#I dont know why i still write this

[freshmanyearhistoryteacher]

hello i just found your blog and this is exactly what i was hoping for my blog omg i love it sm ,,,

can i possibly request a male english teacher with a breeding kink? i just want to get knocked up by an older man it hurts so bad ,,, student can be female or nb either is fine <33

UNFINISHED im sorry im so sick rn it hurts to exist. Also I've literally got such a back up of requests this user doesn't even have an account anymore ��� 💀  I hope they see it tho lmfao

Warning, contains:

mentions of how creepy the dynamic is

pet names

no sex surprisingly

Word count: 1, 530

It was an odd day. The weather hadn't been annoyingly warm nor bone chillingly cool. Classes seemed to fade past without the constant dragging of time usually accompanying them despite the final exams which crawled ever closer. She sat at the back of the class, though only a few chairs were still filled as the option of a "study break" had been offered to those already finished with assigned course work, with her hair tied back and pen scribbling across half filled paper. Three books balanced on the corner of her desk, the cover held down with a collection of pens which she rotated through as she changed from topic to topic and attempted a system of colour coding doomed to fail the second she left the class.

From the front of the room her teacher watched. He would have, if he'd been able to, spared more thought to the fact that it was very obvious that his eyes had not left her, but he was too transfixed to look away. It was the way short wisps of her hair blew in the breeze of the fan left on at the front of the class and the way she tapped her pen between questions. It was wrong. So awfully wrong. But he couldn't stop the itching that covered his skin and the flush that it bought to his cheeks. fuck, he thought, he should have worn looser pants today. But even the thought of having to pre-plan his outfits just for her made his skin itch more. He shifted his eyes to his desk, pretending to read an assessment by some lower grade student he couldn't remember the name of. He wanted… needed to touch her. It wasn't fair that she got to sit there, biting her perfect round lips, and he was forced to stay here. This was infuriating. He felt helpless, needy… out of control. He needed to make her his, needed to prove that he could. He scratched the stubble on his chin. He had often thought about how she felt about him, if she shared the same sentiment. The blushing glances and embarrassed brushes of hands as tests were handed out sure seemed to suggest she did. Even the way her friends stared at her every time he walked past in the hall made his heart stammer with pride. He glanced up from the desk and met her eyes, which widened and shot back down to the paper in front of her as she searched for where she had been last writing desperately. He smirked softly, glancing back down at his desk as well, only to feel her eyes once again return to him. Only after a torturous amount of time did the bell ring. Leaving enough time for him to desperately wonder what she had been thinking and how much of her work had been done in order to only seem busy whilst staring at him instead of truly caring for the classes. And exactly enough time for her to debate if he even cared or if her friends were correct in their assumption that the obsession was entirely one sided from her.

The room emptied yet she had not moved and he now waited standing near the door. The old wood slipped from his hands and clicked shut softly, causing her eyes to flicker up in the middle of her sentence but quickly move back down. Her heart was beating a million miles an hour, her skin flushed, and her mind racing. She had planned to stay, and now she was here, and she was so unsure of herself. It was fooling to think he would want her but… He hadn't suggested she leave, in fact he was just looking at her with his head tilted to the side. She watched as he ran a seemingly frustrated hand through his hair and her anxiety spiked. Would he kick her out? Would he allow her to stay but leave himself? Would he stay with her?… Would he let her talk to him? Hug him? Do much much more than just that? A shiver crept over her skin. He pressed a hand to the door and she was sure he was about to swing it back open and demand she go home, yet he only seemed to ensure that it had closed and take a step forwards. He was moving slowly, cautiously, as if she was an animal to be scared. "Nothing is wrong," she blurting in fear that he had thought her staying was only at the benefit of cramming more study in. he smiled softly and nodded. "I'm glad," he said, tone low and barely above a whisper. He seemed so gentle and it confused her. He hadn't been a necessarily mean teacher, though she had only had him for this year where senior students were granted more leniency than others, but it seemed odd and it was her turn to tilt her head. It seemed as though their expressions took turns, each filtering between flustered and poorly hiding it, and curious as to the intentions of the other.

"What are you doing?" She asked in a small voice as he reached her desk. Her pens were still spread across the desk and her books, pages a mess, and phone thrown to the side. But he didn't respond. He stopped when he stood directly beside her, only half a step from disappearing from her sight as she remained staring forwards. He kept his eyes fixed on the back wall covered in work and posters. "I've been curious," he began. "How have you…" he seemed to reconsider his question before continuing, "enjoyed this class so far?" She turned her head to him, seeing mainly the lower area of his shirt which tucked into his pants unevenly. She blushed despite the so far, however strange, still formal nature of their conversation and layers of clothes between her face and his skin. "it's been good, I guess," she said and then stumbled to correct. "I've really liked it, I meant." He chuckled slightly and nodded. He leant back on his heels, shifting his weight awkwardly before tilting his head to the roof. An exasperated laugh escaped his lips. "It is final year english, there is only so much I can teach you that you would not already have known." She forced a small laugh but concern washed over her face. "Are you ok?" she asked and he grunted, still staring at the ceiling. He hummed and turned towards her desk, her face nearly brushing with his stomach from how close he had managed to position himself. His hands came to rest on her desk and his feet stepped back and he leant down to her. "I'm great, really just.." he was talking through gritted teeth, "really great." He stood up again, remaining further away this time. "And you I imagine aregood, perfectly good. Had class today, decided to stay back now for some extra study I am no doubt interrupting." She lurched forward with her hand to interrupt in fear of her presence being diminished to a simple study session alone. "No!" He met her eyes. "No!" She blushed, "No." She swallowed the ball in her throat. "I didn't stay to study… at least not alone." He hummed again, hands in his pockets and weight shifting around anxiously. Yet, his face was nearly predatory in contrast to the unsure posture. "Then what?" He asked, pupils dilating. "I was hoping," she paused. What had she been hoping for? Did she really expect him to want her like that? He was her teacher and he knew better… she was nobody to him. "Just to see… my grade?" Even to her own ears she sounded unsure and his body seemed to flicker between smug amusement and uncertainty. "Ok," he said as he turned his head away. "I can show you if you really want but you've passed every assessment with flying colours I mean. You really aren't worried about your grades right?" She nodded her head yet they both knew she had nothing to be concerned with.

He crossed the classroom space in as few steps as possible, his head bursting with confusion. Why did she stay then? Did she actually care so much about her grade? Why was that cute to him? Did she not want him like that? Had he been the creep he had been so afraid to be? His hand connected with the cold case of his laptop and he returned just as fast to her desk. He found her grades within seconds and presented them to her on her desk, Clearing a few of the papers out of his way first. "You haven't dipped below a 70 all year I mean," he seemed confused and she blushed harder. His breath was hot on her ear from how close he had learnt in but he seemed entirely unaware of it. She could smell the caffeine on his breath and faded cologne on his neck. It made her dizzy in a way which made her body pulse with excitement. She wondered if he could smell her too?

[krazieka2]

I've played the Fire Emblem Husbando Dating Simulator Games

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[baejax-the-great]

If I were a writer at a big game company working on a sequel to a beloved series and the higher ups kept telling me to make the game shittier and kept sending my work back to me to be dumbed down even further somehow, and then once most of the writing was done they laid me and my coworkers off illegally without severance, I'd probably gleefully watch as people trashed the shitty game that shipped.

[yeonjune]

Yeonjun about the strain he felt while preparing for his debut solo project ✙ "GGUM" MAKING FILM

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

heeyyy gaaanggg

the pose and the background of the album version (left) are based on oingo boingos only a lad album art. not cause i think he has anything to do with it but just cause ive been wantin to draw that pose for like. weeks and i didnt know who to put there. so why not my latest bug man.

[just-null]

Thinking….. thinking of yandere noritoshi

me too....

Noritoshi is suspicious of you at the worst of times. The same faint crease on his brow always appears when he's trying to hide being bothered by something.

This time? Because you've been focusing on your phone rather than him for a little bit too long...... He trusts you, of course he does! its just, he doesn't trust others. What if you end up talking with somebody for too long and they try whisking you away?

Obviously it's most likely nothing and you're enjoying your time doing who knows what on the phone that he's not allowed to check because you told him he couldn't no matter how many times he asked. Noritoshi still stares at your phone intensely when its sitting somewhere, itching to take a quick peek.. it'll be harmless, you don't even have to know!

Yet, his mind wanders to the possibility of getting caught. He'd rather spear arrows through his palm than be gazed at with disapproval by you. Its only natural to have privacy, he tells himself. So, begrudgingly, Noritoshi obeys and watches you on the stupid little phone.

The phone that contains a lot of mindless entertainment and important files. The same phone that holds a lot of personal information you keep to yourself. The same damn phone he's been itching to get his hands on ever since you began smiling at the device.

Why aren't you showing him what's so funny? Oh, right, because he could care less. All he cares about is that your attention is off of him and onto something else that could easily lead you to interact with someone else. It becomes too much and he acts emotionally, tilting the phone down and confronting you. It's not an accusation, just a question. Tell him he's wrong, he's almost begging you to tell him he's wrong. He just wants your attention again, so forgive him if he acts irrational. He'll make up for it, he promises.

Though, if you're alright with Noritoshi looking through your phone, his looming shadow over your shoulder will be a common occurrence every time you turn on your device. He might as well stop using his own with how much he likes holding onto yours. It's just to help you carry your things, of course. He's so gentlemanly isn't he? Go on, praise him!

[karkatbug]

parenthood

[noxious-fennec]

3 years and I'm STILL IN THE FUCKING BUILDING... unbelievable... anyway happy re-bday to my pathetic cringefail politician

Alt ver. under the cut

***Massive disclaimer: i do not support the cc this is strictly about the fictional character

[messymoonmad]

I need to see poseidon adopt polites as his son

He be like "hm ur my child now" and just carry polites away

This but with Eurylochus and Perimedes

[moeblob]

Reverse!Gavin

[yuwuta]

yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always. 

[ghostofsnails]

so did you guys know theres this character called tristan vik disventure camp and

[angy-grrr]

SJ's internal changes (I recall it was the editor in chief, someone really influential) happening JUST at the same time it was announced the epilogue would be 5 chapters (same week) + the ending not bringing up huge plot points (where the other villains are, why theres no actual Himiko corpse and instead we got Ochako's grief over that assumption, what happened to Dabi, what was the All Might vestige, why the bkdk handhold was off screen when its a big deal for them, who is Deku's dad, etc), letting them linger in the air while trying to make an okay ending + that strange two week break because of "schedule conflicts" + choosing to end BNHA under even more pressure even tho its one of the most important manga in SJ + Horikoshi talking about the ending days after the official release and bringing up how grateful he is for being able to work in SJ, as in past tense (like he is grateful he worked here, but isnt happening again; I say this bc I expected him to say something around the lines of "I hope im able to create something good here again soon!", considering we already know he has another manga project, if I remember correctly)

Thinking about it.

Thinking about how he could let it as it is, or try to pick it up and confirm the things that do matter to his story.

Btw, im not talking about the handhold as a shipper -it was genuinely important for them, as it symbolizes both their new mutual understanding and an acceptance as the new All Might duo thanks to their respective heroisms. It wouldn't be weird to add it in the epilogue, especially considering so many characters hold hands in non romanitc ways, so to choose not to when its arguably the most important one... Idk, it felt really weird as it was the only thing I was sure would get sooner or later.

[a-mint-bear]

Yandere Girl Types

The Super Fan

● She can't help but trail after you like a lovesick puppy. She looks at you and everything you do with the rosiest of rose-colored glasses. Whether you're the talented type or just an average person, she looks at you like you are her everything, because you are!

● Whenever you're together, she's a little clingy. But it's nice to have someone who likes you as much as she does. It makes you feel special, wanted. She's not shy about making the first move, and she's especially not shy about telling you how she feels. But she makes sure you know that you don't have to say it back if you're not there yet. She knows you will though. Soon.

● She sits and smiles at the pictures of you all over her room. Anything you've touched, she considers her greatest treasures. She saw you drop your favorite pen one day and meant to give it back to you, honest. But the moment she touched it, it was like something came over her. She stuffed it in her bag and took it home, and ever since, she can't help but take your things. Especially the stuff that smells like you. She keeps taking more and more of your things, but it's not enough. It's never enough...

● She makes copies of your keys when you "lose" them on day. At first, it's just to sneak into your place and take things she can't get otherwise, but it quickly escalates. She lets herself in and plays house, imagining your life together. Soon, she's watching you sleep and even lies down next to you, just for a little bit. She wants to touch you so badly...

● She wonders... if you woke up, would you smile like you always do? Would you hold her close? Would you be hers?

The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

● On the outside, she's the nicest girl. Whenever you see her, she's always got a sweet smile on her face and is always willing to help you if it means she gets to spend a little more time with you. You think of her as the kind and generous type, but she doesn’t extend this behavior to anyone but you.

● She doesn't really seem interested in dating. Anyone who actually has asked her out gets turned down gently. But a few of them swear they could see a look of disgust flash across her face for just a second before the rejection, but they always thought they just imagined it. In reality, there's only one person on her mind, so no one else can even compare.

● No one sees the other side of her. The way she stares down the girl who always laughs at your jokes. How she swears under her breath when she sees how your best guy friend just casually touches your arm, how her nails dig into the palms of her hands until they bleed. But when your eyes meet hers, you’d never guess the things she’d just been imagining.

● She hears a rumor that someone is going to ask you out. At first, she just plans to put them in their place and remind them that you deserve better, maybe just harass them or scare them. Or maybe ruining their life a little, poisoning their friends against them or getting them fired. But the thought of them getting pity from you or running to you and telling you how she acts when you’re not around… The thought of you holding them close, telling them you how much you love them... Something in her just snaps. She catches them when they're isolated and gets rid of them. Nothing can ever be traced back to her.

● She can't risk you seeing her in a bad light, even if it's so the two of you can be together. Everything she does, it's all for you!

The Secret Admirer

● She's had a rough home life. She has no one in her corner, no one's been there for her. She doesnt have anyone she can call her own. Until she sees you for the first time. Something about you is just... right. You fill that empty spot she's felt her entire life and the thought of you is the only thing that makes life worthwhile.

● She's quiet, reserved, and always looking your way. You can feel someone watching you sometimes, but when you turn around, no one's there. You don't connect it to the girl you've seen around lately. It doesn’t matter to her how you treat her, whether you say hello, smile politely, or give her a look for staring. Any attention, good or bad, is everything to her. You're everything to her. But she can't tell you, not yet. If she messes it up, if you reject her... She couldn't live with that.

● You start noticing things. Little gifts someone has left you, sometimes snacks and treats. The book you've been reading suddenly has a pressed flower inside the front cover, baby's breath. You find love notes in your bag. Some are flowery poetry, others get a little steamy, but it's all a bit clumsy, somehow. At first you think it might be one of your friends pranking you, but no one you know would pull something like this. Maybe someone actually has a thing for you? But how are you supposed to respond when there's no way to give anyone an actual answer? You decide to just ignore it until this person actually decides to meet you face to face.

● You don't smile when you see her gifts anymore. The notes she pours her heart into get left where you find them. Seeing you just walk away when she does something for you shatters her. Love her, hate her, anything! Just don't ignore her!! Without you, she has nothing to live for... Please... Don't leave her behind. Through her tears, her agony turns to desperation.

● You can't get rid of her. She won't let you. Maybe... it's time for you to meet.

The Boss Lady

● You've been working under her for the last few years. She's powerful, she's beautiful, and so very, very intimidating. She gets what she wants, no matter who she has to step on. She seems to have locked onto you for some reason, having you run and get her things and having you stay and work overtime.

● She seems to like running you ragged and seeing you flustered. You have half a mind to believe that she’s been “accidentally” brushing up against you reaching for files or leaning to talk in your ear as you sit at your desk, her charming, sultry voice sending shivers up your spine. Your damn body is betraying you. You don’t want to think that damn tyrant is attractive! Your coworkers are jealous that you're spending so much time with her, but you think they'd think twice if they were the ones picking up her dry cleaning and coffee orders, day in and day out. You tell a coworker you'd quit, but you need the money too much.

● One day, she calls you into her office. She says she has a proposition for you. She wants you to be her executive assistant. It comes with great benefits and a HUGE pay raise. The work will be harder, sure, but you'd have to be an idiot to say no. But the conditions get more specific and odd. You would accompany her on all her business trips, eat all your meals with her, you'd even be living in her penthouse suite. At first, you think it's just a weirdly intensive position, she just needs someone to manage her life. But the way she's looking at you... it's like she wants to possess you entirely.

● All you can think to ask is, why you? There's a bored look on her face as she starts talking about her career. How her job and climbing the corporate ladder were the only things she put any effort into. Everything else was so tedious and dull. Until you started as an intern, dropping off her coffee order with that nervous smile. She started noticing how hard you work, how you never turn down her requests, how you try to hide your smile when she praises you... How your breath hitches when her hand brushes yours. And how, every day when you clock out, her world stagnates until she sees you again.

● Say yes, and you'll have everything you could ever want. But make no mistake, you'll be hers. And she has no plans to let you go.