#*the third not the second whoops
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my room is on the second floor and my moms room is on the first but i could faintly hear her exclaiming things the way she does when she watches tennis and i was like well thats weird theres nothing on right now- oh my god shes watching wimbledon final highlights isn’t she. go down there. Yep. known novak loather too so she was hooting and hollering and gloating whenever he lost a point, which as we know was frequent in said match
#she didnt watch the finals to be clear cause she was at work but she did know the score#i got there at 4-4 in the second and was like well i gotta stick around so i can see her weep at 5-4 40-0 like i did#*the third not the second whoops#that game didnt get any less awful on the second viewing#perhaps the most wonderful match of all time for my mother the way she cant get enough of carlos and couldnt be a bigger novak hater
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Bruce keeping a tighter and tighter lid on his identity around the Justice League because with each new person to reveal their identity he realizes that he has fucked far too high a percentage of his co workers as Bruce Wayne and he has to take this secret to his grave
#the first time it happens he's just like oh whoops that'll be awkward#the second time: well that's not ideal#the third time: fucking hell why did i make a persona that cant keep it in his pants#Clark angsting about why his best friend doesn't trust him enough to tell him his secret identity:#:( why doesn't he trust me after all we've been through together#bruce: i have fucked too many people here including you and you can never know#batman#bruce wayne#dc comics#dc#mine
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never give up on your dreams. that one shot fic WILL have tabs.
#this oc fic is going to hit at least 10k words if i finish it#which is nuts… because no other fic got this long#they keep growing too#first tab was 900? ish#second tab had a 29% increase#the third tab doubled that…. whoops#what ever#speck rambles
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man i wonder when the last time i posted a sizeshifter!tommy au story was- NOVEMBER OF 2021?!?!?
i think it’s high time we change that…
new story out soon >:)
#bringing this back#not just cause it was voted to be my followers favorite au#cause i was expecting that#it’s more so cause i teased finally explaining what Tommy was in this au then just#didn’t#like i said ‘oh guys wanna see why he’s like this hehehe’ and then never gave you anything#whoops#my bad#anyway first story written second story 2/3 done and third one planned#that’s right bitches we’re getting CHAPTERS NOW#cyncerity#mcyt g/t#mcyt gt#sizeshifter!tommy au
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hello john doe
i want to try drawing backgrounds now, and i got inspired after seeing a mod that had this neat guy in it, so here he is
#ellie does a draw#john doe roblox#roblox john doe#actually. is he even relevant on tumblr?#oh well. its good for tagging anyway#this is actually the second version of the drawing#the first had a wonkier perspective#<- haha actulaly the third. i forgot his roblox chest emblem whoops#but i felt like with how simple his body was i had no excuse to not make it good#or better
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Smegtober #4: Virtual Reality
The room is sterile, perfectly white walls unbroken by any unnecessary patterns or pictures or posters, the overhead lights blinding in their pure brightness, minimalist metal chairs sleek, hard, and cold, leaving one anxious to stand up and stretch once the session is over, and the wireless suits ready to use and laid out upon tables that are free of any useless clutter. The lifeless atmosphere is even clearer now, with the space emptied of its usual occupants and quiet except for the low hum of electricity.
It unnerved Kris the first time she was in the room alone, the only student left, but over time, she's grown used to it. It seems you can grow used to any environment if given long enough, even one that feels like it's trying to shut you out, doing its best to make you feel unwelcome.
Besides, this is the closest Kris has come to what might be called a home.
She grabs her suit and slips it on. Approaching one of the desks, she pulls out its chair; the squeak of its legs against the tiled floor interrupts the ambiance and echoes through the nearly silent place. Seated, Kris places the headset on and adjusts it so it rests snuggly over her eyes. She brings her hand up to a small switch on the device, near her temple, flips it–
“Welcome home, Krissy!” Her mother's arms envelope her within a tight, warm hug. She catches a whiff of perfume: a strong scent of jasmine. As she's released from the embrace, she smells the dinner the cook has prepared; it is Christmas Eve and she's in her family home.
Her father stands in the doorway to the dining room, a mug in hand. “Kristine,” he smiles, “How was this last term?”
“Well, we got to talk with Shakespeare again after reading Antony and Cleopatra. We saw a recreation of its first performance in The Globe, then we even discussed its accuracy with Antony and Cleopatra themselves! I wrote about it during finals and got an ‘A’ in the course.” She beams with pride as she speaks of her paper. Miss Brody had really praised her for that one.
“That's lovely, dear,” her mother replies. One of their maids had brought mugs for her and Kris, so she hands one to the latter. “And not at all surprising. You've always been our straight-A scholar.”
“That's right, Krissy. We're so proud of you!”
Kris beams brighter. The words make her feel warm in a way the short, hurried messages from home fail to do. Later, laying in bed in her dorm that's been vacated of its other residents for the holidays, this moment will ring as false as it is; she'll feel a faint shame at her indulgence. But that's then and this is now, and dinner is ready to be served. Her father will talk about his latest excavation, her mother will talk about the ads she's working on for a pharmaceutical company or a new energy drink or the most recent model of hoppers, and Kris will enjoy every moment, basking in the glow of honey-yellow candlelight.
In the classroom, Kris unconsciously shifts in her chair.
#Missed the second and third prompts whoops!! Might go back and write them over the weekend#At least the Quarantine one since I did actually start a piece of that. then got a migraine and didn't finish it ✌️#I wasn't sure I'd write this one so early especially since I was dying a bit earlier but the concept was making me go crazy#the deleted scene of Kochanski talking about her childhood is always on my mind#Also.....Kochanski using cyberspace as a way to escape reality vs. Rimmer using stasis to stop existing....#the parallels just keep coming!!#Red Dwarf#smegtober2024#Kristine Kochanski#My Fics#Original Post
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apparently i can't draw temenos without his hand behind his pack
#octopath traveler 2#temenos mistral#my art#jelli thoughts#obsessed with this cutie#also fun to see my art progress as i get more comfortable drawing him#bottom right was first attempt#second was the top#third was obviously bottom left#he's quickly becoming fluffy hair boy#whoops my bad
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hate hate hate hate hate this new thing tumblr is doing on mobile where without clicking on ads it will have a full screen pop-up thing just because you scrolled past it. like what if fuck you actually
#tumblr#tumblr update#tumblr mobile#first time I was like whoops clicked on an ad!#second time i was like haha…again…?#third time it popped up when my fingers were off the screen#and i was like oh i see how the fuck it is then#(bad)#the solution to whatever woes tumblr is having is not to shove ads more forcibly in our faces#who tf thought that was a good idea
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My favourite Class to play in DnD is a Warlock who doesn't know they're a Warlock 🙌
#dnd#dungeons & dragons#just dnd things#warlock#warlock dnd#favourite dnd class#so far i had a celestial warlock that thought they're actually a cleric#the second one was a wizard#died#had a strong 'but I don't wanna die ' moment and suddenly woke up again#still hasn't figured out why they suddenly have different abilities#their cleric companion still tries to convince them it's because he prayed for them#i mean it's as good an explanation as any right?#the third one just didn't realize their employer is an archfey#whoops
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I look forward to maybe adjusting these as we get into Dawntrail (tell me your secrets bunny man I know you have them.)
OG Template
Now if DT gives me more delicious fuel much of it is subject to change, but tentatively as of now they 'hooked up' post-EW. I headcanon in several months after Ultima Thule and before the void plot starts up, which Ahru spent mostly recovering, checking in on friends and family post-Final Days, doing allied quests, or moping about aimlessly not knowing what to do with herself.
She didn't take the Scion break-up very well (though she keeps this to herself and she understands why they did it). Somewhere in that funk, her and Erenville cross paths, and he invites her along on some rather simple work with him, and a gradual friendly flirtation grows that leads to some... benefits. Bunnyfits.
As of now it's all fairly casual and straightforward, with the potential complications/growth waiting primarily for DT developments. There is also a semi-secret tentative oopsie baby subplot floating around in my head (but that's another 'we'll see how Dawntrail plays out'.) Look how cute tho.
#mine#ahru hiraeth#erenville#ship: homecoming#all those dots on the second and third ones are esp a pain in the ass to look at whoops#also hc erenville is much more... unrestrained? behind closed doors#gleaner in the streets beast in the sheets#anyway i fully anticipate Some sort of DT reveal that'll shake things up but can't stop the brainmonster from chewing all over him for now
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I've got 3 separate hms art, like actual-rendered-and-pretty-looking-not-random-doodles kinda art, and they're all so drastically different in art styles 🫠
Cos I draw so damn slow 😭I wanna post them but they're like 70% done
Then I go starting a new drawing and that art also ends up 70% done and nothing gets finished in the end arrgrgrgrgrh help
#Head in hands#The first one started in November and was meant to be finished in February...#IT'S MAY#The second one technically is done but still needs a bg#The third one should be the simplest and is close to completion but I still dk how to render Mind's hair whoops
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Beachy Collection
Hey everyone!
My new cc set is finished! This collection was inspired by the beaches, obviously :D. I wanted to make some essentials for your sims to enjoy what left of the summer.
If you have not seen my other posts I'll add some notes for the items here. First of all there are two versions of the sling chair because I wanted it to have the sunbathing functionality but sims lay down whilst sunbathing on a lounge chair so I had to attach a pouff foot rest to it so the animation isn't weird. But I added a simple chair version as well so you can mix and match and it won't look too copy-paste with the same foot rest.
Second item I want to mention is the drink tray. There's two, one is functional with the Backyard Stuff Pack the other is a deco one.
Third thing is the public bathroom which I managed to get to work without adding two of them to the object. But this was a really annoying process because for some reason the animation for it includes the sim teleporting a mile to the left when entering the facility. In my case that meant they jumped out of the object. It worked fine for females because for some reason they jumped only half a mile and I thought I was good, then I tested the males and whoops...But don't worry, you won't see them standing frozen while "peeing" because I managed to tweak the tuning so the males use the same animation as the females.
I think that's it! I hope you'll enjoy these objects. Let me know what you think or if you have any questions/problems!
The Set Includes
Sling Tanning Chair (foot rest included)
Sling Chair (chair version)
Folding Table
Coffee Table (1 tile, 2 tile)
Pouff Table
Drink Tray Functional (you need to have Backyard Stuff Pack)
Drink Tray Deco
Folded Towel With Sunscreen
Beach Blanket
Sun Umbrella (opened, closed)
Wooden Planks
Simewe Beach Bag
Wooden Awning (with and without curtains)
Mexican Fan Palm (tall and short)
Public Bathroom Hut
-DOWNLOAD HERE- Public release on the 16th of September 6PM CST
#ts4cc#ts4 maxis match#maxis match#the sims 4 cc#the sims 4 custom content#ts4ccfinds#sims 4 cc#cc#the sims cc#cc finds#sims 4#ts4 cc#ts4 custom objects#valia#valiasims#cc download#sims4 download#ts4 download
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can't a fella just have some fun around here???
#whoops#its not a fun day when Mister S. Smiles yells at you eheeee#the s stands for stupid btw#totally#i mean. he's very right. however.#uhh. can't a fella just have fun??#he can't blame me its like. my second er third time fronting#but fun thing! i shifted!
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i will say, in the calmness of the morning after lol, i DO still think we are more likely to get tee, ja'marr, and trey done than not, like i said in the tags last night. though, the nature of this FO being the FO it is and the family behind it, they will make it unnecessarily hard and frankly just say dickish things like this in the interest of "negotiations".
if you look at more of what duke said yesterday:
On Tee: It's going to be hard. We feel like we have the resources to do it, but it all depends on how the negotiation goes and whether they're willing to accept wanting to come back at a number that makes sense for everybody. And you know what we do with Tee going forward, I've always been very upfront in my desire to have Tee Higgins on our team. I've never not been upfront about that, and that desire continues, but we have to be able to come together with his representation on what that means and what the right number is for his experience, for his play time, for his production."
Let's find something that works for everybody, because he is a guy that we want to have here, and hopefully that can come together, but we have other guys who are trying to take big bites of the apple in other areas, and we're going to have to balance those as we go forward.
Basically corresponding to the viral tweet of, we can't pay everyone top dollar, which while shitty, is something i think tee realized when he fired David M. it has ALWAYS been the case that in order for this to work, tee will be getting less money than he would from a WR-desperate team in free agency. (i believe right now his projected worth in FA is 28 million a year, i could easily see a team like the patriots going up to 30 tbh). we've taken the agent switch however to mean that he's okay with getting a few less million. how much less is he willing to settle for? and would it be fair in the team's POV regarding his play time and production (because you really can't have a discussion about tee's worth if you aren't factoring in the unfortunate reality of his injury history and consistent lack of availability). and all that is where the uncertainty comes in. and that will be the bengals' argument against him getting paid at the top of his position, despite what he is likely worth on the free market. i believe that's what duke is alluding to here, but you know, said in the most dickish way possible. because we CAN and we SHOULD pay tee what he's worth, but the FO's strategy has always been to low ball and, again, make negotiations so so much harder than necessary.
On Trey: Has he earned a pay raise and a bump in an extension … he has,” Tobin said. “We’re cognizant of that, and we will give that to him. But whether we agree on what that looks like, is what is to be determined.” "We'll do what we can. We'll do what we feel is right, and we will try to get Trey re-signed. It's not giving anybody an extension. It's agreeing with somebody on an extension.”
Again, instead of just outright saying, yeah we want trey, he's our ONLY player on defense basically worth paying and we want to make him happy, duke goes through all this nonsense on how we won't GIVE him an extension (implying in some ways that it has yet to be earned, despite....everything!). again, a negotiation tactic that feels so gross when paired with the viral "we can't pay everyone" quote. but i do still feel like they will try here, going back to the first part of the quote, it just depends on how much of a bump trey wants. i don't think trey necessarily wants to be the HIGHEST paid DE in the league, he just wants to be playing for a more reasonable paycheck than his current shitty contract (which, i will say, no one forced him to sign that extension. i remember it being talked about last year, how he had a particularly green agent who gave him bad advice about both the original extension and the ability to adjust it last year).
On Ja'Marr: “It's a priority for us. It's something we feel like there's a framework to work off of. Should be a pretty easy framework to work off of. Guys in his position have recently re-done contracts. We believe in Ja’Marr, he's very important to us. The other guys that have done contracts are very important to their teams. So, we believe there's a real framework to work off of. I would expect that we could come together on something that makes sense for both sides.”
This is the one that actually does give me the most comfort, and i think even duke realizes that ja'marr HAS to get done this offseason. like god, they came so close last offseason it's so ridiculous. but they've got the "easy framework" based on the recent top WR contracts (aka justin's, which i've talked about already following the same time frame for ja'marr so far). they just have to use that contract structure, something close to what they structured last year, and make some adjustments. they know this is their last chance to get it done without blowing everything up and burning some bridges. they know how important ja'marr is. it's going to get done. let's just pray they don't drag this shit out again and ja'marr misses another training camp!!
Zero excuse not to pay our best players. Btw.
#so like i said in the original post.#no excuses not to sign our best guys and keep them happy#and again. we have every capacity of doing so.#it's just that this FO is sooooo stubborn and ridiculous#that they will likely make it as hard and ugly as possible#and piss off our stars for absolutely no reason#just to feel like they 'won' the deal#but again. i do think it all gets done.#joe's words are not to be taken likely. he's the last person you want to piss off and burn a bridge with#like others have said this is SUCH an important offseason#and seeing how they handle it is going to determine how this second era of joe burrow (non-rookie contract) is going to go#and if it goes poorly. well. joe's not doing a third contract here. i can tell you that much.#and nor should he.#anyways whoops i'm technically at work but it's a slow morning so! i did this instead!
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I was wondering if you could please do one where max’s (or Lando’s you chose) daughter starts karting and wins here first race with all of her favorite grid uncles there
Little Racer



The paddock buzzed with excitement that Saturday morning, not because of any Formula 1 action, but because a certain little girl with golden hair and sky-blue eyes was about to take on her latest karting race.
Yn tugged on her tiny race suit, the orange and blue colors matching her Papa's old team. The suit looked just a touch too big on her, but she wore it with pride. Her helmet sat nearby, a bright pink with little lightning bolts that she had insisted on—“because I’m fast like Papa,” she’d declared with a grin that melted Max’s heart every single time.
Max stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes locked on every strap and buckle as if she were about to get into an F1 car rather than a kart. Kelly sat with Charles and Daniel under the canopy nearby, watching the scene unfold with amused expressions.
“I swear,” Kelly said, sipping her coffee, “he’s more stressed before her race than he is before a Grand Prix.”
Charles chuckled. “He’s been checking that helmet for the past twenty minutes. It’s a helmet, mate, not a spaceship.”
Daniel leaned over and whispered to Pierre, “Ten bucks says he forgets to breathe during the race.”
Pierre grinned. “You’re on.”
Meanwhile, Max knelt down in front of Yn, adjusting her gloves. “Are you sure everything feels okay, schatje?”
Yn nodded eagerly. “Yes, Papa! It’s perfect! Look!” She bounced on the balls of her feet and struck a dramatic pose. “I’m ready to zoom!”
Max smiled, but it was tight. “Okay. But remember—take the inside line into turn three. You’ve been braking too early.”
“I know, I know,” she giggled. “You told me that, like, a hundred times!”
“Because I care,” Max said seriously, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re fast, baby, but smart wins races.”
She tilted her head, frowning a little. “But I always get second or third.”
“That’s because you’re still learning. But you’ll get there. You always do.”
Kelly walked over then and placed a gentle hand on Max’s shoulder. “Let her have fun, Max. It’s supposed to be fun.”
Max sighed. “I know. I just—she’s so small.”
“She’s also a Verstappen,” Kelly teased. “She was born ready.”
As Yn was called to the starting grid, she ran off with her tiny karting team, giving Max a double thumbs-up. “Wish me luck!”
“Good luck!” the group of drivers shouted behind her in unison.
Max remained planted in the same spot, watching the little kart go, lips pressed in a line.
“You gonna breathe, man?” Carlos teased, walking up and clapping Max on the back.
“Barely,” Max muttered.
Lando snickered. “He’s going to cry, I swear.”
The race started, and the tension around Max increased by the second. The screen showed the little karts darting around the track, and every time another kart got too close to Yn, Max’s jaw clenched. His hands gripped the edge of the barrier, knuckles white.
“She’s fine,” Fernando said calmly. “She’s in third and holding her line well.”
“Oh God, that kid behind her is getting too close—” Max started, but then Yn took a sharp move on the next turn and overtook second place.
Daniel whooped. “She’s flying!”
“Still needs to catch the leader though,” Pierre pointed out.
Lap after lap, she gained ground. And then, on the final lap, just before the last corner, Yn made a daring move that made the entire group leap to their feet.
“She’s going for it!” Charles shouted.
“No way—” Carlos muttered.
And then—she did it. Yn crossed the finish line in first place.
Max didn’t even react for a moment. His brain needed a full five seconds to process what had just happened. His baby girl had won.
“She did it,” he whispered, almost in disbelief. “She won.”
Kelly clapped her hands and kissed his cheek, eyes shining. “She did it, Max!”
Max barely registered anything else. He was already jogging toward the parc fermé where little Yn was jumping up and down next to her kart, helmet off, hair sticking to her forehead, eyes wide with joy.
“PAPA!” she squealed, launching herself into his arms.
Max caught her, lifting her high off the ground. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, hugging her tightly, his eyes damp. “So, so proud.”
“I won, Papa! I won! Did you see me? I did what you said! I took the inside!”
“You were perfect,” Max choked out, kissing her temple. “My little champion.”
The other drivers soon joined, surrounding her with praise and affection.
“You’re the coolest kid ever,” Daniel said, giving her a high-five.
“First win, huh?” Pierre grinned. “You’ll be faster than your Papa in no time.”
“I waved at you!” Yn beamed from the podium, grinning as she held up a shiny, golden little trophy. “Did you see me waving?”
“We saw, chérie!” Charles called out, clapping.
“You’re a legend now,” Lando said, pretending to wipe a tear. “Our little legend.”
“I wanna do it again,” Yn declared proudly. “I wanna win more!”
“You will,” Max promised, arms still tightly around her. “But this one? This one’s special. It’s your first.”
And he looked at her trophy with the kind of admiration that no WDC title could ever match.
The house was quiet, wrapped in the gentle stillness of late night. Yn had fallen asleep hours ago, snuggled into her bed, still in her pajamas covered in little race cars. Her tiny trophy rested beside her on the nightstand, glinting softly under the warm light of her night lamp.
In the living room, Kelly walked in with a mug of tea, only to find Max kneeling in front of their large trophy shelf.
“What are you doing?” she asked softly, amused.
Max was carefully rearranging things, gently pushing his latest WCC trophy to the side. His WDCs joined it, shuffled just slightly away from the spotlight.
Right in the center, now placed on a small elevated platform of its own, was Yn’s trophy.
“She deserves center stage,” Max murmured without looking back.
Kelly chuckled, sitting on the couch. “You do realize it’s a four-inch plastic cup, right?”
Max finally stood and turned to her, arms crossed, nodding. “Exactly. And it means more to me than all the rest combined.”
Kelly raised a brow. “You’re so whipped, it’s ridiculous.”
Max shrugged, walking over and dropping onto the couch beside her. “That’s my daughter. My little champion. You saw her today—she was flawless. Brave. Smart. Calm. Four, and she was more composed than I was at twenty-two.”
“She really was,” Kelly said softly, resting her head on his shoulder.
They sat in silence for a moment before Max whispered, “You think it’s too soon to get her a custom kart?”
Kelly snorted. “Max.”
“I’m just saying. Maybe carbon fiber—lightweight chassis—”
“Max.”
“Fine,” he sighed. “Next month.”
Kelly rolled her eyes fondly. “You’re impossible.”
He grinned, glancing toward the trophy case again, where one small trophy gleamed in the spotlight like it belonged in a museum.
“But admit it,” he said with a soft smile, “it looks pretty good up there, huh?”
Kelly looked and then smiled. “Yeah. It really does.”
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.
-🩷🎀
#f1 drivers as fathers#🩷🎀#formula 1#formula one#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#formula 1 x reader#max verstappen x daughter!reader#dad max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#verstappen!reader#dad!max verstappen#max verstappen#f1 x daughter!reader#carlos sainz x reader#lando norris x reader#charles leclerc x reader#pierre gasly x reader#george russell x reader#oscar piastri x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#alex albon x reader
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Birthday Girl
On your 21st birthday, your friends drag you to a bar to get wasted when you decide it's a good idea to drunk-call Professor Agatha Harkness.
Word count: 3400+
Warnings: smut, fingering, oral, intoxication, mentions of underage drinking, teacher x student (legal)
“One, two, three!” Wanda chants and you and your friends tap your shot glasses on the bar counter and quickly down them.
You gasp at the burn and they laugh at you. It’s your 21st birthday and your best friends Wanda, Rio, and Natasha had dragged you out to the closest bar to get you wasted. They had all already turned 21 the year before; you were the baby in the group.
“Fuck, that’s disgusting,” you groan.
“Another round, please!” Rio motions to the bartender. He sets down four more tequila shots and one is shoved into your hand.
“Think you can get to 21?” Wanda jokes and the thought of 20 more shots makes you want to gag.
“I might puke after this one,” you say and your friends laugh. You were never a partier in high school or college, always preferring to curl up on the couch and watch a movie. You’d only had some sips of alcohol a few times, but you had never been drunk.
“You deserve this!” Nat shouts in your ear. “Harkness has been working you to the bone!”
You shrug and wave your hand dismissively, suddenly uncomfortable. Agatha Harkness is your History of Witchcraft professor at Westview University. She’s known around campus for being cold to everyone and rarely giving out A’s. She expected nothing short of excellence and would not put up with excuses. Everyone was terrified of her.
Everyone except for you.
Something about the older woman captivated you. You were obsessed with meeting her standards, dreaming of the day she would look at you with pride. You poured over your books for her class, rereading every sentence you wrote thrice, just to try to impress her. It had taken your friends days of begging to convince you to come celebrate your birthday with them because you had a paper for Agatha’s class due in a week and you were already worried about it.
“I don’t know how you’re surviving,” Wanda says. “I had her last semester and got a C in the class. Third highest grade. She’s the worst.”
“She’s not that bad,” you defend, not quite sure why. Something about Agatha getting so much hate for pushing her students rubs you the wrong way.
“Yeah she is,” Rio joins in. “I heard that she’s a real witch.”
You roll your eyes. “Can we please stop talking about her? I thought you guys brought me here to get away from school.” You take the shot that’s still in your hand and it goes down smoother this time.
“Yes, there we go!” Rio whoops.
Two more shots later and your head has gone completely fuzzy. You feel as if you are floating on air and everything around you is happening in slow motion. You get off your stool and immediately stumble, Wanda catching you with her arms.
“I think I’m a little drunk,” you tell her. She laughs like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard.
“No shit, y/n, you don’t have to yell!”
You didn’t even realize you had. “We should probably go back to the dorms!” You look around to see Nat chatting with some girl and Rio throwing darts at the board in the corner.
“Not yet,” Wanda says, picking up her rum and coke. You’re not sure how she’s still drinking after she also did four tequila shots. “I’ll get you some water.” She signals to the bartender and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your vision to go back to normal.
When you open them, you see dark hair in the corner. Is that–? You shift so you can get a better look and feel sorely disappointed when you realize the person is not Agatha. Why are you disappointed? The thought echoes in your head for a second, and then is replaced by a sudden urge to see your professor.
“Drink this,” Wanda orders, pressing a glass of ice water into your hand, but you’re too busy scrolling through your phone. You know she put her number on the syllabus somewhere and you are too far gone to think that this might be a bad idea.
You feel a thrill run through you when you find it. You read the number over and over, like you’re afraid it’s going to change somehow.
“I’ll be back,” you slur to Wanda and then step out the side door into the alley. You type the number into your phone and your finger hesitates over the call button. You know you shouldn’t. But fuck it. You press the button and lift the phone to your ear.
It rings. And then rings again. You’re about to hang up to spare yourself the rejection when the call connects.
“Hello?” It’s actually her.
Your breath catches in your throat and you stand up straighter. “Professor Harkness?”
“Y/n? Is that you?”
“Yeah.” Shit, this was a bad idea. Even with your head still swimming, you know that. You can’t just hang up though.
“Why are you calling me at 10:30 on a Saturday night?”
“Um,” you say, trying to think of something. You’re definitely going to have to drop her class after this. You’ll never be able to face her ever again. “It’s my birthday?” You offer lamely.
Agatha scoffs. “Happy birthday. Can I help you with something?”
“Oh, no, Professor, I just wanted – we’re at a bar – I thought you were – and just wanted to say hi,” you ramble, knowing you’re not making any sense, and you can almost hear her smirk through the phone.
“Y/n, are you drunk right now?” Her voice perks up and it sounds like she’s finally interested.
“No!” you protest. “Well, maybe a little. But I’m 21 now!”
“What bar are you at?”
“Jimmy’s.” It’s a local dive bar that is a popular place for Westview students to hang out at.
“I’ll be there in ten. Wait out front.” There’s a click and then she’s gone. You stare at your phone, dumbfounded. Is Agatha coming to pick you up? Why?
You walk back into the bar and order a Dirty Shirley. The call had sobered you up a bit and if you had already drunk-called your professor, why not get even more hammered. Wanda comes back over to you and giggles when she sees the new drink in your hand.
“Alright, time to party!” she exclaims. You pick up on the fact that she’s a little drunk as well. You stand up, vision blurring for a second.
“I actually called an uber,” you lie, even through your hazy mind knowing that your professor coming to pick you up might sound strange to them.
Wanda pouts and then throws her arms around you. “Happy birthday,” she says into your ear and your arms tighten around her.
“Thank you,” you breathe back. You’re close with Rio and Nat as well, but they don’t have the same bond you and Wanda do. You pull back and then go say goodbye to your other friends.
The wind outside does very little to sober you up and you shiver from the coldness. You’re wearing a purple crop-top and a black mini-skirt, something Nat had found buried deep in your closet. You watch the time on your phone, heartbeat picking up as it gets closer to ten minutes since Agatha had hung up on you.
And then right on the dot, a slick black Range Rover pulls into the parking lot, and you immediately know it’s her. The car stops right in front of you, the passenger window rolling down, and your breath catches.
It’s Professor Harkness, clad in a maroon suit, wavy hair falling over her shoulders.
“Do you need me to open the door for you, too, princess?” Agatha says, sarcasm dripping over the words, when you haven’t moved. You shake your head, partly to answer and partly to clear the fog. You settle into the seat, not missing the way Agatha’s eyes rake over your skimpily clothed body.
“You didn’t have to come get me,” you mutter, putting real effort into not slurring your words.
She glances at you and sees you struggling with your seatbelt. She reaches over and you freeze at her close proximity. Her breath is hot against your cheek and her fingers brush your stomach as she takes the seat belt from your hand and buckles it for you. “Thought I would spare the other people you drunk-called,” she says.
Embarrassment runs through you. “You were the only one,” you say meekly, picking at a scab on your hand. You dare to peek at her, only to find her smirking, one eyebrow quirked.
“Oh?”
“I shouldn’t have called.” This time, it’s harder to keep your words from running together. “We were talking about you and then I thought I saw you and I just wanted to see you.” You need to stop talking, now.
Agatha hums. “Did you, now?” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ears as she shifts the car into drive and you watch her fingers.
“You’re really hot,” you blurt out and then clamp a hand over your mouth. Fuck.
Instead of pulling over and making you get out, like you thought she would, Agatha simply reaches over and pats your leg. “And you’re really drunk, sweetheart.”
The pet name makes you swoon inwardly. “Not that drunk,” you say unconvincingly. “I only had one…two…” You trail off, attempting to count the number of drinks on your fingers. Agatha stifles a chuckle.
“Is this your first time drinking?” She asks, amused.
“No, but it is my first time drinking this much,” you admit. “My friends dragged me out since it’s my birthday. I was going to work on the essay for your class.”
“You were going to spend your 21st birthday doing school work?”
“Your essay’s due in a week. I wanted to make sure I-it was good enough for you.”
She notices your slip of tongue and her smirk sends heat down low in your stomach. “You’re always good for me. Your essays are some of the best I’ve ever read.”
Your heart skips a beat and your face flushes. “I have a B in your class.”
“You have an 88 in my class. That’s the highest I’ve had in years. Can’t make it too easy,” she says with a wink.
“You could make it just a little easier,” you grumble, the alcohol clearly getting rid of any inhibitions.
“You keep doing what you’re doing, sweetheart, and it’ll go up, I promise. I’m very impressed with the work you’ve been turning in.”
A hot flash runs through you. “Just wanna be your good girl.” And if it wasn’t clear how you feel about her now, it sure is. But she doesn’t look disgusted or creeped out, only intrigued.
She finally stops the car and you peer out the window, expecting to see your dorm. You haven’t been paying attention to where she’s been driving at all, and you’re quite surprised to see you’ve arrived at a two-story house in a cute, suburban neighborhood.
“This isn’t where I live,” you say dumbly.
“No, it’s not,” she agrees, getting out of the car and walking over to help you. You stumble up the steps to the front door, Agatha’s tight grip on your shoulder keeping you upright. You can feel her fingers playing with the ends of your hair.
She unlocks the front door just as a wave of nausea hits you. “Oh, god,” you say weakly, holding a hand in front of your mouth. Agatha doesn’t even seem phased; she leads you to a bathroom in the hall and leaves, only to re-enter with a glass of water moments later. You gulp it down and feel better.
“You okay?” she asks softly, stroking your cheek, eyes tracing up and down your face. You’ve never seen this side of her and you really like it.
“I think so. Thank you again,” you murmur and you realize that you’ve been staring at her mouth.
“Anything for my favorite student.”
And then, because you’re apparently determined to fuck everything up even more, you lean in and press your lips to hers. Agatha stands still for a second before you pull back, horrified with yourself.
“Professor, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
She draws you back in for a longer kiss this time, tongue licking into your mouth. You let out a long moan and she breaks away.
“You’re drunk,” she tells you again.
You clasp the lapels of her blazer. “I know. But I want you.”
She softly pries your fingers off her suit and smiles. “You need to sleep. And then we can talk about this in the morning.”
You pout and she runs her thumb over your bottom lip, slightly pulling it down. You suck her finger into your mouth, delighting in the way her eyes darken. She steps back.
“Let’s go. You can sleep in the guest room. I’ll find you some pajamas and toiletries.” Her hand on the small of your back guides you up the stairs and to the room on the right. The guest room is simple but cozy and you immediately go to the bed and flop onto it. “Don’t fall asleep yet,” Agatha warns and then leaves the room.
She comes back in a few minutes, an old shirt and sweatpants in one hand and a toothbrush and toothpaste in the other. She pats your legs in an effort to get you up but you can barely move, suddenly weighed down by all the drinks.
“Come on, hon,” Agatha says and helps you stand up. You don’t move as she works to take your shirt and skirt off, your cheeks and upper chest flushing red. You try to cover yourself and she smirks.
“M’sorry,” you mumble.
“Don’t be. I’m enjoying the view.” You stare at her longingly, silently begging her to fuck you right there and then, but she helps you step into the sweatpants and pull the shirt over your head. She watches you brush your teeth and moves the covers so you can get into bed. “Do you need anything else?”
Your hand grabs hers. “Just you,” you try again hopefully, but she chuckles and wrenches free of your grip.
“Good night, birthday girl,” she whispers and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. And then she turns off the lights and leaves the room.
You fall asleep immediately.
***
Sunlight streams through the blinds, waking you up. It takes you a minute to get your bearings and then the events of last night come back to you.
The bar. Four shots of tequila and half a Dirty Shirley. Calling Agatha and her coming to pick you up and taking you to her house. Kissing her in the downstairs bathroom. Shit.
You groan, head pounding. You see a container of Advil and a glass of water on the nightstand beside you. You take two Advil and drain the glass, heart warming at the thought of Agatha taking such good care of you.
And then you remember that your relationship with her will forever be complicated by your actions.
You solemnly brush your teeth and pull back on the clothes you wore to the bar last night, neatly folding Agatha’s pajamas and placing them on the bed. You hope she hasn’t woken up yet so you can sneak out without her having to tell you how inappropriate you behaved last night.
No such luck. The second you get downstairs, Agatha perks up from where she’s typing on her laptop on the couch.
“Good morning, darling,” she purrs, shutting her computer. You gulp, taking her outfit in. She’s wearing a robe that ends mid-thigh and the neckline drops low.
“Hey,” you say casually, trying to hide how much you’re internally freaking out.
“Do you want something for breakfast? I can cook you something.” She stands up and walks to the kitchen and you follow like a lost puppy. You involuntarily lick your lips at the way her hips are swaying.
“What are my options?” Your voice is raspy, still feeling hungover. She glances back at you and her eyes dart up and down your body.
“I can make eggs. Bacon. I think I have pancake mix in the pantry. What would you like?”
You’re a little confused that she hasn’t scolded you yet. And then you remember something else. She kissed you.
You swallow hard. Whatever else you may have done last night that you can’t remember, she doesn’t hate you for it. She might even want you back.
“Are you on the menu?” It comes out before you can even realize what you’re saying.
Agatha freezes and turns around. You shift your weight nervously, but then you see her pupils blown out. Her eyes are so dark you can barely see any blue. “What?” She asks carefully.
“You kissed me last night,” you say, a little breathless. You have absolutely no idea where this confidence is coming from. “You wouldn’t do anything else cause I was drunk. But I’m not drunk now.”
She steps toward you and roughly grasps your hair. She tilts your head back, exposing your neck just a tad. “No, you’re not.” She regards you for a second. “You know you’re not going to get extra credit for trying to sleep with your professor.”
You laugh. “That’s not why I’m doing this.”
She smirks. “Good.” And then she licks a hot stripe up your neck and bites down, sucking a mark on your skin. You gasp loudly and tangle your hands into her hair.
“Professor,” you moan and you drag her into a filthy kiss. She backs you up until your thighs hit the table so she lifts you up onto it. Your legs wrap around her to pull her closer. Agatha pushes up your crop-top and kneads your breast, thumb stroking your nipple, never once breaking your kiss.
Her hand creeps under your skirt and cups your mound over your underwear. Your hips jump on their own at the stimulation.
“Please,” you beg. Her lips curl into a smile.
“What do you want?” Her fingers have pushed your underwear to the side and have started lazily stroking through your folds, spreading your wetness.
“You,” is all you can say before she sinks a finger into your hole.
“Like this?” She asks innocently, thrusting hard.
“Yes,” you pant, quickly untying her robe so you can touch her. She’s completely naked underneath and you lean down so you can take a nipple into your mouth.
“That’s perfect, baby,” she sighs, setting a relentless pace with her fingers after she slips another one in you. “Is this what you hoped would happen when you called me last night?”
“I’ve been hoping for this since the first day of the semester,” you answer, and she falters for a second, thrown off by your honesty.
She pulls out of you and panic runs through you, terrified that you said the wrong thing. But she just pushes you down so your back is resting on the table and she pulls out one of the chairs from the table.
“What are you–” Before you can finish your sentence, she leans forward and sucks your clit into her mouth. Your back arches off the table, hands rushing down to hold her in place. “Fuck, Professor!”
She devours your pussy like she’s a starving woman, pulling all sorts of loud noises from you.
“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum,” you chant, hips grinding on her face, trying to get the last bit of stimulation you need to send you over the edge. She knows what you need and presses her fingers inside you, curling them just right and gives your clit a hard last lick. You cum harder than you ever have before, her name on your lips like a prayer. She helps you ride through the aftershocks and then trails kisses up your body until she can kiss your mouth.
“How was that?” she asks after you pull away to catch your breath.
“That was probably the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” you say, which cracks both of you up. “But I’m not finished.”
Her eyebrow quirks up and she smirks. “Oh?” You stand up, putting your hands on her hips and flipping her around so she’s leaning against the table.
You sink to your knees in front of you, not even bothering with a chair. You slowly push her robe up so it bunches at her waist. “Can I return the favor?”
A glint appears in her eye and she fists one of her hands in your hair preemptively. “I’d like nothing more.”
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