#SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT THAT BLUE COOKIE

[someonebeatyoutothisuser]

This fucking cookie being the only reason I'm still in this godforsaken fandom. GingerBrave, please let me fucking free. I'm so tired of some of these people's shit. Please let me the fuck free..

For context, I'm mixed (A little more on the darker side but you get the picture) But why the fuck was I called a slur over a goddamn SHIP?!

[nymphomatique]

gold star student

professor!logan howlett x fem!reader

⋆·˚ ��� * one bad grade is one too many, so you ask one professor logan howlett, phd. for some extra credit after class. inspired by this art.

cw: reader lowkey has undiagnosed adhd, u want that cookie so effing bad, oral (m & f), praise, some degradation, swearing (it’s logan), shaky power dynamics so it can be considered dub-con, non specific age gap, college aged reader, logan puts stickers on your face while you blow him, face slapping, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!), finger sucking, spitting on the pussy, grey streak logan cause if he ain’t greying im not staying!!!, this is just me being horny idk what else to say i’m sorry yall. 18+ only.

wc: 8k

❤︎ a/n: this was…. a labour of love to say the least. i hate the ending but fuck it we ball. enjoy <3

Ever since you were a child, anything and everything that had to do with academia had been the bane of your existence. Sitting at a desk for eight odd hours in a day wasn’t only grossly unappealing to you, but a mental challenge as well. You had found it hard to grasp onto concepts and new materials as well as the other kids, unable to focus on whatever spiel of the day your teacher went on about and still found yourself struggling in higher education. From kindergarten, to elementary, to middle school, to high school, up until now in your college years, you find that not only has your attention deficit gotten worse, but so has your motivation in academia in general. 

A floater student is what you would consider yourself, showing up to class once in a blue moon, rather busying yourself with doom scrolling in your dormitory or shopping off campus at the mall, only showing up during exam time and barely passing. your prognosis would be one of the many hyperactive disorders, but you never bothered to diagnose yourself officially. In high school, your parents didn’t make a huge deal of your grades, thanking a graceful god out there that you even got your diploma to begin with. At this age however, with tens of thousands of dollars being poured into your tuition, your mother and father have seemed to coil up even tighter in terms of frustration with your nonchalant attitude towards school. 

A report card from your fall semester riddled with C’s and D’s, emboldened and italicized as if to taunt you silently, was the final straw, the cussing you received was enough for a lifetime. At your parents' discretion, before the start of the semester you consulted with your academic advisor in suggestion of a course schedule that wasn’t a twelve hour day, and professors who would accommodate you with in the case of your late assignments and missing homework. 

All classes but one would be easy- you had been told. Your world history class and its professor had been the only one where you had been saddled with a hardball teacher, rate my professor describing one Logan Howlett, teacher of Modern World History in the Context of Classic Literature, as a man with a foul mouth and harsh grading asshole— with an excellent curriculum but horrible grade weighting, as described by your fellow student body, the mandatory attendance and participation accounting for twenty percent of your grade alone pulling a groan from you as your laptop screen stares back at you, the blue light emitting from it seemingly silently taunting you with the course course outline. Get used to looking at my screen. Three hours in an auditorium, every Wednesday and Friday for twelve weeks at nine in the morning with this douchebag.

You mentally prepare yourself for the exhaustion of the upcoming semester, shutting your laptop closed with a huff of annoyance before laying in bed, mentally preparing yourself for this seemingly infamous professor Howlett.

After a rather inadequate night of sleep, a zero sugar monster energy (gotta give in for the sake of your health where you can) and a double shot latte, you feel something that briefly resembles yet still distant from awake, you find yourself struggling to get comfortable in the stiff chairs in your lecture room. You’re glad you tucked yourself away in a seat in the corner, four rows back from the front, embarrassed that your peers are silently mocking your struggle. 

It’s some odd minutes to nine on the dot, and you’re rather proud of yourself for being able to make it minutes early rather than stumbling in twenty minutes late like you’re prone to doing. Face resting on your hand, cheek squishing your right eye closed, your left eye flits around the room to the other people present, and you wonder if anyone else is stuck in your current situation: burnt out student who didn’t have a choice but to take this class at the least convenient time possible, simply for your graduation credits. Unfortunate kismet, you think, if anybody else in this room also had the privilege to have been born with the unlucky gene you possess. 

Your eyes are heavy, the seconds tickering away at the speed of minutes, and you can’t help it when the last open eye you have flutters close. You hum to yourself, relishing at the feeling of finally being able to rest some more. the quiet shuffling of your classmates feet and the soft scrapings of their chairs, clock ticking so quietly that it barely registers in your mind. The ambient noise is like a blanket to you. It’s not more than five minutes, just a micro nap— you tell yourself, counting the seconds of each minute down silently. 45, 44, 43, 42, what minute is this?, 30, 29, 28, so tired, 22, 21, time to sleep…

Your eyes shoot open when you hear the auditorium door slam shut, blinking away softly the sleep in your eyes. your heart sinks for a minute and panic sets in— did you sleep through the whole class? On the first fucking day? You look around, eyes wide, and immediately sigh in relief when you’re greeted with a full hall. Conversely, you see everyone’s attention to the front of the class with materials out, so you trail your eyes to the front of the room and that’s when you see him, finally. Not his face yet, the wide expanse of his back and tail of his coiffed head facing you all instead. Your eyes trail down his body to his feet, clad in a pair of black combat boots, you can’t help but quirk up and eyebrow, bootcut jeans that seem to be worn in well, seemingly like they’re tailored to his long, very legs, then you see his jacket, which now you catch in time to see him taking it off to reveal a black t-shirt underneath and your breath hitches a bit. You can only see his triceps flexing as he maneuvers his jacket off, but you can just tell he’s covered in rippling muscle, his arms straining against the fabric of his shirt. You can’t help but wonder what he looks like, wondering if his face is as captivating as the rest of him. Your eyes flit over to the girl sitting two seats down from you, and you can’t help but smile a little at her expression, teeth chewing her bottom lip and eyes widened slightly and blinking in slow flutters, seemingly thinking the same things about this Professor Logan Howlett as you are; He’s obscenely sexy even though I haven’t even seen his face.

When you focus your attention back to the front, your face warms immediately upon finally seeing his– Professor Howlett’s face and fuck, you feel stupid for even thinking that he wouldn’t be even a fraction of attractive. His hair, oh god his hair, styled as if he just rolled out of bed and ran his hands through it once, maybe twice even, streaked with gray at his temples, peppering down into his sideburns and disappearing in his scruffy beard. His eyes are an enrapturing shade of hazel, almost brown, almost green, you squint a little to see the mix of hues better, cursing yourself for sitting so far away. His nose, button-like yet poses so masculine at the same time. His lips look so soft and kissable, framed perfectly by his facial hair as if it’s screaming at you to kiss there, to taste each other, let your tongues touch and whisper your deepest secrets to one another-

Gravelly and deep, his voice rouses you from your rather indulgent fantasy. “Good morning. Lively bunch this semester,” he quips and a quiet wave of laughter reverberates and echoes around you. Your chest tightens at the sound of his voice and you want to smack yourself silly for it. “Gonna spare you all the pointless introductions n’ ice breaking crap, yeah? We’ll go over the syllabus and get this show on the road.”

He’s curt, forward, doesn’t bite his tongue, you deduce. Not the jackass his reviews seem to pin him as, though it’s only the first class. They didn’t seem to mention how ruggedly handsome he was as well, you think and pull your lips taut as Professor Howlett, continues to read off the syllabus. Two essays, three quizzes, and a final reading comprehension exam. Attendance is mandatory Your eyes quickly flit to the back of your skull as he reads off that point. No makeups. No late work. No excuses. 

You feel your heart hammer in your chest a little, a sense of anxiety bubbling up in you at how much this class demands. It’s nerve wracking, super fucking discouraging to say the least given your track record, but you know you have no other choice but to commit fully and pass this class, so help your parents. You suppose you can find the motivation in a hot professor and at the very least, make an effort to roll out of bed and be presentable on the days you show up to his class. You exhale softly, hearing the shuffling of books and closing laptops to rouse you from your thoughts. 

“And don’t forget, first five chapters of tulip fever for next class,” his voice booms in the auditorium, fighting with the noise of students desperate to leave and head to their next class or back to their rooms. You flit your eyes towards your professor, arms crossed and muscles bulging against his shirt, casually leaned against his desk. His eyes meet yours for a moment and your breath hitches immediately. His brow quirks at you silently and you’re sure you might disintegrate on spot. You feel your face heat up and you break away the eye contact to rush out of the lecture, both exhausted and perpetually embarrassed, not having enough energy to handle feeling both. In your haste, you miss the way Logan's lip quirks up for a split second at you, rushing out the door with Tulip Fever and streaks of grey on your mind. 

You find you can’t keep your modern history professor off the brain since leaving the lecture hall that wednesday, ever so flustered. You thought about his thick arms back at your dorm, and how they might feel wrapped around you in a warm embrace. You thought about those graying temples, and the picture it would paint with his head between your thighs. You thought about him in your humanities class as your professor droned on about morality and its many philosophical perspectives, but you tune her voice out and think of his instead, wondering what it would sound like whispering sweet nothings in your ear. The level of yearning you’ve reached is bound to get you in trouble, hell it’s gotten you in trouble already— completely neglecting to finish the first five chapters of Tulip Fever like Professor Howlett had assigned, losing yourself in the work from your other classes. Friday had snuck up on you and you smacked your forehead for being so forgetful, the beginnings of discourage and a knot forming in your stomach. I’m a failure, I suck at this, I should drop out, I’m such a fucking idiot.

The thought of letting down a man you barely know has you berating yourself even further. You need to get a grip and quickly— he’s your teacher for God's sake. You suck in a breath, finding yourself sat in the same lecture hall your vivid fantasies found themselves being born in, laptop open as you’re frantically reading the Sparknotes summary minutes before class is set to start. Today, you chose a seat in the second row, still far off to the right side. You weren’t sure you could stay coherent with his gaze on you so heavy.  You tell yourself you picked this spot for a better learning experience, closer seats meaning less of a chance you fall prey to your fantasies, but deep down beyond the denial you knew better than to convince yourself of a lie like that. You sat upfront because you wanted to see Professor Howlett better, to pinpoint the hues of his eyes you couldn’t make out yesterday from so far behind. You wanted to trail your eyes up and down his muscular frame, taking snapshots of the hair on his forearms, the freckles on his thick knuckles, the veins trailing his big hands—

“Good morning, everyone,” a gruff voice speaks and you feel a ball of energy sits itself deep in your stomach, it’s him. You've missed the deep baritone of his voice, you realize. “Hope you all read up the chapters, yeah? We’ll be discussing ‘em today, and I am the asshole who picks on students to participate.” There’s a soft wave of grumbles from some, but your panic is quiet and you hope to a God in heaven somewhere that he doesn’t pick you, god knows you barely retained any information from your flash round of Sparknotes earlier.

“Like any book, the first few chapters were mostly exposition, character and scene setting stuff. Tell me, what does Sophia’s marriage and lack of heir signify to us in these times?��� Professor Howlett asks, and you immediately avert your gaze to the grooves and scratches in the table in front of you. Please don’t pick me, please don’t pick me, please please please— “Yeah, you,” your head snaps up, heart hammering in your chest when you see him nod his head at some girl, some girl with too much fucking chest out, you spit, her hand raised high and smile plastered across her smug little face. Your brows pull together and you barely contain the urge to roll your eyes at her enthusiasm. 

“Thank you, Professor,” This fucking bi- “I think that- that while Cornelius and Sophia are often representative of the way marriage was a lot of the times something more transactional, her being unable to have a kid being a main problem- shows how a lot of times a marriage with no evidence of, um, consummation, is seen as practically null and void.” Your fist tenses against the desk at her answer.

“Little long winded, but yeah, good job..?” his voice lilts off, and you smile a bit knowing he doesn’t even remember her name. “Oh, um, Amber,” she sputters out. He nods at her response and continues asking questions about the book. You feel a little bad as class progresses, your unprovoked and unwarranted jealousy towards another woman over a man who’s simply an authority figure to you both, no matter how attractive, makes you cringe. What is he doing to you? 

“Good answers, guys. Glad you all did more than skim the book,” Professor Howlett muses, turning his back to face you all as he digs through his briefcase. You take this time to admire how broad his back looks, draped in a black polo shirt today that practically has you drooling. “The rest of you I didn’t pick on today aren’t unscathed unfortunately,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. He turns around and presents the stack of papers between his large hands to you all and he smirks, “Pop quiz.” 

A myriad of groans come crashing from all over the lecture hall right down to your ears and you silently join, hands falling down against your desk. You sincerely hope these weren’t going to be graded, praying that Professor Howlett possesses some sense of apologeticness, knowing that the definite zero percent you’d get on this would completely fuck over your overall average for the rest of the semester, subsequently giving your parents ample reason to rip you a fucking brand new one. 

Row by row, he passes a stack of papers for each student to pass down and he stops in front of you, seeing as you so conveniently sat at the end of the second row. “Nervous?” he asks, brow quirked and smug fucking look on his face as you look up at him. You quirk your eyebrow right back at him, “Hardly.” A group of papers fall in front of you and he breathes out a laugh, leaving you to pass papers to the next row. You lied like shit, you were insanely nervous, knowing you hadn’t retained a lick of information from your mini crash course nor the class’ discussion prior.

“No tech, no cheating. You guys know the drill, don’t make me catch you and have to chew you out. Twenty minutes and I’m picking ‘em up.” Logan says, walking down the aisle and back to his desk, his hulking frame leaning against his desk and his arms crossed up against his chest so tight that his biceps practically bulge out of his shirt. Or maybe, he’s just that toned, that any movement, minuscule or major, would have him threatening to rip out of his clothes. You’re practically fighting yourself in your seat, tearing your eyes away from his thick arms and heavy pectorals and down to your paper. 

It’s one page, front and back, ten questions. It wouldn’t be so bad had you actually read the book, considering you can’t even remember the name of the main character in the book. You bite your lip, trying so hard to rack your brain for something that resembles a coherent answer to these questions that will give you at least a 75%, knowing it wouldn’t skew your grade average completely off. What does Maria’s role stand to symbolize in the context of 1600’s Amsterdam?. You clench your  fist so hard around your pen you’re almost amazed that it doesn’t break under the pressure. You didn’t even remember a Maria in the book.

Twenty minutes of writing later, grasping at straws for potential points that would make you feel better than getting a big fat zero on your first quiz in this class, in his class, you’re walking to his desk to place your quiz in a pile with the rest of your peers, just as he’d instructed. You kept your eyes down the entire time, feeling too embarrassed to look at him after that silly excuse for banter you had attempted earlier. Hardly. Yeah fucking right. 

After your quiz, you had been dismissed from class, and you felt the anxiety set in almost immediately. The phone call you had with your parents that weekend over your classes and grades so far only worsened, the stern and subtly implied threat of coming back home to learn at a local college looming silently above you if you didn’t keep your grades up. You had obviously avoided mentioning the pop quiz you had, choosing not to set them ablaze at the mention of the fact that you most definitely failed that pop quiz. The stress of your grades instilled a new found productivity in you, in which you took initiative to read ahead of the assigned chapters and annotate as well as take notes for your modern history class, hoping to be prepared next time he’d ask a question. Your stomach churns at the thought of his praise, Good answer. Very good, kiddo. Like that idea. you imagined he’d say to you. You bite your lip as you study your western civilization notes, maybe he’d even indulge in you, call you his good girl, his good little student, something that Amber would never have above you. 

Monday and Tuesday went by uneventfully, as you completed your labs and started on your assignments when assigned. Tuesday night however, you had been anxious almost, or maybe excited— you weren’t sure, but you did know you wanted to be prepared for this class, to prove to Professor Howlett that you could handle his class, show him that you wouldn’t let him chew you up and spit him out so easily. You took the time before bed on that Tuesday to prepare your books in your bag, organize your notes, and even pick out an outfit, neatly folding it and leaving it on your desk chair. Grades be damned, you were beyond ready to prove everyone wrong, yourself included. 

You sat in the front row again, enraptured in the world of Tulip Fever, but really you would rather focus on Professor Howlett. He was all you thought about these days, especially at night when it was only you and the dark of your dorm to entertain you before bed. You hear a giggle next to you and you snap your head to the direction of the noise. Amber. A deep rumble sounds in front of you, someone clearing their throat. You look forward again and see your professor and your face heats up. “Welcome back to earth, sweetheart,” he muses, humour painted all over his face. Your eyes widen at the pet name he’s given you and you feel like sinking into your seat. “I need you here next time, yeah? Not in that pretty little head of yours,” he says, quiet enough so only you and the front two rows can hear. Your head spins. Pretty. He called you pretty. He continues his lecture like nothing else happened, leaving you dazed at his affection. His eyes flit to you briefly and he smiles, before walking back to the front of the class. 

Little moments like these pepper themselves throughout your lectures with Profess Howlett in between the assignments and lectures and raised hands. You’d catch him looking at the juncture of your breasts sometimes as you wore low cut tops, his lilting voice calling you precious pet names, sweetheart, kiddo, sweets. They all have your face warming. Heated gazes, stolen smiles, one off banter, you were convinced you were being delusional. One particular moment after class where you had asked for details on an assignment had you reeling for days. You went up to him after class to ask your question. His face was insanely close, you could smell the mint off his breath from the gum he was chewing during the lecture, feel his words fan your face, deep rumblings and focused glares as you were only inches away from his face. His lips, oh God his lips… so close, so soft looking, so pink, you had been so caught up in him the entire time. And he had noticed, his fingers coming up to your chip to raise your gaze. He did it wordlessly, eyeing you as you eyed him. His look daring you to say something. Challenge me. I dare you. But you didn’t— you couldn’t, you had tried to focus on something else, his musky woodsy scent, his greying stubble, anything, as he continued to explain your question to you. You walked out of his class that day with jello for legs, replaying the moment in your mind. 

Next class you had seen him he had given the assignments back, adorned with little gold stars on those who had grades higher than a B minus. Your paper had come back to you with an A minu, a little gold star next to your grade. “Boosts morale,” had been Logan’s explanation when a student had asked why the gold star. You smiled. Cute. 

You had felt like you finally found your groove, despite the hiccup you had at the beginning. Your first test of the semester approached, and you weren’t nervous, in fact you showed up to class early, getting a chance to get a good spot and watch Professor Howlett walk in and begin setting up. You had waved, a meek good morning in your own words and he returned a wink back. Your insides tugged at themselves. He had waltzed over to you in your seat, starting up conversation. “Nervous?” he asks, curt and short. You smile, “Hardly,” using your own words once more. “I’m gunning on a gold star. I studied extra hard.” Professor Howlett hums, smile on his face. “I look forward to seeing your work. I enjoy reading it,” he says. He leaves you with those words as he walks back to his desk, more students beginning to pepper in the classroom as the test hour approached. You had been so sure you did excellent on your test, studying for days and days beforehand. So when you got back your test, a C Minus staring back at you with a gut wrenching empty space next to your grade right where a star would be. Tears prick your eyes as you look at the grade, feeling so disappointed in yourself. This couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

You had promptly stayed behind after class to speak to him, and it seemed like Amber had the same idea, her body close to his as she spoke lowly. She didn’t spare a glance back at you as she spoke to him, hand grazing his bicep as she walked away and past you. Your eyes rolled in your head and you walked up to Professor Howlett next. He’s in the middle of packing up his papers in his bag when you come up to him, and he glances up in acknowledgment before going back to what he’s doing. You breathe out and his brown quirks as he pauses and looks at you. “Yes?” he asks. “I… I would like to see you after class if possible to discuss my grades,” you say, fist curling and uncurling with nerves. ”Tomorrow afternoon come see me at my office,” he says, arms crossing. “Don’t be late. Don’t get your hopes up either,” he quirks. You chew your lip before sighing. “I’ll be there. On time.” 

And true to your word, you showed up promptly and on time. Your heart was hammering in your chest cavity so hard you felt like it would burst through your ribcage. Your lower lip found itself between your teeth, chewing at it tenderly. You had been staring at the mahogany colored door, finished with a shiny golden plaque, L. Howlett, PHD. carved within the surface of the precious metal. His name posed just as intimidating as he did. You’d been standing in front of his door for almost three minutes now, fingers skimming along the hem of your plaid skirt. The accompanying white tanktop and white cardigan hand made your subconscious intentions loud and clear, as some part of you, a delusional part of you, had hoped this school girl-esque get up would grant you some sort of leniency with Professor Howlett as you begged for him to give you a retake, a makeup assignment, something for God’s sake.

Any moment more of hesitancy and you would be late for your two o’clock appointment time, so you bring your knuckles up to the door to knock, twice in succession, when the door swings open in front of you. Your knuckle is almost met with Amber’s face, her shock seeing you just as evident as hers. She doesn’t let it linger however, as she casts a glance over her shoulder and muses a “Bye Professor. Thank you so much, I’ll see you in class Monday,” before looking back forward and right back at you, holding your gaze as she walks right out the door and past you, making sure her shoulder doesn’t miss yours. You scoff. Bitch. 

“Right on time. Come in,” he gestures, refusing to get up from his comfy looking office chair. As you walk around his office you take in the interior briefly. The mahogany furniture, the lingering smell of cigar smoke, evidence of his nasty habit sitting on top of an ashtray on his desk, the glass bar cart, adorned with various bottles of whiskey and gin, and a mini fridge sitting on its bottom shelf— filled with ice and garnish you assume. You eye his book cabinet, shelves stuffed with various literary titles, old and new, classic and contemporary. You find yourself impressed, but you shouldn’t be, his teaching— albeit rough, brutish sometimes even— is a testament to his passion towards books and literature. You smile a little as you sit down in the foam lined chair in front of his desk. You try not to think of who sat in it before you as you feel the residual warmth of it against your thighs. You take in Professor Logan, black t-shirt and dark blue jeans— casual, but damn if he made it look good. You eyed his arms, veiny and bulging out his shirt, before flickering your attention back to his face, framed by those greying temples you oh so loved.

“So?” He trails, redirecting his attention from his desktop to you. You swallow a little and sigh. “Um, I know that you said no… no retakes or anything, and I understand your answer if it’s a hard no,” you say, pausing to look at him to try and assess what he’s thinking, but you’re simply met with a raised brow and crossed arms as he leans back further in his chair. “But I… I was wondering if- Well, my parents, they said that If I have a grade lower than an A on my report card this semester I had to drop out and transfer locally, and I don’t want to make this a pity story but I… It’s only this class where I’m having trouble. And I know what you said but my last test really fucked my average and I-” your nervous ramblings are cut off by him raising his hand. Your lips clamp and you watch him, waiting for his impending words. He makes you sit in the silence and with your words, instead opening his desk drawer, rifling between what sounds like various loose pens and papers before taking a lighter out. Small, sliver, zippo style and engraved with meticulous swirls. He picks up the already cut cigar out the ashtray, placing it between his pink lips, and lights it— two experimental puffs of smoke floating your way and you get dizzy. 

“You don’t mind?” He asks only now, and you try not to roll your eyes and that façade of chivalry. “No,” you shake your head. “Thought so,” he smiles, smug. He puffs from the cigar once more before he places it down on the glass ashtray once again before he speaks up. “As it stands now if you tighten up for the rest of the semester you can pass my class with a B something, which don’t sound too bad to me, sweetheart.” Your gut twists with tension. A B isn’t what you need. You brows furrow and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. “I would love to help you sweetheart, trust me I would. But that wouldn’t be fair to all the other students who come waltzing in here dressed just like you, begging for an A,” he drawls, picking up his cigar again and slotting it between his lips before he stands up and your breath hitches. “Wh- dressed like me? I didn’t-” you begin, confused at what he’s implying. Your eyes follow his moving figure, his steps taking him around his desk to the side of your chair, conveniently eye level to his groin. 

“But you did, didn’t you?” he asks softly, thumb coming to your chin to direct your gaze up to his eyes. “I don’t understand…” you murmur, skin beginning to warm at the rather inappropriate contact and position. Your chest heaves up and down beneath your cardigan and he surely notices letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can put two and two together,” he continues, thumb rubbing softly back and forth against your chin before he drops his hand from you completely. Your eyes drop in sync to his limb, your mind racing a million thoughts a second. But… isn’t this what you wanted? What you needed? What you’ve dreamed of for weeks upon weeks? “Look at me,” he says, stern. And you do. “You listen so well,” he hums and you feel the makings of a fire ignite itself inside you somewhere deep. I’m being good. Good for him. “Kills you inside that you couldn’t get that shiny little sticker, doesn’t it?” he muses, looking down at you with mirth swirling in his eyes. You feel tears spring to your eyes at his words. He sees right through you. It did hurt. All you ever wanted to be was good for him. 

“We can fix that today. Tell you what, you be a good student for me, and I’ll be a good teacher to you, yeah?” he says, taking a puff from his cigar. “Nod your head like a good student.” And you do. Up and down, slowly. Your brain is fuzzy. This surely isn’t happening, is it? It couldn’t be. He walks away and back to his desk, propping his cigar down after asking it. He pushes a pile of papers from his desk, until he finds what he’s looking for. A sticker sheet. What is he…

“C’mere,” Professor Howlett gestures with a finger, simultaneously sitting back on his chair. Your legs are trembling under you as you get up and walk towards his side of the desk. Logan pivots his desk chair to the side as you walk over to him and you find yourself standing between his legs, quiet. “Take that off,” he says, flicking his head towards your cardigan. You let it drop off your shoulder promptly, standing only in your white tank top and plaid skirt. “Kneel,” he says, and you drop immediately. Pathetic. Your hands lay in your laps as you’re sat between his legs on your knees. Your breathing is as laboured as ever. You can’t believe this is happening— something that you spent nights dreaming of. Touching him, tasting him, feeling him. He reaches over to his desk and grabs the sticker sheet of gold stars, a fresh sheet of stars neatly arranged row by row. “You know what to do, don’t you sweetheart?” he asks, palm of his hand running against your face. You nod, reaching forward to the zipper of his dark denim jeans before his palm grabs your hand. “When I ask you somethin’, I want a verbal answer. Y’understand?” he says. Your voice feels caught in your throat. He’s so intense your head is spinning. “Y-yes,” you breathe. “Yes what?” he spits back and your heart hammers. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he hums. He lets go of your hands, taking a sticker off the sheet and placing a small gold star right next to your left eye. Your face heats up at the praise and you almost let out a breath, but you don’t. Your hands go back to undressing Professor Howlett, fingers deft with his button and zipper. He lifts his hips up and helps you shrug his jeans down until they’re sitting on top of his black combat boots, clad only in black briefs. The heavy tent in his pants makes your eyes go wide but you persist, thinking of your grade on the line. With a tug at his boxer band his dick pops up over the elastic, and you pull down until the full sheath of him is bobbing freely. Your eyes widen a little at the sheer size of him, wondering how he could possibly fit inside your mouth let alone your pussy. He was long, eight inches you’d guess just by looking and insanely thick. He was heavy too— the length of him unable to stand up fully, bobbing haphazardly as he twitched from arousal. You looked up at him, and his gaze was steady. Expectant. You sucked in a shallow breath before grabbing his cock, warm to the touch. Your fingers barely touched. You’re hand jerked up once before Professor Howlett was grabbing your wrist, only to spit on his dick, the string of saliva landing on the shaft. “S’better. Go on,” he encourages, and you do— jerking him a little faster now with his spit lubricant, the sound of his slick skin making your pussy feel warm, wet. You jerk him faster, spitting in the palm of your second hand before you join your other, breasts bouncing up and down as you jerk him. Little grunts leave Logan, and it makes your tummy feel warm. You were making him feel— “Good, just like that, yeah. Use your mouth now,” he moans. You felt intimidated by his size, but you persisted still. You wanted to be his good girl.

You look up at him as your mouth opens, coy like a fish, and you wrap your lips around his tip. He inhales a sharp breath and it gives you some encouragement. Be good. Your head drops lower, lower and lower until your mouth his full and his tip is tickling your uvula, and you gag around him, sputtering spit all over him. You pull off his dick to cough and he chuckles at you. “Let’s try again together, yeah?” You nod, “Yes, Sir.” You reposition yourself, back on your knees in front of him. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out, open real wide,” he says, tapping your cheek. It felt soft slap more than a tap however. But still, you open your mouth wide, tongue hanging out. “Juuust like that, yeah…” Logan groans, slapping the warmth of his cock on your tongue. “Breath through the nose,” he says, before putting the length of him in your mouth and pulling your head down on him, fist clenched in your hair. He pulls you down deep, further than you managed to reach alone and you gag, spit everywhere, but he pays you no mind. His curses under his breath before standing up out of his seat, your head craning up as his fist pulls at your nape. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he breathes, thrusting his cock in an out of your mouth. Your throat feels rubbed raw, tears pooling in your eyes but you hold on, hands gripping his thighs. “Take it, fucking take it,” he grunts. His hand disappears before placing a sticker on your spit-covered cheek and you whimper around his cock. Logan’s brows pull together and he laughs. “That turn you on? You like being my good little student? You like sucking off your professor?” he laughs, fucking your face with a deep pace. You muffle a Yes, Sir around him as his spit soaked balls slap against your chin and he laughs. Sticker after sticker covers the expanse of your face, a juxtaposition to your debauched mascara-streaked-spit-covered face.

Your throat is raw, but you’re relishing in the attention, the praise, the intensity of it. “One more mouthful, c’mon,” he grunts, pushing your head down even further down his cock and you squeal around him. Your eyes snap shut, focusing on holding your breath as he brings his dick deep down your throat until your nose is buried in his greying pubes. “So fucking nasty,” he drawls, deep groan leaving his chest. “Take it, be good and take it,” he says breathless, before he’s spitting his cum down your throat, leaving you no choice but to swallow his bitter semen. Your eyes wretch open lowly, watch Logan’s face contort in pleasure as he finishes in your throat and you whimper, squeezing his thighs tightly. “Good student,” he coos, pulling his cock from your mouth and it’s a relief that’s long overdue. Your first unobstructed breath is a deep one, and you’re slightly dizzy from the oxygen after having it restricted for so long. You don’t think about it for long before a hand is pulling you up off the floor, and before you know it, lips are on yours, tongue finding tongue. Your eyes close by themselves and you melt into the kiss, Professor Howlett’s lips soft against yours, but kissing you so roughly. Your arms grip his biceps, desperate for something to hold onto, anything to steady yourself with. 

The kiss breaks and your mind feels hazy. Your eyes open and you see Professor Howlett staring back at you, hands roaming your body. “Pr-professor…” you moan out after a particularly hard squeeze at your ass. “Logan, baby,” he says, kissing your lips once in a peck, and again as a sloppy embrace, his tongue swirling in your mouth and you keen into him. His hands pull at the back of your thighs and you jump up in his arms, wrapping your arms around his thick neck. He walks you a few paces, still stuck in an embrace, until he puts on you down on his desk. He breaks the kiss between you two before pulling the front of your tank top down, revealing your breasts to him, nipples pert. He wastes no time kissing and licking your chest, and you throw your head back in a silent moan. He sucks on your nipples for a minute, pinching and toying with your breast until your chest is heaving and nipples are raw. “What a sight for me,” Logan hums, and you feel shy under him like this. “Lean back and spread your legs f’me,” he says low, kneeling as you do as he asks. He’s eye level with your pussy, only covered by your skirt and white panties. He lifts the plaid fabric up and groans, the little wet spot of your pussy a delectable sight. 

Logan leans forward and licks the wet gusset of your panties and you let out a shuddering moan. “P-please, Logan…” you breath, too wound up to wait. He smirks and indulges in you, pliant and needy. He hooks a finger in the crotch of your panties and pulls them to the side, hurrying his face into your wet and waiting pussy. It’s an enrapturing feeling, having him suck and lick and taste your clit and folds like this, groaning into you and he praises you for having such a sweet fuckin’ pussy, baby. He sucks your clit roughly, before pulling back to spit on your pussy, rubbing his nose against your clit before flattening his tongue against your gushing slit once again. The streaks of grey between your thighs sends blood rushing downwards to the center of your arousal and you can’t help but run your hands through his salt and pepper hair. He licks and tongues you until your legs go numb, teasing your orgasm from you time and time again until you’re nearly in tears for him, ready to cum.

 “Please Lo- Sir. Please, Sir. Wanna cum, I’ll be good. Just-” your begging is cut short as two thick fingers push themselves in you and you throw your head back at the stretch. “You’re gonna come for me in a little, sweetheart. Be good for now,” Logan coos, kissing your inner thighs. You’re heaving as he curls and scissors his fingers inside you in a way that feels so unfairly good that tears begin to streak down your face, gold stickers peeling and falling off your damp skin; scattering down on the desk and falling on your chest. “G-gonna… Oh my God, Sir,” you squeal, just about ready to… Until his fingers deftly leave you. Before you can whine about this, Logan’s thick fingers covered in your slick push into your mouth and you groan. “Hush, baby. You’re about to feel real good in a little,” Logan hums, rubbing his cock, now hard again, up and down your wet and sensitive pussy, the head of him hitching your clit so good it hurts. His fingers leave your mouth. “Beg for it.” And you do. You’re a babbling mess under him. “Inside, p-put it inside me, Professor,” you moan, and Logan's resolve snaps, thrusting into you in one fluid movement.

You see stars, no pun intended, at the stretch of him. Your stomach feels full and you shudder, laying back down against the desk. “Tightest, sweetest fucking pussy I ever felt,” Logan coos, fingers pushing back into your mouth. His unoccupied hand grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder and he begins to thrust in and out of you, knocking the wind out of you with every push in and out. Your intermittent moans turn into a symphony of cries as his pace increases and he’s fucking into you at a brutal speed. Your hands are grasped around the wrist of his hand that’s by your mouth, sucking his fingers to soothe the burning part of the pleasure. “That’s it, fucking take it,” he grunts, pushing your leg from around his should back until your knee was touching your shoulder. The new angle made the pleasure unbearable, every movement rubbing against your g-spot. Your eyes begin to close, your body shutting down seemingly as you begin to enter a pleasure comatose, the bubbling pleasure, the fingers in your mouth, it all feels like too much. But Logan doesn’t let you stay in that place for too long, his fingers leaving your mouth to slap your cheek, pulling back down. “I need you right here, know it feels good but I want you with me,” he says breathy, thrusts still never faltering. 

Without his fingers in your mouth your moans are free to be heard, your incoherent babbles of “s’too much,” and “so deep in me, sir,” floating in the air between Logan’s heavy breaths and obscene curses. You’re breasts jump with every thrust in you, your head bouncing up and down from the sheer force of his thrusts. “T-Tell me…” you stutter out, eyes fluttering. “Tell you?” he asks, grinding his hips up and deep, and you’re sure he’s grazing your cervix. You grip his t-shirt and keel. He gets what you mean. “Good girl. My good girl. You’re the best girl. You want another star, don’t you?” he breathes out, a hand moving down to your clit as he thrusts up and out, up and out into you. You whimper, his words and ministration’s overwhelming, “Yes, Sir. M’good. So good. W-want it. Please, can I have it?” you babble. You belly feels warm, and the heat bubbles with every brush at your swollen clit and thrust in your pussy. He lets go of the hand at your knee, spreading you open to grab a sticker from the sticker sheet. “Stick your tongue out f’me,” and you do, overwhelmed with this moment. You’re being good. You’re being good. You’re almost there, keep being good. He spits in your mouth and you moan holding it there and waiting for him to tell you what to do. “Swallow it,” he huffs, thrusts faltering. He’s close, you deduce. I don’t want it to end. Please don’t let it end. You swallow and stick your tongue back out to show him and he groans.

He puts the star sticker on your tongue, and he thrusts in you harder, tweaking at your clit as he does. Your body seizes and you melt into a fit of moans and grunts, and you finally cum, Logan fucking you through it. “Yeah baby, just like that. Kneel for me,” he says, pulling out of you. You lay up off the desk and fall promptly to your knees, watching him jerk himself to orgasm above you with your tongue out, gold star on the middle of your tongue. He grunts with deep Fuck! before warm ropes of cum spray your partially sticker-covered face and tongue. Your eyes close and you hum, relishing in the warmth. Logan wipes the cum from your eyes with his thumb and sticks it in your mouth, and you suck, no questions asked. “Good fucking girl.” 

The moments following are awkward. Logan tucks himself back in his pants, and pulls his jeans up and you’re left laying on the floor, coming down from your ecstasy high. The zip of his jeans breaks the silence and you’re looking up at him, soiled with cum, spit, stickers, tears and mascara. He walks to his bar cart and grabs the cloth hanging off the handle bar, and he hands it to you. You clean yourself up, and when you’re done you find his cardigan in his hands. You fix your tank top back over your breasts and pull the crotch of your panties back into place before grabbing it from him. “Thanks,” you say quietly. “See you in class on Tuesday,” is the last thing he says to you before you leave his office. Stunned.

On Tuesday, he hands you back your test with a new grade, an eighty, and gold sticker placed on it right next to the new grade. He glances at you as you look over your test, and smirks. You read the note he left in red ink on the back of the test, heart beating a little faster once you look back up at him. Good girl. 

send me an ask!

[buckyalpine]

Bucky knows hes adorable

Bucky knowing he’s adorable. He knows all he has to do is bat his baby blues and it'll make anyone fold instantly. He's become such a little shit about it too, because he acts so oblivious while knowing exactly what he's doing.

“For fucks sake. No. NO. Do not look at me with those puppy eyes it won’t work” Sam shook his head, refusing to look at Bucky's face while the soldier blinked innocently with a small pout on his lips.

"I didn't do anything" he shrugged, acting as if he hadn't swiped the last cookie with the evidence sprinkled on the front of his shirt.

"You're something else" Sam grumbled, rolling his eyes at the puppy like look Bucky had on his face, "You can't keep making that face and getting away with this, keep your grubby hands away from my oreos"

Sam only manages to keep up the act for so long before reluctantly opening a new box, pushing it towards the brunette who smirks, swiping another handful.

"Unbelievable"

-

"Who the hell broke another punching bag in the gym-

“He’s right behind me isn’t he” Tony deadpanned, knowing Bucky was slinking about somewhere, batting his brown lashes, making his job 100 times harder. "Barnes I swear-

The billionaire turned around to find Bucky tiptoeing around the mess he made with wide, remorseful eyes making the billionaire groan.

"Don't look at me like some dame in the 40's, that cute face won't work on me"

"Did you just call him cute"

"Shut up"

"Well, you're not wrong"

-

"Bucky you're late" you frowned as he ran over to you, dressed in all black, ready to take you to dinner.

"M'sorry doll" He pouted, burying his face into your neck, "Didn't mean to keep you waiting"

"You're doing it again, this is cheating, you can't keep acting adorable and getting away with being late to our dates" you huffed, eventually melting into his needy cuddles, missing his little naughty smirk. Of course he didn't actually mean to be late and he really was sorry but he loved when you fell for his sweet charm.

"Did you see that? That little smirk he just made" Sam hissed while Steve snorted, lowkey happy to see this version of Bucky making its way back. "He gets away with everything, it isn't fair"

"Well I think it's adorable" Nat smiled watching him dote on you while Steve hummed in agreement. "He's a little cutie"

"He's a little shit"

[thecardiganunderthebed]

Left handed

Sirius and Regulus were both left-handed. This was seen as low class in the Black family so they both were forced taught to write with their right hand. Sirius being Sirius never really cared and wrote with his left hand because "I shall write how it is comfortable mother, and my comfort lies in writing with my left hand so.......fuck you <3". But Regulus, oh poor Regulus tried to write so neatly with his right hand to make his mom proud that he would take double the time to write down notes.

That was until he learnt it didn't matter.

On a normal Tuesday morning in his 6th year at Hogwarts Sirius black was feeling an emotion he hadn't felt since the last time he saw Moony in a suit......dumbstruck. He had stopped in his tracks, successfully causing Peter, walking behind him, to fall down.

James frantically tried to look at the subject that had caused Sirius Black to finally and uncharacteristically shut up about how amazing eyeliner was.

"Padfoot you okay?"

"He's writing with his left hand."

"What?"

"I- James, he's writing with his left hand". Offering no more of an explanation the oldest Black brother walked to the Slytherin table as if in a trance. With the determination he was walking with it would take an act of god to stop him. He reached and very deliberately did not look at anyone but his younger brother, writing his potions homework, with his left hand.

"You aren't supposed to stir that 7 times clockwise, it's 3 times clockwise and 4 times anti-clockwise. It makes the midnight blue shade appear quicker."

Regulus looked up to judge whoever had dared try and correct him when he looked up and realised.....oh. Okay.

"Hello to you too dear brother", he said with a raised eyebrow and nothing more.

"You're writing with your left hand'

"So I am."

"It would piss her off if she knew"

"So it would."

A quick flash in Sirius' face reminded Regulus of the look he gave him when Regulus stole cookies for both of them with the help of Kreacher, pure unrestrained pride.

"Well mieux vaut tard que jamais" Sirius said and quickly walked away

And that one proverb told Regulus that he was forgiven, that Sirius understood and most importantly, that he had his brother back.

[norrisleclercf1]

Day 8 of 25 Days of Christmas: Tacky Holiday sweatshirt party

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Words: 655

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Little suggestive but that's it

"Y/n! I can't find an ugly sweater!" Charles yells from the closet, making you peek around the kitchen corner and raise an eyebrow. Listen, you loved your boyfriend more than anything and supported his rights and wrongs on and off the track, but the one thing you refused to support was his fashion sense.

So, for Charles to say he didn't have an ugly sweater was a lie. "Charles, are you sure you can't find anything?" you yell back, walking back into the closet and smiling as he holds one ugly sweater. It was horrible green with a poorly and horribly stitched Santa Claus. "Oh, see, you've found a sweater. Just wear that," you say, pointing at the sweater in his hand.

Charles looks at you like you've grown two heads. "This is not ugly," he says, shaking the sweater, and you have to stop the snort. "Baby, it is; it's perfect for tonight," you add, making him stare at you more. "What?" Fixing your hair in the mirror, you stare at him as he stares without emotion.

"Charles, what?" You repeat again and turn around. "My mother made this," He says, voice so flat you go still as you two stare at each other. "Maybe you could fit into one of mine," You say as Charles hums and hangs his sweater back up. God, he was so going to tell Pascale, and then you're really fucked. "Honey, I doubt I could fit into your clothes," Charles says, rubbing his hair.

"Charles, you have a slutty waist, embrace it," You say and come out with a white and blue snowman sweater that has the carrot coming out. It was rather uncomfortable, and you'd hate to say it, but he'd pull it off. "Damn," You mumble as he tugs off his shirt, and you have to stop and stare before shoving the sweater into him. "Put this on; maybe it'll stop your fans from thirsting over you," You grumble, which has Charles giggle at you and reach around, pinching your bottom.

You return to the kitchen to finish making the cookies as you look up and glare. Even with that ugly sweater on, he's still supermodel hot. Unfair. "What do you think? It'll work for Lewis's party?" He asks and looks in the mirror, fixing his hair. "Yes, you look good," You grumble and roll your shoulders back. It was stupid, but Lewis had mentioned that he was inviting many of his famous friends, and hearing some of the names, you knew them as famous models who were drop-dead gorgeous and, thank god, the theme of ugly sweaters.

Charles looks at you, smiles softly, moves, and hugs you from the back, resting his chin on your shoulder. "You know, we can just stay home," he whispers, hands going under your sweater, but you stop his hands. "Charles, we have to go," you whisper, but Charles rests his hands on your hips. You'll be the prettiest there," he whispers, and you snort.

Charles furrows his brows and spins you around, caging you between his body and the counter. "You know I'll only look at you, right? I've only ever looked at you," Charles says gently, and you sigh. "It's stupid; we're supposed to be having a good time," you whisper, and Charles rolls his eyes. Listen, you'll be the hottest one there with your crazy little elf sweater," Charles smiles, and you chuckle softly.

"Shut up," you grumble but can't help but smile as Charles leans in and kisses you gently before pulling back. "But also, only you could turn my snowman on," he says, and you look down and laugh as he moves his hips, shaking the carrot and slapping his chest. "Okay, horn dog, let's go before Lewis gets pissy about us missing the party," Charles smirks and moves, picking you up slightly.

"Good cause the quicker we show face, the quicker we can leave,"

[xoxochb]

Hii could you make christmas headcannons for percy 🙏

— white christmas ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

♪ ༘⋆ on the radio… white xmas by sabrina carpenter!

warnings: none I don’t think pairing: percy jackson x fem! (?) reader

‧₊˚⛸️✩ ₊˚🎀⊹♡

୨୧ okay let’s do this thing.

୨୧ so firstly he defff doesn’t stay at camp through the holidays.

୨୧ and he didn’t want to leave you alone so he brought you back to his home with him!

୨୧ and I’ve never been to new york during december, but I know they have that huge tree (??) and I know for a fact, like, the night before christmas (dec twenty four) and forces you to kiss him in front of the trees lolsies he’s so silly.

୨୧ but he literally has you out like half the night just because he wants to walk around in the snow and admire all the christmas lights.

୨୧ and as much fun as this was, by the time you both arrived back home your faces were red and every inch of skin completely numb LOL. you ended up under four layers of blankets with huge cups of hot chocolate (or if you hate hot cocoa like me, then tea or coffee).

୨୧ and you watch some kind of christmas movie until you both pass out on the couch, limbs entwined.

୨୧ you wake up on the couch too, to the voice of little estelle squealing and running through the house excitedly.

୨୧ wait shut the fuck up, I almost forgot to add he def got you both matching christmas pajamas! like I know he would too n they would be those boring plaid ones either they’d probably have something on them.

୨୧ like candy canes or christmas trees or gingerbread cookies or something like that— or even an assortment of all three of those (I’m totallyyyyy not saying that because I have those pj pants…).

୨୧ but they’re so cute.

୨୧ anyways, the day starts with presents first, obviously, but also not before coffee first.

୨୧ coffee always comes first.

୨୧ so you and percy have to restrain estelle from opening up any presents before sally and paul are there. which admittedly was a more than two person job, she was very excited!

୨୧ but the second they say she can open them she’s off for the races LOL.

୨୧ anyways, enough talk about estelle (sorry 😞), I knowwww this boy is spoiling you like crazy.

୨୧ like no matter how many times you tell him you don’t need a lot for christmas— he’s gonna get you a lot anyways because he doesn’t listen for shit.

୨୧ but it’s all very sweet. n I feel like he would get you matching bracelets too like how cute would that be.

୨୧ like his is something ocean themed but it has your initial on it and yours is your godly parent theme and has his initial on it (unless your name starts with a P like me then we’re struggling a bit 😭😭)!

୨୧ but besides the presents, you’ll bake cookies later! blue of course don’t even try to make them any other color…

୨୧ and by the end of this the kitchen is on FIRE!!! 😱

୨୧ no jk but the kitchen is a total mess LMAO like there’s blue ALL over n flour covering the counters and your faces and it’s just a disaster.

୨୧ anyways after the kitchen is cleaned and you’ve both showered and changed clothes the new shenanigans begin… (insert dramatic music)

୨୧ but do you guys know that post I made about how percy always has mistletoe with him 😕

୨୧ well it’s 10x worse on christmas. like his boy has no end he whips it out every five seconds just because he’s bored and wants a kiss from his beloved.

୨୧ and if you don’t kiss him he gets pouty and whiny and won’t leave you alone until you finally have kissed him.

୨୧ and he’s literally awful he’s the type of guy to have christmas music full blast and SCREAM singing all day n it’s literally terrible he can’t even sing good either someone humble him!!!!!

୨୧ you eventually get him to stop (bribed with $5) and calm down.

୨୧ you force him to sit on the couch with you and binge christmas movies ☺️

୨୧ and he’s not going to say no to you…

୨୧ so he wraps you both up beneath piles of blankets. you end up taking a nap for a bit.

୨୧ n when you wake up you go out in the snow because it’s winter duh!!!

୨୧ but he’s lowkey an ass he’s the typa guy to throw snowballs at ur face with no remorse. 😒

୨୧ so you get back at him, of course, and throw snowballs back at his face.

୨୧ n he gets fake angry like the hypocrite he is (LOL jk).

whining, laying on the snow in a defeated soldier position, percy lazily drapes his hand over his chest. “you’ve wounded me. how will I ever recover?”

“you won’t… I shall let you die here,” you play along with a wide smile across your mouth.

percy sighs wearily. “will you grant me one last kiss?”

you oblige and crouch to his level, placing a delicate kiss over his lips.

“thus with a kiss… I die.”

୨୧ anddddd scene!

୨୧ he’s so silly where can I find one like him ☹️

୨୧ anyways, by the end of the day your both frigid snowflakes, sitting practically inside of the fireplace, curled into each other with heaps of blankets.

୨୧ and in all, it was totally the best christmas ever!

[coeurify]

actually on my knees begging for a girl next door blurb with Ellie

like imagine moving into the house next to her’s and her being all grumbly and closed off because she cannot physically face the reader because she’s just a loser lesbian and OMG THE UNKNOWN PINING SUJDJSNSNDB

I NEED HER I CANT-

WHERE IS THE LOVE FOR LOSER GND!ELLIE ⁉️

giggles.. cause like.. yea.

if we r talking modern!ellie, oh god would it be the most cliche shit ever (plz tell me if u want jackson!ellie version cause i’d be happy to do that too. or jus more of this concept) [not edited]

⋆˚✿˖° im talking, ellie looking out from her window in her old house, eyes narrowing as a moving truck pulled into the pretty blue house next door. the neighborhood had been recently taken over by young families, which ellie hated— cause why was she being interrupted in her ‘laying in her bed while blasting music and complaining to herself’ alone time by a bunch of kids screaming outside? either way. she expected another one of these cases.

⋆˚✿˖° but then you popped out, trying to handle three boxes all on your own, cheek pressed against the cardboard as you yelled something ellie couldn’t hear to whoever else was in moving truck. you had glanced over at ellie’s house, maybe even up at her window. and maybe ellie was just dramatic, but she flipped away from that window and face down onto her bed so quickly she was pretty sure it was a new record. because fuck you were pretty.

⋆˚✿˖° and it only got worse later, when el was pulling her hair down from its bun, glancing the sun pressing below the clouds. her fingers moved to close the curtains of her window, and there you were, standing at the window directly across from hers. like— shit straight from a taylor swift music video or something.

⋆˚✿˖° and you, almost as awkward as her, let your hands fall down from their place above your head. you had been putting up shades, but once you caught the gaze of your messy haired neighbor, you smiled at her. fuck, you smiled and waved and ellie just turned away and shut her curtains. you know, like the master at social interactions she was.

⋆˚✿˖° a twin frown painted both your lips at the interaction that night, and at the same time you both huffed out, “god, why’d i do that?”

⋆˚✿˖° nothing really got better from there. not when your family forced you over to ellie’s house with a plate of cookies, your sweet smile the first sight ellie had seen that day as she turned the doorknob to shoo away some girl scout selling something. “we don’t need— oh— oh hi.”

⋆˚✿˖° you looked so fucking pretty. ellie was sure it was fake. maybe she was still in bed dreaming. maybe this was about to turn into one of those really weird s- never mind. you were talking now, and not asking to borrow sugar, so definitely real. “hi! uh— I just, we— i mean, my family, we just wanted to introduce ourselves. and give a gift i guess,” you glance to the plate of wrapped up treats and chuckle lightly. because really, cookies?

⋆˚✿˖° ellie was about red as the shirt she was wearing, stammering a thank you as joel creeped behind her at the door. “you the new neighbors kid?” joel had asked, making ellie clam right up. she backed away from the door, like— just side shuffled out of your view with an awkward wave.

⋆˚✿˖° your eyes followed her, fighting back the odd sense of disappointment that you were no longer staring at the freckled and flushed face of your new neighbor. “uh, yea—yes sir.” you eventually spoke again, offering your grin to joel instead.

⋆˚✿˖° one time joel was doing yard work the same time your family was outside working on the garden. you were fanning your sweating cheek with your hand, the warmth from the sun along with carrying in and out heavy tools was not exactly ideal, and you only felt more heated when ellie came outside the door at the exact moment joel ended up making conversation with your mother.

⋆˚✿˖° “your girl in college?” you could hear him ask, but it was lightly muffled, your attention instead on watching as ellie struggled to bend over and tie her converse against the wall. what an odd way to do it. she was balancing some sort of notebook between arm.. maybe pencils too? did she draw? or maybe write? why couldn’t you stop wondering about it?

⋆˚✿˖° your mom answered joel’s question with some version of the story she always does, gushing about how you were doing so well in school, how she was so proud of you. you didn’t tune back in until joel was speaking again, “ah yea, my — well, ellie, she’s in school too. physics major. but she’s got this thing for astronomy too. kid’s always talking about double majoring.”

⋆˚✿˖° god, she was cute and smart? and her name was ellie? you swore the sun got even hotter at the thought of her talking to you about quantum something-or-other, just nodding along. god you could see it now. a hand in that pretty auburn hair.. mumbling ‘mhm.. whatever you say ellie.’

⋆˚✿˖° then you saw her trip down the stairs on her porch as she looked over. full on hand on the side of the stairs to keep her from eating shit on the rocks there. you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a giggle as you wave her way. only to be given a tight lipped smile as she quickly moved away to her car. god. what an odd girl.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie simply lost it the moment she sat in her car, groaning loudly as she slammed her sketch book on her face. “stupid fucking shoes!” she muttered, as if it was the shoes fault for tripping, and not the way she had been intently staring at your face from across the yard. definitely not.

⋆˚✿˖° but really she couldn’t help it, you looked so good, you were wearing shorts, and ellie was happily taking in the sight of skin before that evil fucking creaky porch board got her tumbling down. fuck. she couldn’t ever talk to you again. not ever. she let her head fall to the steering wheel as she went through a million and one ways to simply become invisible and escape any way of running into you. maybe she should become nocturnal.

⋆˚✿˖° but when she let her head fall to the steering wheel, it honked. like a loud, drawn out honk that had you, joel, and your mother’s head turning to the direction of the sound.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie screeched, and you pressed fingers to your lips to contain another smile. you were pretty sure living here was going to be kind of great.

[briefalpacashark]

Shoresy x Reader

=Meeting the team=

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At the beginning of a practice the blueberry bull dogs were getting ready. That was until Shorsey stood and took center stage of the changing room. Seeing he wanted to announce something the boys all got quiet. ”Alright. Announcement,” Shoresy called. He looked to his left and to the right. ”Y/N’s come home,” his announcement was met by cheers of excitement from all those who were a part of the pervious team. ”I hope she brings her cookies,” Sanguinet whispered with a giddy smile. ”Of course she’s bringing her fucken cookies. What do you think this is? A fucken funeral?” Shorsey snarked. ”Dosen’t she bring cookies to funerals as well?” Michales asked. ”Shut the fuck up Michales,” Shorsey yelled. ”Who the hell is Y/N?” Hitch asked. ”She’s Shorsey’s girl,” Fish said with a grin. Catcalls, cheers, wolf whistles, and everything in between were heard as Shoresy blinked with a plain face. ”RIght well, get that reaction out your system,” he said spitting into his cup. ”When she coming in?” Sanguinet asked. ”Fifty mintues or so,” Shorsey shrugged. ”Is she bringing cookies?” Fish asked. Shorsey sighed deeply, widening his eyes, daring Fish to ask it again. ”Alright, some of you already know the rules. But since there are a few new fuckers here, lets get a few things straight,” Shoresy spit into his cup clearing his throat. ”She is my future wife. You make a move on her. I’ll move your permanent residence to the grave. She’s an amazing fucken woman and she’s got a heart of gold as big as the fucken Atlantic. She can take a joke and can hand it back twice as hard, but you better fucken know your limits. If she offers you a cookie fucken take it. They’re the best fucken things in the world. If your allergic give your balls a tug and eat the fucken cookie,” Shoresy took on a surprisingly serious tone as he addressed the room. ”There worth it,” Sanguinet grinned like a little kid to encourage the new arrivals. ”Damn fucken right they are,” Shorsey said. “Anyway. Treat her right. Disrespect her my and my stick will disrespect your whole top row. Understood?” he asked. Hesitant but understanding, nods were passed around the room.

”Did I hear Y/N’s back?” Ziig asked, poking her head into the locker room with an excited smile. ”Y/N’s back?” Miig asked, looking around the room expectantly. ”Jesus christ we could have been naked,” Shorsey said, turning to glare at the two. ”Don’t worry, we didn’t bring our binoculars,” Ziig snapped. ”Yeha you would need binoculars to see over that big fucken nose,” Shorsey said. ”Fuck you Shorsey,” Miig glared. ”Fuck you Miig, barging in to the locker room is probably the only time you’ll be able to see a naked guy,” Shorsey bit back. ”Fuck you Shorsey,” Ziig glared. “Fuck you Ziig, go fetch a bone,” he turned away. ”She’s coming in about fifty minutes,” Sanguinet said. The two sisters excitedly ran off to tell Nat and to wait for your arrival. ”I thought your room had a feminine touch,” Goody commented. ”Really, what gave it away there bud? The tampons or the dresses hanging in the closet?” Shorsey asked. ”The plant in the cute little shark pot,” he said. ”Ye that thing is pretty cute,” Shorsey muttered. ”Right lets get to it,” he clapped. Throughout practice, many players’ eyes would shift to the entrance awaiting the excited newcomer. The new members were all excited to see who had managed to collar the great untamable Shorsey. And then it happened. The doors opened, and every head turned towards it. And there a woman walked. She was tall sporting beautiful black heels set under legs that could make any mans head snap round. Her figure was perfectly proportioned, a tight waist and a bountiful bosom. Her face was perfectly set atop smooth tanned skin and piercing blue eyes. Her eyebrows were perfectly arched and pointed and her hair curled around her head. Not a single strand was out of place. Whistles echoes from the boys as she came to a standstill flicking some hair over her shoulders. Shoresy’s face broke into an excited grin. ”Hi I think I’m in the wrong place. I’m looking for the platies studio?” she said, smiling at the group of handsome man. ”Oh that’s down the street. About two building down to the left,” a small voice spoke up from behind her. Having entered at the same time there was another woman behind the first. She was wrapped head to toe in winter coats and a beanie on her wavy brown hair and a scarf was piled around her neck coming up to her nose, leaving only a set of rosy cheeks and brown eyes poking out. She was much shorter than the woman, only a whopping 5’2.

”Oh thanks,” the woman quickly turned on her heel and walked out. ”MY GOD! WHAT A FUCKING STUNNING WOMAN!” Shorsey yelled out. A beaming smile broke onto your face as you shuffled further into the room, pulling your scarf down. ”Your too late. She’s already out the door,” you called back. ”MY GOD HER VOICE IS BETTER THAN HER ASS! SOUNDS LIKE THE FUCKEN PERLY GATES OPANING TO HEAVAN,” Shorsey called as he started to skate over. ”You wish my gates would open!” you called. ”WHAT’S IT GONNA TAKE? A NICE LITTLE BACK MASSAGE? A BIG BUCKET OF FRYED CHICKEN? YOU ME AND A COUPLE BEERS?” he asked, his voice going softer and softer as you made your way closer to the barrier. ”How about a kiss?” you asked, feeling the same giddy butterflies the man always made you feel. ”Missing tooth and all?” he asked with his little cheeky smirk. ”Missing tooth and all,” you smiled as you both stopped at the barrier. ”Come ere you,” with one swoop his arm reached over the barrior, capturing your waist and heaving you up, planting his lips on yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. You had been away from each other for an entire month so you can say the kiss got a little heavy. But it was still so gentle and romantic that cat calls were heard from behind him. ”God I missed you so much,” Shoresy pulled you to sit you on the barrier as he looked up to you like the goddess he believed you were. ”I guess I missed you a little to,” you grinned gently pinching his chin. ”Well I missed you like mad. Like I literally almost went mad. At one point I saw a bun of bread that reminded me of your cheeks and I almost kissed it,” he admitted honestly. You swear the man’s main goal was just to make you smile. ”Ass or face?” you asked as he pulled you closer. He thought for a hard moment. ”Well it was your face, but I guess it could resemble your ass. Wait no it dosen’t have that cute little,” your hand gently slapped his chest, shutting him up, but he smirked in its place. ”God I love you woman,” he shock his head. ”Love you too,” you smirked, reaching up to give him another little peck. ”You gonna introduce us Shoresy or should we give you two the ice,” one of the men called. You blushed, ducking your head. ”Get your asses over here then,” Shorsey called. ”Ready to meet the new team?” he asked as they all made their way over.

”Depends, are they good?” you asked with a cheeky smile. ”Yeah well, they’re not the worst,” he shrugged sliding to the side to face the team and put you of full presentation, his arm coming to rest across your lower back to keep you balanced and his hand on your thigh behind you. ”Right from left to right. Goody, JJ, Hitch, it’s funny because his full name is Ted Hitchcock and if you say it fast, it sounds like a ten inch cock. You got Dolo, you already know Mitch,” ”As a Goalie?” you asked with a propped eyebrow. ”What? Don’t think it suits me?” Mitch asked. ”Shut the fuck up Mitch,” Shoresy snapped. ”It’s a new look, you enjoying it?” you asked. Mitch smiled bashfully with a nod of his head. “Than that’s all that matters,” you added. ”God fucken damn. So soppy,” Shorsey smiled up at you. ”Shut it you,” you gently nudged him. ”Holy shit, he’s whipped,” Dolo whispered to JJ in French. ”Ah some French speakers. I recently went to Quebec. Beautiful place,” you spoke in French earning wide eyes from to two. ”She’s bilingual. Christ mate how did ya manage that?” Hitch asked. ”Anyway. Lads, this is Y/N. Y/N the lads,” Shorsey nodded between you two. ”How ya going mates?” you asked, your accent coming clear through. ”What did she say?” JJ asked. ”Now you know how we feel, you fucken whale,” Shoresy snapped at him. ”Shoresy,” you scolded him softly. ”Apologies, you fucken beached whale,” he added. ”Good christ man she’s not American is she?” Hitch asked. ”Worse, Australian,” you said with a wide smile. ”Austrian?” Dolo asked. ”No, Australian. It’s got an L in it,” Goddy said. ”What’s the difference?” Dolo asked. You chuckled as you watched them interact. ”So way back when the English rounded up all the criminals and fucked em of to the death trap of a tit fuck huge island. That’s where she’s from,” Shoresy said, nodding to you. ”So she’s a brit,” Hitch asked. ”Fuck no,” you chuckled. ”And who’s that handsome stud over there? Mister coach now?” you called across the rink to Sanguinet who smiled. ”And get ready. This one’s gonna be hard to remember,” Shoresy said. ”Oh god really. How did your brain go with that one? Need a tune up yet or is it still puting along?” you asked knocking your knuckle on Shoresy’s helmet. ”Not gonna lie after it saw you it started to short circuit a bit,” he admitted with a shrug. You chuckled as you looked at the next three. ”Ready?” Shorsey asked. You nodded. ”Jim,” ”Hello,” the first with a mohawk nodded to you. You nodded back. ”Jim,” ”Morning,” the one with long hair greeted. ”And last but not least, Jim,” ”It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N. I hope we get to know each other better,” the last one said with a small smile. ”So Jim, Jim, Jim, Teddy, Dolo, Goody and JJ,” you called them all off. ”That sounds a’bout right,” Shoresy nodded. "Y/N!” you all looked behind you as Miig and Ziig barreled down the hall towards you. ”Fuck me,” Shoresy groaned, holding you tighter. Knowing what was going to happen, you turned to him. ”Ill see you after practice ok,” you said leaning forward to pepper the mans face in kisses.

”YOU CAN”T HAVE HER!” Shoresy yelled in defiance, cadging his arms around you. Miig and Ziig almost knocked you off the barrier as they hugged you. Going on and on about how they missed you. “Jesus christ,” Shoresy grunted as he tried to move away from the two while still holding you. ”Well she’s ours now, sluts,” Miig said, grabbing your legs and giving you a tug. ”I’ll see you soon,” you said, giving Shorsey a last long kiss. ”Gross,” Ziig gagged, pushing Shoresy’s face away from yours and shoved herself between you two. ”I promise you, I’m gonna treat you so well tonight,” Shoresy smiled his little love sick smile as he still held on to you. ”Oh yeah?” you asked. ”Oh yeah. You’ll regret every second you spent away,” he said. You smiled as you were finally pulled away and basically kidnapped. And boy that night did Shoresy keep to his promise. Yet the best moment of it all, Shorsey would admit was just having you in his arms that night. Tucked into his side, completely tuckered out from the pervious activities. The next morning Shoresy would walk out of his room earning nods of respect from his fellow roommates who, despite your very best efforts, heard just how skilled Shoresy was. You weren’t able to look your new roommates in the eyes for at least a week after that.

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Shorsey x Reader Master list =Here=

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[cookies-after-dark]

what about shadow milk fucking black sapphire to get his angers out,,,

When he first got out the tree, he was so tense!! Of course he was going to need a stress reliever! Candy apple cookie is far too annoying and would never shut up about it but Black sapphire,, harder to get into bed but he’s more attractive.

And ofc Shadow milk has to test everything after so long!! Bondage, Voyeurism, spanking, roleplay — anything you can think off and he’s done it too Black Sapphire. It’s gotten so bad that he’s now constantly called ‘pet’ or ‘toy’ — maybe once or twice shadow milks shared him with Truthless recluse <333

(additional tags: explicit content)

(ships: black sapphire cookie x shadow milk cookie x candy apple cookie)

Now wait a minute - remember you are speaking to THE Candy Apple Cookie fan around here. If you bring her up around me, she is immediately involved in whatever situation you have proposed with. Sorry, she's just too perfect to leave out and she can have anything she wants.

That being said. The thought of Shadow Milk Cookie being so horny and pent up from aeons of no action that the first thing he does is snatch up his minions? I like this idea A LOT.

Bonus points: he can't cum because he doesn't have his solid body around the time he escapes. He can have the desire to fuck, he can feel emotional arousal upon putting his minions in situations, but without a penis or vagina he physically cannot get relief. He's just a spirit.

You guys know how Shadow Milk Cookie gets when he's frustrated, and boy, is he FRUSTRATED.

He can summon animated lifesized puppets to fuck Candy Apple Cookie for him, he can bend Black Sapphire Cookie over with shiny blue thread lacing around his neck, but he can't feel any of it! For all the pleasurable screams and pleas his minions cry out for him, it only makes Shadow Milk Cookie's itch grow and grow.

By the time Butter Roll Cookie announces he's found the perfect formula to make a suitable cookie body, Shadow Milk is foaming at the mouth. He can't WAIT for his dick to actually become hard for the first time in many eras, and as soon as that little puppy perks up, he's unloading all the pent up feelings anyone can stand.

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

hii could you do a fake dating trope with Percy?

FAKE DATING PERCY JACKSON HC'S ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

pairing: percy jackson x unclaimed!fem!reader

warnings: swearing, like one mention of the giggidy + really shitty family members making comments abt weight.

a/n: it actually took me a good three seconds to decide to write this. i love love LOVE the fake dating trope omg. so yes please! im also going on a break tonight and i wanted to post something before i left hence why this is hc and not a fic <33

you had approached percy with the deal of fake dating first

he was convinced you were playing a joke on him and had declined but when you had actually given him a list of pros and cons he was swayed

he agrees really quickly - a little too quickly

when the camp had found out you were dating nobody was shocked cause they'd all been shipping you for years

percy would show up at your cabin every morning to walk you to breakfast no matter what

you would hang out more and more eventually just spending all your free time together

convincing the camp you were dating insisted of hands in back pockets of jeans, random hugs (which you've become quite a fan of), little notes left in each others cabins, and cheek kisses.

you had a "date day" every saturday

that is percy's favourite day of the week.

a whole day hanging out with you? hell yeah

when percy invited you home for the holiday's you agreed but warned him he might have to meet your own family

he agreed and assured you its fine

sally loves you.

like she thinks of you as her daughter and welcomes you with warm hugs and food

when your family demands asks to meet percy you both dress nicely and you brace yourself for an awful night

your family is appalling to you but adoring to percy

they make comments all night "oh, so are you two fucking or what?"

"nope just dating," percy reassures wrapping an arm around you.

he snaps when one of your aunts make a comment about you eating.

"are you sure you wanna eat that y/n? you'll get even more fat."

"shut the fuck up! she has literally eaten nothing all day one fucking cracker isn't going to change that."

he practically drags you out of the house flipping off your family members when the follow you both out.

tears sting at your eyes when you realise how much that meant to you

to cheer you up percy takes you for ice-cream (and you both get double scoops thank you very much) and back home to sally

sally who was warned by percy when you left your house that y/n was in need of some cheering up blue cookies style

you curl up on the couch together and spend the night watching trashy movies and gossiping like teenage girls with sally

percy works up the courage to kiss you the day before you go back to camp on one of your scheduled "date days"

you instantly kiss him back

sally was one hundred percent being told about this from both of you

when you do arrive back percy turns to you and asks why you needed to start fake dating before the holidays

you smile and reveal that you actually didn't need to and you had written it down on your pros and cons list but percy had just started acting boyfriendy

later on that day you realise that somewhere along the way you and percy stopped 'fake dating' and just started acting like yourselves with each other

coincidentally technically 'dating' before you even knew it

a/n pt2: i was so sleep deprived when writing this, so sorry if its crap. i'll be reappearing in a few days after my break (hopefully with two new fics: midnight troubles pt3 and the percy x popstar au)

[blueberryarchive]

The One Were Jungkook;

more slasher!jk

𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨; slasher, 80s, psychological horror

𝙩𝙬; heavy non-con, somnophilia, horror, violence, blood

(thank you to @hoseokshobagi for helping me with this big mess, I love u, shut up)

NY, 1985

The little ol' Brew House wasn't like the bar you went to with Jimin. It was so small that you could feel the sweat running down your back, the ghost of a hand or a glance behind you with every step. There was a sour smell of old, dried beer on the rustic green furniture and freshly disinfected vomit in the corner where Jungkook motioned for you to sit.

"Sit down, don't move."

You climbed onto the cracked brown leather stool, your bare thighs sticking to it like Velcro. A band was playing Iron Man on the other side and it was so uncoordinated that it matched the people sitting there: middle-aged men in blue-collar jobs, women in black leather skirts and foreign students with little money, underworld poets and their upper class girlfriends living the fantasy of muses sitting one their boyfriend's thighs while they discussed Bob Dylan and Williams Burroughs. A green and brown amalgam of sweaty skin drinking warm beer and watered down whiskey.

You couldn't help but compare both places.

Sweaty Joe's was a bar just two corners from the university, it was bathed in colored lights and posters as old as the owners of the place themselves. Red leather sofas were distributed in the corners and those, for years, have belonged to the Maroon Knights players.

This is where you met Jimin, it was your first week and you and Bobby Joe decided to have a beer, you two were new, smiled candidly at each gentleman who offered you another drink. You had never done that in the small town where you came from.

Jimin was celebrating his first winter tournament, his crimson cheekbones and his elegant smile conquered your heart, he let you sleep in his room in the trailer where he lived with his four brothers. His hands never took yours without first asking you, never looked away. You fell asleep so quickly in that bed while the little snores of the quaterback kept you stable, safe.

At dawn, you couldn't even see his face, you spent a week avoiding the hallways where he frequented until you did what your mother did to apologize to people: you baked some cookies. Unfortunately, he was on a diet but he still accepted them, his younger brother would eat them all with pleasure, you offered him a kiss and he let himself go.

That afternoon you lost your virginity behind his secong-hand orange Pontiac, white cotton panties crumpled and drooled between your teeth as Jimin held your calves. You cried so much that he forgot to moan, but your boyfriend wiped away each tear with his wet tongue and his thumbs until his cum fell thickly onto your skirt and his uniform.

The second time was different. What you don't know is that you cooking for him lit a spark, a simple breeze in a dry forest and you were the summer sun. You were going to be his wife, he promised you, with drooping eyelids and your pelvis on top of a pillow, his hands guiding your ass until they collided with his waist.

“I'm going to make you mine, I'm going to buy you a house and a huge ring. Fuck—you’re going to have to stop me at some point because I’m going to get you pregnant every time you smile at me, love. Doesn't Ms. Park have a ring to it?" He growled grabbing your hair to pull you closer to his sweaty chest.

“What is that pretty head of yours thinking about, huh?” Jungkook snapped his fingers at you, placing a long mug of beer in front of you. The second cigarette of the afternoon dangled between his fingers as he waited for you to take a drink, his eyes darting from your chest to your hair. “I saw you look at the ring on your finger.”

“My boyfriend gave it to me a month ago.” You said fixing the thin silver ring, a promise desperate to be fulfilled.

“How very” The boy laughed, choking on the smoke, you held the beer and took a long drink.

You realized that men when they exist in a cloud of promises and anonymity are more fuckable, because now seeing the metalhead in front of you, you just wanted to hit him.

“I don't understand why you keep yapping when you're not here to hear me speak.”

“I didn't want us to move on to fucking so quickly, but if you can't wait, then we'll make a little something in the alley.” Seeing your face blush he laughed again. “I'm kidding, doll. Don’t be so rigid.”

With a whistle, Jeon effortlessly caught the eye of a man nearby. His muscles were noticeably defined, and he sported a pair of square glasses that added a touch of charm. Dressed in a casual plaid shirt, his hair styled like a military man. Spotting Jeon, his face lit up with recognition, and he quickly closed the distance between you.

“Kim, I thought you weren't coming to the meeting.” Out of the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of the man's slight tensing as his friend spoke, but without skipping a beat, his hand gently landed on his friend's shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"You literally said-"

"No, I didn't. Gosh, give me a break."

Hoseok looked in your direction with a hint of distrust, the creases on his face sharpening with each step you took. You walked closer, his eyes traced your body from head to toe, his initial skepticism fading away the moment he reached your side. Your little shorts and Wham! t-shirt hugged your curves tightly, clinging to your tits like a sculpture of marble.

"What's this?" Hoseok pointed at you and moved his fingers up and down.

"Come, I want to introduce you to my friend. We met in…" Jungkook's smile widened as he tilted his hand. “Well, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that you have to make a place for her in the club, wouldn't you gladly have one of the sweetest pieces of meat of the whole faculty on the team, eh?”

Jungkook looked in your direction again, he knew that the way he spoke caused tremendous disgust in you and he enjoyed it. “This is Hoseok, the president of the archery club. Greet him before he hates you for some reason.”

"Shut up." Hoseok's voice cut through the air as he extended his arm to shake yours, his calloused hand brushing against your skin. His sharp eyes studied your hands intently, examining every detail. "You got weird fingers."

"Is that how you give compliments to pretty girls?"

Hoseok let out a sigh, nonchalantly plucking the cigarette from Jungkook's mouth. With a subtle gesture, he motioned for his friend to approach while bringing the cigarette to his own lips.

“If you want to fuck one of the cheerleaders, find another way, I'm not going to put her in the club, dude.” His failed attempt at whispering, which was clearly intentional, didn't escape your ears.

“Do you think I have to fuck one of you to be part of your Disney Heroe theatre team?”

Hoseok's eyebrow arched, while leaning back against the bar stool. With a confident yet subtle sway, he adjusted his posture, his pelvis shifting ever so slightly, but still managing to catch your eye. A mischievous grin formed on one side of his lips, knowing full well of the effect he had on you. “And why the hell are you looking for me if you don't need me, Barbie?"

"I'm here to let you know that I'll be waiting for you in the green area on Monday at 3, expecting you to hand me a bow and arrow," You declared, a sweet smile playing on your lips like a precious jewel shimmering beneath a cloak of innocence as you deftly snatched the cigarette from between his parted lips. "And I hope you show up with a smile that could outshine the sun and a more decent cologne."

Hoseok scoffed with raised eyebrows, clearly unimpressed by your little rebel talk as you took a drag from his stolen cigarette.

"You do realize you'll be the only woman in the group, right? The guys ain't going to like you, they tend to be very…"

"Terrified of women," Jeon chimed in, leaning against your shoulder.

"Exclusive," Hoseok added.

"They'll probably do a jerk-off circle if they see me in a skirt." You quipped, a sly smile playing on your lips.

The three of you looked at the cubicle where the a few memebers sat, all upper class kids who couldn't get into anything in their lives without Mommy opening the door for them first.

“Whatever, you're not even that hot, they'll live.”

You smiled, turning around on your stool to continue drinking your beer. “See you on Monday, four eyes.”

“Bye, Hobi-Bobby.” Jungkook rested his arm on the bar, his eyes positioned on your profile.

“Do you want to fuck now? I love women who know how to silence men, i'm already hard.”

"Why are you so fucking disgusting?"

"You're the one sitting next to me, you can go now." And he waited. You stayed there, speechless and waiting, too.

"Kim?"

"Who?"

“The dickhead called you Kim.”

“I don't know who that is, sweetheart.”

“Mm.” You nodded. You weren't too sure now. “Are you sure you're the one I talked to that night?”

"I promise you." Jungkook dragged his stool closer to your ear, the smell of nicotine and shaving cream was pleasant, manly. "Are those sugar tits as sweet as that voice of yours?"

“What time did I call you?” You ignored his nutty breath.

“Are you questioning me now?”

"Yeah."

His jaw tensed, biting the inside of his cheeks.

“I'm going to give you some advice, doll. If you want things to go well today, don't question me.”

You felt a rush cover your back, the beer felt colder on your fingers and you were more aware of his proximity. You were in his territory, you didn't know anyone there, you were screwed.

“Can you answer me just one thing and that's it?”

Jungkook moved closer and nodded, his pupils stabbing at your lips waiting for you to say something out of line so he would have an excuse to destroy you with.

“Why do people think you are weird?”

His sigh collided with your neck, a smile woven little by little; you could see stars in his eyes when he moved back. The raw desire to show you why.

He leaned close to your ear and whispered slowly, the urge to laugh drowned out by his words. Both his hands hiding his lips like a child. You swallowed as you finished listening, a long drink to finish the remaining beer.

He pulled out a new cigarette before your eyes met his again.

“So, in your room or mine?” He mumbled before lightning the tip.

“I'm- I think I'm going home.”

"Isn't your home in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, you silly little bun'?"

The man in front of you pouted, nodding with a dejected face when he saw you stand up, the large mug of beer hitting your trembling anatomy. You wanted to vomit, to shed your own skin to pieces, to vanish, to crawl along the road back home like a mass of nerves and to sleep in your bed until you forgot what this psychopath had just hummed in your ear in the middle of the crowd.

But what did you expect? Wasn't this what you were looking for?

That's why curiosity ends up being the cruelest animal feeling. It takes you to the cheese on top of the trap, it makes you look at the sun and go blind, it makes you run through the grass until you fall at the bottom of nowhere. Voices like Jungkook's end up taking you to a seedy bar, at the mercy of God if he is even allowed in these parts.

“Come on, I'll take the bike down for you, then.”

You grabbed your backpack and walked in front of Jeon, stares like needles digging into your shorts.

Outside, his arms stretched out to take the bicycle, as light as a feather.

“I would've take you to college but-”

“I think this is where our journey ends, Jungkook.” Your voice was firm, elegant. You knew when to say goodbye.

He remained silent, one last smile as a gift. "If you say so." His hands opened dramatically to show you the road.

You raised your leg until you sat down and accelerated down the street, the sun hiding on the horizon. You didn't know if it was the wind hitting your cheeks and eyes, but you felt the cold stream go down to your neck. You wanted the road to get shorter in front of you and suddenly you were crying like a lost child, the sharp exhale stinging your lungs, you took all the alleys you recognized and the ones you didn't and you looked around at the desolate sides of New York.

Hiding from the sun your skin grew cold and the sobs turned to murmurs praying that you would return alive to the arms of Steph or Bobby Joe.

But oh, how angelic you looked with the halo of Jungkook's car headlights on your back. A honk chilled your blood until you couldn't do anything but grip the handlebars until your knuckles turned white.

“I changed my mind, I'll take you.” His breathing was jagged, he was sweating deeply, swallowing hard to hide the psychosis.

“It won't be long now and my boyfriend is waiting for me.”

“Don't worry, just load the bike and I'll drop you off at his house.”

'No' was not an answer and you knew that, no one ever said no to him. And if they did no woman managed to keep her tongue to say it.

"Roger that. Thank you, Jungkook, you are a gentleman.”

“Of course, get off the bike now.” He muttered as he snatched the iron from your hands and threw it behind his vehicle.

The trip was lethargic, the music faltered in the car with each curve until you reached a neighborhood of white houses and yellowish lights, the crickets chirped in the safe silence of a suburb. You thought about getting out when the car stopped and screaming until your lungs vomited.

But of course, when you arrived the garage door was open, the car slid across the smooth concrete without a sound.

“Do you mind if I look for a few things before I take you home?” His voice sounded so carefree that you almost believed you were going back to your dorm room. You shook your head as he went down to close the garage door, the darkness consuming your hope.

Your heart began to beat blood so fast that your hands began to try to open your door, Jungkook tilted his head at the noise until he saw your reflection in the side mirror.

"Why you do that? God, you’re so stupid.” Jungkook took your hair in his hands and without much effort dragged you out of the vehicle and onto the garage floor. His hand covered your mouth, his calloused and sweaty fingers undoing the button on your Levi's until they stuck to your ankles.

“It's only once, you have to reward me for the beer you had, you know?” His voice burned in your ear along with the beating of your heart, a light hum of your soul trying to get away from your dirty body.

“Mm-” You groaned as you felt the fabric of his jeans mold between your ass. Moving was in vain, fighting a mere fantasy.

“Just a quickie and then I'll drop you off, don't be so rigid.”

Your body was puppeteered to the living room with dim lights, curved and modern furniture that someone paid great attention to match with the upholstery and the carpet that decorated the floor.

And your body was thrown to the edge of the pink couch, the metal underneath the cloth digging into your stomach, your ass in the air as you felt cold hands remove your underwear. Why weren't you moving? Why did you let this happen to you? What was your mom doing right now? You thought of her chubby body moving around her room while organizing her dresses, folding the flowery pieces and tucking in it away in her closet. Peacefully humming gospel songs.

Warm spit fell onto your pussy and you closed your eyes, the last tear creating a shadow on the corrugated carpet as Jungkook slid his cock around the entrance to wet the entire area. The phone rang five, six, ten times next to you. Beep.

Hello, you are calling the sweet home of Bee, Dr. Kim and Taehyung. We are on vacation in Florida, but when we arrive we will take your message. Bye bye!

Who were the animated voices humming on the phone and why was Jungkook's voice there? You looked at the stranger loosening his grip on the sudden crackling laughter coming from the small speaker on the phone.

"Fuck." The now stranger mumbled, holding your neck with his forearm.

"You got the wrong kid, callgirl." And your eyes opened like a full moon, you looked at the closed windows of the room. “Taehyung, you have ten to hide.”

"Shit." Taehyung whimpered behind you pushing your body to the ground, instinctively you grabbed his leg causing his body to fall to the ground next to yours.

If you were going to die today, you wouldn't do it alone.

"Five, six…"

“What the fuck are you doing, you fucking whore?! I will die if he finds me.” His reddened face dragged trying to take your sudden weight and strength off of him. It was useless. Black Sabbath began to play above the house, reverberating, like thousands of wasps between the walls. “I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please. Let me go."

Taehyung's head reached the kitchen when a worn military boot stopped his movements. The muddy sole of the boot collided with Taehyung's head, making it bounce again and again and again against the wood of the kitchen. It was a hollow, wet sound, more forceful with each blow.

You leaned your body back until you collided with the sofa, your nails anchored in the carpet.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, ple-” Taehyung tried to speak until the boot took the last hit and his jaw hung from his mouth like a toy. His eyes looked back with mercy. Run, he shouted to you with his bleeding eyes, run until you die but run. A broomstick passed through his mouth until his body bounced once more. And then...

So still.

Drool was falling from the corners from having your mouth open for so long. Why didn't you run? Is it that the boot you were looking for so long? Was the cruelty of being curious true?

An excessively tall figure passed through the kitchen frame, avoiding Taehyung's lifeless body. Black was the first thing you saw: the dirty jeans, the leather jacket tied around his waist, the Motley Crue tank top pressing against his chest and shoulders. Sweat dripped from his mullet to his tattoos.

His face, soft and covered in red. His oval nose and thin lips, eyes like a dead deer. Metal surrounding the room like the choir of fallen angels.

It was him, it was Jungkook.

“Poor little thing.” He licked his lips as he held your chin so you were looking at him. “Look at you, so afraid of that fucking-” he growled under his breath, getting down to your level.

"Please don't kill me." You cried, the air was thick, like sulfur around him.

“I didn't promise you that in the call, baby. Did you forget already?"

His hands were delicate under your armpits until he lifted you up and took your body to the furniture sitting you on top of his wide thighs. Your body looking at the turned off television, the curved reflection showed the difference in size. You were a doll on top of that beast.

“Put your foot up.” He ordered as he grabbed your knee to help you put on your Levi's with the softness of a creature in feather hands. "Stop crying."

“I can't, I'm too scared, I want to go home.”

"Pity." Jungkook sighed, taking your underwear from his jeans, wet with some chemical. His tattooed fingers took the flimsy cotton to your nose. Bitter at first and then it burned in your lungs. “Don't try to fight it, it'll be worse for you, baby. Atta girl, just let go, inhale.” His voice was serious, unharmed, like an anesthetic just like the clorophorm. There was no harm in closing your eyes if you were in the great hands of a beast, a mammoth.

"I like you girls manageable, stupid." Was the last thing you heard, a smile grazing your neck.

Your body rose without permission, abrupt. The pain was immeasurable.

“Jimin, she's up!” You heard a small voice in the corner of a familiar room, the sheets rough and thick.

The silhouette of Jimin's younger brother ran to the kitchen. The other two brothers approached the door, their blond heads peeking out. Jimin pushed them until he reached you.

“Hyung-”

“Shut the door, JP. I’m sick of you, just eat your fucking breakfast and get out of the house.” Jimin shouted, looking at his brothers out of the corner of his eye.

The slow footsteps receded and Jimin turned his attention to you.

“Love, no, don't cry. I'm here.”

His name fell from your lips desperately as you squeezed his face, consuming every detail so your body knew it was real and wouldn't squirm like a worm.

“Breathe with me, come on.”

You closed your eyes hugging your boyfriend's neck.

“Come on, I've prepared a hot bath for you in the twins' room.” You shook your head frantically without breaking away. “It's just to get the mud off your body, then we'll go back to bed.”

"Mud?"

“Minjun found you outside this morning, do you know where you were last night, who did this to you?”

You grabbed the sheets and uncovered your body, bruises covering your legs and stomach. The dried mud covering the sheets of Jimin's bed. A scream choked in your throat.

“Its okay, I can change the sheets. Don’t worry about that. Let's go champ, up.” Jimin patted your injured thigh so you would chain your legs around his abdomen. With a grunt, Jimin lifted you up and carried you to a makeshift tub of hot water.

The little beds were together on one side of the small room, a metal tub emanating sweet steam covering the walls of the room in a thin web of drops.

“Raise your arms.” Jimin kissed your neck gently, the nausea returning little by little but you just let your body melt in the arms of the only person who mattered. His eyes shone with the concern of a father, he undressed you as quickly as possible so that the bruises didn't have time to hurt. Reaching your shorts, he knelt in front of you and stared at your tired face.

“I shouldn't have gone to the bar last night.” He wavered his speech for a second as he slowly lowered the zipper.

“Shh.” Your hand fell into his messy hair, he was still wearing his pajamas, what time did Jungkook throw you in front of Jimin's trailer?

The silence became strange, different. You didn't understand Jimin's sudden furrowed eyebrows when he took off your Levi's.

“Minnie?”

“Motherf-” Jimin stood up and hit the wall hard. His body turned around until he was looking at the jeans on the floor again. “That's it, I'm calling Yoongi.”

"What? Yoongi, what for? Minnie, don't leave, please."

"Don't move!"

Your boyfriend disappeared from the room before you asked him what was happening. You sighed with a heavy heart as you walked in pain to the mirror on the wall: a wide, slimy stain extended from front to back of your panties, hickies covered your stomach. The pants fell to the floor and you went to the mirror on the wall.

Your trembling finger curved until you felt the hole between your legs, the whitish and salty cum thread stretched from your entrance to your shocked face.

You don't remember Taehyung penetrating you. Was Jungkook such an animal that he came inside while you were passed out? How could he?

Tears gathered in your eyes as you laughed silently, the pain was unbearable around your waist and legs, pussy still numb and you could only remember the patterns on the carpet.

Cruel curiosity.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Smutty Shorts: Christmas Edition

Andy Barber x Wife Reader

18+ Only Blog

Happy Holidays everyone

Your knees and palms burned from the living room rug, but you didn't care. You didn't care that the kids toys were still half scattered around and still needed to be placed under the Christmas Tree as if Santa had made his yearly visit, nor did you care that Andy still had to make the plate of cookies disappear and write out the kids letter from Santa Claus telling them Merry Christmas and thank you for leaving him a snack. 

No, right now it was all about your husband's harsh grip on your hips, pulling you back and forth on his cock buried so deep in your clenching messy cunt, feeling him slap your ass back against him over and over as he grunted and cursed above you. 

You risked a look over your shoulder at him and admired him. His eyes were a dark simmering blue that stared down at where his cock disappeared into your weeping cunt, his teeth biting on his bottom lip at the concentration. A sheen of sweat coated him as his muscles were taunt with need for you. He glanced up enough to see you staring back at him and he slapped your ass, making you yelp at the sting. “Such a tight cunt Beautiful, soaking me right now.” 

You moaned, collapsing to your elbows to feel him shift his angle, really making you squirm. He was pounding into the places only he knew about, the ones that made you lose your sanity for him. “Oh god, please Andy!” You shoved your fist into your mouth to shut you up. 

Last thing you needed was the kids waking up to find this happening in front of their presents. 

“Making such a mess Wife.” He leaned over, kissing your shoulders and bracing his hand near your head to hold his weight off your back, your eyes rolled and you shuddered, biting harder on your fist. 

So close, so damn close. 

“Pump another baby into this perfect cunt? A Christmas gift to us?” His beard scraped against your skin, making you all that much wetter as your beard kink just woke up, the way he used it against you constantly, it was why he swore he kept it some days. 

“Yes.” You agreed breathlessly in a cry. Your cunt milking him and as you came, he twisted your head enough to kiss you, capturing any loud cry you would make. 

Another several heavy thrusts and he joined you. Filling you with him till you felt stuffed with Andy.

“You’re so fucking perfect Y/N.” He hissed, his arm catching you to twist you both to lay tangled on the living room floor together. 

You cuddled in closer, needing his comfort while he kept pressing kisses to your temple. 

[daintyys]

Can I request a jealous Coriolanus snow fic pls?

jealousy, jealousy

MDNI - fem!reader x coriolanus snow, 1k words, angst, jealousy, cursing, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, intentional lowercase, i wrote this a hot minute ago just didn't get the chance to fully edit it until now hehe

coriolanus was making his way in the world. he had just been elected president of panem, and it seemed like everything was finally falling into place for him. that is, the fact he was infatuated with you, and had no clue how to go about telling you. coriolanus and you had gone to university together, becoming close over the years, and he assumed you just wanted to stay friends.

for weeks after coryo's election, all he seemed to be doing was hosting galas and spending hours in meetings. boring. the only thing that made him look forward to doing anything was knowing that you would be there. you were his personal assistant. whilst attending university with coriolanus, you made a deal with him: if he ever got elected president, you would be his right-hand woman. and here you were.

on a particularly busy day, coriolanus had not 1, but 4 meetings in a row, and then after that, a night long ball to celebrate the new year. he was not excited for all of it. sure, he had power, but he hardly got any sleep.

the meetings drew on for what seemed like ages, with coryo sealing his approval on bills he had no care for and huffing agreements with his government workers. what finally woke him up was a knock on his office door.

"come in." he groaned, smoothing his hair back. you opened the door slowly, a tray of coffee and cookies in your hands. "i heard you were having a long day, and thought some caffeine would prepare you for tonight." you hummed, placing the tray at the end of his desk. coriolanus' mood changed immediately, his frown turning to a grin. you knew him all too well. "that sounds about right, y/n." coryo approved as he sipped his coffee.

you leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "if you're overworking yourself, you know you can just say no, right? after all, you are the president." coriolanus leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "i'll be fine. thank you for your concern, though." you nodded, heading for the door. "y/n, wait. you're coming to the ball tonight, correct?" the president choked out, looking at you intently. "i will if you want me to, coriolanus. just save me a dance, hm?" you giggled, leaving his office and shutting the door behind you. coryo scoffed, a huge smile plastered on his face, rubbing his temple.

coriolanus could hardly hide his smile as he saw you enter the ballroom. you looked beautiful, your hair in a french twist, and wearing a gorgeous navy-blue gown. you didn't go straight over to him, which was surprising. instead, you made your way to one of coryo's advisors, a man a few years older than you were. he watched as the man kissed your knuckles and reached out to touch your earrings, seemingly complimenting them. fuck.

coriolanus was enraged, his stomach churning violently at the sight of you and another man. you were his. you had always been his. he could go over there and just beat up the man, but that wouldn't look good in the press. you took the advisor's arm, and he lead you over to the bar, handing you a glass of champagne. coryo noticed how happy you looked with the man, how you laughed with him, and it made him positively sick.

it had never occurred to coriolanus that you could have feelings for somebody. not that you were an unloving robot, but coryo had just never heard about you dating anybody. you'd never told him, at least. maybe the man was a just family friend or something, but coryo couldn't seem to get the thought of you all giddy and tipsy with one of his employees out of his head.

coryo soon found himself tossing back glasses of champagne, trying to ease the pain and stop himself from going over to the man and snapping his neck. "fucking bastard." coriolanus chided, handing his glass to a confused waiter. his eyes bore into you, you were standing against the wall with the advisor, deep in conversation. you had promised coriolanus a dance, so what the hell were you doing?

-----

the party was drawing to a close, finally. and even though it was close to 2 in the morning, coriolanus was wide awake. he couldn't stand not being able to watch you leave, let alone not being able to watch you at all. especially not with the man. how controversial would it be for the president of panem to punch the smug smile off of one of his advisor's faces?

he'd finally had enough. his heart was aching, and it had been hours. you hadn't even looked at him. your president. how shameful. coriolanus strided over to you, grasping your wrist lightly. you jumped.

"coriolanus?" you turned towards him, flushed cheeks. his blue eyes bore into yours, narrow and concentrated on your expression. "a word, ms. y/l/n?" you nodded, and coryo lead you into the hallway. you couldn't help but giggle, the alcohol was getting to you. "don't laugh. i'm not fucking laughing." coriolanus fumed, spinning around and planting either of his hands on your shoulders.

you shuddered, he was freezing. "what's going on?" you slurred. "i think you know what's going on, y/n." coriolanus huffed, flush creeping up his neck. "enlighten me, mr. president." you tittered. coriolanus released your shoulders from his grip, and smoothed his suit jacket. "what's the story between you and that man in there?" he questioned, crossing his arms.

you paused. you knew what he was getting at. "you're not jealous, are you, coryo?" a smile toyed at your lips. coriolanus scowled, a look of irritation coming over him. "i-i'm. good god, who was it, y/n?" he loosened his tie, absolutely furious. "my cousin, if you're so interested." you leaned against the wall, smirking.

coriolanus groaned. "unbelievable. i thought you were going out with him. i would have fired him, y/n..." he trailed off, rubbing his temple. "you were jealous." a laugh escaped your lips, and you reached out to touch coryo's arm. "quiet." he whispered, holding his arm out for you to link with.

"yes, mr. president." you took his arm, walking down the hall together. you still had a dance to fulfill, after all.

asks 🩷

[ladydiaries]

hihi! i dunno if requests are open rn but if they are, can i request nsfw or sfw hcs of vox x (preferably AMAB! reader, but gn's fine too!) a socially awkward reader?? tysm!! take care of yourself and take your time! :3

Sparks ✧˚ ༘ ⊹ .ᐟ .ᐟ

CW; minors do not interact, 18+ content, praise, vox electrocutes you like twice, AMAB, biting , edging , breeding, oral (giving). Rambles + hcs under the cut!

SUMMARY; general SFW &&. NSFW hcs of vox x socially awkward AMAB! Reader

HCS + RAMBLES

AUTHORS NOTE; TYSMMM for requesting!! I'm excited to write an AMAB reader. There is a serious drought of them, Going to use he/him pronouns for this one.

Of course, if this relationship is established I believe he would treat you like you're the only man in the world. His bitchy exterior is totally a front and inside he's a bit more lax, corny, and to your surprise, charming. Taking you on dates, presenting you with flowers.

Even better if he had intentions of manipulating you first, spiralling into the embarrassing realisation that he's in love with you. Ranting to Valentino and Velvet about his dilemma. Sure to tease him about it whenever you're around. Fast forward into the actual relationship, at the beginning he would have trouble not seeing you as some sort of possession.

Something to hide and keep, which due to your introverted nature, you didn't particularly mind not going out often, overtime he would loosen up, taking you on dates, more focused on showing you off then gatekeeping you, confused as to why you were so much more shy in the public then in private.

hogs the bed, face (screen) down, limbs everywhere.

An AWFUL cook. Could imagine a baking date and if you are good, wonderful. You can teach him, and if you too are also awful, you can feed your shit cookies to Valentino.

Insists on doing small things for you to boost his ego, will speak for you at restaurants and public settings

Will make you learn how to repair and upgrade his systems. Thinks it's romantic

If you work for him, he will purposely give you jobs that don't require public speaking, will never admit to it though.

NSFW.

This man FUCKS. You are a lucky boy because he has stamina. Will fuck you for hours on end, clawed hands running loosely against your cock as he pistoned into you from behind. Barely touching you enough to make you cum, you've been here for hours. Bringing you so, so, close to your sweet release before daggered fingers plunge into your soft skin.

He's the type of man to use praises while you suck him off. Unyielding grip on your hair. Hips rutting up slowly into your mouth. The intrusion making you struggle to swallow your gag reflex.

Whiny. He's the epitome of whiny men. Screen scrolling in between different levels of brightness, furrowed brows as you place open mouthed kisses against his body. Fingers mingling around the back panel of his screen.

very experimental, will try pretty much everything

If he overheats, he will pass out. Had to install a better cooling system due to shutting down too much.

Cock is ridged. A steel navy blue colour, leading towards a blue tip. Detachable, can change sizes, widths or not have one at all.

Cums a lot, a thick substance. Likes to watch it drip out of you, tastes like pennies.

Thrives to see your embarrassment while teasing you in public. Hand wandering too far down your waist or foot pressing against your groin while sitting across from him during a meeting.

Depending on his schedule, he can either be the best or the worst at aftercare. On a busy day he could probably care less but on day's off or weekends he's all for it. Bathing you, gathering treats, snuggling neatly in bed to watch whatever show peaks your interest in the moment.

[strniohoeee]

i missed youuuuu

i was thinking mattxreader spending the evening watching a movie with n and c, and reader decides to bake cookies and they all enjoy them and then they go to sleep and they just cuddle till they fall asleep

Rainy Nights

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: After the evening plans were cancelled due to rain, Y/N and the triplets stay home to watch a movie instead☁️

Warnings⚠️: None, boring and short is all. My creativity is at a standstill. I missed you too^^ 😩🖤

Song for imagine: While We’re Young- Jhene Aiko

I'm telling everybody you're mine and I like it

And I really hope you don't mind

I can't fight it

I had been surfing every streaming app for a movie to watch. We had actual plans for the evening, but after we got dinner it started to pour. At that point we all looked at each other and silently agreed to just go home. A perfect excuse for home bodies like Matt and I.

“You’ve never seen Ghost?” I asked as my neck snapped over and my jaw dropped

“None of us have ever seen that shit before” Nick said laughing as he took a sip of his drink

“Ohhh yeah we’re watching it” I replied as I scrolled back up and clicked on the movie

“I don’t like romance movies” Chris whined as he locked his phone and threw it beside him

“Please for me, I swear you will love it” I exclaimed as I pouted

Rolling his eyes he gestured with his hand for me to go on.

Getting excited I cracked a toothy grin as I pressed play and shut the light off. Snuggling up next to Matt. His arm over my shoulder as Chris sat with his feet propped up on their coffee table, and Nick sitting on one foot.

Looking over at Matt, I gazed at his right side of his face. The tv creates a blue cast over his skin. He looked so beautiful honestly. His eyes seemed white with how icy they got. My God was he fine.. Shyly I smiled to myself.

He looked over at me before furrowing his brows.

“You okay?” he asks in a whisper

“Yes, just admiring you” I replied looking away shyly for a split second

Getting nervous he nods his head and turns back to the movie. I leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. His smile grew wider as he winked at me.

Standing up I cracked my back before turning to them

“I’m making cookies” I said

“Oh my gosh you're the best! Please do” Chris said begging as he slapped his hands together in a praying motion

Laughing I walked over to the kitchen and turned the light under the microwave on. Grabbing the cookie dough out the fridge I preheat the oven before setting the cookies up on the tray.

“His coworkers a fucking weirdo I dont know about him” Nick stated suspiciously

“Yeah like why is he acting like that?” Chris states adjusting his seating position.

“10 bucks says the guy will try and do some weird ass shit” Matt states

Smirking to myself I put the cookies in the oven and set a timer. Heading back over to the couch I sit down and lean into Matt. Our gaze locked in on the tv

It gets to the part where Patrick Swayze’s character gets shot. Their mouths dropping as they watch the next events unfold. Pissed by whats happening Nick sucks his teeth

“Thats fucking bullshit” Chris states as he scoffs

“It gets better just wait” I respond as the oven beeps

Swiftly getting up I make my way over to the stove to remove the cookies. Listening to the rain hit the glass window in the kitchen I place the cookies on a plate to cool down

Bringing the plate back over to the living room I sit back down. Eventually we each began to eat away at the cookies.

Somewhere in the middle of the movie Matt brings me in closer. Snuggling our bodies even more than before.

His arm draping over me I began to play with his fingers. Fiddling with the rings that lingered on some fingers.

Interlocking our fingers as I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“I love you baby” I said to him

“I love you too” he said back kissing me

Holding hands the rest of the movie. His grip tightening subconsciously as the movie got juicier. Releasing the death grip every time a crazy scene died down.

The movie finished and I looked over. Matt and Chris' mouths wide open as Nick and I had tears in our eyes.

“No fucking way that ended like that….” Chris said standing up and bringing the plate to the kitchen

Turning the living room light on I stretched my neck

“Such a sad yet gratifying ending” I replied back

“I’m sick….this is so unfair” Nick said groaning as he wiped his eyes

“Exactly how I felt the first time I watched it” I said giggling

“I need to watch inside out to feel better….” He replied standing up and slouching over

“So was that a win? Did we like it?” I asked them

“Oh I loved it, it was great” They basically all responded

Smiling to myself I helped them tidy up the living room and kitchen.

“I think we should call it a night” Nick said as he looked at the clock reading 2:30am

Agreeing we all parted ways, following behind Matt as they shut all the lights out

Turning his light on he slid his shirt off and I slid my pants off. Brushing our teeth and then heading back into his room.

I laid in his bed as I followed behind turning his lights off and shutting his door.

Snuggling into me and pulling me closer.

“I love you so much” he replied sliding his hands up my thighs and up my arms into my hair to rub my scalp

Loosening into his touch I sighed.

“I love you too” I replied, turning over I planted a kiss to his lips

His fingers running from my scalp to my mid back. His tooth basically put me to sleep. And sooner than later we were both fast asleep embraced in each other's arms.

The End

This was trashhhhh, but what else can I say. My writing juices are GONE. This is sad LMAOOO. Thank you all for the support and I can’t believe I’m at 2507 followers. That’s amazing. I love you all.🥹🖤🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[smooth-perceval]

“My love, my life.”

“We are going to be just fine…”

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

PART ONE

Max Corner

Summary: Max and reader crossed the line in their 3 year friendship, resulting in 2 positive pregnancy test. And 1 baby on the way.

Warnings: 18+ you could say smut- but it’s not very ‘Smutty’ maybe if you squint, pregnancy, swearing, Google translate, Lando being Lando, no proof read.

Key: Y/N (your name), Y/L/N (your last name), biscuit= Cookie, Lando and reader are friends for about 4 years.

Word count: 2,949

A/N: Thank you for the votes 🖤 It has motivated me to now write something 🙂 I’m seeing how this goes, I might even turn it into a series. Anddd I love dad max 🖤

The soft moans, and whispers of each others names was all that painted the walls of the vanilla hotel room. Us both sinning beyond hells gates… Something so wrong feeling so right- like we was both made perfectly for each other.

You could say it was the drink… or the pent up sexual attraction we both craved so badly from one another… either way we both bathed in the moment, showing one another what 3 years worth of “friendship” really meant.

The little touches and glances go along way… they turned into flirty comments and kisses so close to the lips if either had tilted our heads we would’ve been where we are now a lot sooner… Tonight, it turned into Max kissing that little more over, lips brushing slightly. Both breathing heavily questioning wether to go in for a second. And I did, I took the chance to grab him by the collar kissing him. Not just the once though, it turned into three or four little kisses before Max was pushing against the wall and shutting the door blindly.

So we could say Max is to blame here, Max is the reason I’m biting down onto my lip, suppressing any noise he is causing me to make- His blue eyes had me pinned, scared to turn away incase I lose this feeling- this intimacy, this entire moment.

Hovering over me, one hand holding my thigh up the other next to my head supporting himself, his bare chest on view, with only smudged lipstick stains coating him. His hair a little messy from my hands running through and tugging on every strand I could. Lips swollen from the rough kisses of need. The warmth in the room from our heavy breathing causing a thin layer of sweat over us both… and even in such a unhinged moment. He still looked perfect.

And after our night of pleasure, and we had both ‘cleaned up’ me putting on one of Max shirts, him sticking to fresh underwear. We left his room, as if we was naughty teenagers, we tiptoed down to my room, climbing into fresh bedding.

Both laying there staring at each other in complete awe, Max hand reaching up and stroking my cheek and along my jaw. Now letting the sleep slowly evade us, with my eyes closed I heard him whisper the three words I’ve always dreamt he would say… wether he did or not it still felt real to me.

“I love you”

And as if it was a reaction to the words I found myself shuffling closer to his chest. Like he was the protection I needed… the knight in shining armour in every princess story.

**3 Weeks later**

Back home, and was things awkward between me and Max? Yes. Very.

Even Lando picked up on the weird tension. Lando also being a close friend and noticing how we was both frightened to go near each other.

For me? It was scared of going near him and pushing him back into a hotel bed all over again… it was scared of getting to close and getting burned in the long run- because Max wasn’t the type of guy to stick around… not after his last breakup everything was fucked and chucked, and me unfortunately was one of them- or so it feels.

I was attending the Monaco GP, in support of Max & Lando them being my only two friends you could say.

However the weekend turned to not be the best of starts, I had picked up a stomach bug somewhere, as I’ve been sick nearly every morning, sometimes of an evening if I really give into the feeling. I realised eating something small like a biscuit would somewhat cure the sickness… it’s been horrible. I texted both Lando and Max saying I would leave my home once I had felt a bit better in myself, both sending back get well soon messages and updates on what’s happening.

I was adamant on attending the qualifying, so chomping down on a biscuit and sipping on a bottle of water I made my way to the GP. In my bag I had a little bag filled with biscuits. I wasn’t going to let a little tummy ache stop me from watching my boys-

I read online that a stomach bug doesn’t seem to be contagious after a few days, which I was praying was true. If not then I could only apologise to them and beg for forgiveness if I ruin their race…

My first stop was Lando, who was practically jumping when he saw me. Bringing me in the most tightest hug you could imagine-

“Lan- don’t I still feel like I could be sick…” mumbling I rub his back before pulling myself away.

“Oh shit- sorry… wait are you contagious?!” He jumped back holding his hands up like they would defend him.

“It says no online… if I am I’m sorry though…” pouting I shuffled about on my feet. “I just wanted to watch you both race-”

Tutting he rubbed my shoulder, before throwing an arm around both. “It’s okay, longs your not sick in here. We just washed the floors.”

Rolling my eyes I elbowed him in the ribs, “I won’t, I got my biscuits.” Patting my bag I smiled up at him. “And anyways if I was sick it’s normally first thing in the morning, or maybe later… if I stop eating these biscuits.” Eyebrows furrowed Lando tilted his head at me.

“First thing in the morning? Sounds like something else to me.” Humming a teasing tone he lead us both out the garage. Shaking my head in annoyance at him I look around. “Behave Lando.”

“I’m just saying-”

And well him just saying that had my mind reeling… what if? I couldn’t just pull out my phone and check when I was due on my ladies, Lando would see, seeing as his attached to my hip, so in my head I counted back. I should’ve started by now right? I doubt it- I think it’s next week.

Before I know it we was stopping outside red bull’s garage Lando practically screamed for Max, all the engineers turning to look up at him. Some in annoyance and some confused to why he was screaming…

And there he was- Max in all his glory shuffling his way through. Suit unzipped and hanging down at his waist, his fireproofs on show… showing every shape of his body- gulping, my eyes started to wander, slowly remembering every part of him I kissed, where the red lipstick marks were, where to touch that would make him shiver and whisper my name in a warning. As if I was triggering a ticking time bomb- I mean you could say I was that night. I was remembering it all in waves, before it was only a faint memory.

“Y/N! You made it finally…” smiling at each other he came and stood infront of us both. His hand brushing my arm slightly in a little pat/rubbing manner. Yeah it was tense… i felt like screaming, if we hadn’t pushed that boundary, it probably wouldn’t feel so awkward- I had the devil on my shoulder, shouting over the little angel, telling me I should just let him have me right here on the track and claim our own trophy, create our own ‘finish’.

Oh what have you done to me Verstappen.

Clearing his throat Lando patted my bag. “Well lets just ignore the awkwardness… She has her biscuits.” Confused Max looked between us both.

“To keep the sickness away.” Finishing Lando’s sentence with another shake of my head and a small smile at Max.

“Ah- makes sense.” Laughing a little Max turned back to the garage. “Lan I think we’re about to start quali”

“I’ll probably be back and fourth between you both- I’m just going to get some more water…” smiling a little at them both I gave a small wave. “Good luck both of you.”

Both quickly giving nods and a thanks, they ran into the garages suits getting pulled up and zipped in the process.

Now finally away from them both I checked my health app, going back to my last period…

Panic rises through me, I have been stressed so maybe it’s on its way- I’ll do a test later just in case but I’m sure it’s stress, or even many other reasonings but the one that makes sense is the one I’m praying against. I mean it’s only a week, so no panic.

But except I am panicking… Maybe I should go do a test now… put my mind at ease-

Quickly heading back out I sent a text to them both to see, incase I wasn’t back-

“Be back soon- wasn’t feeling great again.”

And then I went straight to the chemist…

Looking between test, hands shaking as I try and read the box, I finally gave up taking them both to the checkout, nervously looking around like somehow someone I knew would catch me. The lady behind the till offered a kind smile, which I quickly returned, paying for the tests and rushing out with the bag mumbling a thank you.

I felt sick again- maybe it was nerves who knew- I mean why am I panicking I have been so stressed lately it could be that- but still what if…

Once I got back to my apartment I headed straight to the bathroom fumbling with the test taking a stick from each and doing them both at the same time- Two test can’t lie…

I was pacing, doing circles around my bedroom as I bit down on my nails. Every few minutes sitting on my bed, before pacing again. It wasn’t until my alarm went off was I finally broken out of my trance. I took a few deep breaths and crept into the toilet, standing in the doorway, I rose to my tiptoes craning my neck-

My stomach dropped, and I found myself stumbling into the toilet reading both test, my head going from left to right as I held both sticks…

[2-3 Weeks] and the other [3+ weeks]

There it was the sickness again, dropping to my knees I curled myself around the toilet letting every little bit of sick come up… all the nerves building up in my body and raking through.

When I was finally able to get away from the toilet bowl, I got up brushing my teeth and washing my face… trying to stop the little tears, why am I crying? I’m terrified-

How the fuck do I tell Max?

Feeling sorry for myself, I crawled into my bed breathing in and out slowly… I am absolutely terrified.

Somewhere from my racing mind and the tossing and turning I dozed off only waking up to the sound of my door being nearly knocked down.

Rushing out of bed I head downstairs looking through the peep hole.

“Lando you knock like the police-” muttering I unlock the door letting him in.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at qualifying?” Frowning i move over to the door before turning back to look at him.

“Y/N that finished about an hour ago…” concerned flashed over his face as he brought me into a hug.

“Maybe we should go to the doctors, maybe he can get this sickness sorted…” mumbling he rubbed my back soothingly, rocking us a little.

“I know what it is Lan…” I felt it again the burning in my throat as I tried holding back the tears… my eyes welling up at even the thought.

“I know I know- but maybe he can give you something like an anti-sickness tablet?” I shook my head wiping underneath my nose with my sleeve, hand on the door handle as I went to shut it.

“Oh wait-”

“I’m pregnant…” whispering I covered my mouth hoping that if I trapped the sound it wouldn’t make it real.

Lando’s shock was evident as he stared back, hand in the air still pointing at the door, his mouth creating an ‘o’ shape.

“Did you say pregnant?” A familiar voice was heard that defiantly wasn’t Lando’s.

My head felt like it was going to snap as I looked back at the door, and once again there he was, trying to squeeze himself in the little gap I had left him from trying to shut the door…

My heart pounded as I watched him, hoping he would show some emotion to put my mind at ease but nothing… the silence in the room from us three was unbearable.

“Well congratulations!” Lando grabbed ahold of me again hugging me tight, my eyes were still glued on Max, waiting on anything. But nothing he just stood there frozen. And that somewhat annoyed me more- it was both our faults that I’m in this situation I don’t expect anything from him but the recognition.

Lando pulled away looking between us both with a smile, “So have we got uncle duties? Are you going for an early scan? Who’s the dad?”

Shaking my head at Lando I push past him, trying to get away. I would rather Max saying he doesn’t care there stand there saying nothing at all… “Y/N I didn’t mean to ask so many questions-” Lando was rushing in behind me, before more footsteps were heard and then Max was seen.

“Is it mine?” Eyebrows furrowed, was he angry? He has a right to be angry. I’m angry. Lando bursted out into a fit of laughter smacking Max’s arm “Flirting with each other doesn’t make someone pregnant you idiot.” Now both with confused looks we turned our heads looking at Lando.

“Of course it’s yours.” Shaking my head I looked back at Max.

“Are you sure?”

“What you trying to accuse me of here Max?”

The realisation finally hit Lando as he pointed between us both.

“I’m not accusing you of anything but, I have a right to ask if there had been anyone else don’t you think.”

“Yeah sure because I do that kind of stuff.” Stepping closer he shrugged slightly, which only added fuel to the fire, my voice getting slightly louder.

“Oh come on Max! You’ve known me 3 fucking years.” Tears started spilling down my face, and I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t stop them.

“You guys fucked?!” Once again we both was staring at Lando, merely a few feet away from each other. Both nodding our heads slowly.

“Is that why it’s so fucking awkward to be around you both?!” And once again we both just nodded our heads, both looking lost, like deers in some headlights.

“When did this happen?!” Lando’s hands went in the air as he stepped closer.

“Three weeks ago…” whispering I looked down at my feet.

“None of you told me that something happened. I’m supposed to be yours two friend as well. You were both my friends before each others! I should’ve been told!”

“Because that’s so important right now Lan.” Max glared at him as if he was trying to silence him with his eyes, but if anything that spurred him on more.

“It is to me. That’s just fucking unfair.”

“How is it unfair?! It was a silly drunk mistake Lando. It’s not like we’re hiding a big fucking thing from you. We aren’t together- it was one night.”

“Well Y/N is pregnant now. That’s a big thing?! It’s your baby!”

Sniffling I looked back up at Max. “It was a mistake?” I should’ve know, I somewhat did know but it still stung hearing him say the truth- maybe I was imagining what I heard that night…

Max hands came up tugging at his hair.

“Yeah it was a mistake you should’ve told me!” Lando raised his voice, throwing a tantrum like a child, foot stomping against the floor hands balled into fists.

“You both need to leave.” Turning away I went and sat down on the sofa, hands gripping the edge, trying to hold down any emotions that wanted to show.

“Leave.”

“No we need to talk about this. I can’t do this Y/N!” Max was now moving closer gesturing wildly around.

“I didn’t ask you to do anything Max. Apart from leave.”

“No I want to stay, I want to talk.”

“Talk or scream at each other?” Tilting my head I looked up at him wiping my face. “Like you said it was a stupid mistake. I can deal with it on my own. Now go.” I looked between him and Lando.

“No, I can’t be involved in this stuff Y/N. What about my career?!” Scoffing I stood back up. “Your career?! This stuff?! Two was to blame for that night not just me.” Pushing his chest slightly moving him towards the door, grabbing Lando’s arm on the way who only hissed. Shoving them both out the door, both screaming their own protest but neither stopping me from pushing them away, I went to slam it behind them, only for Max to out his foot in the way.

“We can’t do this Y/N…” it felt as if he was staring into my soul, trying to change my mind on the matter, I wasn’t going to be doing anything stupid over our “stupid mistake”.

“I can… Now leave. And neither of you speak to me… years of friendship for what? Some friends you both are.” Spitting words with venom at them both I slammed the door against Max foot before using all my body weight I pushed against his foot until it slammed shut finally. Max giving up any chance he had to change my mind.

We are going to be just fine…

A/N: So this is part one, as I felt like I was typing for ages and dragging on- it is a bit all confusing I think I had a skim read and I’m confusing myself lollll but this is going to be a little mini series I think, cause it gives me a chance to section everything I want out of this “love” story with Max.

I got the title idea from listening to ABBA 🙂 I was thinking about Max saying it to the baby or something idk we will see when we get there 🖤

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