The first class is with Professor Goodwitch, the room is enormous, far too big for only 12
students that attend the class.
"First of all, I would like to welcome you, my dear students, to Beacon Academy." Her tone is
polite but severe. "Standing here today means you have already achieved something
remarkable. Admission to this institution is no small feat, it is a true testament to your skill,
discipline, and potential."
The opulent and spacious classroom hums with restless energy, students slouched in chairs,
trading whispers and smirks. Some preen like peacocks, others just look relieved they made
it.
"Yeah, I mean, it was basically a given," Cardin's voice carries from his team row, loud
enough to make sure everyone hears. "My family's been producing top Huntsmen for
generations. Beacon was always the next step for me."
His team, or should I say his cheerleaders, instantly agree with him, nodding like the
brown-nosing followers they were born to be.
"Do you see that, Emerald?" I whisper, nudging the green-haired girl beside me. "Guess
there are worse snobs than the Schnees."
The brown-skinned girl throws me a dirty look before replying.
"Still…" she whispers from the corner of her mouth. "Winchester isn't a high bar,"
Without a sound, Glynda rises from her desk, lifting her right arm to wield the Disciplinarian.
In a swift motion, she brings the riding crop down against the table.
CRACK!
The sharp snap echoes like a gunshot. Every head whips toward her as the chatter dies
instantly.
Glynda's cold gaze sweeps over the room, the students paralyzed in silence..
"Admission to Beacon Academy is not a birthright," she says, voice smooth but edged like a
blade. "It is not a trophy to be flaunted. It is an opportunity, one that many would kill for."
Her eyes linger on Cardin just a second too long. He shifts in his seat, suddenly less sure of
himself.
"You stand here today because you possess potential, but understand this…" she declares,
each word precise and deliberate as she steps forward. "Potential without discipline is
wasted. Potential without effort… is nothing."
She taps the crop against her palm, slow and deliberate.
"This is not a place for arrogance. This is a place for growth. For those who do not meet our
standards and fail to show improvement… well," Her lips curl into a thin, humorless smile.
"The Vale Guard is always in need of more bodies."
The room stays quiet. Even Cardin has the sense to shut up now.
Glynda's gaze flicks to me, and for just a second, I think I catch a smirk, though I can't tell if
it's meant for me or hiding some ulterior motive.
Even without my attention, the teacher continues speaking.
"Your schedule has been designed to push you beyond what you believe are your limits.
Mornings will consist of conventional classes such as math, history, strategy, and grimm
studies, followed by afternoon field or physical training. Combat demonstrations will be held
twice a week, where you will fight in front of your class to be analyzed and critiqued by me
and your colleagues."
Glynda's words drift past me. I know I should be focusing on the class, but that smirk! It was
only a flicker, gone before I could be certain, yet it keeps lingering in my mind.
"Mr. Willians." Somenone say, but I ignore.
What was that about? And why is it bothering me so much?
"Mr. Willians!" Someone keeps calling, but I still ignore.
Was that a test? A joke? Or something else entirely?
While lost in thoughts the crop snaps again, this time right beside my ear.
CRACK!
I jolt, nearly knocking my chair over. The room's gone dead silent. Every pair of eyes burns
into the side of my skull.
Glynda looms over me, her shadow swallowing the desk. The riding crop hovers an inch
from my temple, humming with barely restrained energy.
"Mr. Williams." Her voice sent shivvers through my spine. "Perhaps you'd like to enlighten
the class on what could possibly be more captivating than my lesson?"
'Oh fuck.' I think, cold sweat running down my neck. 'Gotta play it cool and say something
believable, something that'll get me out of this…'
"I was definitely paying attention," I say, my tone far more arrogant than I meant. The words
hang in the air, regret hits me the moment they leave my mouth.
Her eyebrow arches. Just one. Like a damn red flag for bullshit detected.
"Is that so?" She tilts her head, the crop tapping a slow against her palm. "Then by all
means, enlighten us. What was the last thing I said?"
My mouth opens, closes and then opens again.
'Oh fuck.'
I force a laugh, rough and uneven, like a rusted hinge. My left hand scrubs at the back of my
neck, fingers digging into the tension knotted there. "
"Ok… y'know… I might've missed something there-." I try to explain but the crop cuts me.
CRACK!
"Mr. Williams." Her voice drops half an octave, reverberating through the room like steel.
"You may have won the Rite of Champions, yet it is exactly this kind of behavior that I have
been warning you all against."
"Sorry." I say, admitting defeat.
Glynda's grip tightens around the crop, her knuckles whitening. The air between us seems to
crackle.
"Apologies," she says, each syllable clipped, "are as useful to me as a broken dull blade on
the battlefield."
The crop flicks upward, directing attention to the door at the back of the room, not the exit,
but the one that leads to her office.
"You will spend your lunch period in detention, reflecting." Her voice never rises, it doesn't
need to. The flat, icy authority behind it cuts deeper than any shout. "Perhaps hunger will
sharpen your focus."
Before I can even complain, Bleiss bails in tears.
"Nooo!" she screams, voice breaking. "I was going to feed him, while sitting on his lap!"
Surprised by Bless's behavior, Glynda turns to face the dramatic goth.
"Do you also want to spend your lunch in detention, miss schnee?" Ask the teacher, sharp
as a guillotine.
"Time alone with my babe? Sign me the fuck up!" Bleiss yells joyfully, shooting up from her
desk. "Follow-up question, is your desk sturdy enough to handle two people going at it?
Could it survive if the tiniest one started squatting on it?"
Glynda takes a step back, perplexed by Bleiss's behavior.
"I think I would punish you more by making you eat lunch with the rest of your team." Says
Glynda with a triumphant smile as Bleiss scowls in disdain.
"You're not the boss of me!" Snaps the goth.
"Actually, for the next four years, you fall under my authority," she states coolly. "Team Abyss
will eat without their leader. Any disobedience will be met with severe consequences."
"Yayyy!" Adam cheers, throwing both hands in the air. "Lunch with my new human friends!"
"This is bullshit!" Emerald snaps. "Why am I being punished too?"
# # #
Glynda's office is... exactly what I expected.
Bookshelves line the walls, crammed with ancient tomes and shiny new books. A massive
desk, carved from dark wood, dominates the room. Every inch of it is covered. A cluster of
fancy pens sit next to sleek papers that probably cost more than my greataxe.
"Sit down, Mr. Williams."
There's only one chair on my side of the table. I sink into it, the leather creaking softly.
"Comfortable?" Glynda asks, frowning at me.
"I mean... physically, yes." I reply, avoiding her glare.
"That's good enough." She retorts as her enormous desk is enveloped by a purple glow of
her Semblance.
The heavy wooden desk scrapes against the floor, thrust abruptly aside by Glynda's
Semblance. She leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other with slow,
deliberate grace. My eyes follow the movement of her long and shapely limbs. The room
suddenly feels warmer, and I shift in my seat, trying to shake off the distraction.
"Eyes up here, Mr. Williams," Glynda snaps, her tone sharp enough to cut glass.
"Hehe, sorry," I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck. "I'm just... a healthy young man, you
know?"
"I see… you may have emerged victorious in the Rite of Champions, Mr. Williams, but let us
not forget the circumstances." Glynda's voice is a whip, each word a lash. "In a year when
Beacon formed only four teams, you defeated the Mistral champion and two heirs of one of
Vale's most prestigious families. Impressive, on paper. But we both know the truth."
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued to see where this conversation is heading.
"You're nothing more than a violent tug, Mr. Williams." Her eyes narrow, lips curling in
disdain. "At best, a pathetic lowlife. At worst, just a filthy animal pretending to be a man."
Rage explodes within me, white-hot and blinding. I'm on my feet, chair clattering to the floor.
"Fuck you and your damn elitism!" I roar, my voice slamming off the walls as I point an
accusing finger at the teacher. "You think I had a choice? You think I wanted to fight like
that?"
Glynda doesn't flinch, her gaze steady and unyielding as I keep ranting.
"I don't have the luxury of fighting with honor and your idiotic pride!" I spit, fists clenched at
my sides. "I fight to survive. I fight to win!" My chest heaves, each breath jagged and raw.
"But I'm no fucking criminal. I've never stolen, never killed. I've done nothing that gives you
the right to judge me like that."
Silence falls, heavy and oppressive. Glynda's eyes bore into mine, searching, assessing.
"And what about betting on yourself, Mr. Williams." Says the teacher, smiling at me.
"Oh, shit." I mutter, sweating cold. "I mean… I don't know what you are talking about."
"Please, Mr. Williams, spare me the affronts to my intelligence," Glynda says, her tone
dripping with condescension as a stack of papers hovers between us, held by her
telekinesis. "You were clever enough not to bet on yourself directly, but you've always relied
on the same poor soul to do it for you, ever since the very start of your so-called career as a
fighter."
In front of me floats reports with photos from security cameras pointing to a young boy with
dark skin, dark brown hair, and hazel eyes.
"Betting on oneself is not merely dishonorable, Mr. Williams, it is a crime. One punishable by
expulsion and subsequent imprisonment."
I swallow hard, a cold sweat trickling down my spine. Yet, I stand firm, meeting her gaze.
"Then why am I here, and not in handcuffs?"
"Good, you're smarter than I expected," Glynda says, her lips curling into a smug smirk,
eyes narrowing as she rises from her seat.
She walks in my direction, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. The purple
aura flickers around her cropping rod.
Them the glow surrounds me, a vice squeezing from all sides. I grit my teeth, pushing back
against the unseen force trying to move me.
"Impressive," Glynda murmurs, a trace of mockery in her tone as her eyes narrow, watching
me struggle. "Most students would have crumbled reaching this point."
"I'm not... most students..." I manage to say, sweat beading at my temples.
"I suppose you're not," she hums, her voice tinged with cruel delight. "But then again, I am
not most teachers, Mr. Williams. I am one of the strongest Huntresses in the world, and you
would do well to remember that." She flickers her rod as her power hums through my body.
WUOOON!
Pressure builds like a fucking building just dropped on me, my bones creaking, lungs
burning. I gasp, fighting for breath. Darkness creeps at the edges of my vision. Still, I hold
on, defiant.
Glynda leans in, her breath hot on my ear.
"Now that I've caught you, Mr. Williams," she intones, voice silk over steel, "I could crush you
like an insect, end your pitiful existence with a single thought."
"Then... do it..." I rasp, my voice barely a whisper.
She pulls back, eyes wide in surprise. The pressure vanishes, and I slump forward almost
falling to the floor, panting.
"You would rather die than yield?" she asks, incredulous.
"Fuuuck…. youu…" I mutter sweating out of breath.
With a flick of her wrist, Glynda forces me back into my seat, the chair legs scraping loudly
against the floor. I glare at her, chest still heaving, breath ragged.
"What was that about?" I spit, anger and adrenaline coursing through my veins
Glynda ignores my outburst, rising with regal poise as if issuing a royal decree, eyes cold
with scorn.
"Now that I've shown you what's at stake, and what I'm capable of, I'll make my proposal: I
want you to become my disciple."
"Disciple?" I echo, confused.
Glynda sighs tired, as if explaining to a child.
"With so few students at our institution, it has become common for Beacon professors to
take on mentees or disciples." She says.
"Mentees? Disciples?" I shake my head, still lost. "What's the difference?"
"A teacher can take as many mentees as we wish," Glynda explains. "But we can have only
one disciple. One student to mold, shape, and instruct in our image."
She steps closer, heels clicking like a slow heartbeat. Her cheeks almost brush against mine
as she leans in, and the scent of her perfume hits me, sharp and sweet. Her lips hover just
above my ear, her breath warm enough to make my skin prickle.
"But you will not be just my disciple…" she whispers, a low, sultry purr curling around each
word. "I also want you to be my pet."
I shift in my seat, Glynda's breath still hot on my neck. My mind races, torn between
humiliation and intrigue.
'Become a pet? No way.' I think to myself 'But... I'd be lying if I said there wasn't something...
appealing about it.'
But I already have a girl who is 'actually' crazy about me.
"Thanks for the tempting offer, Ms. Goodwitch," I say, my voice steady despite the storm
inside me. "But I won't be anyone's pet."
Glynda pulls back, her eyes searching mine.
I brace myself, expecting fury, frustration, something. Instead, she smiles. It's a slow, laconic
curl of her lips, like she heard exactly what she wanted.
"Did I say you had a choice?" she murmurs. Her voice is all patronage and poison as if
speaking to a pupil too dull to understand the gravity of the trouble he's in.
"Right now the public thinks I'm the strongest first year at Beacon, " I say shrugging. "Sure a
jury would be more lenient with me than you think."
Glynda laughs, a rich, throaty sound that sends a shiver down my spine. Son Glynda's
laughter fades, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
"A jury? You think you can afford a lawsuit, Mr. Williams?" She tilts her head, a gleaming
smile on her face. "You have nothing. No family, no wealth, no connections. You're an
orphan from the streets, a beggar in a world of nobles."
I clench my jaw, hands fisting at my sides.
"Then I'll fight. Like I always have." I meet her gaze, unyielding. "I won't be blackmailed. I
won't be threatened. And I sure as hell won't be anyone's fucking pet."
Glynda's eyes widen, shock flickering across her face. But it's brief, gone in an instant. Then,
her expression shifts, eyes narrowing, lips parting. She steps closer, her breath hitching
slightly.
"Very well, Mr. Williams," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you insist on
doing things the hard way..."
I clench my fist ready to fight her and her bullshit OP Semblance, but she takes me by
surprise as she moves slowly, her hands grip the arms of my chair, fingers wrapping around
the edges. She swings a leg over mine, the smooth fabric of her skirt brushing against my
pants. Before I can react, she's straddling me, her knees pressing into the cushion on either
side of my thighs.
Heat radiates from her, seeping into me. Her perfume envelops me, sweet and intoxicating,
like fresh roses and crisp winter air. My breath catches, my heart pounding in my chest. Her
eyes hold mine, dark and intense.
"Ms. Goodwitch..." I start, my voice hoarse.
Shock courses through me, every nerve ending alight.
The fuck is wrong with this verse? I was isekai'd to a RWBY smut fic? Why the hell am I
suddenly a magnet for crazy, hot woman?
Glynda leans in, her lips brushing my ear, voice a sultry whisper.
"I won't reveal your secret, Ash. I'll train you, mold you, turn you into the greatest huntsman
of your generation."
Her breath hitches as she shifts, her body pressing closer.
"You're stron, but to raw, unrefined. A stray bull in a china shop." Her nose grazes my jaw,
her words warm on my skin. "I can change that. I can make you... so much more."
I swallow hard, my heart pounding. Her scent, her warmth, her words, they're all
overwhelming.
"And what do you want in return?" I manage, my voice barely steady.
She pulls back, just enough to look me in the eye. Her lips curve, slow and sensuous.
"I want you, Ash." she purrs, her low and dripping with promise. "I want all of you in my
private lessons. I want to break you in, tame the dark horse, and teach you the joys of
discipline in all its forms. You can resist all you like," she says, her hands sliding from the
chair to trace my arms, my chest. "Every second you defy me only sweetens your final
surrender."
Despite the threat of being broken, the offer is tempting. The promise of Snu-Snu, I need
combat training. Pyrrha and Ruby would have wiped the floor with me if they weren't both
young girls with no experience with the opposite sex.
"You've got yourself a deal," I mutter, almost regretting.
"Good." Glynda cackles triumphantly, rising to her feet and opening the door with her
semblance. Now go, Mr. Williams. Enjoy the rest of your lunch."
As soon as I step out, I slump, letting out a weary sigh.
"Fuuuuuuuck!" I groan in frustration. "How many crazy yanderes are in this place?"