#every year i make a new one and this time i went all out

[beowulf22121]

We had a kid making bomb blueprints and saying he could explode people.

We had a guy bring a weapon and a completely different ammo.

One girl would find some guy she found attractive and try to date his friends to learn about him. It was a new friend group every two months.

There was a guy who failed until he was 18 in the 7th grade. He never stopped dating classmates. I'm assuming a cop had a talk with him because as soon as he started trying, the school bumped him up a grade every grading period.

Some guy heard that someone he didn't even know was talking about his mom, so he just went out into the hall and broke the jaw of the first guy he saw who he didn't know.

Teachers trusted some of us well enough to hand out knives.

We had a teacher go out on maternity leave, and her replacement was so well liked they hired him to be a full time aide. The next year there was a known substitute teacher on site every day, who just helped out in big classes if all the teachers were there, it worked out well. His second year at my school he was escorted out in handcuffs for his relationship with a jr high student. I don't think he's even allowed to drive past a school anymore.

where do TV shows get this idea that high school is constant drama, nothing even fucking happened to me in high school

[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

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!

[cheerysmores]

My wife once told me she would never play Baldur's Gate 3 because 'it's that slut game.' One year later she finally caved and did her very first playthrough.

May I present: Mrs. Cheery's chaotic gremlin adventure to Baldur's Gate.

Act 1

Our hero is the drow fighter, Lady Coolio. To this day we do not know whether Lady is her name or her title. She has a big sword, big tits and one goal: get to The Baldur's Gate with no distractions.

Escaped the 'Meat Bus' (Nautaloid). "Right how close am I to Baldur's gate? Like three hours?"

Sold her camp clothes by accident and was very sad that all she had to run around in was a grey hobo sack. (No mods. Sorry wife)

Asked if Withers was Solas's Dad.

Lady Coolio calls Astarion rat boy. In Wifey's words “he told me ‘when I was a little lad Cazador made me eat rats.’”

To be fair she isn't great with names so Halsin = Hoisin Sauce, Lae'zel = onion lady, Volo = Volvo, Cazador = Calzone (sometimes)

In camp: Gale "I'd like to show you something rather magical". Lady Coolio: "I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR MAGIC PENIS"

“There are so many dead bodies everywhere this entire place has got to stink” (just act 1 generally)

Act 2

Ran into the shadow cursed lands very under levelled and Last Light inn instantly got sacked. Bad news as she was romancing Karlach and now can’t get her second upgrade. Lady Coolio firmly blames Isobel for "triggering like three opportunity attacks when she could have... not done that."

Died to the shadow curse a LOT. Her: “Why is everyone dying????” Me: “Remember the moon lantern?” Her: “The what?” Me: “… that thing with the swearing pixie in it” Her: “ I still have to use that????” Me: “ yes, because Isobel is dead” Her: "WHY IS SHE STILL CAUSING PROBLEMS."

Hates the Gauntlet of Shar. Asked Shadowheart, “Is Shar the only goddess with an Olympic qualifier to join her religion?”

And now a series of comments on the Dead 3's chosen: “so the bad guys are evil undead Santa, Lady Gaga and the ugliest man I’ve ever seen?”)” “Is Gale… horny for that crown??” “Maybe Myrkul would be more threatening if he wasn’t standing in an giant toilet and not moving”

On discovering the Emperor) “wait my fairy god mother is a SQUID??? oh :( ”

She did however become half illithid but hated that she ended up with varicose veins on her boobs.

Gale and Astarion then graduated to “those weak pudding men” because they kept getting stuck halfway across the map by missing jumps. Act 3

Said “Brexit means Brexit” every time she met someone who was complaining about the refugees.

Went to see Raphael at Sharess's Caress. Didn’t sign his contract “ I trust neither Lord Farquad nor squid man but I’m not selling my soul to someone who has such bad vibes.”

At Gortash's coronation. "I thought he was popular? Like seven people turned up to watch it. Is it because he's really ugly and smells like Lynx (Axe) body spray?"

She wanted to eat Orin's outfit because it looks like delicious bacon.

Walking around the city: "so where do I go??" "Anywhere you like." "I hate this."

She would not stop stealing things. I think she murdered the entire battalion of flaming fist in the lower city because "a lady's gotta eat." She also killed everyone in sorcerer’s sundries including Rolan.

Had the prototypical stress aneurysm while doing the iron throne but somehow managed to get ALL the hostages out.

Lae’zel was kidnapped by Orin for 9 in game days . When I asked about this she said “FINDING CLOWN MEAT IS MORE IMPORTANT.”

“Why does every door here lead to the sewer????? And why are there so many live mines in the sewer??”

(in the basement of the elfsong) “soo because the Emperor has a shitty basement I’m supposed to be best friend with him now? This soup recipe does not make me trust you squid man”

Halsin “nature used all its powers when crafting you” Wife “well it also crafted bacon lady (Orin) so swings and roundabouts”

Astarion stayed a spawn and she convinced Gale not to use the crown. “No one is becoming ultimate bitch on my watch”

Despite her distrust of the Emperor she still allied with him in the final fight. Because, and I quote, "Lady Coolio's goal is to stop the Absolute. The Emperor has the same goal. I don't know when I became everyone's therapist and in charge of them making better choices but I'm putting my foot down at replacing dehydrated onion queen with baldy prince king over here. The Gith's religion is not my problem."

In her canon Lady Coolio and the Emperor high fived when they won.

85 hours later and Lady Coolio is the hero of Baldur's Gate. Please enjoy this picture of our heroine.

[millilps]

Italian moment fr

so!

"Milli" comes from my first cat. she was a cat my family adopted when I was 3 (2005) and sadly crossed the rainbow bridge in 2019. we grew up together!

in middle school i started watching a lot of youtube (y'know, the classic "undiagnosed neurodivergent kid with no real close friends suddenly finds themselves with insane english skills by watching youtube") and specifically a lot of LPStube. around 2016, in high school, i decided i wanted a channel too, and i needed a mascot for it, and I knew I wanted a cat. so, when I found this LPS boardgame new in box for an affordable price on eBay, I just knew it was a match made in heaven.

why is this relevant, you might ask? see, the mascot choice wasn't random. well, I liked that shorthair, but I also thought - Milli will leave me one day. I want to remember her forever for all she did for me. and so, the gray shorthair cat, or shorthair cat 483 for lps collectors, was officially named Milli and became the mascot of my future channel.

I went through a lot of thinking and doodling and thinking again before finding a good name for the channel. how do you choose a name? should I go with my real name preceded/followed by LPS like LPSHannah? a nickname, maybe? something else entirely, like myLPSpetworld and PawesomeTV? I ended up settling on MilliLPS, mascot name followed by LPS.

after I started my channel I started gaining subscribers and meeting new people, finding new friends, and obviously those friends didn't know my name - they knew me as Milli. and so, I started using MilliLPS as my name everywhere.

I used to have a Tumblr account before this one. I don't remember what it was called, I don't remember anything, I'm pretty sure I never posted anything interesting other than reblogging some MLP art every now and then, but when I made this one I knew I had to call it millilps.

in 2024, after years of having doubts on which fursona was the main (I had a white and blue cat named Umi and a dutchie named Amethyst) i decided to make a new one. one that would match my name. and like that, i had a new fursona, a black cat with white paws, tip of the tail and patch around the left eye.

and now, 2025, 6 years after Milli left this planet and some time (months?) after I found out I am non-binary, I'm here, proudly calling myself Milli, honouring a creature that changed my life, and possibly saved it too.

Tagging @lovinglapislazuli @miaowmelodie @jikimo-world @ends-thenbegins @pimpa @donnapalude @joygirlmelii

Tag game🎉

Tag your moots and ask them where they got the idea for their tumblr accounts name!

For my name it was a nickname I was giving back in middleschool! One of our teacher had a system where we worked with 'wifi' eachtime we talked in class we lost a bar of the "wifi" (was a weird joke and we never held count on that) All the kids usually joked if they needed 'wifi' , they would borrow mine if they wanted to talk more. (I was incredibly shy in middle school, I only talked to like 3 people at school;^;)

They called me Ms. Wifi because of that. I just thought it would be funny if I put 'miss' instead of 'ms' because of my terrible actual wifi connection I have at home lol.

That's my story! Now moots, only if you guys want to, tell us your story.

Tags-> @slipping-lately @firequeenofficial @noagskryf @twinklstarrrr @halfbakedspuds @polterwasteist @rokushi-san @mygedagtes +anyone that sees this and wants to do this as well

[nomie-11]

Showing, not Telling

masterlist!

synopsis: ellie's not one to say 'i love you,' she's one to show you how she does

pairings: ellie williams x reader

Ellie had never been verbal in her affection—a byproduct of never being raised with a loving smile, Ellie didn’t know how to be verbal when expressing her love. While she hadn’t been raised with ‘I love yous’ and ‘I care for yous,’ she had learned through Joel’s gruff, unspoken ways—his careful glances, the food left on her plate when he said he wasn’t hungry, the way he’d always walk just to the front of her, keeping her tucked in where it was the safest.

That was how she learned love. That was how she showed it. 

And you—well, you didn’t need the words, not really. 

You noticed it in the way she looked at you when she thought you weren’t paying attention, a quiet sort of fondness tucked into the corners of her small smiles. The way she’d meet your eyes across a crowded hall in Jackson, smirking at something only the two of you understood. How she’d flick a piece of bread at you at dinner just to make you roll your eyes, then offer you the last bite of her food just to make sure you ate enough. 

Then there were the notes. 

Small scraps of paper, usually torn from the edges of something old or her scrappy notebook, always in her messy scrawl. They started appearing before patrols, tucked into the laces of your boots or the pockets of your jacket when you weren’t looking. 

Be careful out there, dumbass. 

Try not to get yourself killed, I’d be pissed. 

Bring me back something cool, or don’t come back at all (kidding. Kinda—i need the 34th volume of savage starlight so if you see it please bring it back)

The first time you found one, it made you laugh. The second time, it made your chest warm. The third time, you started looking forward to them, tucking them into a little wooden trinket box Ellie had made with Joel when he was trying to teach her how to woodwork. The fourth time, you started to wonder what new variation of I love you she’d come up with next. 

One particularly cold morning, as you were pulling on your boots, Ellie shoved a note into your hands before you could react. 

“Read it later,” she said, running a hand through her shorter, already-messy hair and avoiding your eyes. 

So of course, the second you were out of sight, you unfolded the paper. 

It’s really fucking freezing, and you know the cold kinda freaks me out a little, so please just be safe and wear your scarf. 

You touched the scarf at your neck, smiling to yourself. 

Then there was the way she listened. 

It wasn’t just hearing—it was listening. Really listening. 

You talked a lot. About everything, about nothing, about things that didn’t matter and things that did. And Ellie? She remembered every detail. 

You couldn’t tell if she was writing it down, but she had everything locked away in a corner of her mind somewhere. Like the time you offhandedly mentioned that you missed the taste of peaches. A week later, she shoved a dusty old can of them into your hands, looking almost embarrassed. 

“I asked Joel and he still had a can from when we were on the road,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Figured you’d want it.” 

Or the time you told her about a Fleetwood Mac song your mom used to play when you were little, something you hadn’t heard in years. And one night, weeks later, she dragged you up to her room, sat you down, and pulled out her guitar. 

It was choppy, a little off-key, but it was your song. 

When you looked at her, something tight in your chest, she just shrugged. 

“You mentioned it,” she said, strumming absentmindedly. “Figured I���d learn it.” 

That was Ellie. 

And then there were the things she did when she thought you wouldn’t notice. 

Like taking on extra work without being asked, fixing things in your little garage apartment before they broke fully, making sure the bed you shared had enough blankets before you went to sleep. 

One evening, after a long day, you dragged yourself into the stables, exhausted from an awful double shift on the wall watch duty. You were dreading the chore ahead of you—cleaning out your horse’s stall, hauling hay, checking the saddle straps. But when you got there, it was already done. 

The stall was clean, the saddle polished, fresh hay stacked neatly in the corner. 

You turned, knowing before you even saw her. 

Ellie was leaning against the wooden fence, arms crossed, a smug little grin tugging at her lips. 

“You’re welcome,” she said, before you could even ask. 

You just shook your head, smiling. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, kicking at the dirt. “You looked like you were about to keel over earlier. And I owed you for volume 34, so now we’re even.” 

You stepped closer, your hand brushing against hers. 

“Thanks, El.” 

She just nodded, glancing away—but you caught the small, please smile that she tried to hide. 

Yeah. She’d never been one for words. But she didn’t need them. Not when she loved you like this. 

a break from my usual vi programming for my new wife ellie williams!

anyways sorry for being mia i've been super sick and suffering writers block so yeah, but i'll be coming back slowly!

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[taesanluv3r]

mister badtz

han taesan x reader

pretty pink princess gf yn drags her emo black cat introvert 2cool4school bf taesan to the opening of a brand new sanrio store. taesan has a conversation with a four year old girl and its so cute and sweet and he's not as emo as he looks and omfg i love him so bad

wc: 1,717

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"ah! c'mon let's go!"

yn ln practically yells, grabbing han taesan by his left wrist and pulling him forward. the girl's pretty pink heels click and clack against the marble floors of the mall, guiding her straight for the place she looked forward to all day - like a moth to a flame, she's in awe at the sight...

the brand new (and unsettling-ly large) sanrio flagship store.

the tall boy lets out a deep sigh, his sharp eyes scanning the brightly lit store. it was huge, for one, and very very pink. just from where they stood about a feet away from the kitty-shaped door he could spot walls and walls of merchandise. he couldn't put it into words - the store, i mean - it was a bit...overwhelming, per say...the best he could describe it was that it was just so insanely her.

not that she was overwhelming - no, not at all! it was just so yn. yn and her frilly pink dresses and my melody keychains and the bows in her hair - that oddly matched the interior of the store in front of him. she was so different from him, from taesan who held her hand and stood beside her, clad in his long black coat and vintage band tee. he loved her, don't get him wrong, it's just that the mere sight of the eerily adorable store kind of freaked him out...just a bit.

"babe, why are we just standing here and not going in? and why do you look freaked out of your mind?"

yn's words shook him out of his thoughts and he looks down to meet with her eyes. doe eyes, the kind he could stare at for hours on end, the kind that melts his heart and could convince him to do anything she wanted him to. he almost gets distracted again, brain going into a tangent of his sweetest thoughts, but the furrowing of her eyebrows and pouting of her lips put a stop to it. she widens her eyes, as if to say 'hurry the fuck up before some baby steals all my my melody merch!!!!!' ; and with that he grips her hand a little tighter, another deep breath escaping his lips as though he was bracing himself.

"let's make it quick, princess...this store's kind of scary..."

she scoffs.

"okay, emo. let's go then"

the polar opposite couple enters the store, the sound of children's chatter mixed with a sweet j-pop tune hitting their eardrums. taesan watched as his girlfriend's eyes went wide - as wide and big as they could possibly get - and he swore he saw sparkling hearts decorating her pupils as well. the boy focuses in on the interior; pastel pink walls decorated with little illustrations of the brand's most famous characters, the deeper you went into the store the more merchandise you could find. each character had their own little section, and the tall boy finds himself trailing behind his girlfriend straight to where all the my melody stuff were.

taesan stands closely behind yn, watching and waiting patiently as her hands skim through every little keychain that hung on the holders on the wall. in his, a pretty red basket that got heavier and heavier as time went by. more and more people began to come in, it seemed as though the store was getting smaller - and for the boy who foolishly wore his thick coat, it seemed to be getting hotter as well.

he wasn't going to complain though, not when the love of his life looked so happy in her element- he wasn't going to ruin this for her. not a chance. he smiles softly as yn drops a pair of pompompurin socks into the basket, giggling like a little kid when she gasps at the pretty hello-kitty sculpture sitting in a corner of the shop.

"omg, babe, look at these enamel necklaces...i wonder if they have any my melody ones left..." yn presses a hand to her chest, toying with her own necklace as she scans through the selection in front of her. "i don't see one here, princess" taesan replies, doing some searching for himself. "hm...you wait right here, okay? i'm gonna ask if they have any left" he nods and watches her leave, suddenly feeling all too lonely in the middle of the crowded store.

just then he feels a hand tap onto his leg. he looks down to find the culprit, laughing to himself as he makes eye contact with the cutest little girl he's ever seen. she was tiny - well duh, she couldn't have been a day over 4 years old - choppy bangs decorated her forehead, and her little hands grasped onto a fluffy keroppi doll.

"hello mister!" she said, smiling till her eyes disappeared into her cheeks. it made his tummy warm - classic han taesan, turns into putty at the sight of such cutesy babies - "oh, hi there. what's your name?" he asks, bending down to her level. "my mommy says not to tell my name to scary strangers" his heart drops, "you think i'm scary?" he laughs when she shakes her head, "no, but you look like a villain! the villains always wear black you know...just like you mister!" her words make him look down to revise his clothing, "i guess you're right, huh...i don't really match this store, don't i?" taesan expects a nod, but to his surprise the girl shakes her head again.

"that's not true mister...you're just like bad badtz-maru!! he looks just like you mister, see!" the girl exclaims, pointing at something behind him. he turns around, breaking into a smile at the sight of the cartoon penguin who had an angry expression on it's face. "huh...i guess i do look like that, don't i?" she nods again, "what brings you here anyways, mister?" her articulate choice of words surprises him - how can a 4 year old be this clever? - "see that pretty lady over there? the one with the ribbons in her hair?" taesan asks, pointing towards yn, who was still busy looking for that my melody necklace. "mhm, i see her" the little girl replies. "that's my girlfriend, she really loves sanrio, so i came to take her here"

the kid gasps, "wow...she's really pretty and you're very kind, mister...i came here with my mommy- but she's over there paying for stuff" he doesn't say a word back but he shoots her the warmest of smiles. "i like you, mister, you're not scary...my name is kiki! what's yours?" the guy laughs at the child's sudden trust in him. "i'm taesan, it's nice to meet you, kiki" the little girl giggles, "i think bad badtz-maru fits you more...i'm calling you mister badtz!!" he smiles again, "alright then, mister badtz, it is..." he trails off, ears perking up as an older woman's voice calls for the little girl. his eyes follow as she begins to run away without another word.

tsk, kids.

"where've you been?" yn asks, smiling as her boyfriend begins to walk towards her. "a little kid came up to me and started yapping...so cute" the girl laughs, butterflies swarming through her belly at the thought of her sweet sweet taesan talking to silly children. "did you find the necklace?" he asks and she nods excitedly, "mhm! and...i got one for you too, see?" taesan looks confused at first - there's no way he would be wearing a cutesy sanrio necklace, right? - but his eyebrows soften and his eyes light up as yn picks up the silver piece of jewellery.

"bad badtz-maru!" yn almost squeals, "doesn't it look just like you?! and! and! it matches this my melody one!" the boy cracks into the biggest smile, large hands softly handling the necklace. "you like?" she asks, biting her lips in anticipation. "i love it"

finally, after what felt like a billion years of being in the store, taesan follows yn towards the register. the whole time they wait in line, the boy's eyes are still set on the necklace in his hands. the girl laughs, "why do you like it so much? just a while ago you looked like this was the last place you wanted to be in" he smiles, "that little girl i told you about before...she was telling me how much i looked like badtz-maru...i just think it's cute that you had the exact same thoughts as a four year old" yn rolls her eyes then giggles, "looks like mister emo has a soft spot for cute babies, huh?" taesan scoffs, "whatever"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"babe, help me put this on please?"

taesan drops the shopping bags onto the floor, moving to stand behind yn who began to move her hair over to one side of her shoulders. the boy wraps the silver chain around her neck, gently clasping the closure together. "done" he said, smiling as she turns around to face him. "tada~" she cheers, showing off the bedazzled enamel in the shape of her favourite character. he leans down to press a kiss on her forehead, but stands up confused when she seemed to have disappeared from his reach. his eyes wander over to where the girl squatted down now, rummaging through the hello-kitty shaped bag.

"what are you-" he doesn't get to finish his question, stepping back a little as she jumps up to stand again. "come here, i'll put your necklace on for you too!" she says, dangling the jewellery in front of his face. he obliges, turning around and bending down slightly so she could reach him a little easier. "and...there!" taesan turns back around, head hanging down to stare at his very own bedazzled enamel pendant. "eeee! so cute!" yn squeals for real this time, hopping towards him and pulling him into a hug.

han taesan pushes her off of him gently, a hand on either side of her shoulders. yn ln looks up at him with the softest of gazes, one that just reeked of ooey gooey love.

"i love you, emo" she said playing with the hemline of his coat. "and i love you, princess" he said finally, before pulling her into the deepest of true love's kisses.

"woo hoo! go get her, mister badtz!!!!"

kiki, the four year old from earlier, yells out as she witnesses a real life love story.

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

GUESS WHOS BAAAAACKKKKK!!! (maybe) :3 i love the idea of emo taekitty being in love with the most hyper feminine pink princess ever i think it's so sweet (im projecting) and im ALWAYS a sucker for taesan interacting w kids cause 🥹 awe :,) ANYWAYS i hope u enjoyed this, sorry if it wasnt my best <3 feel free to send asks, reblogs r always appreciated! love, kona.

[goddamnitmahtin]

dc x dp idea 3

Ok ok ok I don’t know if anyone has done this before. But like mad scientist x attachment ghost au. BUT it’s reverse. So instead of Danny being the dead one in this situation, it’s Tim. I don’t know how Tim would have died but it’s when he’s in his late 20s and Danny is a mechanical engineer at WE, his haunt.

Now in this AU Danny is still a halfa and he even became ghost king. But this isn’t the universe he came from and here? He’s nothing more than a very tired engineer with some meta abilities (floating, eyes glowing, just enough of his ice powers to be able to make sure his whiskey is always on the rocks). But the thing about being ghost king? It makes you immortal. Even when you’re taking a vacation in another universe.

Upon finding out the ghost king starts working at his haunt, Tim finds himself a new obsession. Danny. He can’t get enough of this nerdy guy and the amount of things he could learn from the ghost king himself? Tim is foaming at the mouth! Ugh he just HAD to be everywhere this man went! Tim was even considering making himself an attachment ghost just so he could follow him around outside of work (like Danny ever actually left).

So imagine if you will.

Danny being the only one who can see Tim as he pokes and prods him all day everyday while he works.

“If your the ghost king why are you in this dimension working for WE?”

“Ooh what does space look like?”

“Could I ethically haunt your computer?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Tell me Danny, does every ghost see the cosmos in your eyes or is it just me?”

“What are you working on anyways?”

“Did you know when I was alive, I used to fight crime?”

“Hey Danny, how old are you for real? I know you aren’t actually 27 since you’ve claimed to be 27 for the past 9 years you’ve worked here and you don’t age. Is that a Ghost King thing?”

“Did you know that Gotham used to be chock full of super villains? Most of them are retired now but back in the day? WOW was it a lot of fun to punch that clown in the nose.”

“Hey Danny, how much ectoplasm would it take to make me corporeal? I don’t wanna be, I just think it’s a cool experiment.”

“Did you know that when I was alive, some fucker took my spleen and kept it in a jar for funsies?”

“My brother Jason died twice you know. Was he like, one of your subjects after the first time or did he get a free pass?”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Have you ever been to Batburger? Is Batburger still a thing?”

“I used to be the CEO of this place, did you know that?”

“Hey Danny! Do I get cool ghost powers too if I marry you?”

“What are the Infinite Realms like? Is it cool?”

“Hey Danny, I went through your company file and I was wondering why you changed your last name to Nightingale? Is that an artistic choice?”

One day, Danny just snaps and has a full on argument with what all his coworkers on the night shift think is pure air, “WHAT WERE YOU, A STALKER WHEN YOU WERE ALIVE?!”

Tim smiles a toothy grin, “YES! AWWWW DANNY YOU DO LISTEN WHEN I TALK! Oh by the way, if you don’t fix that gear, the system is gonna blow.”

Danny does end up fixing it in time but still.

Anywho…. Tim slowly grows on Danny and after Danny has to leave the dimension because he’s gone too long without aging and his boss is getting suspicious, he decides, fuck it. He might as well take his ghost with him. Maybe he will get powers if he married him. Only one way for find out right?

[malevoreenthusiast]

Neighborly Infatuation

Trying something new here with writing from the prey's perspective. Let me know if you like it! I'm always happy to fulfill requests or asks! Enjoy!

Ever since my family had moved in to our new house on Canter Drive, I had the hots for my neighbor—Mr. Tim Saur. He was a single man, who, from what I could tell, never married, and he was always cordial with my family and especially kind to me. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when my affection for him started growing more…unhinged, but most days I would stare out my window and watch him sunbathe in the summer sun. Watching sweat cling to his hairy muscles was my sexual awakening, then reawakening, until it felt like my attraction for him never slept. And, for the most part, it didn’t. After getting home from my freshman year of college, I needed to make some money to support myself, so I thought what better way to make money than to ask Mr. Saur if he needed any help with his lawn or menial chores that would allow me to spend time with him.

So, I did that. I would go to the gym before mowing his lawn so that when I took my shirt off, my pump would potentially attract him. When I was folding his laundry, I occasionally stashed a few pairs of his obscenely stretched underwear to take home and worship. I did my best to show Mr. Saur my bulge that seemingly grew every time I was near him in hopes that he might notice. Alas, aside from a few glances here and there, Mr. Saur never seemed to reciprocate my advances. Yes, he would look at me when I was all sweaty and shirtless from mowing the lawn, but I craved more than just longing glances and “what-if.” I wanted deeper than that, so I concocted a plan that was so stupid it might work.

In the middle of the night, far past when any of my family stirred from slumber, I snuck down and out of the house in nothing but my underwear. My dick was already leaking through my boxers in anticipation for what I wanted to do. The summer night felt cool on my skin, electrifying me with thoughts of pure lust and desire. Making my way over to Mr. Saur’s back door, I quietly slid through, using my key he had gifted me a month prior. Small and dangerous creaks in the floorboards raised miniature alarm bells for an intruder in the night, but I couldn’t hear any of my neighbor’s grunts or moans synonymous with waking up. So, I continued onward.

Slowly pushing open the door to Mr. Saur's bedroom, I began stroking my cock, looking at his restful figure shining in the pale moonlight. His hairy body packed with muscle looked like a big chocolate cake, ripe for the taking. I stepped out of my underwear and slowly shimmied into bed next to him. His breath hitched, but he didn’t wake up. The cool touch of the mattress on my naked body was comforting, but I was looking for something more. I scooched in closer to the man of my desires, already feeling my cock touch his big, manly ass. I shuddered in bliss—this was everything I had ever wanted for the past several years. Slowly, with the gentility of a quiet mouse, I grabbed my neighbor by the shoulder and rolled him over so he was laying on his back. His face looked troubled, but by no means did he look like he was awake. Now, with my sexy neighbor in a prime position, I delicately wrapped an arm around him and nuzzled into his side. Thankfully, he didn’t notice or stir. It does make sense—a man as big as a bear would probably sleep like one, too. As I cuddled Mr. Saur, I went over the rest of my plan:

First, I would sneak into his bed in the middle of the night. That part was done, and I’m all set for phase two. In the morning when he awoke, I would act like we fooled around last night and that he was really drunk. Third, I would blackmail him by saying if he wouldn’t let me fuck him again, I would tell my parents and everyone in the neighborhood. Of course, there was nothing illegal about a 40-something man getting with a 19-year-old, but I think people would definitely look down upon it. My plan was perfect. All I had to do now was wait until morning and resist the urge to fuck him here and now…

“Kid, wake up!” Mr. Saur hissed. “The fuck are you doing, get up!” he shook me awake.

I smiled, knowing my plan had worked. “Goodmorning, Mr. Saur,” I said, enunciating the vowels slowly and deliberately. Fluttering my eyes open, I stared at him with an innocent expression, though my dick was harder than a steel beam. Apparently, my reaction, in his mind, confirmed that we had slept together the night prior.

“God, why does this always happen to me,” he rolled out of bed in his underwear. The morning sun illuminated his pulchritudinous body excellently, and my boner sprung from the covers of Mr. Saur’s bed. He looked at me, my throbbing cock, then back to me. “Did we…?”

I nodded whilst smiling knowingly. Mr. Saur had fallen for it right away. This worked out even better than I had imagined it would. I responded, “Oh yeah, several times. You loved it,” I mouthed, stroking my cock, signifying my readiness for “another round.”

Mr. Saur looked incredibly troubled, running his hand down his face like an exasperated cartoon character. Looking me up and down, he spoke, “Look, kid. I’m sorry I have to do this, but I can’t have anyone finding out about this.”

I faltered for a moment, unsure of what he meant. Quickly, I felt his tight grasp around my ankle, dragging me down to the foot of the bed where he was. I giggled, enjoying myself with how dominant he was showing himself to me. I stroked myself faster, moaning his name. When I thought he was about to climb on top of me in bed, he instead leaned down and put his mouth around my big toe. I didn’t take him for being such a kinky guy, but I wasn’t complaining. I wriggled my toes in his mouth and pushed my other foot to his lips to let him suck on them more. Seeing his wide eyes as he enveloped my other set of toes was orgasmic. I moaned out, “Wow, Mr. Saur. I wonder what else that mouth can fit inside of it…?”

He promptly showed me, swallowing up my feet in a large gulp. I was taken aback quite a bit; I didn’t think footjobs meant literally putting the entire person’s feet in your mouth. Still, it was kind of impressive seeing Mr. Saur’s mouth stretch over me like that. He continued staring at me with wide, predatory eyes, like I was a delectable slab of tender meat. I wiggled my hips and felt his spongy tongue lathering up the soles of my feet. He swallowed again, lurching my body downwards closer to his mouth. At this point, confusion was my primary feeling over lust. How could a human stretch their jaw like that…? Maybe this was some strange fetish I wasn’t privy to, but if Mr. Saur wanted it, I would provide.

“What’re you doing down there, handsome? Why don’t you crawl back up here and let me fuck that ass of yours again?” I tried to disengage him from…putting my legs in his mouth, but he didn't blink. All he did was swallow once again. His tight throat felt really warm and wet, and a rhythmic motion caressed my legs over and over, like he was slowly trying to gulp the rest of me down. My legs were too far down his throat for even me to find it arousing, so I tried to pull them out, only to find that I couldn’t. His throat was way too tight around me for me to be able to escape from his mouth. As I was coming to this conclusion, he swallowed again, this time widening his mouth around my thighs. My feet were tickled by a tight muscle which I assumed to be Mr. Saur’s stomach. I really didn’t know how he could do this, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to stop, unlike me. “Alright, Mister, don’t you think you’ve had your fun? You can let me go now…” I squirmed again, trying to dislodge myself from his tight, coaxing esophagus.

Mr. Saur shook his head, seizing my hips with an iron grip. In a forceful and excruciating motion, he pulled my body deeper down his mouth. Mr. Saur was actually trying to swallow me whole. What’s worse, he was succeeding. The wet, lubricated tunnel of his gullet widened around me, allowing me passage into his stomach. I didn’t know how this was possible, and I yelped in terror. How the hell was my neighbor doing this? I saw a glimpse of his stomach, which was now rounded out and bloated as my legs began expanding the curve of his hairy gut. “Mr. Saur, seriously, stop it. I don’t like this,” I began to wriggle more intensely now. His only answer was another deep, resounding gulp as my hard cock and plump cheeks entered his drooling maw.

Unfortunate in this case: I am only a man, so the immense pleasure I felt from Mr. Saur’s mouth drooling around my hefty cock and bubbly cheeks distracted me pretty terribly from the ongoing situation. His tongue expertly swirled around my head, building up my arousal and edging me closefr towards climax. He nibbled softly on my cheeks, making me giggle and squirm for him. The pleasure was so intense that I didn’t notice his next swallow, bringing me up to my abs in his seemingly endless maw. His throat still stimulated my dick, rubbing it with his tight muscle. Instinctually, I reached down my hands to stroke my cock, forgetting my situation. Mr. Saur was all too happy to oblige my hands and arms entry into his mouth so I could begin stroking my cock halfway down his throat. Lost in lust, I rubbed myself almost to climax before his plump lips wrapped around my shoulders. I couldn’t help myself anymore, as this strangely erotic feeling of getting engulfed by my neighbor brought out the worst in me. I moaned, “Oh please, Mr. Saur, you’re so fucking hot. Do I taste good, handsome? You like that?” Truly, I was a lost cause.

Barely registering Mr. Saur closing his lips around my head, I continued to jack off in his throat. My lower body had now fully entered into my neighbor’s sweltering stomach chamber and the rest of me soon followed. The plush, wet landscape of Mr. Saur’s belly was extremely soft and squishy, and his belly made so much noise that I could barely hear my own moans and dirty-talk. Gooning to the thought of Mr. Saur, I finally pumped my cock enough to erupt all over his stomach cavity. Thick, hot ropes of cum spurted from my fertile dick, coating the walls of his stomach in my potent semen. I groaned in his gut, and the indent of his hands rubbing over me was felt from every angle. I stayed there for a few more minutes, pumping my sensitive dick and squirming around in a lust-ridden haze. Eventually, I tried to prop myself up on my elbow, only to slip and fall into the juices that had started pooling below me. Then, I realized the gravity of my situation. Mr. Saur, my hot, sexy neighbor, had just swallowed me whole, and I was currently stewing away in his hairy belly. I felt him rubbing over me and belching obnoxiously as I jostled inside of him. The movements of his belly felt suspiciously like he was jacking off to my being inside of his gut. I was trying to keep my cool, but a particularly loud groan from inside his belly sent me into a frenetic panic.

Pounding on the walls of his belly, I scream, “Mr. Saur, please! Let me out!!” The movements from the outside only hastened, as if my struggles were turning him on even further. He belched, which tightened his stomach walls around me. The air was stale, and I was starting to feel claustrophobic in his gut. I pounded on his belly again, hoping he would realize this was all a big mistake and let me out, “Mr. Saur, I’m not food! You can let me out! Please!”

A big, hefty groan echoed as Mr. Saur came all over the massive dome of his belly. He patted his gut, belched, and said, “Sorry, kid, but I couldn’t have anyone finding out about us, you see. Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.”

Mr. Saur’s behemoth of a belly gurgled and churned me inside of it. He rubbed over the hairy beast slowly and seductively. As much as I hated to admit it, I was still turned on by the absolute specimen of a man who had the ability to swallow an entire human being whole. Now I wish I had actually gotten him drunk and fucked him before this morning instead of just pretending I did. This plot had horribly backfired, and now, I was getting sloshed around inside the belly of my hot neighbor. He rubbed over me, which felt distastefully comforting, like a disco ball inside of a hearse. I wriggled around until I could find a more comfortable spot and began to slowly jack off once again, unable to deny my young body it’s lust. Soon enough though, the oxygen in Mr. Saur’s belly was cut off, and I was drifting off to sleep for the final time…

About two weeks later, Mr. Saur returned home from work, ready for a nice dinner. Stepping out of his car on the driveway, he noticed my twin brother knocking on his front door. He looked down at his (slightly larger, after I was digested) belly before looking back up at my kin, thinking that I might’ve somehow, impossibly, escaped his belly. With his heart pounding, he tentatively stepped out of his car and called over to my twin, “Kid, is that… you?”

My brother Tommy bounded over to Mr. Saur, with a serious expression on his face. He responded, “Hey, Mr. Saur, I’m Zach’s brother Tommy, nice to meet you. I was coming over to see if I could ask if you maybe knew anything about where Zach went? I really miss him, and he was always talking about how fun you were… We have no idea where he could’ve gone…”

Mr. Saur’s belly growled. He pondered for a moment, before responding, “Sure thing kid. Why don’t you come on in and we can have dinner together? I need a good meal right about now.” The two waltzed in to Mr. Saur’s house, ready to have a long talk about what happened two weeks ago.

[hammerton365]

You’re in my head24/7

“Y/N,” His voice was stern, clearly fed up with your antics. “M’sorry! It’s just too much..” You groggily trailed off, body shivering at Erens forceful tone. For some back story, you and Eren had started dating 3 weeks ago.

You’d both known each other since college. You, a STEM major, and Eren, a Political Science major you’d happened to have a project together in a science class you both were required to take. You and Eren would hang out with each other between classes, just talking and sharing things that you two had in common. Up until recently you both had clearly been denying your feelings for each other that had lingered for years and decided it was best just to push them away, as Eren was clearly not one for commitment and you were deathly scared of having your heart broken, never being in a relationship or intimate before. Eren loved clubbing and you— being obsessed with him and always wanting to spend time with him, after a night of clubbing, grew tired of seeing him with a new woman every other day, going from girl to girl without any hesitancy. So after a lot of contemplation, you invited him over to confess. To your surprise, he immediately reciprocated your feelings.

And now a few weeks have flown by and you and Eren finally decided that you wanted to be intimate together. Only thing was, there was one teeeny tiny problem— You were a virgin, and never having orgasmed before, not to mention you were very sensitive down there— Something Eren wasn’t used to. At the moment you were laying on Erens silky bedding sheets soaked in sweat and arousal.

Now, you would think that you were sweating because of the marathon sex that you and Eren had indulged in, but no. Truth be told, Eren hadn’t even put his dick inside of you at this point. “C’mon, I don’t have all day, baby.” Erens patience hadn’t always been his best feature, even with you. “M’sorry..” Erens frustrated sigh comes out more of a shaky moan, preparing himself to take you. “Stop apologizing, bend your ass down and stop running from this shit.” His raspy voice sends shivers down your spine straight to your clit, making your inside pulse around nothing. Not wanting Eren to get any more impatient, and may save your chances of having some shred of pussy and sanity left after he is done with you.

You assume your position, his favorite— backshots, as you had been told by him previously. Attempting to give Eren the best arch possible. You looked back at him hoping that he would get the memo that you were ready, “You ready?” He asked, licking his lips seemingly with a fire lit behind his eyes, ready to ravage you. You nodded your head hoping that would be a good enough answer for him— clearly thinking wrong. SLAP “Answer me with words.” It was like his voice went 12 octaves deeper, his jaw clenched. “Y-Yes ‘Ren I’m ready to take you!” You moaned out. Your arousal getting the best of you. He gave your ass a few soft taps “Good job mama,”

Eren wasted absolutely no time slipping into your sweet tight heaven, only to be met with a tight ring of resistance. He lavished in the way that it squeezed around his cock head, making him hiss in pleasure. “F-Fuck haven’t broken one of these in a while…” you little soft Whimper at the stretching sting of his intruding tip, on instinct, your body jerks forward, sliding him out completely.

Before you could go very far, his arm landed on your shoulder, “Darlin’ I’m never gonna get to break you in if you don’t straighten up.” He gave your ass a stinging SLAP. He yanked your arms from in front of you where they were planted onto the bed to keep your balance, leaving you to fall flat on your face. Grabbing both wrists into one hand, and using his other to line himself back up again.

“Ur not gonna have the chance to run away this time, so you better buckle up.” Eren still had some type of humility in him so he continued to go gentle just for the first couple of minutes, sliding in and out of your hole so you could adjust before he finally decided to fully thrust in.

He threw his bed, head back, shamelessly and let out a loud growl, “Aw now that’s what I’m talking about!” he bit his lip as he was at peace to become forceful.

“This is some good fuckin’ pussy!” Your back arched into a C, as the pain slowly feed it out into a more pleasurable feeling your mouth became like a sink, spilling out noises that filled the room. The faster Eren went the more the bed creaked, you almost thought that it would break. “E-Eren fuuucckkk!”

Eren was entranced by the way that your ass met his pelvis, clapping back on him like a standing ovation. You thought it couldn’t get any better until you felt it— Eren had found your g-spot. “AH-shit-shit-shiiitt!” Your toes were curled almost painfully, Eren letting out a loud laugh

“Oh~? Seems I found that little button that makes your brain short circuit.” You somehow managed to free one of your hands from Eren’s tight grip, using it to push back on his hard abs— It’s laughable really, thinking Eren would take mercy on you virgin or not. When he was in the zone he was focused on making his partner cum, no matter what.

“Hands.” His voice was stern almost if you got in trouble for being caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

“Feels weird Erennnn!” You were going crazy at this point, feeling every vein slide in and out of your soaked walls, but by the time he was done with you you’d be no more than a pile of puddy.

“Somethings coming out— F-Feels l-ike I gotta peee~!” Your legs began shaking, Eren knew you were close, hell you’d never even had an orgasam before and even you could tell.

“Mhm, it’s okay baby, ur going to squirt— just let it all out on papa.” His thrust became sharper, more aimed. With the way you were clenching Eren felt like he could cum right on the spot. Filling your pussy up with his seed and making you his. At this point he had let go of your hands and grabbed onto your hips for leverage, slamming himself into you. When you heard your friends talking about how they wish they could get some dick they could feel in their stomach, this must be what they meant because you could swear that that’s exactly where his dick was reaching and you couldn’t be told otherwise.

Tears begin to bloom in your eyes, further wetting the sheets under you. You were reaching for anything that you could grab to possibly get away from his harsh thrust. “Stop runnin’ from it and take this shit, be a good girl for me.” he leaned down growling in your ear, then taking your earlobe into his mouth to bite.

“I’m gonna cum! Oh god, I’m gonna cum!” You yelled out, screams ricocheting off his apartment walls. Erens cock had been forming a ring around his dick of cream and your wetness, he truly wanted to pick up the creamy mess with his finger and lick his digits clean.

His arms closed around your neck walking you in a chokehold he took it upon himself to begin sucking, hickeys into your shoulder in the side of your neck. His balls were slapping your clit making your eyes cross. His hand going to your chin and making you look into his eyes, enveloping you in a steamy kiss.

Pulling away he continued to look into your eyes, “You. Love. This. dick. Don’t you?” He held a firm look in his eyes, expecting no other answer than yes.

“Fuckkk yeahhh! FUCK!” You knew you were tipping over the edge when your vision was blurred white, it’s almost like the world around you disappeared, and all you could feel was the simmering heat of your orgasm. The feeling shot through like a strike of lightning, making your body lock up in your back arch almost painfully. you screamed out bloody murder, neighbors would almost think someone was plummeting a knife in your back if it weren’t for the sound on the headboard slamming against the wall. You juices slipping past your tight hold wetting up Erens pelvis.

“Ren-! Please slow down, can't take it s’ too much!” You were panting and wontonly moaning, “Take some out!” In response Eren grabs the headboard plowing into you like there’s no tomorrow, ravaging your pussy. “You creamin’ on my shit like the good girl you are?” Eren felt his orgasm approaching, quickly pulling out not wanting to cum just yet— at the night was still you and all you two had was time.

With heavy breaths, both you and Eren panting pushing himself off the bed, he grabbed your foot and pulled you to the edge pressing your knees right under your breast. “I don’t know what you think ur doin’ trying to catch a break but We’re not even close to done sweetheart.” You knew it was going to be a long night…

[saebyeokbliss]

ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU— PART XIII.

synopsis: on a cold january day, you were worrying about the reason your girlfriend wasn’t texting back. when she finally does and asks to meet at your apartment, you’re met with heartbreak as she ends your relationship. no explanation. two years later, you run into her at a cafe with someone new. what are you to do?

warnings: brief mentions of death. cute cheol (i love him so much he's a lil sweetie), self-doubt, rude sae-byeok a little, some fluff actually, light angst

pairing: sae-byeok x fem!reader

Sae-byeok had been avoiding you.

It was obvious.

Before the kiss, she had at least acknowledged you at work—silent glances across the diner, the occasional mumble when passing by, the rare moments where her hand would brush against yours when reaching for the same plate. But now?

Nothing.

She barely looked at you. If she did, it was fleeting, like she was afraid too much eye contact might set something on fire. Conversations were clipped, interactions stiff. You weren’t even sure if she was mad at you or mad at herself. Maybe both.

And it was driving you insane.

It was getting close to closing time when the bell above the diner door jingled, and in walked Ji-yeong—Cheol trailing beside her, his small hand clutching hers tightly.

Sae-byeok, who had been wiping down the counter, visibly tensed at the sight of them.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Ji-yeong grinned, pulling Cheol toward an empty booth. “What? We can’t come visit you?” She plopped down into the seat and patted the spot beside her for Cheol to sit. “I figured it’s been a while since we had a nice, family dinner.”

Sae-byeok sighed, rubbing her temple. “Ji-yeong…”

“I want diner food,” Cheol chimed in, swinging his legs under the table. “And I wanted to see you.” His big brown eyes locked onto Sae-byeok’s, making her expression soften instantly.

She sighed, defeated. “Fine. But don’t cause trouble.”

Ji-yeong gasped dramatically. “Me? Cause trouble?”

Sae-byeok shot her a glare, but Ji-yeong only smirked, clearly enjoying herself.

And then she spotted you behind the counter.

“Ohh,” Ji-yeong said, dragging out the syllable like she had just uncovered a great secret. She leaned toward Cheol, whispering something in his ear.

Cheol’s eyes lit up. He perked up in his seat, waving enthusiastically in your direction. “Noona!”

You smiled, walking over to their table, dish rag still in hand. “Hey, Cheol,” you said warmly. “You here for dinner?”

“Yup! You should eat with us,” he said earnestly.

Sae-byeok stiffened. Ji-yeong grinned.

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Ji-yeong said, her voice dripping with mischief. She turned to Sae-byeok, her eyebrows waggling. “Right, Sae-byeok? Since her shift is basically over, she should totally eat with us.”

Sae-byeok shot her a glare that could have melted steel. “Ji-yeong—”

“Please?” Cheol added, giving Sae-byeok the same wide-eyed look that always made her fold.

Sae-byeok sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Fine.”

Ji-yeong beamed in victory.

You tried not to smirk.

Sitting down with them felt almost natural, like slipping into something familiar.

Cheol was practically vibrating with excitement, kicking his feet beneath the table as he babbled about school, his favorite cartoons, and how Ji-yeong had let him eat ice cream before dinner (which earned Ji-yeong a very pointed look from Sae-byeok).

Ji-yeong, of course, took every opportunity to tease Sae-byeok, nudging her under the table whenever she got too quiet.

And you?

You couldn’t help but steal glances at Sae-byeok, watching the way her usual cold exterior softened when she looked at Cheol. Watching the way she tried (and failed) to hide her amusement at Ji-yeong’s antics. Watching the way her shoulders slowly relaxed as dinner went on, like she was allowing herself to enjoy this moment, even if just for a little while.

At one point, Cheol got ketchup all over his cheek, and you instinctively reached over with a napkin to wipe it off.

“There,” you said, smiling at him. “All clean.”

Cheol beamed up at you. “Thanks, Noona!”

Sae-byeok stared.

She didn’t mean to. But something about the way you interacted with Cheol—so effortlessly, so warmly—made something inside her ache.

It wasn’t just Cheol.

It was Ji-yeong too. You laughed at her stupid jokes, she laughed at yours. The way you fit so naturally into this moment, like you belonged here. Like you had always belonged here.

And maybe, once, you had.

A long time ago, before she messed everything up.

Before she left.

She swallowed hard, looking away.

Ji-yeong caught it, of course. She didn’t say anything—just smirked into her drink, nudging Sae-byeok under the table again.

Sae-byeok ignored her.

By the time dinner was over, the tension in Sae-byeok’s chest had twisted into something different. Something she didn’t want to name.

Because watching you with Cheol and Ji-yeong, hearing your laughter mix with theirs, seeing the way you fit so seamlessly into this moment—it reminded her of something she had tried so hard to bury.

She was falling for you.

Again.

Like she had never stopped.

And that terrified her.

Because she knew—no matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise—she didn’t deserve this.

Didn’t deserve you.

But damn it, she wanted to.

More than anything.

You weren’t expecting her.

After dinner, after the way Sae-byeok had spent the entire night not looking at you, you figured she was going to keep avoiding you. That the wall she had built between you two was too thick, too heavy with guilt to be broken down.

But then, just past midnight, there was a knock at your door.

You hesitated before opening it, pulse quickening when you saw her standing there—hair slightly disheveled, hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket, eyes filled with something unreadable.

She looked nervous.

Sae-byeok never looked nervous.

“…Hey,” you said softly.

She shifted on her feet, glancing down at the ground before meeting your gaze. “Can I come in?”

You stepped aside without a word, closing the door behind her as she walked in. She didn’t sit down. She just stood there in the middle of your apartment, arms crossed, shoulders tense.

Like she was bracing herself for something.

You swallowed. “Sae-byeok, what’s going on?”

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I need to tell you why I’ve been avoiding you.”

You folded your arms, leaning against the couch. “I figured it was because of the kiss.”

She flinched slightly but didn’t deny it. “It’s… more than that.”

Silence.

Then, finally—

“I don’t think I deserve to be with you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You stared at her, heart tightening. “What?”

Sae-byeok’s jaw tightened, and when she spoke again, her voice was raw, like she was forcing the words out despite every instinct telling her to keep them buried.

“I told you everything,” she said. “About Deok-su. About the games. About the people I—” She stopped, shaking her head. “I’ve done things, terrible things, and I don’t want you to be with someone like me.”

You took a step forward. “Sae—”

“I killed him,” she interrupted, her voice harsh, almost desperate. “I stabbed him in the heart and watched him die, and I don’t regret it. I don’t regret any of it. And that… that scares me.”

Her breathing was uneven now, her hands clenched into fists. “I wanted to believe that if I kept you at a distance, if I didn’t let myself feel this, then maybe it wouldn’t matter. That maybe I wouldn’t have to face the fact that the person you think I am—the person I want to be when I’m with you—isn’t real.”

She swallowed hard, finally looking at you again. “You deserve someone better.”

You stared at her for a long moment, letting her words settle.

Then, without thinking, you crossed the space between you and grabbed her face, pulling her into a kiss.

She stiffened at first, like she hadn’t been expecting it, but then she melted into you, her hands gripping your waist as if she was afraid you’d disappear. The kiss was deep, slow, lingering—filled with every unspoken word between you.

When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against hers, your breaths mingling in the quiet space between you.

“I wasn’t dwelling on any of that,” you whispered.

She blinked, lips slightly parted. “What?”

“I wasn’t sitting here thinking about what you did in the games, or about Deok-su, or about anything else you’re torturing yourself over,” you said. “The only thing I was thinking about after that kiss was how much I missed you.”

Her breath hitched.

“I spent two years thinking I’d never see you again,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly. “Two years wondering why you left, wondering what I did wrong. And then you kissed me, and for the first time in years, I felt something again. And now you’re standing here, acting like I should hate you, but all I want to do is—”

You kissed her again, softer this time, slower.

When you pulled away, she was looking at you like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“…You shouldn’t forgive me so easily,” she murmured, but her hands were still gripping your waist, like she couldn’t bear to let go.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Too bad.”

She let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and for the first time in a long time, her shoulders relaxed.

Neither of you spoke for a moment. You just stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the weight of the past slowly lifting.

Finally, she whispered, “I don’t know how to do this.”

You squeezed her hand. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”

And for the first time in a long time, Sae-byeok let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she deserved this after all.

taglist: @monroesturnns@everly-summers-solace@holyshtimgay@knfthxv@delfinadolphin@madebysae@jetaimeeeee@m0rtifiedg0th@katieschry1@erika-mon2-blog@tcvazq

[fyxestroll]

Twelve: Cracks in the Garden

pairing: roboute guilliman x reader (fem.)

description: one of roboute's long-awaited visits is cut short by someone he should've expected

warnings: gallan being a creep, mentions of slaves/slavery

masterlist

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“It’s a draw then.”

Roboute couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face as he stared at the regicide board. His mind replays the game a hundred times trying to find a missed opportunity, a blunder on your he’d missed at the moment. He found none.

His disappointment deepens.

“You lost intentionally.”

“It’s a draw Roboute. Neither of us won nor lost.”

“Proposing a draw is considered the same as admitting defeat.” 

He expects a counter, a refute.

You don’t give him one. Instead, you reach across the table and squeeze his cheek. “Just take the win will you?”

Childishly he shakes his head and mutters a ‘no’. It’s the nth time you’ve done this, losing intentionally at your games of regicide at the very moment you would’ve gotten two over him. It frustrates him to no end and when he attempts to confront you, you’d simply squeeze his cheek or shrug. It’s safe to say that he’s never gotten an actual answer.

You begin to set the pieces on the board. “Do you want to go again?” 

“Sure. I choose black this time.” And he straightens himself and meets your eyes in challenge as he’d done so for years. A cool breeze blows by rustling the trees and tall shrubs in the garden sounding like the chime of small bells to Roboute’s ear. The sunlight that streamed through the thin canopy danced with the wind and gave your eyes a shine that outshined the seven wonders of Mcragge.

For a moment time slows as Roboute commits every single detail to memory. There’s a telltale warmth he feels in his chest as he observes you. He quickly pushes it down, and shoves the thought of addressing that warmth to the back of his mind. Doing so felt like that ancient myth of a girl and the box of misfortune.

You make your move.

Time resumes with the ding! of the timer.

The opening you went with is a simple one, the king’s pawn moved up twice. He mirrors the move and bumps the timer.

The few seconds of silence feel like hours as you think of your next move. This is the thrill Roboute has found in Regicde, it’s a subtle sort of thrill unlike the chariot races he’s come to enjoy as of late and it all depended on his opponent. It had less to do with skill and more so with knowing who faced him across the table.

It was all about knowing your enemy and  Roboute knows he knows you better than anybody else. Still, that did not mean you could no longer surprise him.

You move your king up.

Roboute exhales through his nose.

“Really?”

You shrug, pressing the timer once again. “Felt like trying something new.”

‘Guess that makes sense.’  He bobbles his head and moves up another pawn. Just as he sets the piece down a strong gust of wind knocks it over. He tries to pause the timer but is interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice calling out your name.

A quick glance at you and Roboute could tell you were not expecting this guest today.

“Dear!”

In a flash, there’s a smile on your face, “Uncle!” You greet the man, enthusiastically waving the man over. Roboute had always found Gallan awkward to be around, he was nice sure but something just felt wrong about him. That feeling had only solidified itself once he became his father’s aide nearly a year ago. 

Thanks to Tarasha he’s grown out of childishly expressing his dislike of the former consul-turned-senator, especially in front of you so he says nothing as your uncle kisses your cheeks and lingers half a second too long. He ignores the lead-weighted knots forming at the pit of his stomach.

A hand is held up to him and he shakes it. “Well, it’s good to see you too, Roboute.” 

He forces a polite smile, “To you as well, sir.” Gallan’s grip on his hands is clammy.

“Good, good. And your father, boy?”

And odd question. 

Roboute answers nonetheless, “He is well, sir.”

Gallan smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “That’s good to hear. I haven’t heard from him for a while now.” He lets go of Roboute’s hand.

Roboute restrains himself from wiping his palm.

“Uncle,” you intermit before Gallan could say anything else to him, “what brings you here?” 

Gallan glances at Roboute with barely hidden distrust in his eyes and goes up to your ear to whisper: “The election. I need assurance on Pompilius’ vote.” 

You whisper back, “Consider it done.” You’ve taken a more solemn and serious tone he’s come to associate with you working. Gallan continues to prattle names—all names of various centuries, in a hushed tone. None were necessarily someone to take note of but the writing on the wall was clear.

Gallan would return to the consulship after losing out on it to his mother twice.

Roboute’s neither surprised nor shocked. Gallan’s the leader and face of the conservative majority of the senate and Tarasha’s popularity among the aristocracy has slowly declined due to her more direct approach to dealing with corruption.  

Your uncle leaves soon after that but not before putting a stack of parchment and a data slate on the table and kissing you on the forehead. In doing so he’d knocked away the pieces on the board.

‘Rude,’ Roboute thought sourly.

Once he was out of sight you sighed and looked to him. “I’m sorry.” The distress on your face is clear.

“It’s fine—”

“No, no it’s not. It’s my…day off and I promised to spend it with you. Who knows when we’ll be able to have free time together again.”

“We’ll make it work—I’ll make it work,” Roboute finds himself surprised at the promises spilling from his mouth. He wasn’t the type to make or want promises, he preferred the guarantee of schedules and deals but here he was mouthing off pledges like water falling from a waterfall.

And from the look of it, you were just as surprised as him. 

“...You don’t have to do all that...” 

He shakes his head, “I’m only making it even. I know it took you forever to convince your uncle for me to visit.” 

“I–” you hesitate and switch the topic, “I’ll walk you out.”

“No need, I know my way out,” Roboute gestures to the stack of paperwork left behind, “and you should probably get started on those. I know my way out, don’t worry.”

You open your mouth to retort but he shuts it down by pressing his pointer finger against your forehead. “I’ll be fine.”

Glaring and huffing you respond, “Fine.”

And he smiles, says his goodbyes and leaves the property all the while feeling sets of eyes following him every step of the way. 

Robot wasn’t surprised, your uncle was strict about you. 

He’d always been a bit strict.  

When the two of you were younger you wouldn’t be allowed to spend time together alone. A…bondaged person—-the ones that would be sent to fight in the arenas, would always be sent to watch over you, silently looming in the corner their presence near unnoticeable. 

It hadn’t gotten any better after you came of age.

Still, ‘Gallan has his reasons’ he reminds himself over and over.  It does little to silence that creeping feeling he’s come to associate with the man the entire trip home.

As usual, dinner is wordless and in place of chatter is the rhythmic clinks of utensils against fine ceramic plates. Tonight’s meal consisted of an array of dishes that was far too many for two people to eat. A middle-aged woman, a cupbearer stands off to the side watching the two nobles eat while her own stomach grumbles, hunger racking her body. 

She does not sound her pain, and instead, focuses on the young woman sitting next to her master. 

“You know I don’t like you associating with the Guilliman boy.” He voices out. The young woman freezes, sparing the cupbearer a brief glance before looking down at her plate.

“It was just a brief visit we only played a few games.” 

She sounded like a young child caught disobeying her parents. It squeezes at the cup bearer’s heart; she had been a mother once but her child is no longer her’s.

Her master tuts, “That doesn’t matter,” the young woman clenches her fork tighter, “And you know that. That boy is different, dangerous.”

“He’s–”

“An outsider, someone, no, something from beyond the sky. Those fools may call it a son, a boy, a child. Still, it does not erase that something is different from that thing,”  The cupbearer’s master places a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. He continues his tangent, “Sooner or later you will oppose each other and you must stand victorious for me, for our dream so avoid that boy from now on.”

The young woman bites her lip and with a harsh exhale she finally answers, “Yes, Uncle.”

The cupbearer could only feel pity for her.

note: whew trying to make up political stuff is hard. i swear i didnt forget about this fic!! i was mostly stuck on how to write reader's relationship with gallan so i kept restarting in my drafts

[cupidbedsy]

emma ! Congrats on 1k !! I'm so happy for you ! Mwah !

can I get🪻with the prompt "Stop giving me hope. It hurts so much more." for Luke Hughes please !

How about the reader and Luke dating but he's going to Jersey so they decide to end things, but Luke just keeps giving reader hope. Maybe it ends with one showing up to the others place?

but, if you get another idea feel free to do it ! 🫶🏼🧡

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked lonely lavender 🪻 !

warnings: breakup, reader not really trying to fight for the two of them

word count: 774

florist cupid: thank you ana 😚 i hope you enjoy some little lukey angst mhm

both of you knew it was going to happen soon, between the rumors online and between the talks luke's been having, you knew it was coming up but neither of you wanted to be the first to bring it up.

so for two weeks, you acted like everything was normal: hanging out in your rooms watching movies, going out on date nights, and taking late-night drives around campus.

but soon the anxiety started to eat at you, not knowing what your future was going to be like once he left, if you two would make it through the two years you still had to be in michigan.

luke could see it tearing you down every time you guys hung out, you bit your lip more than usual, went from leaning into his hugs to scooting away from him a second later, short text messages, the lot.

the lack of communication between you two was putting a damper on any hope you could have had for your relationship after he went to new jersey, and now? maybe you weren't so sure if you should continue this.

you showed up to his place after your last class of the day. you knew he didn't have practice and it was uncommon for you to come by unannounced, everyone had gotten used to you walking in, saying your quick greetings and then making your way to luke's room without another word.

you knocked softly on his door, twisting the handle once you heard his familiar 'come in'. you walked in, setting your bag on the ground near the door and made your way over to his bed, sitting on it.

"hey baby."

you internally cringed at how happy he looked, he had been putting on a brave face for the both of you these past few weeks. as much as he wanted this to work out and keep you by his side for the rest of his life, he knew he couldn't, but maybe he would change your mind.

"hi."

there was no mistaking luke's frown when he heard your soft voice, almost as if you were scared all the words would tumble out as soon as you opened your mouth.

"what's wrong?"

you took a deep breath before speaking, "i don't think i can do this anymore."

"what do you mean?"

"i mean that you're going away soon and i don't know if i can do this whole long-distance thing. you're going to be busy with practice and games and i'll be busy with homework and exams and i just- i'm scared we'll get too engrossed in our lives and forget about each other."

"i wouldn't forget you, y/n/n-"

"luke... maybe it's for the best. maybe we need to focus on ourselves and just not worry about putting each other on the back burner."

"sweetheart, i would never put you on the back burner. you're the most important person in my life, i'm always going to put you first." he reached for your hand, taking it in his larger ones, warmth radiating through you.

tears pricked your eyes and you did everything in your power to keep them in, but as soon as one fell, the others were quick to follow.

you shook your head at his words as they finally registered in your mind, "luke we can't. we're going to get so busy and-"

"i'm going to do everything i can to make sure you feel like i want you in my life, because i do, baby. nothing, not even 600 miles, is going to change that."

your voice cracked as you spoke again, "stop giving me hope, lukey. it hurts so much."

luke could feel his heartbreak at both your words and your voice crack. slowly he released your hand, nodding as you stood up and walked toward your bag.

no more words were spoken between you two, just the unspoken agreement that the past year and a half were nothing more than a memory now.

━。゜✿ ゜。━

two days later and luke was gone, in new jersey and all you were left was the deep pit in your stomach of guilt and sadness. you missed him, much more than you thought you would and much more than you wished you would.

you were so overwhelmed with the guilty feeling that you couldn't help your impromptu trip to new jersey. and now here you were, standing in front of jack's apartment getting ready to knock.

but just as you were about to rap your knuckles against the door, the door opened and you were met with the face of your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend.

"y/n?"

"luke."

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

[judespoets]

THE PROPHECY

summary: Surely moving to a whole other country to get away from your ex would give you a chance to restart, right? But that’s apparently not what was planned for you.

You came to Madrid to start off completely new, new job, new friends and no seeing familiar faces- until you do, but that’s not Jude is it? Surely that’s not the Jude Bellingham you knew oh so well as a kid, or is it him?

What happens when you see your childhood best friend after so many years again? Does he remember you and is the connection as strong as it was back then? What does the prophecy say for you?

chapter one | new

The air in Madrid was warm, the rays of sun shining through the little amount of clouds in the sky making the tiny amount of freckles on your face visible. But the comfort you usually felt during the summer when the sun was warm and the birds were chirping, wasn’t there. Instead you felt a weird sense of emptiness, a feeling of not belonging made its way through your body as you wandered through the streets of your new home.

Home. You said that word so often, every time you came to the house you lived in to be exact but have you ever felt like you were at home? Definitely not in last few months of your relationship and that was what made the situation you were in even weirder.

You were never single and an adult at the same time. All you have ever known was being in a relationship and you thought it would be like that for the rest of your life. But being alone, in a new city, without knowing anyone so suddenly was very new and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t scare you.

But you didn’t have any other choice. You couldn’t go anywhere in London without seeing his face. Everywhere you went, you’ve been there with him. As long as your relationship was, it was almost impossible to find a spot you haven’t been together. So you took the first opportunity you were given, which was accepting the promotion that was partly the reason of your breakup. Away from his face, away from your family, your friends, and away from the pain you felt every day after he said he didn’t want to try and you saw him with another woman. Honestly, everything was falling apart long before telling him you had to try long distance. But sitting there, looking into the eyes you once knew so well, was all the confirmation you needed in that moment.

So running away sounded like a good plan but right now you weren’t so sure if it really was. If you could ever make this place feel like home, if you could ever find something that felt like home.

Now standing in the empty living room which was filled with unopened, brown boxes made you feel exhausted, desperate even. How on earth would you do this? How on earth did you ever believe you even could? You were never this impulsive before and it scared you. It scared you to get to know the person you were, because as long as you’ve known, you never had to. He knew you, but did you?

A sharp ,loud ring pulled you out of your thoughts. Your phone which you were absentmindedly clutching in your hand was ringing.

“Hello?” You answered, you didn’t even look at who was calling you, too wrapped up in your own little bubble.

“Y/N!” A loud, high pitched but familiar voice rang through the created silence of your new living room. “Girl, when I said “do something unexpected” I didn’t mean just run away to a whole other country.” The girl, who was known as Ellie, also as your best friend, stated from the other line of the phone.

“Oh. Well yeah.” You answered, not having planned about telling her about your big move.

“What do you mean “well yeah”? You’re in Spain, Y/N! How long do you plan on staying anyway?” She asked, sounding sure of you using this as a trip, a trip to just get away. But she didn’t know it was so much more than that.

“Uhm, you know. It’s a one-way ticket so.” You said, silently hoping that you didn’t have to speak the truth out loud. Especially not to Ellie.

“A fucking one-way ticket? Y/N, what the hell is going on?” She spoke, softly but also demanding, not sure about how to react to the news.

“Well I told you about the promotion.” You said, still not getting to the actual point.

“Yeah, a promotion as a physiotherapist for a football team- no way! You’re not serious.” She said, interrupting herself, slowly catching up on what you were trying to tell her.

“Yeah. I’m gonna stay here for a while, see how it works out, you know?” You asked, unsure about her reaction.

“So you moved to Spain? Where exactly?” She asked, sadness clinging to her words.

“Madrid.” You answered shortly.

“Okay. What about Toby?” Boom. Toby. The reason you even ran away, the reason this was all even happening.

“Uhm, we- he- uhm, well you know, we broke up.” You stammered. It was the first time you actually said the words out loud, and it hit you harder every time you thought of that.

“You what?!” She almost screamed, completely shocked about the news. “Why? When? And why haven’t you told me, babe?”

“Uhm, two weeks ago.” You said, the emotions slowly creeping up to your eyes.

“Oh babe, what was the reason?” You heard her ask carefully, scared to touch the sentimental topic.

“Uhm, it was a few things. The promotion, he didn’t want to try long-distance and, and he uhm- he cheated.” You breathed out, choking on the last word, the tears prickling in your eyes.

Your position changed too. You were sitting down, down on the cold floor in the center of the empty room. It was almost a beautiful scene if the topic between you two wasn’t so depressing.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry, y/n. I don’t know what to say, i wish i could hug you.” She stated, a weird silence ringing through the line.

“It’s okay.” You sighed, not knowing what to say either.

“Look, if you want to talk about it, you know i’m here, right? I will always be, even if you’re this far away.” Ellie told you reassuringly. She had this talent of making you feel heard and not alone even if she wasn’t in the same room as you.

“I appreciate you so much, El. I gotta go tho, gotta unpack all of my stuff, I’m starting tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay. Please call me, okay?” She asked, the fear of losing you because of this distance pretty evident in her way of talking.

And just after you assured her you would call the second you could and hanging up the phone, everything came crashing down. Every emotion you were desperately trying to hold in the last two weeks. The pain of being cheated on, the fear of moving away completely alone and the hiraeth to Toby. You were curled up on the floor, the tears no intention of stopping and the sun outside slowly setting, marking the end of the day that you so desperately wanted to end.

A gasp escaped your lips, as you quickly sat up, feeling the outcome of sleeping on the floor in your bones.

Your heart was racing, the sun was out, but one glance at the clock on your phone and you could calm down. It was 6 in the morning so you decided against another session of sleep and for slowly getting ready.

So you got up from your uncomfortable position on the floor and started rummaging through the boxes that were still unpacked, in need of your beloved coffee machine and a mug.

So there you sat, on the floor in an empty apartment in the middle of Madrid, coffee machine plugged into the nearest power outlet you could find, hair still messy from your rather uncomfortable night of sleep and bags under your eyes like you didn’t close them for a week.

This whole thing was wearing you out and you were just hoping it was all worth it.

Two hours later and you were sitting in your car on the way to the location of your new job. You felt weird, looked put together tho, that was all that counted.

It was funny, because you yourself didn’t even know what you were walking into in just a few minutes because the only thing you knew about this new job is that it was for a football club, you didn’t know which one neither how professional it was, you would continue your work as a physiotherapist, that was what you knew. That at least was what your boss told you just a few weeks ago when he said you would be promoted within the company. And when he told you it’s in Spain you immediately agreed, no further questions, so here you are, car parked at the exact location that was given you.

Turning off the car and stepping out, you finally looked up and greeting you was nothing other than the big, silver, shining badge of Real Madrid right at the entrance of the facility.

The disbelief was probably more than evident in your face after you checked the location three times, in fear that you typed it in wrong, but this was it. So as scared as you were, you opened the doors, walking up to the register where a nice woman greeted you and told you your ways.

And just as you were walking down the corridor towards the head coaches office, you bumped into someone, making the stack of papers in your arms fall right down to the floor.

“Y/N?”

——

thank you so much for reading this! please let me know what you think!

[lightsoutmatthews]

Say you won’t let go - Mikko Rantanen

summary: Mikko gets traded to the Carolina Hurricanes, what does that mean for your relationship?

pairing: Mikko Rantanen x female!reader

warnings: angst (a lot)

words: 2.4k

authors note:

* Thank you SO much for the positive response to "New Rules", I´m glad people liked it

* The Avs were on a road trip when Mikko got traded but for the sake of this we ignore that

—————————————————————————

The rain pounded heavy against the windows of your Denver apartment. The mood outside fitting to the mood inside the walls. A notification you never thought you would get. Obviously, you knew it was possible, but Mikko was the Avalanche alongside Nate, Cale and Gabe, never in a million years would you have expected him to be traded.

After the initial shock waved off uncertainty creeped up inside your head. What would happen between you and Mikko?

You had only been dating for about 9 months at this point, had never lived together or even spend more than a few nights at the same place together. Sure, you said “I love you”, you spent every second possible together and you were there for each other like no one had been there for you before, but this was bigger than being apart for two weeks when he was on the seasons longest road trip.

Messages started to ping on your phone before you could think further. The Avs better halves group chat reacting to the trade, family and friends texting. You ignored all of it. Talking to anyone but Mikko about this was the least thing you wanted to do right now.

He was out with some of the guys, enjoying a rare night off with a drink at a bar and good food. At least he was with the guys when the news hit, you thought, anxiously pacing the living room. You hated this.

The phone ringing almost made you jump out of your skin. Mel Landeskog. The screen read. You pressed the decline button. She meant well, you knew she did, but you couldn’t speak to anyone right now.

I love you.

A text sent to Mikko a few minutes after the initial news hit. It went unanswered. You wanted to text again, asking when he would be back from the bar, if he wanted you to come over but you didn’t want to seem clingy. He needed to process this too.

An hour ticked past; you didn’t hear from him. It was almost 11 now and you were getting worried. You had checked the Hurricanes schedule as soon as you processed the initial emotions. He would have to be on Long Island by tomorrow in the afternoon to play his first game.

Reluctantly you went to bed after another 30 minutes of waiting, knowing tomorrow would be emotionally even more draining than this evening. Minutes, that felt like hours, of tossing and turning, your mind racing at a mile a minute as you tried not to be too worried about the man you kept so close to your heart.

The rain was still pouring outside, the soft sounds of it hitting your bedroom window doing nothing to help you fall asleep. Another turn, another click on the screen of your phone to check if he had texted you back. A sting in your heart when the screen still came up empty.

Deep breaths, in and out, it’s going to be okay, you will be fine, he will be fine.

-------------------------------

The sudden rapid knocks at your door made you jump. You checked your phone again. A few minutes after 1 am. There was only one person you expected to be on the other side of the door at this time of the night.

The image outside the door ripped your heart in a million little pieces. Mikko looked about as good as you felt. Two big suitcases next to him, his favorite backpack slung over his shoulder. He was dripping from the rain he must have walked through. Eyes shot red like he had been crying.

He said nothing as he entered your apartment after you stepped aside to let him in. The silence that filled the living room was almost unbearable, but you didn’t know what to say. Nothing that you could say would make this situation any better.

You wanted to ask him if he was okay, but you knew he was not. Why would he? He´d been with the Avalanche for 10 years. He thought he would be an Av for live and just like that it was ripped away from him. You didn’t know the details, at this point you didn’t want to know either, but it must have been bad if they pulled the trigger this fast.

A loud sigh left your boyfriends mouth before he slumped down on your couch. It didn’t matter that he was still wearing his soaking jacked and made your throw pillows and blanket all wet.

Sitting down on the other side of the couch, giving him space, you twirled your thumbs around and waited for anything to happen. For him to break the silence, to just say anything that would give you the reassurance that everything will turn out okay.

Minutes passed in silence. “Come here, Rakas.” You almost flinched when he spoke. He lifted one arm, signalizing for you to cuddle against him like you had done thousands of times before. It felt heavier this time. So much heavier than everything you had done in your relationship.

Settled against his side he began to play with your hair, tension radiating from his body like heat radiated from a heater in a cold winter night. More minutes passed with no speaking at all.

You took a deep breath, the silence becoming too much for you to bear. “I´m sorry, Mik.” Another heavy sigh from the man besides you. “It´s not your fault.” A soft kiss placed to the top of your head, almost like it was reassurance.

“When are you leaving?” You didn’t want to know. You had mere hours left before he would move to a completely different state. “They chartered a plane eleven.”

You buried your head in his side to try and fight the tears, but they were impossible to stop. He obviously noticed even though you tried to keep him oblivious. He knew you too well. “We´ll figure it out, I promise.” He whispered into your hair. A weak attempt to make you feel better about the situation.

Both of you knew that there was a question that hung in the air but neither of you wanted to speak. Each other’s company brought comfort in a time where it was desperately needed. More silence followed until you were no longer sure how long you laid on the couch.

“What now, Mikko?” Your words hung in the air for a few seconds before he shifted to sit up again and dropped his head into his hands. “I wish I knew.” His voice was heavy with sadness.

“I will move to Raleigh. They´re setting me up with an apartment that should be ready by the time the road trip is over. I need to contact movers to pack up all the stuff from the house. I need to figure out what I will do with the house in the first place.” He was rambling. You let him because you were glad he was talking.

“I need to get my stuff from the team tomorrow. I didn’t even get the chance to say bye to most of the guys.” His hand smacked down on the soft fabric of one of your decorative pillows. “This whole situation is just so frustrating.”

You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend in an attempt to take some of the frustrations away. You didn’t know if it would help but when he relaxed into your hold you knew he appreciated it.

“It will turn out okay. You don’t have to do everything now. The house can be a problem for the off-season.” A slight nod that you only felt because his head was pressed against your shoulder.

“Raleigh is a nice city. I heard only good things about the Canes players. Sebastian and Jesperi are there. So are Tyson and Sean. It´s not all bad, honey.” An unrecognizable grunt from him. You knew that would not make it better.

“What will happen to us, Mikko?” A heavy question. You knew you had only been dating for a few months. You weren’t expecting him to ask you to move with him. Right in this moment, you weren´t even sure if you wanted him to ask.

Your job, your friends and family, everything you had built over the years before you met him were in Denver. Were you prepared to leave it all behind for a man you didn’t even know a year ago?

On the one hand you were. You loved Mikko, obviously. You could not imagine a life he wasn’t in anymore. On the other hand, you wondered what would be if this is not working out. What if you broke up? You didn’t want to imagine breaking up but, in this scenario, you had to.

You would have to build a whole new life in Raleigh. New friends, new work. No work? You didn’t even know if it was worth it. The season would be over in a few months and who knew if he would re-sign with the Hurricanes or if you had to move again by July.

With each second that passed without an answer from him your heart grew heavier. Of course, it was a lot to consider but you secretly hoped he had already made up his mind when he ghosted you for hours earlier in the night.

“Your whole life is here.” You heart sank. “I don’t want to be selfish and take you away from it.” Your hands started to tremble. “Mikko…” You were prepared to argue, to show him that he should reconsider, but he stopped you by raising his hand.

“Sweetheart I love you, but I would never forgive myself for taking you from your friends and family.” Tears once again filled the rims of your eyes. You couldn’t breathe. Words that you wanted to say kept getting stuck in your throat.

His big hand reached out and touched your cheek so tenderly that it only made you cry harder. “Don´t do this.” Your voice merely above a whisper. You weren’t even sure that he heard it.

“I want to stay with you until we´re grey and old. I don’t care if you make me move halfway across the world, I just want to stay with you.” Sobs ripped through every other word you said.

His expression was painful, heartbreak written all over his face. He didn’t want to do this; you could see it in his eyes. “Ask me to come with you.” Words filled with desperation, your eyes stained with tears.

“Baby…” You didn’t want to hear what he had to say, it hurt, knowing he didn’t want to move in life with you. At the same time, you knew that you were not dating for a long time. His reasoning probably would make sense if you heard him out, but you didn’t want to.

“Leave.” The word left your mouth before you could even think about the consequences this would imply. He was taken aback. “Rakas…” The Finish term of endearment burnt in your heart. “No, if you´re just here to break up with me you did just that, you can leave now, have fun in Carolina.”

The reaction was harsh, an attempt to protect yourself from the heartbreak that would undoubtedly still follow. “Leave, Mikko.” Heartbreaking sobs were tearing through you as you got up and walked out of the living room. You couldn’t stand the heartbreak in his eyes.

Back in your bedroom you laid on the bed. Face buried into the mountain of pillows you had acquired over the years. Half of them smelled like him, the countless times the two of you had slept in this bed together coming back to you.

His presence filled up the room as soon as he entered. “Baby…” He repeated his words from a few minutes ago. Turning away from him you grabbed your phone as a distraction. He slammed his hand to the frame of your bedroom door, so hard you were afraid the neighbors would hear. “Would you just hear me out, please”

“What´s there to hear?” Silence. “That´s what I thought.”

He sat down at the end of the bed just like did on mornings where you had woken up together. When he got back from the shower, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and brushing your hair out of your face with the other before placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.  

“Would you just listen.” He almost spit the words in your face, frustration clearly on his tongue. This time he didn’t wait for a reply, he just kept talking.

“I would never forgive myself if I would take you from your family and friends, but I would also never forgive myself if I wouldn’t ask you to come with me. I love you so much, sweetheart. I don’t want to do life without you. There´s nothing more that I want than for us to build a home together. Wherever it might be.”

His words had you facing him again. Eyes open wide from the confession he just dropped on you. “Why didn’t you say that earlier? Why did you hesitate?” Questions over questions pooled into your head.

“Seeing your heart break in real time had my heart break to. You could say I was too stunned to speak, or whatever the expression is.” If the situation wouldn’t have been as serious as it was, you would have laughed.

He got back up and sat down right next to you. His hands found your cheek again and he brushed soft circles over your skin. “Move to Raleigh with me?”

A small smile spread on your lips before it turned back to a serious expression. “Are you really sure?” you questioned. “We haven’t been dating for that long.”

“I have never been surer about anything in my entire life.” You sat back up, facing him directly this time. “Yes, Mikko, I will move to Raleigh with you.”

He put both hands on your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. A kiss you had been waiting for ever since he stepped foot into your living room earlier in the night. “There´s no one I´d rather move states with.”

[darkmagyk]

Fic game prompt! Poorly Timed Confession and pregnancy fic?

More of the Previously written: Annabeth is Married to king Poseidon, Percy is Poseidon's bastard son AU that I started here

A bastard son’s position was precarious. Percy had always known that. He lived and died (perhaps literally) on his father’s desires.

Percy had long been lucky. Both of Poseidon’s first two wives had died before his mother had come to court. Poseidon had been very attached to his mother. And he’d been very proud to sire a son at his age. And for the son to be so healthy and hail and looked just like him.

In recent years it has gotten better. He’d gotten a ducal title. Some of the best Estates in the country, and his military success was proven.

He was 18 and doing as swimmingly as one could imagine.

Except.

No.

Except a lot of things.

His father was old. He would be 70 at his next birthday, and though he was about as healthy as one could be at 70, he would not last forever. And Triton hated Percy. Despised him more than anything else.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to manage in a post Poseidon world, when that day came.

But then, he was already committing treason.

For 5 months, he and the Queen had been… carrying on, as it were.

He hadn’t meant to, not really. Even though Queen Annabeth was his age, and the funniest and smartest person he’d ever known.

Queens, even girlish queens of old men, didn’t conduct affairs with bastard boys. Even favorited sons with ducal titles.

But Annabeth had. It might have been desperation. No one had wanted much to do with her when she arrived. And it was clear she was stifled for both intrigue and friendship.

Percy was so happy to be that friend, and to attempt to take her hurts, and kiss them better.

To kiss her everywhere: to join her in her bed, and make her time in Atlantis better.

He should not have fallen in love with his father’s wife. 

He was in too deep now, dreaming of drowning in her love. 

Bastard’s lived and died by their father’s. And Percy was betraying his in every way imaginable.  And it was worth every second of it. 

***

Annabeth had always known she was meant to be a queen. But she had been furious at her uncle when he’d arranged the marriage with a twice widowed man, with an heir and a bastard spare already. 

It had been everything she’d feared. He was old, which was not necessarily a bad thing. She might have found great satisfaction as a puppet for an old man. Or even in wrapping a man around her fingers. 

But Poseidon was both in fine health and very set in his ways. He did not run his court the way she would, of course, but it had no gaping holes that would bring it to its knees in his lifetime.

He had his friends. He had his women. He had his amusements and the passive love of his people. 

Annabeth still had no idea why he even bothered with another wife. He didn’t yearn for her companionship. He didn’t need her feminine influence on his court. He had an heir who seemed as healthy as he. 

He might want a spare. And that would explain both the marriage and the recruitment of a bride so young. But if he wanted a spare, you would have thought he’d have done his husbandly duties. 

He’d been drunk on their wedding night, and the only saving grace was he’d both passed out before doing anything, and been out of it enough subsequently to believe the blood she’d put on the sheets. 

He had not called on her once in their six months of marriage. And of the 3 times she’d called on him, twice she’d been turned away. And once he had failed. 

And it was no secret that she had failed to make an impression on him. The wedding had been, as far as royal weddings went, a scant affair. The feast had only 12 courses and the King had not even had a new doublet made.

And so she failed to make an impression on anyone else. They had all decided she was not worth it, at least now. A queen only in name. Not in word or deed or every day. 

It would have been ok. Annabeth of Svedland was not merely a pretty face and a good pair of breeding hips. She was smart. And she was clever. And she could plan her way out of this. 

If not for the crushing loneliness that seemed to surround her. Her uncle had not sent any of her companions with her. And though there were ladies to surround the queen here, they barely paid lip service to her. 

And the isolation, the rejection, had been getting to her. 

Until Percy.

“May I have this dance, My Queen?”

“Yes, thank you.” The king was smiling at his son’s choice. Annabeth had realized that he liked the Duke of Thera being attentive to his stepmother. King Poseidon took it as a sign of respect towards him, specifically in contrast to Prince Triton’s treatment of her. Though he didn’t have an opinion on anyone else ignoring her, as long as they bowed when he was by her side. 

Percy made all the difference. 

In more ways than one.

Percy had friends. Percy had a power base. It wasn’t a strong one, he wasn’t ambitious enough for that on his own. But he was well liked, and a war hero. He was known voice in the ear of the king. People paid attention to him. And they saw that he was paying attention to the queen. 

So now, slowly, they did as well. He was not the first to request her dance tonight. Other’s called on her. Or requested her presence at various gatherings. She’d taken to hosting lunches, and had she now had a regular circle of people showing up to attend them. 

And she was very close, she knew, for something that would truly change the game she played. 

Percy was a fairly good dancer. He didn’t have much musicality, but he had the control of his body a warrior needed. So he led her around as he was meant to, and did not step on her toes. 

“I will wish to retire,” She told him, “when the tapers are about halfway gone.” He knew what that meant. It was an established code between them. 

Then she told him of the horses she’s acquired, for they both shared a well known love for the animal. She asked about his estates. And general inquiries of if all his friends were well. 

Then the dance concluded and he left her with a bow.

She spotted him eyeing the candles out of the corner of her eye as she accepted another dance. 

And he made sure he was very near his father when Annabeth made a show of yawning. 

“If it would please you, I would retire.” She said to her husband. 

As expected, he asked Percy to accompany her to her chambers. Though this time he did ask his son to return afterwards. 

She wasn’t thrilled by this. But still, they would get a solid few minutes to speak. And that was really what she needed.

Away from the crowds, she asked him about his mother. She’d not met the woman, Lady Sally didn’t come to court, but she wanted to.

She had a plan for that, too. It all hinged on this one thing. 

She took Percy into her chamber.

Her lady’s maid, Juniper, was waiting for her. Juniper was Percy’s find, and infinitely more trustworthy than the one before. She immediately helped Annabeth out of her hood, and her outer dress, and took them off to be cared for.

“I feel like I have not had a proper moment alone with you in a fortnight,” She complained, taking a seat on her couch, and knowing that it had been 5 days and everyone was more painful then the last. 

“Forgive me, your highness.” He gave his own bow before taking his own seat. She would break him of the habit one day. Perhaps she would even begin to bow to him.

Then he frowned, “I do not have long. The king will be waiting.” 

“I know, Percy, but I do not need long.” 

His frown changed then, more smirk then smile. And so very beautiful. How did people ever say he looked like the king? “Feeling saucy tonight, your majesty?”

“With you, always?” She agreed, grasping the hand that had come to rest on her thigh, “But as you say, we do not have a lot of time right now. And I have something very important to tell you. And you simply must be the first to know.” 

He frowned again. 

“Is everything alright, Annabeth?” And every time he said those words, it was like a dozen moths danced with joy in her tummy. 

“It is more than alright,” She said, leaning in close, “I’m with child.”

[bubblegumrabbitwriting]

What would the ro’s do if mc went up and bit their shoulder playfully?🤭

Without spoiling the reactions too much, I will just say this is a turn-on for at least two of the ROs. They just want to bite and be bitten. 😔

Also experimented with writing the reactions out as more of a contained small story.

-------------------

Echo -

You entered the workshop, and there was your target. Echo is unaware and typing away on her phone, with her back to you. Not even aware of your presence. But that was going to change real quick.

Your steps are silent, years worth of training guiding every movement, your breath barely there. As you close in behind Echo and lean in and...

Echo lets out a squeak; you don't think you've ever heard her make a sound so high-pitched before. Her hand instantly found the spot where your teeth had lightly nibbled.

"D-did you just bite me?" She gets out in a blur of sounds that might be considered as words.

You just grin back at her.

"W-what does that even mean..." Echo says quietly, her face blushing as she sees the little mark left on her shoulder. "Just let a girl know before you just go biting, ok...it's not like I would have said no." She whispers, feet shuffling as your grin grows wider.

Cy -

Cy is brooding or maybe sulking; sometimes it's impossible to tell the difference. Well, looking over at a bunch of the professor's new inventory, well, this is no fun at all. You can do something about that.

You giggle to yourself in your mind; you're sure Cy has bitten you more than once. Time to return the favour.

Sneaking low, you completely mask your sound. Bringing all your years of experience back to the surface for one perfect sneak attack, you can't wait.

As soon as you're close enough, you strike forward, teeth nipping ever so gently at the skin on Cy's shoulder as they stiffen before a sound close to a growl exits their throat.

Before you know it, Cy has spun around and has their own teeth on your skin. This wasn't what you had in mind. When they pull back, you just stare at them in a mix of offence and begrudging admiration.

"What? You thought you would just get to bite, and I wouldn't return the favour? Don't act like you didn't like it." Cy lets out with challenging eyes and a sharp smirk, Well, there's obviously only one solution.

You bite them again to get even.

A -

A was lounging on the couch, limbs thrown out in every direction and barely even sitting on the furniture. Relaxed with eyes half closed and one of the few times that they weren't seeming to try and tease and fluster you.

What better time for revenge?

You sneak closer, avoiding the shadows on the ground. You've already been caught by that trap before, and you would rather not be strung up for hours again at the mercy of A.

Closer and closer until finally you're above them, their breathing the same contented rhythm, completely unaware of your upcoming attack. You lean close, controlling your breath, and go in for the bite.

As soon as your teeth lightly pinch their skin, they let out a husky moan. "Harder!" Well...shit. That wasn't the reaction you were expecting; you feel your cheeks flush and your body temperature rise. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

A opens their eyes, smirking at you with a hooded gaze. "Hmm...now that certainly is a good way to wake someone up. My turn?" A lean's closer breath washing over your skin. How can someone somehow always win?

Salem -

You spot Salem outside the warehouse looking as dour as normal, a crease already well developed between her eyebrows as she speaks into her phone with a bored tone that borders on frustration.

Well, you might as well go brighten her day.

You stalk closer, watching your feet as you avoid every little rock and stray trash. Closing in on Salem's looming form before you are behind them completely unnoticed.

Now all you need to do is strike, your weapon of choice a nice little chomp in the morning.

As soon as your teeth get so close as nipping at her, she spins with grace that definetly befit her size, grasping your arm and pinning it behind your back as she slams you into the wall.

"Who the fuc...MC?!" She studies the mark on her shoulder before turning to you again. "Did you just bite me?!" You just let out a little shrug, trying to play coy, or the best you can with an arm pinned behind you.

She spins you around, arms now pinned above you while she looks you down. A look conflicted between kissing you and biting you back.

Harper -

You enter the kitchen and see Harper in the corner, already seeming to be worrying about something as they chew on one of their nails. Now that won't do at all.

You run through all the things you can do to get them out of the stupor and decide on your course of action. A distraction is what they need, and you know the perfect way to distract them.

Closing in on them, you barely even have to sneak, so absorbed in whatever perceived problem they are trying to figure out.

Well, that's all the better for you and your toothy distraction.

As you get behind them, you lean in softly and lightly nip their shoulder, following it with a soft kiss. The reaction is instant as Harper lets out...a moan before they catch themselves and squeak. Now that was unexpected.

They turn around faster than you've ever seen them move before. "W-why!?" Is the only word they say as they stare at you wide-eyed and blushing.

"To distract you, did it work?" You say with a coy smirk.

"I-I...yes..." You let out a chuckle as they lightly rub the spot your teeth clasped onto almost reverently.