence devours you, it feels like sludge covering you from head to toe, sliding down your throat and filling your lungs with dread, making you unable to talk, unable to even look him in the eye.

His hands move down your hips, hiking your skirt up even further, fingers tracing the delicate lace of your underwear. Your clit is throbbing with anticipation so perfectly masked as fear. For Izuku, your heightened pulse meant paralyzing fear, but only you knew the truth about how this made your blood boil in excitement. How much you wanted him to slide his hands between your legs, to fucking take you right then and there, amidst the people that could see the pleasure blooming on your face any second now.

You faintly hear the unzipping of his slacks and feel the warmth of his cock on your bare skin—it’s thick and heavy against your ass cheek, smearing pre on your skin and panties. You’re feeling dizzy, body going limp in his strong arms as his hand sneaks around your waist and cups your pussy under the frills of your skirt.

For a brief moment, his movements pause as his mind processes what he’s feeling—you’re soaking wet, panties completely drenched, arousal practically dripping down your thighs. He was used to women’s bodies reluctantly reacting to him, but this was rather different. His eyes dart forward, inspecting your features more closely now—your heart was erratic, but not because of crippling fear. He leans in, noticing how blown your pupils are, consuming all the color in your eyes. Lips parted and chest heaving, he finally finds the piece of the puzzle that seemed to be missing, the explanation behind the odd feeling of being unable to predict what his prey will do next—your eyes had the same fragmented madness behind them.

You were just as sick as he was.

Without a second of hesitation, the hand that’s cupping your sex moves your panties to the side, thick and calloused fingers running through your wet folds, spreading your arousal and circling around your clit with tender motions.

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it—your skin is on fire and your insides are melting under this stranger's touch. You close your eyes in an attempt to compose yourself while the hand on your hip travels up your sides to squeeze your breast, teasing your nipples over the fabric. The green-haired man’s breath is almost as erratic as yours, his hard and leaking cock evidence of how turned on he was by your compliance, by the fact you were actually enjoying being used like this in public.

His cock now rubs between your thighs, his hot skin meeting your sticky one, and your insides beginning to knot just by the thought. You’re letting a complete stranger get off on you. You secretly hope that someone else on the train has noticed and is maybe even enjoying the show.

Your insides are aching for relief so you push yourself against his cock, the mushroom tip spreading and gliding between your folds, clit rubbing against the veins on his shaft.

Holding yourself with one hand by the ceiling rail and slightly lifting yourself onto your tiptoes, feeling the tip of his cock pushing against your entrance. Biting your lip you sink back onto his cock, taking two inches past your entrance, grazing your soft walls. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes you experience every sensation trifold, makes you want to shamelessly grind against him and moan in ecstasy, but you are in public, therefore you compose yourself and relish in the slow feeling of being filled up by this man.

Izuku’s hand grips your waist harder, fucking himself into your tight, greedy cunt, feeling himself being sucked in by your plush walls. You are practically dripping onto his cock, the natural lubrication allowing him to smoothly fully sheathe himself inside you, putting his other hand over your mouth to prevent to moan that was about to escape your lips.

He holds you there, flush against him, the tip of his cock pressing against the deepest, most delicious spot inside you, subtle hip movements rocking you back and forth, the slow motion allowing him to massage that sweet spot he currently finds himself pressed against.

His eyes briefly scan the train cart, confirming that every passenger is still oblivious to what’s going on, continuing to push you off his thick cock, only to slide back in, softly, as though not to make a sound.

He’s big in every sense. His large frame hiding you from any onlookers, big hands easily maneuvering you onto his fat cock, splitting you open and pushing through the resistance of your tight hole. Your body jolts as he stretches you out almost painfully, but every time he thrusts inside you, you see stars in your vision from how deep he was.

You feel snug and warm around Izuku’s cock and he could stay buried inside you forever. He’s never met anyone this fucked up who would let him use them for his own pleasure. In a fully packed train nonetheless. You were sick and twisted just like Izuku, making him relish in the feeling, sensing that you’re not going to cause a scene and opting to let go of your waist in favor of sliding his hand down the front of your pelvis and playing with your puffy clit.

The moment he started drawing soft circles around your sensitive nub he felt your knees give in and your insides clench. God, you were going to come undone for him.

He watches your eyebrows pinch together as you bite your lip, slowly increasing the pace of his thrusts. You look so pretty, trying to keep your pleasure hidden, but shamelessly moving your hips to match his own.

For the first time during this train ride, you look into his eyes and maintain eye contact instead of shyly breaking it off. There is pure sin set ablaze in your eyes, a lustful need, a burning desire that he feels he needs to quench. Just your eyes alone could make Izuku cum on the spot, seductive and debauched, deprived and full of the same madness as his own.

Your eyes beg him, so he obeys.

With one final, rather harsh thrust Izuku buries himself to the hilt, emptying his load deep inside your gummy walls, spurting thick white ropes of cum while nuzzling his face in your neck—committing your scent to memory.

The train slows down as it approaches the next stop and the strange man gently pulls out. Your hands quickly fix your panties and skirt, hiding any evidence of his ministrations. His load slowly trickles down, soiling your panties, and yet the feeling brings you nothing but joy, as if you were currently on cloud nine.

The train comes to a halt, an alarm signaling the opening of the doors blares out.

The mass of people began leaving the train, the tall green-haired man seamlessly blending into the crowd and disappearing.

Avoiding eye contact and swiftly walking past clusters of people, Izuku was assured he was out of danger, turning around the corne—

“Where do you think you’re going, handsome?” You cut off his path and look into his eyes, a smile that didn’t reach your eyes plastered on your lips. “I’m not quite done with you yet.”

“Aw, I don’t think anyone’s ever come for seconds before.” Izuku places his hands in his pockets, giving you a smug smile and shamelessly tracing every curve of your body with his eyes, imagining what you look like without all those pesky clothes on.

“Aw, you know, you’re kinda cute, Izuku Midoriya,” The green-haired man's smile faltered. From the inside pocket of your jacket you pull out a card that he immediately recognizes. A card he was destined to never ever obtain. “Too bad I’m gonna have to arrest you.”

Before his mind could assimilate, you had easily pushed him against the wall with his hands behind his back, placing handcuffs on his wrists.

“Y-You can’t arrest me, you whore, you literally let me fuck you, what kind of hero are you?” He spits out in shock, words laced with venom, growling in attempting to shake you off, even though panic rises in his throat like bile. “You’re no fucking hero, you’re just like me.”

“Mm, I  probably am… but see, I have a quirk so I can get away with being a morally corrupt hero.” The words spoken in a sickly sweet voice rang in his ears, deafening, despite being whispered, meant only for his ears to hear.

Izuku opens his mouth to argue, to threaten to expose you, but you shush him with an index finger over his lips.

“Don’t bother, who do you think they are going to believe? A pro-hero with a quirk and a squeaky clean record, or a quirkless scumbag that we have hundreds of reports on for sexual harassment and assault?”

With no affection or remorse you yank him by the hair and lick the shell of his ear.

“I had fun, Izuku. Find me when you get out of jail.” You place a final feather light kiss to his cheek and lead him through the crowds to bring him into the nearest precinct.

No man would ever make you feel as alive and exhilarated as he did, the memory of what you did being something you often revisit when you get yourself off late into the night after patrol, thinking of his villainous green eyes, while your words would haunt Izuku and play on a loop each night as he plotted ways to find you once he had served his time.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

[mulberrysilk]

i just finished reading crush and it literally makes me want to cry beacause it doesn't look like the reader is enjoying it, it looks likes she's being raped, saying she just wants to please and they take advantage on that, it made me feel dirty reading it, and as someone who has been sexually harassed before it really hut, I'm not saying this to hurt you, I'm just asking you to put a disclaimer on it, please.

hello. I’m so sorry that it hurt :< but i made the mistake of not making the warnings bolded. I wrote that piece a year ago when I was just starting out. I have placed a disclaimer and will make them more clearer.

I apologise for the lack of diligence on my part for that. Thank you for your message.

[saintobio]

So I was just thinking and I came to the realization that Gojo didn’t care that y/n got harassed. I feel like he only put on that front because of Alexis being there, and that hurts.

Anonymous said

this man really does not give a fuck about yn bet he probably didn’t even care about our baby almost getting assaulted

he actually did care a lil considering that he still followed her to see the northern lights knowing that she might encounter the creep again :) but it’s not like overprotective level. he just felt the need to be around her in case incidents like that may happen again

[jadequeen88]

A Waitress’ Worst Nightmare

A/N: Written for the BNHA Degeneracy 9-5 collab! THIS IS 18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: TW.sexual harassment, TW.oral(recieving), TW.degredation TW.nipple play, TW.Mommy kink

Pairing: busboy!Keigo, linecook!Dabi, f!waitress!Reader

You’re a college student just trying to get by. The biggest worry you should have right now is if you had enough time to finish that psych paper or when you were going to meet up with your calculus study group. Instead, you’ve got a much larger problem facing you...A problem that has permeated through every aspect of your life. Your coworkers were Grade-A-Assholes who decided making your life miserable was on the top of their to do lists.

You thought waitressing at the 24/7 diner downtown would be a breeze. Money was tight and since you were 21 and almost done with your undergrad, you wanted a little more financial independence. Little did you know when the owner hired you that you’d have to work alongside the two biggest shitheads in the city.

First there’s Keigo. To the untrained eye, he could almost seem charming. But you found out pretty quickly what a dick he was. He was working as a “busboy”, but in reality he didn’t do anything but flirt with every woman within his field of vision. Keigo would leave the tables a mess until there wasn’t a clean one left in your station and you’d be forced to do his job for him.

“What, babe? Stop getting your panties in a twist. I’m real busy these days. You know I’m practically running this place now.”

Oh yeah. How could you forget? He took every opportunity to remind you of that fact. Keigo’s dad happened to be buddies with the owner, garnering a sense of trust with the old man. He slowly weaseled his way into running day-to-day operations while the elderly owner stayed home most days.

Although the diner needed another busboy to pick up his slack, Keigo refused to tell the boss to hire another. You overheard a phone conversation between Keigo and your boss just last night:

“Nah, boss. We’ve got it covered here. No need to hire another busboy. The waitresses are just finding reasons to nag. Women, am I right?”

You were fuming.

***

As bad as Keigo was, his friend Dabi was exponentially worse. The line cook was, without a doubt, a drug dealer. The only motive he could possibly have for working there is having a place to do business with his “customers”(and of course, to help Keigo make your life a living hell). It clearly wasn’t because he needed the money since you’d seen his “friends” slip him generous wads of cash when they stopped by the restaurant. If cleaning up Keigo’s messes sucked, trying to put in customer’s orders with Dabi was pure torture. 

“Eggs over easy instead of scrambled? I dunno, Princess. Sounds like it’ll be a pain in my ass. Whatcha gonna give me if I do it?”

Then he’d lick his lips with his long pierced tongue, leering at you over the counter. Gag... You wondered if that ever actually worked in his favor. 

One semi-decent thing you can say about Keigo is that he’d never actually laid a finger on you. The same can’t be said for Dabi. You learned after your first day to wear shorts under the skirt of your uniform. You were behind the counter slicing lemons when he took his spatula and lifted the hem of your skirt. Before you realized what he was doing, he was calling out to his partner in crime.

“Fuuuuuck, Kei! Look at the ass on the new girl!”

You wondered what was going on until you felt a breeze and realized it was your ass that was on display. You’d slapped the spatula away and straightened your skirt, but not before they both got an eyeful of your black, lace panties. You cried for ten minutes in the bathroom after your shift that day.

***

The day you’d been dreading was finally upon you. No, it wasn’t a big test or project due... You had to ask off work for your cousin’s wedding. That meant dealing with Keigo (who was now in charge of making the schedule each week).

You squared your shoulders and went over what you would say over, and over in your head so you wouldn’t stumble over your words when you had to face him. 

“I need to have Saturday off for my cousin’s wedding. I can work the Sunday morning shift instead.”

This was repeated on a loop in your brain as you walked down the darkened corridor towards the office. You let out a long sigh and gently rapped your knuckles against the wooden frame. The sound of shuffling and muffled voices seeped through the thin faux wood and a moment later, the door swung inward. The thick cloud of smoke and strong, skunky smell almost knocked you flat on your ass. Instead of seeing Keigo alone working on the schedule, you saw that he and Dabi were hotboxing in the small office.

Knowing they were back here getting high while you closed the diner by yourself was the last straw. You slam the door behind you and stomp forward to lean over the desk Keigo was propped up behind.

“Listen you shit heads!” you slammed you fists on the desk knocking over a jar of pens. “I am so fucking sick of slaving away in this shit hole while you two get high and fuck off back here. You’re going to let me have Saturday off or I swear to Christ, I’m calling the boss and spilling my guts! About the weed, the drug deals, the snarky remarks, the groping, EVERYTHING! I’ve had enough!”

There was a moment of silence then the two of them burst into a fit of laughter. In a blind fit of rage, you leap across the desk and grab Keigo by the throat. When you made contact and squeezed as hard as your small hand would allow, a whimper escaped his throat and his eyes rolled back.

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you gripped your fingers tightly again to see if you could pull any more sounds from him. He didn’t disappoint. This time it was a whimper followed by him nervously mumbling.

“Heh, Kid... Seriously, knock it off. This shit isn’t funny.”

Your eyes traveled down the front of his body and when they landed on the crotch of his baggy khakis, your suspicions were confirmed. This loser who acted like a certified pussy-slayer popped a boner just from you choking him.

You leaned in close to his face, using this as your chance to get revenge for all the hell he had put you through. “Aww little Keigo... Not used to being roughed up?” you cooed. “Dumb little baby Keigo...I bet if I kept this up, you’d come in your pants like a dirty slut, wouldn’t you?”

You felt movement over your shoulder and heard a deep chuckle. “Dude you’re so pathe-”

Dabi gasped as you grabbed him by the crotch with your free hand and squeezed. He was already hard. You met his eyes and see panic etched across his features. A sadistic grin spread across your mouth as you tightened your grip. His head fell back and let out a whimper almost as needy as Keigo’s. 

“You’re both going to do exactly what I say or I swear, I will tell every girl you ever try to speak to what a couple of pathetic virgins you two are...”

***

“Ungh! Plea-please... Harder! I... I need more!”

*SMACK*

Your hand lands hard across the blonde’s face, drawing a pathetic whimper from his throat. He thrust his weeping cock along your shin whimpering, craving more pressure to relieve his suffering.

“You don’t get to tell me what you need, Keigo. Shut your fucking mouth and be grateful you get this much.”

You throw your head back against the office chair and hum as Dabi eats your cunt like it’s his last meal.

“Mmm... See Keigo? See what a good boy Dabi is being? He knows his stupid mouth is only meant for one thing... Making Mommy’s pussy feel good.”

The praise causes the dark haired man between your thighs to moan into your clit sending a pulse of pleasure through your lower body. The ball of his piercing circles your clit and you feel the familiar ache of an impending orgasm begin to tighten in your belly.

Keigo starts shoving Dabi away from you with a growl. “This is bullshit! I haven’t even had a chance yet!”

Dabi elbows him, ”Fuck off Kei! I almost had her finished off!”

Furious from being jerked back from the edge of your orgasm, you grab a fist full of blonde hair in one hand and black in the other. You pull their flushed faces up to look you in the eye.

“If you want to come at all, you will shut...the fuck...up... and get me off. Now”

Dabi wasted no time in diving back into your dripping slit, panting heavily while he ran his pierced tongue in and out of your swollen entrance. Keigo attacked your neck, whimpering as he planted sloppy kisses down your collarbone until his tongue was licking long stripes up you clothed nipple.

“I think you can do a little better than that, baby,’ you cooed into Keigo’s messy blonde tresses, sweetly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He took that as his cue to remove the clothing between your hardening bud and his hot, wet tongue.

Keigo latched onto your nipple, nursing it with vigor while he gently grazed his fingertips over the other. You heard him mumble something into the soft swell of your breast.

“Speak up,” you pull him away from your nipple with a pop, “I didn’t catch that...”

“I-I said... I...”

Your attention was drawn to the man between your legs as he began to suck down hard on your clit. The hand you had wrapped in Keigo’s hair tightened causing him to cry out.

“Mommy! Please! Wanna be your good boy! Wanna make Mommy come...” He sobs as he starts frantically licking and sucking your neglected nipple. This pushes you over the edge and your long awaited orgasm rushes over you. 

After you come down from your high, you push them off and begin getting dressed while the two men you left on the floor look up at you with wide eyes.

Dabi, still panting from eating you so vigorously, chokes out a little half sob.

“But.. where are you goin? We did what you asked!”

“Yeah babe! what the fuck!”

You eyed both men and let the tension hang in the air before turning and walking to the door.

“Give me the whole weekend off. Then we’ll arrange something Monday,” you look over your shoulder, “As long as you don’t piss me off before then..”

You walk out of the office with the biggest grin you’ve had in a long time and feeling a lot more relaxed. Maybe this job was going to turn out better than you expected. 

[halcyonkrp]

WHO’S THAT TRAINER ?

coming from jeju city, jeju, south korea and settling into the dongnae district here in busan as an apprentice chef, she’s not participating in the league! but don’t underestimate her, can you guess who she is?

                                                                            IT’S JANG NOORI !

ADDITIONAL POKEMON

teddiursa, munchlax, psyduck, duosion, snubbull, rowlet

POKEDEX ENTRY

tw: mentions of sexual harassment

the burden was always the heaviest for the eldest child, noori no real exception to the rule. though she was loved and cared for, her immediate family expected her to fall into respectable career moves in their community, as they already held a very respectable position among their own peers. in a sense, though they lived on an island and a lot of their neighbors and relatives were simple folk who worked in markets and deep sea dived with their pokemon for a living and lived comfortably, her own parents decided they would ‘make more of themselves’ and not live simple lives by taking on slightly high profile jobs as pokemon researchers in the city.

and while noori wanted to live up to every expectation set in front of her, the fact of the matter was none of the options presented to her ever worked out or showcased her strengths, but rather her weaknesses. but regardless she had determination and drive to succeed, and so before she even finished high school she was already preparing to study to become a pokemon nurse—one of the few positions her family would be accepting of that wouldn’t cause noori too much grief.

she failed the exam the first time. took it in stride to study harder and studied hard to pass the next one. she didn’t.

it was becoming apparent to noori, her younger siblings who were thriving academically, and her parents that noori wasn’t going to be able to uphold their rising family name, not even in as a trainer as she expressed no interest in becoming a league champion or anything of the sort. if anything she was becoming more of an embarrassment to them, and ever so slowly, she became less and less talked about, and more looks of pity followed her. after failing the exam three times, she took her pokemon retreated deeper into the island to stay with an aunt and uncle who ran their own restaurant by the ocean, and though the couple was expecting noori to mess that up too, they were surprised at how much she thrived.

fact was that every time noori failed her exam, she went home and cooked up a storm for her family in hopes that a good dinner would lessen the fact that she failed and serve as an apology of sorts. she had just naturally became good with cooking and food, and used it to console her and give her hope throughout the process. likewise she was very good with making special foods for her relatives and their customers pokemon, using food grown right on the island to keep pokemon healthy and away from some of the foods humans ate that would make them sick.

it was eventually suggested noori go to culinary school and do that professionally and see where it took her, since her family wasn’t really talking to her and she was just wasting time and money trying to become a nurse when it was clearly not her path in life.

though it was difficult, noori moved to seoul, roomed in a guesthouse and went to culinary school for a while—worked several part time jobs in the food industry-a barista, a waitress, front cashier at a bakery, anything she could to catch up and expand her information base. along the way she formed her team of pokemon-the only team she had ever really had. formed of misfits, rescues, and baby pokemon who she felt she could care for.

after feeling she could survive in seoul with more confidence she suddenly had to leave. while working as a waitress at a restaurant, she found herself in an uncomfortable position where the head chef who she was studying under in hopes that after she finished school she could become his apprentice, became predatory and made advances towards her consistently that soon had repercussions on her mental health. after finishing school she quit her job and moved into another place in busan, which she felt would be the closest option to jeju she could get until she felt ready to present herself to her family again.

since then, working as an apprentice in a simple restaurant ran by women and developing recipes for pokemon and trainers that she makes with her own team of pokemon on the side, noori has been quietly focusing on her work and her pokemon and building a life for herself, complete with her rag tag team of pokemon that she really calls her family.

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON KJH TRAINEE HANEUL…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 21 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 14 SKILL POINTS: 04 VOCAL | 07 DANCE | 00 RAP | 04 PERFORMANCE

INTERVIEW

𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦.

that’s all haneul could ever ask for in life; to be a perennial presence in the lives of those he’s earned a spot in.

it’s when he’s fidgeting in his seat, that he 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 he’s here for critique, and not the edifying kind. his adolescence was spent building himself up from decrepitude, years of inadvertence cascading from his shoulders. there are things he’d rather remain sequestered from his quintessence— his athenaeum of schooling, his abhorrent acts of solecism ( wishes he could apologize, make it up to 𝘩 𝘪 𝘮 ).

he’s prolific, to say the least, in spite of his aberrations. they tell him he’s laudable for being himself. there’s amelioration to be made, they say. and it’s 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦, it’s 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦. the consequences of not feigning a salient paradigm to future fans, of being consigned to oblivion. ❝ 　　practice makes perfect. 　　❞ haneul knows this much. they tell him not to fret, to revel in the last bit of carte blanche he has left before he embarks on his odyssey to debut ( enduring a myriad of consternating whirs ).

the day of signing, haneul tells his mother. his b a c k b o n e. his pillar. the reason he’s become the man he is today. ❝ 　　my beautiful little boy, all grown up, chasing after his dreams. 　　❞

there’s the lamentation of departure, the cries of his mother as she holds him close. as he burrows his face into the juncture of her neck. as he shakes, prays, hopes he’ll see her soon ( he doesn’t ).

—

when haneul auditions, he is amaurotic. he showcases his competence in contemporary, doesn’t come to a standstill until the very last second ticks by. they applaud, but inquire for more. and he should’ve expected such, should have iterated to himself the day before that expectations must be exceeded at all costs.

he’s asked to sing ( he doesn’t know how ).

says he must be fluctuant regardless of the situation, because one never knows what’s going to be asked of them. they urge him on and he flounders for words, for lyrics. perspiration cascades from his temple as he strains to assimilate the meaning of libretto they’re anticipating.

haneul’s voice is erratic, but he makes a gradual convalesce, albeit pusillanimous of the imminent judgement he’s soon to undergo. there are whispers exchanged amidst the small crowd and he yearns to be cocooned in obsidian, out of perception.

except… they give him a standing ovation. for his gallantry. for his endeavors. he almost cries. 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵.

❝ 　　you have so much to learn,. 　　❞

                            ❝ 　　this is just the beginning. 　　❞

they make an investment in him by putting their credence on the line.

he vows to make everything worthwhile, even if it means pushing himself over the edge.

BIOGRAPHY

( tw for mentions of sexual harassment, homophobia. ) 　　　　　　　　 　 　 ❨ i. 내가 어떤 이유에서 존재하니? ❩

at the budding age of five, haneul meets a boy. he’s nonnative, a student relocating due to his father’s workplace. they’re attached at the hip tout de suite, as his mother once said. min rowan— creamy skin, a dust of freckles splayed over the bridge of his nose, whose laughter was the epitome of honey; sweet and mellifluous and soft, gentle hands that haneul often held because ‘i don’t want to lose you’ and rowan permits it— they’re best friends, after all.

eight and they’re riding bicycles through a trail at night, way after curfew. it was haneul’s idea and although it was briefly opposed to, rowan’s expression softened as it usually did in regards to haneul, and out they went. venturing off into the streets, overlooking any glances cast their way. and at first, everything’s fine— until it isn’t.

three boys stand ahead in a cluster, yelling back and forth over things two children wouldn’t ever dare discuss. when they spot haneul and rowan, it’s as if the whole world comes to a standstill.

he doesn’t want to remember. doesn’t want to recall the screams rowan let out when haneul let them take him, afraid of what may happen if he 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵. doesn’t want to hear the echoes of wailing bouncing off the near alleyway when they tug down the boy’s pants, spit on him and call him names he never knew the meaning of until after.

what haneul does remember is redressing rowan, pulling him up and onto his lap, kissing his temple and promising to protect him from ever letting that happen again— from all the bad things in life. though only a nod is manageable, it’s all he needs.

—

he’s eleven when he realizes. realizes that the feeling of rowan’s hand was 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 to fit perfectly in his, even if they were slightly larger. twelve when haneul wishes he could make his best friend’s heart flutter like the girl who he’s certain is an upperclassman does. throughout those two years, he uses dance as a distraction. figures… rowan pays him no assiduity, doesn’t walk home with him anymore. doesn’t—𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵—

he’s lapsed, forgotten, in other words.

it seems the more the idea of losing rowan permeates his mind, the longer the hours get when he practices. dance holds him captive and he lets it. lets it surge through his bloodstream, lets it leave him aching, sore— his mother worries, but he assuages her.

“it’s my dream, ‘ma.”

but, he gets why she’s in anguish over him exerting himself to the point of utter debilitation. 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴.

he’s all 𝘴𝘩𝘦 has and she’s all 𝘩𝘦 has.

—

haneul tells her when he’s thirteen. that he’s 𝘨𝘢𝘺. that he 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 there’s no mistaking it. and then, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯— he cries and she cradles her little boy, tells him 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 could ever make her love him any less. says if anyone 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 berates him for how he feels, for being who he is and will 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 be, they don’t deserve him. it’s the first night he sleeps soundly.

and with those words in mind, he’s able to prevail through several auditions— the outcome negligible because all that matters is that he 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥. his aspiration is what gets where he wants to be. within a bureau where he can flourish, where he can ascend 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

he dances, dances, and 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

it isn’t an easy life, but his mother tells him everything he’s worked hard for will be worth it in the end.

just as its always been.

she 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴.