#please if you have any suggestions let me know !!

[kiwriteswords]

For the trope day could we please see maybe celebrity reader and hotch? congrats btw!

Walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya [Aaron Hotchner x Popstar!Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 2k|| AN: I keep seeing so much queen Sabrina Carpenter stuff around the Hotch fandom these days; she's who I envisioned reader to be like here--but obviously open to interpretation of whatever popstar you would want to be! I lowkey could never picture this happening, but it was fun, nonetheless. This is also likely my last story I'll do for trope tuesday because they take a lot of time, haha. Unless I do a short drabble!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, speculating bau team!, gossip!!, Penelope Garcia is your biggest fan!!!, you're a superstar who sells out stadiums, even rossi knows this!, mysterious!hotch, more of a fun one-shot than anything too fluffy, very team-focused, non-bau!reader

Summary: Hotch has been in a great mood, oddly enough, and when one day, he hands over tickets to Penelope for her favorite singer of all time--you--the team really begins to wonder where Hotch is spending his free time.

The bullpen of the BAU was unusually animated for a Monday morning. Derek leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, watching Reid flip through files at an astonishing rate while Penelope hovered over both their shoulders, her curiosity practically buzzing.

“Seriously, Spence, you didn’t notice anything different about Hotch last week?” Derek asked, his tone teasing but genuinely curious.

Reid, without looking up from his reading, adjusted his glasses. “Well, he did leave on time every day, which is statistically significant for him.”

“Leaving on time? That’s an understatement. The man was practically sprinting out the door at five o’clock. And he smiled--actually smiled--at me yesterday,” Penelope chimed in, her eyes wide with the thrill of the gossip.

Emily, walking in with a cup of coffee in hand, joined the group. “Don’t forget, he also took a personal day last Friday. When’s the last time Hotch took a day off that wasn’t for something work-related?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Exactly! Something’s up. Hotch is seeing someone; it’s got to be.”

Reid finally looked up, curiosity overcoming him. “But who would it be? I mean, we practically live at work. When would he even have the time to meet someone?”

Penelope twirled a strand of her brightly colored hair, thinking. “Oh, my sweet geniuses, that’s the million-dollar question! I could do a little cyber snooping--”

“Penelope, no hacking into Hotch’s personal life,” Emily cut off, her tone half-serious. “But I agree, it’s odd. He’s even been more... what’s the word?”

“Chill?” Derek suggested with a chuckle. “For Hotch standards, anyway.”

The group’s laughter was a mixture of disbelief and genuine amusement, just as Rossi walked up, a knowing smile playing onhis lips. “Talking about our fearless leader’s mysterious new habits?”

Derek nodded, welcoming Rossi into the conversation. “Rossi, you’re the profiler extraordinaire with all the life experience. What’s your read on this?”

Rossi stroked his chin, pretending to ponder deeply. “Well, if I were a betting man--and I occasionally am--I’d say our boy Hotch might just be reminding himself there’s more to life than case files and jet fuel.”

Reid’s brow furrowed in thought. “It’s statistically rare for individuals in high-stress jobs to make sudden changes to their behavioral patterns without a significant emotional or personal catalyst.”

“Exactly,” Penelope squealed, delighted by the support for their theories. “He’s got to be dating someone. This is just like those romance novels where the broody, mysterious man finds love and starts changing his ways.”

JJ laughed, sipping her coffee. “Let’s not get carried away. It could be anything--maybe he’s just taking up a new hobby…or maybe it’s Jack.”

“But a hobby that makes him leave work on time and take days off? That’s not just any hobby; that’s a passion,” Derek countered, his smile suggesting he was thoroughly enjoying the speculation.

The group quieted as Hotch suddenly appeared, his pace steady and his expression unreadable as always. He paused by their cluster, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Morning,” he greeted, a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. “I trust we’re all ready to focus on the real mysteries at hand today?”

Caught in their own theories, the team straightened up, mumbling their morning greetings. Hotch’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual, giving nothing away.

As he walked off towards his office, Emily whispered to the group, “See? Happier. I’m telling you, there’s definitely something--or someone--new in his life.”

Rossi chuckled, watching Hotch disappear into his office. “Or maybe our esteemed unit chief just decided it’s time to start living a little. Either way, it’s good to see.”

The team nodded in agreement, the mystery of Hotch’s unusual behavior lingering in the air, adding a layer of intrigue to their day. Derek grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get to work. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll crack the case of the Happy Hotch.”

Laughter echoed softly among them as they dispersed to their desks, the day’s work ahead, but their minds still occasionally drifted to the enigma of Aaron Hotchner’s uncharacteristic lightness.

Days after the team's animated discussion about Hotch's peculiarly cheerful demeanor, Penelope Garcia was in her vibrant lair, surrounded by her kaleidoscope of tech and trinkets.

The sound of a catchy pop song filled the air, and Penelope couldn't help but dance and sing along to the tune, her voice echoing slightly off the walls lined with monitors.

She was in the middle of a particularly enthusiastic chorus when a knock at the door made her jump. Swiveling around in her chair, she saw Hotch standing at the entrance, an amused smile barely touching his lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Hotch said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of humor.

Penelope chuckled, brushing off her surprise with a flamboyant wave of her hand. "Oh, it's nothing, Sir. Just enjoying some tunes while I work. You know, fuel for the brain!"

Hotch nodded, his gaze drifting momentarily to the colorful post-it notes of affirmations on her screen. "I couldn’t help but overhear. Do you like this artist?" he asked, nodding toward the speaker from where the music still played, though now at a lower volume.

Penelope’s eyes lit up, eager to share her enthusiasm. "Like her? I adore her! She’s all about empowerment and fun, and her beats are just infectious. Plus, her lyrics are, like, super relatable. She's a total queen!" Penelope exclaimed, not missing the opportunity to promote her musical taste.

Hotch's smile grew a bit as he listened to Penelope’s gushing review. "I see," he said, his voice filled with a warm, curious tone that Penelope rarely heard from him. "Thanks, Garcia."

With a final nod and a mysterious smile, he turned and left as quietly as he had arrived, leaving Penelope staring after him, slightly confused but smiling nonetheless.

She shrugged to herself and turned the volume back up, diving back into her work with the music as her soundtrack, her mind briefly wandering to wonder about Hotch’s sudden interest in pop culture.

"Maybe he’s getting a life outside those case files after all--and a decent taste in music..." she murmured to herself, her head bobbing to the beat as she focused back on her screens, the mystery of Aaron Hotchner adding yet another curious, albeit lighter, layer to her day.

The following week brought an air of excitement that seemed to linger around the BAU, particularly around Penelope Garcia's tech-filled lair. The atmosphere was thick with disbelief and joy as Penelope, unable to contain her excitement, recounted a recent encounter with Hotch to JJ and Emily.

"You guys will not believe this!" Penelope beamed, her hands animatedly waving the prized items in the air. "Hotch--our Hotch--just handed me these!" She fluttered a pair of tickets like they were sacred texts.

JJ and Emily leaned in, eyes widening as they caught sight of the tickets. "No way! How did he even get those?" Emily exclaimed, her skepticism matched by her amusement.

Rossi, overhearing the commotion as he walked in, joined the group, a curious smile playing on his lips. "What's all this about?" he inquired, peering over to see what had stirred up such excitement.

Penelope held up the tickets with a theatrical flair. "These, my dear Rossi, are tickets to see none other than--" she paused for dramatic effect, "--the popstar we were just talking about last week! And not just any tickets--Hotch got them for me!"

Rossi's eyebrows shot up, a clear sign of his surprise. "Those tickets? I heard on the news this morning that they were impossible to get. The show sold out in minutes," he commented, adding to the bewildering nature of Hotch’s gift.

Before Penelope could respond, Derek Morgan swooped in, his hand snatching the tickets from her grip to inspect them himself. "Let me see these," he said, his voice a mix of suspicion and awe. Flipping them over, his eyes scanned the details, and a slow whistle escaped him. "Ladies, these aren’t just any tickets. These are front row. Front. Row. Do you realize how good these seats are?"

JJ laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is insane. Hotch pulled some serious strings. Front row to see a popstar like her? That's not just pulling strings; that's a whole concert orchestra at work!"

Penelope snatched the tickets back from Derek, clutching them close to her chest. "I knew Hotch had a secret side to him!" she exclaimed, her previous theories about his recent behavior seeming to find validation. "This is like, the best thing ever. I can't even--"

Emily leaned in, her voice low and playful. "You know what this means, right? You're going to have to get all dolled up, Penelope. Front row means you’ll probably be on camera!"

Penelope’s grin widened at the thought, already planning her outfit in her mind. "Oh, trust me, I will be camera-ready. Our stoic unit chief might just make a fangirl out of me yet!"

Rossi chuckled, shaking his head as he watched the excitement bubble over. "Well, I'll say this," he mused, "it's nice to see Hotch letting his hair down a bit, even if it’s in his own unique way."

“Whoever he’s seeing’s got some serious connections,” Derek shared. 

The group nodded in agreement, the mystery of Hotch's recent behavior adding an unexpected but welcome layer of camaraderie and speculation among the team. As they dispersed back to their tasks, the buzz of excitement remained, the BAU team finding a rare moment of lightness amidst their usual, graver responsibilities.

At the concert, JJ and Penelope stood in the front row, the pulsing lights and thumping beats of the music wrapping around them like a vibrant cloak. You were the popstar that Penelope (and the rest of society) could not get enough of.

Your performance had a cascade of dazzling visuals and soul-stirring vocals that had the crowd roaring with excitement. Each song seemed to resonate perfectly with the audience, a mix of chart-topping hits and beloved classics that had JJ and Penelope singing along, lost in the nostalgia and the thrill of the night.

They felt like they were sixteen all over again.

As the concert progressed, the atmosphere turned electric, each track bringing a new wave of cheers from the audience. You moved with a grace and confidence that commanded attention, your presence on stage both mesmerizing and awe-inspiring. The night was already unforgettable, but it was about to become even more so.

Before launching into the next song, you paused, your gaze sweeping over the crowd with a playful yet intense look.

"This next song," you began, your voice ringing clear over the din, "is a very special one. It’s for the grumpy man who changed my life. He's from here, and guess what? He's here tonight. Supporting me, despite having the most important job out there."

The crowd erupted in cheers, curiosity piqued by your heartfelt introduction. You continued, your eyes twinkling with emotion and mischief, "And because he’s here, supporting me, I want to give a shout-out to someone very special in the audience tonight--Penelope!"

Penelope’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide with shock, and JJ turned to her with an expression that mirrored her disbelief. "How does she know your name?" JJ whispered her voice a mix of excitement and confusion.

Before Penelope could formulate a response, you launched into a flirty, romantic ballad, your voice soaring as beautifully as the lyrics. As yo sang, you glanced toward the VIP section, and with a sly wink and a blown kiss, you acknowledged someone standing there..

Driven by curiosity and an overwhelming sense of wonder, JJ and Penelope followed your gaze. There, among a few shadowed figures in the VIP section, stood none other than Aaron Hotchner. His usually impassive face wore a soft, almost shy smile as he acknowledged the kiss with a slight nod, his eyes locked on the stage.

He was dressed in a black button-up and jeans--a far contrast to his usual attire. He looked relaxed…happy. Maybe not singing along to the words, but he sure knew them. He inspired them. 

The realization hit Penelope like a wave. "Oh my god, JJ, Hotch is her boyfriend? Hotch is the grumpy man who changed her life?" she gasped, her voice a mix of shock and delight.

JJ laughed, shaking her head in amazement. "Looks like we've been underestimating our boss's ability to keep secrets," she said, her eyes twinkling with humor and newfound respect for their unit chief.

As the song ended and you took a graceful bow, the crowd’s applause was deafening. JJ and Penelope clapped and cheered along, their hearts full of joy and their minds buzzing with the night’s revelations.

The concert continued, but for JJ and Penelope, the evening had transformed into something even more magical--a story they would share and reminisce about for years to come, the night their grumpy boss was revealedto be the secret boyfriend of a popstar, right before their very eyes.

[th3mrskory]

Lessons in Desire

Pairing: fem!Reader x Professor!Logan

Warning: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, explicit language, coercion, power play, handjob, fingering.

Summary: In the classroom, their power dynamics shift, drawing them closer to the edge of what’s acceptable. Caught between desire and the threat of scandal, they push past boundaries, each unable to deny the magnetic pull between them. But with stakes this high, the real question is: how much will they sacrifice for a forbidden passion they can’t control?

Word count: 7.7 k

A/N:For those that know me know that I love history (it was almost my major but life happened), so this was me basically thirsting over this pictures of Hugh and imagining him as my history teacher. Yes I’m exposing myself, anyways I hope you guys like it. If you guys have ideas that you would like to share with me, please let me know, and maybe we can create something. I’m rambling … please enjoy!

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

"Power is not always obvious," Professor Logan said, his eyes scanning the room, catching the attention of his students. "It doesn’t always come with a crown or a title. Sometimes it comes with a whisper, a glance, a gesture. And sometimes—sometimes it comes when you least expect it."

The lecture hall was a quiet hum, a symphony of the mundane—pens scratching against paper, the rustle of pages turning. Logan’s voice carried through the room, steady and calm, but beneath it ran an undercurrent of something else. He spoke of empires, of power, of rulers who bent the world to their will. His words were sharp, his delivery precise, but always with an edge of something darker, something more elusive.

His eyes lingered a moment longer on Y/N, sitting at the front, her pen poised over her notes. She was one of the best in the class, her focus unwavering, her understanding evident in the way she took in every word. He could see the intellect in her eyes, but there was something else too—a quiet defiance, a knowing. She met his gaze for just a fraction of a second before looking back down at her notes, but in that brief exchange, the air between them shifted.

"History," Logan continued, his voice low and resonant, "is full of those who understood this—those who knew how to wield influence without ever raising a sword." He let the words linger in the air, letting the students process, but his eyes were already searching, narrowing as they locked onto a figure in the front row—Y/N.

She sat with her chin propped in one hand, a look of quiet disinterest in her eyes as she scribbled down a few notes. Her friends, a small cluster of chatterboxes seated next to her, whispered among themselves, the occasional giggle slipping through the otherwise hushed atmosphere. Y/N didn’t seem to mind; her eyes drifted lazily over Logan, then back to her friends, her attention more drawn to the familiar cadence of their conversation than to the lecture itself.

Logan could feel her presence, could sense the way she seemed to float above his words. She was too intelligent to be completely consumed by his lecture, and perhaps that was the greatest challenge—how to captivate someone who had already mastered the material long before it was ever spoken aloud. And yet, every now and then, she would glance back at him, those eyes meeting his with a flicker of something unspoken. It was the same each class—brief, fleeting, but enough to remind him of the subtle power they held in each other's gaze.

"But what happens," Logan’s voice dipped lower, growing more intense, "when the power shifts? When authority is tested?" He paused, holding her attention a moment longer, the words weighing more heavily now. "We’ll see that today."

A student in the back row raised a hand, his voice eager. "Professor, are you suggesting that power is always a matter of perception? That someone can be in control without others even knowing?"

Logan glanced at the student, a brief flicker of amusement crossing his features. "Exactly," he replied, his eyes shifting back to Y/N, even though he answered the question. "Power often hides itself in plain sight—subtle, insidious. True power doesn’t need to announce its presence."

Another student chimed in, this time from the middle row. "So, like—manipulation?"

Logan paused, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Manipulation," he said, eyes narrowing with a trace of something dangerous, "can be a tool, if wielded wisely." His gaze, though, remained fixed on Y/N. "But power, true power, is about controlling the game without ever touching the pieces."

The students exchanged murmurs, their intrigue growing, but Logan’s focus never fully left Y/N. She wasn’t engaged in the discussion—not like the others—yet there was something about the way she let his words wash over her that made her more dangerous to him than any of the others. 

"Take the rulers of ancient Rome," Logan continued, seamlessly drawing the class back in, his tone now lighter, almost conversational. "They understood this very well. The true power wasn’t in the Senate or the legions, but in the whispers of the people. In the alliances made not on the battlefield, but in the shadows."

Y/N’s eyes flicked back to him, a moment of acknowledgment passing between them. She was listening now, more intently than before, but only just. Logan could feel it—how her mind moved faster than his words, how she already knew the direction he was going. And yet, something about the way she looked at him—something in that moment—made him pause, made the tension between them swell, palpable and thick.

Before he could finish his thought, Y/N interrupted him, her voice cutting through the air, the usual quiet of the room briefly shattered. "You’re going to tell us that real power isn’t in war or force, but in control, right?" Her words hung in the air, bold and playful, a challenge and a tease all at once.

Logan blinked, momentarily taken aback, but his gaze sharpened. His lips curled, not into a smile, but something more dangerous—acknowledgment, maybe even respect. "Control?" He leaned forward, his voice lowering, drawing her in. "Yes, it’s about control. But it’s not just any control. It’s the kind that’s invisible, the kind that makes others think they’re in charge while you hold the strings."

A flicker of something passed through Y/N’s eyes, a sharpness that matched his own. "Manipulation," she replied, her tone low but deliberate, her gaze never leaving his.

The words hung between them, charged. Logan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She’s onto me, he thought, and that thought sent a current through him, an unfamiliar thrill. "If you want to call it that," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But manipulation only works if you understand who you’re manipulating—and why. It’s about knowing how to move, when to act, and when to let things fall into place."

Y/N didn’t flinch, her eyes never wavering. She leaned back slightly in her chair, arms crossed, as though she were more an observer than a student. "And when does the power shift?" she asked, tilting her head. "What happens then?"

Logan’s gaze shifted, a slight pause before he answered. He had expected her to be sharp, but this was something different. "When the power shifts," he said slowly, his voice turning almost wistful, "you learn who really holds it."

The room settled into a quiet anticipation, the kind that only arose when the lecture strayed from the script. Logan turned to the chalkboard, picking up a piece of chalk and scrawling a name in bold strokes: Julius Caesar. The classroom watched, but Y/N’s eyes followed the movement with an almost lazy attentiveness, her focus as sharp as it was disinterested.

"Take Caesar," Logan began, his back to the room. "Brilliant general. Unstoppable conqueror. But what truly made him dangerous wasn’t his victories on the battlefield." He underlined the name, his strokes precise. "It was the way he made himself indispensable to Rome—how he turned loyalty into a weapon."

He turned back to face the class, letting his eyes drift again to Y/N, who hadn’t moved, her expression inscrutable. "He didn’t just seize power. He made them give it to him. The Senate, the people—they thought they were in control. But every step they took to restrain him only tightened his hold on them."

A hand shot up near the back of the room. "Wasn’t that what got him killed, though? Didn’t the Senate turn on him because they felt he had too much power?"

Logan’s mouth curved into a faint smile. "Exactly. But even in his death, Caesar proved his point. The Republic collapsed soon after, and the empire he had envisioned took its place. His name—his legacy—became synonymous with authority. Even those who conspired against him couldn’t escape his influence."

He leaned back against his desk, arms folding loosely across his chest. "So, the question isn’t whether power shifts. It always does. The question is—" his gaze swept over the class, settling on Y/N once more, "—who has prepared for the moment when it does?"

Her friends exchanged murmurs beside her, but Y/N stayed silent. Her fingers tapped idly on the edge of her notebook, her posture casual, but there was something coiled beneath it, something deliberate. She tilted her head, her lips parting as though to speak, but then she stopped, a ghost of a smile brushing her face as she leaned back again.

Logan noticed the hesitation. His jaw tightened, just for a moment, before he turned his attention back to the broader audience. "In Rome," he continued, voice steady, "Caesar’s power wasn’t in the Senate or the legions. It was in his ability to command the loyalty of others. He made them believe in him, even as he dismantled everything they held sacred."

The room buzzed faintly with whispers, but Logan didn’t silence them. He allowed the undercurrent to fill the space, his words sinking in slowly. He glanced at the clock—five minutes until the hour.

"All right," he said, his tone shifting to something lighter, "we’ll stop there for today. Read the chapters on Rome’s transition from Republic to Empire. And," he added, his gaze briefly flitting to Y/N, "consider what it takes to hold power without ever appearing to grasp it."

The students began to shuffle their things, the noise of zippers and chair legs scraping against the floor filling the room. Y/N stood, slipping her notebook into her bag as her friends chatted beside her. But as she made her way toward the door, Logan’s voice cut through the hum.

"Y/N," he called, his tone neutral but firm. "Do you have a minute?"

Her friends shot her curious glances, but she waved them off. "I’ll catch up," she said, her voice easy, almost careless. She turned back toward Logan, stepping away from the others.

He waited until the room had cleared, the door clicking shut behind the last student, before he spoke. "I need some help with grading," he said, his words measured. "“I could use some extra hands this evening—are you available?”

Y/N raised a brow, her lips quirking in faint amusement. "Grading? Or a lesson in subtlety?"

Logan’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. "We’ll see," he replied, his tone low, charged.

She considered him for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. When and where?"

"My office," he said simply. "Six o’clock."

Y/N didn’t respond, but the glance she gave him was answer enough before she turned and walked away, leaving him alone in the empty classroom.

Logan remained seated on the edge of his desk as the classroom door swung shut behind her. The faint click of her heels against the hallway floor lingered in his ears, each step an echo, a countdown. He exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair, his fingers catching briefly before dropping back to his side. The room, now empty, felt larger somehow, its silence almost accusatory.

Grading. The excuse had come so easily, almost too easily, but it was better than nothing. He couldn’t very well say what was really on his mind—hell, even he wasn’t sure what that was. All he knew was that when she spoke, when her gaze pinned him in place, the careful structure he maintained in his world started to shift, brick by brick.

He pushed himself off the desk, straightening his tie as he crossed the room to gather his notes. His handwriting, normally steady, seemed slightly uneven today. He glanced at the last page, where his lecture had trailed off into a cluster of jagged phrases—power, perception, control. He closed the notebook sharply, the sound satisfying in the empty space.

By the time six o’clock rolled around, Logan was in his office. The space was small but personal—bookshelves crammed with volumes of history and philosophy, their spines worn from years of abuse. A map of the ancient world hung on one wall, dotted with small push pins marking significant events. His desk, a heavy wooden piece with years of scratches and scars, was cluttered with papers, a half-empty coffee cup, and a small brass figurine of a Roman eagle.

The knock on his door was soft, but deliberate. He glanced up, already knowing who it would be. "Come in," he said, his voice steady, betraying none of the anticipation simmering beneath the surface.

Y/N stepped inside, her expression calm, almost detached, but her eyes gave her away—bright, alert, scanning the room in a single sweep before settling on him. She carried her bag over one shoulder, her free hand resting casually on the strap.

"You’re early," he remarked, leaning back in his chair.

She shrugged, letting the door click shut behind her. "Figured I’d get this over with."

Logan smirked, gesturing toward the chair opposite him. "Glad to know I’m such a burden."

Y/N didn’t sit immediately. Instead, she wandered a few steps, her fingers lightly grazing the edge of one of the bookshelves as she glanced over the titles. "You’ve got a lot of books about power," she noted, her tone light but probing.

"Comes with the territory," he replied. "History is about power—who has it, who wants it, and what they’ll do to keep it."

She turned then, meeting his gaze. "And you? Are you one of those who want it?"

Logan’s smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, more guarded. "You don’t get to ask questions like that without sitting down first."

Y/N tilted her head, amused, but she complied, settling into the chair across from him. She crossed one leg over the other.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "grading. What’s the plan?"

Logan slid a small stack of papers across the desk, his fingers brushing hers briefly as she reached for them. "Freshman essays on Rome’s decline. Half of them won’t even spell Caesar right."

Y/N flipped through the stack, her expression unreadable. "Sounds riveting."

"Welcome to my world," he said dryly.

For a while, they worked in near silence, the occasional rustle of papers or scratch of pen filling the air. But Logan couldn’t help watching her, the way her brow furrowed slightly as she read, the way her fingers tapped absently against the desk when she paused to think.

"You're good at this," he said after a while, his voice breaking the quiet.

She glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "At grading?"

"At analysis," he clarified. "You see things most people don’t."

Y/N set the paper she’d been holding back on the desk, leaning forward slightly. "And what do you see, Professor?"

Logan met her gaze, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the air heavier. "Someone who doesn’t like being underestimated," he said simply.

Her lips twitched, not quite a smile, but something close. "Good," she said softly. "Because you’d be wrong if you did."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the unspoken hanging between them. Then, Y/N leaned back, breaking the tension. "So, what’s the verdict on these essays? Anyone worth saving?"

Logan blinked, the spell broken, and glanced at the stack. "A couple, maybe. But how is it possible,” he muttered, “to spend weeks discussing the rise and fall of empires, only for them to write that Julius Caesar’s greatest achievement was dying?”

Y/N burst out laughing, the sound breaking the otherwise quiet room. She set down her pen, shaking her head. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Logan picked up the offending essay and held it out to her. “See for yourself. Apparently, his second-greatest achievement was ‘Romeo and Juliet.’”

She snorted, her eyes scanning the page as she leaned over the desk. “This is tragic. This one essay could single-handedly set the entire field of history back by centuries.”

“Well, at least they’re consistent,” Logan said dryly, tossing another essay into the reject pile. “This one thought the ‘divine right of kings’ was God handing out crowns like participation trophies.”

Y/N laughed again, the sound warm and unguarded, and Logan found himself watching her for a beat longer than necessary. Her shoulders shook as she leaned back in her chair, an easy confidence radiating off her.

“So, what about you?” he asked, shifting the focus. “How’s your thesis coming along?”

“Slowly,” she admitted, crossing her arms. “I’ve narrowed it down to the influence of religion on political systems, but it’s like peeling back an onion. Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, there’s another layer waiting.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You’re taking on a beast of a topic. What angle are you focusing on?”

“The shift from divine justification to secular authority,” Y/N replied, her tone more serious now. “How religion was weaponized to maintain control, and how that control evolved when religion started losing its grip.”

A flicker of respect passed through his eyes, though he kept his tone light. “Ambitious. Let me guess—you’re arguing it’s all manipulation in the end?”

She smiled, tilting her head. “What else would it be? Power is power, whether it’s cloaked in faith or reason. It’s still about controlling people.”

Logan leaned back slightly in his chair, his pen tapping idly against the desk. His gaze lingered on her, thoughtful yet laced with curiosity. “You’ve got your thesis to worry about, and still, you’re helping me out. I appreciate it. I just hope I’m not keeping you from anything—or anyone—important. A boyfriend waiting for you, perhaps?”

Y/N snorted softly, her lips curling into a wry smile. “Hardly. He’s low-maintenance.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her answer. “Low-maintenance? What does that mean?”

Y/N’s gaze flicked to him, mischief dancing in her eyes. “It means he’s rechargeable. Silent. Never argues. And he always knows when to stop.”

Logan’s smirk deepened, his voice smooth as he leaned forward just slightly. “So, he’s an easy out? No strings attached?”

“Exactly,” she replied, her tone playful. “No messy complications. Just... straight to the point.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and rich, almost predatory. “Hmm, sounds like you’ve found the perfect solution. Clean, uncomplicated.”

Y/N’s eyes twinkled with amusement, but there was a steel edge beneath her teasing tone. “I like things simple. No mind games. No drama. Just... what I need, when I need it.”

Logan leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening, intrigued by the calm confidence she wore. “Control. You’ve got that down to an art, haven’t you? Even in your... choice of company.”

She met his gaze, a sly smile curving her lips. “I learned from the best.”

Logan paused, his breath caught for just a moment, before he let out a quiet chuckle. “Flattery. That’s a dangerous game.”

Y/N’s smile deepened, her voice low but unwavering. “Maybe. But I’m not the one playing it.”

The brief silence between them felt charged, the space between words crackling with unspoken thoughts. Y/N allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to form as she leaned back slightly in her chair, her gaze steady on him. She tilted her head, her expression one of quiet challenge. “And what about you, Professor?” she asked casually, her voice laced with a hint of mischief. “Anyone waiting for you back home?”

Logan’s eyes darkened briefly, his expression shifting as he leaned back in his chair. The pen in his hand tapped against the desk, a rhythmic, deliberate motion that betrayed his otherwise calm demeanor. “No,” he said after a beat, his voice carrying an edge sharper than intended. “Commitment’s not really my style. I’m more of a... here-and-now kind of guy.”

Y/N’s brow lifted, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “‘A here-and-now kind of guy,’” she repeated softly, the words brushing the air between them like a challenge. Her smile deepened, almost wistful. “That’s... disappointing.”

Logan’s gaze flickered for a moment, though his expression remained controlled, as if weighing her words, testing the waters. “Maybe,” he said, his voice quieter, almost nonchalant. “But complications have a way of unraveling things you don’t want to lose. Simpler’s safer.” He let the words hang in the air, deliberately guiding the conversation.

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes never leaving his. “Uncomplicated, sure,” she murmured, her voice soft but threaded with a quiet challenge. “But sometimes, don’t you think... what you’re missing is worth the complication?” Her words lingered in the air, but there was an almost imperceptible softness to her tone—a fleeting crack in her otherwise cool demeanor. Logan noted it, watching her with a careful, calculated look.

Logan smiled, just slightly, letting the moment breathe. “Maybe,” he replied, his voice now cooler, as though he were drawing back, pulling her deeper into the web without her fully realizing it. “But I’ve found that sometimes, it’s easier to avoid the... complications. Keeps things from getting messy.”

He let that hang in the air too, deliberately creating space, knowing the pause would make her respond. He met her gaze again, just long enough for her to sense his scrutiny. “You wouldn’t want that, right? Complications?”

Her lips curled into a soft smile, one that was almost... understanding, but it wasn’t quite enough to give away what she was thinking. “Maybe I don’t mind a little ‘complication’ every now and then,” she replied, her voice calm but her eyes locking onto his with quiet intensity. “After all, some things are worth the risk.”

Logan didn’t let the moment slip. He leaned forward slightly, maintaining just enough distance to keep the tension taut but still under his control. The words between them had reached a tipping point, and he could see it in her eyes—there was curiosity, but it was laced with something more.

For a brief second, Logan allowed his gaze to soften. This wasn’t just about testing her; it was about controlling the situation, manipulating it into the direction he wanted. “You sure you want to go down that road?” he murmured, his voice quiet, almost intimate. He was close enough now that the question felt like a warning, though Y/N couldn’t know it was a game he’d already planned out.

Y/N’s lips parted, her breath hitching slightly as she met his gaze. There was a faint hesitation in her eyes—one that she quickly masked, but it was there. “Maybe it’s just... curiosity,” she said, the words slipping out with an almost vulnerable undertone. She was playing along, but Logan knew she was being careful, trying to keep her emotions in check.

He smiled, watching her carefully, knowing exactly how to push without breaking the illusion. “Curiosity,” he repeated softly, his voice low but laced with something almost indulgent. He leaned in a fraction closer, just enough to close the space without crossing that line completely.

“You know,” he said quietly, his breath warm against her skin, “curiosity has a way of leading people to places they didn’t expect.”

Her heart rate quickened, but she held her ground, her lips barely moving as she whispered, “And sometimes, that’s exactly where you want to go.”

Logan’s breath hitched for the slightest moment, but he masked it instantly, his focus shifting to the game at hand. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a tentative kiss. Soft. Calculated. His lips barely touched hers, enough to send the message, enough to make her feel something deeper.

It wasn’t a kiss of passion. It was a kiss of deliberate provocation.

When they finally broke apart, the air between them hummed with a charged silence, like the crackle of electricity in the aftermath of an intentional spark. Their breaths were shallow, their eyes locked, as if neither could move, both caught in the weight of what had just passed between them.

Logan was the first to speak, his voice lower than before, with just the slightest edge of something darker—more guarded. “This... we shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his words meant to sound like a regret he didn’t quite feel, the weight of the moment a tool in his hands. He wasn’t sorry—not truly. He wanted to see how she would react, whether she would flinch, show any sign of vulnerability, or challenge him. The flicker of desire was still there in his gaze, but it was buried under layers of calculation.

Y/N didn’t react the way he expected. Her lips curled into a wry smile, but her eyes stayed locked on his, steady, almost daring him to push further. “You don’t sound convinced,” she observed softly, her voice a careful blend of playfulness and something more—an understanding of the game they were both playing. It was a challenge, yes, but also a recognition of the unspoken truth between them.

Logan scoffed, his laugh a low, almost bitter sound. “I’m not,” he admitted, but his words weren’t filled with regret—they were loaded, deliberately dismissive. He wasn’t retreating; he was testing the waters, watching for a reaction. His gaze flicked away from her, then back to the desk in front of him, as if trying to avoid her unyielding gaze. “But it doesn’t change what just happened, does it?”

Y/N’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second—was it doubt? Or something softer?—but it was gone before it could fully surface. Her expression returned to its calm, controlled mask, as if the whole moment had been anticipated. “No,” she answered quietly, her voice steady, distant. “It doesn’t.”

Logan’s posture shifted as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, a gesture that made him seem a little more disarmed than he’d intended. “Y/N... we can’t—” He started, but she cut him off, her tone decisive and calm, as though she had already moved past the tension he was still dwelling in.

“We don’t have to say anything,” she interrupted smoothly, the words hanging in the air between them like a challenge. “Not yet.”

The certainty in her voice gave him pause, something in her demeanor catching him off guard. She wasn’t flinching. She wasn’t retreating into regret. There was something about the way she held her ground that intrigued him—something that suggested she understood exactly what was happening and wasn’t going to let him dictate the narrative.

Logan studied her closely now, his arms crossed, his expression thoughtful but guarded. His gaze never wavered, though there was a flicker of something else there—something more complicated than simple curiosity. “You’re not exactly... conflicted about this, are you?” he asked, the words almost slipping out too easily, the hint of a challenge in his tone.

Y/N met his gaze head-on, her eyes sharp with unspoken challenge. “Not in the way you think,” she replied, her voice quiet but resolute. "I know the risks, Logan. I know exactly what this means." She leaned forward, just slightly, her posture relaxed but full of intent, a subtle power radiating from her. "But sometimes... the things we want the most come with the heaviest consequences."

Her words weren’t a warning, they were an invitation. She was offering him something, but it was still unclear whether she understood just how deep the game they were playing could go. 

"Maybe I'm willing to deal with those consequences," she added, her voice low, the challenge unmistakable. Her eyes stayed steady on his, unwavering. She was daring him to take the next step.

Logan’s breath hitched, his gaze flickering just briefly. He saw it then—the confidence, the control. It made him pause, just for a moment, before he masked it behind the careful composure he always maintained. But this wasn’t how he expected her to play this. He'd thought he’d be the one to make the move, to pull her in. Yet here she was, letting him know exactly what she was willing to risk.

“And what happens now?” His voice remained steady, but there was something in it now—something that betrayed the tension between them, an undercurrent of desire buried beneath the layers of control.

Y/N didn’t answer with words. She didn’t need to. She grabbed the front of his shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric with a boldness that surprised him—pulling him toward her without hesitation, without doubt.

A calculated move in this dance they were engaged in. Logan’s breath caught in his throat, a sharp intake as he felt the force of her pull, the heat of her body so close to his. This wasn’t what he planned—this wasn’t the distance he had wanted—but he wasn’t backing down now. Her boldness wasn’t a weakness; it was part of the game.

Their lips crashed together, urgent and raw, a kiss filled with all the unspoken tension that had been building between them. This wasn’t soft or teasing—it was the culmination of everything they’d avoided saying, everything they’d skirted around. The heat of it was overwhelming, and it swept away the logic, the control. This was about need.

Her fingers gripped his tie, pulling at it as though she wanted to tear down every barrier between them—every piece of control he’d set in place. She wanted him, but this wasn’t just about physical desire. It was about the power struggle between them, the unspoken understanding that they were playing with fire and knew it.

Logan’s hands moved to her hips, pulling her even closer, the urgency mirrored in his movements. His mind raced with the implications, but he couldn’t stop himself. She was pushing him, but he was in control. He always had been.

Her lips parted slightly, and he felt the shift in her kiss, felt the hunger in the way she responded. This wasn’t just an act of passion—it was a statement. A declaration that she was willing to go there, even if it meant everything else unraveled in the process. She wanted more, and now, Logan wanted to see just how far she was willing to go.

Breaking the kiss for a brief moment, Y/N’s voice came out shaky, but her words were sharp with need. “I don’t want to finish grading,” she breathed, the teasing edge in her tone now thick with desire. “Not when there’s something else I want more.”

Logan’s chest tightened, his grip on her waist instinctively tightening as he absorbed her words. The pulse of desire in her voice triggered something inside him, something he’d carefully cultivated, and without hesitation, his lips found hers once more. This kiss wasn’t tentative; it was frantic, hungry, and more driven than the one before, as if they were both racing toward a precipice neither had ever dared approach before.

Her fingers tugged at his tie, pulling it free and discarding it like the insignificant obstacle it was. The classroom, the grading, the rules—everything that had once stood between them shattered into nothing. There was only the burning need they couldn’t contain any longer. Logan’s hands roamed her body, pulling her closer, and with each touch, the world outside of that classroom faded further. There was no right or wrong anymore—only this.

Her breath was quick, her lips leaving his only to trail across his neck, her hands moving over his chest, exploring the heat of his body beneath the fabric. It was like a spark had ignited inside her, and she needed more of him—more than the stolen glances, the moments of tension.

Logan’s hands slid lower, finding the curve of her hips as he lifted her onto the desk, papers scattering in their wake. She felt the rush of blood in her veins, the heat of his touch, and the magnetic pull that had been drawing them together from the very start. The kiss deepened, more urgent now, as if their bodies were trying to communicate what their words hadn’t. Each movement, each shift, brought them closer to the inevitable.

Y/N moaned against his lips, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him in closer, as if she needed him to fill every space inside her. Every caress was an electric shock, a wave of heat that seemed to surge through her, leaving her breathless and craving more.

Logan’s hand slid under the hem of her skirt, his touch firm but gentle, as though testing her response. The shock of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she gasped, her pulse racing with the rush of adrenaline and need.

“Logan,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to speak, her voice ragged with desire. “I don’t care anymore… about the rules, about anything. I just want this.”

He didn’t need to answer with words. His mouth claimed hers again, slower this time, but with an intensity that suggested he was savoring the taste of her, the feel of her beneath his hands. He was in control, but it didn’t feel like control—it felt like something more dangerous, something they were both choosing to step into.

His hands slid under her blouse, his fingertips brushing over her skin, sending a rush of heat through her veins. She moaned softly against his lips, her body arching toward him, urging him on. She wanted more. She needed more.

Everything else, every rule, every boundary, seemed insignificant compared to the way they were consumed by each other. This moment—this connection—had been building for far too long, and now that they were here, there was no retreating, no second-guessing. Only the fire between them, only the pull that neither of them could resist any longer.

Logan’s lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of heat that made Y/N’s breath hitch. His rough hands moved to the hem of her blouse, his fingers brushing against her bare skin as he lifted the fabric slowly, deliberately. She shivered at the sensation, her own hands not idle—they slid along his chest, tracing the defined muscle beneath his skin, her touch both curious and confident.

"Do you always move this slow?" she teased, her voice breathless yet playful as her eyes met his.

Logan chuckled, his smirk equal parts charm and challenge. "You in a hurry, princess?" he murmured, his voice thick as honey.

Instead of answering, she took matters into her own hands, tugging at his belt with deft fingers. The clink of metal echoed in the room, sharp against the background of their heavy breathing. Logan growled low in his throat, the sound sending a thrill straight through her as he captured her lips again, more fervent this time, as if her boldness had spurred him on.

The blouse slipped from her shoulders, pooling on the floor alongside the papers and books that had already been scattered. Logan’s hands roamed her now-bare skin, his touch reverent despite the urgency building between them. His calloused palms brushed over her ribs, his thumbs tracing the edges of her bra before sliding beneath the straps and slowly tugging them down her arms.

Her own fingers worked quickly to rid him of his shirt, pushing it back until it joined her blouse on the floor. She took a moment to drink in the sight of him—broad shoulders, a chest covered in hair, and a strength that had always been hinted at but now stood fully revealed before her.

"You’ve been hiding this under those button-ups?" she asked, her voice low and teasing as her nails grazed his skin from his chest and down his abdomen.

Logan chuckled again, a rich, gravelly sound that sent a rush of warmth through her. 

His hands slid to the waistband of her skirt, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric as he pulled it down slowly, letting it fall to the floor. She stood before him now, clad in just her bra and panties, her confidence unshaken as his eyes roamed over her, lingering on every curve.

"You're beautiful," he muttered, almost to himself, as he reached out to trace the line of her hip.

Y/N smiled, stepping closer to him, her hands moving to the waistband of his trousers. "So are you," she whispered, her voice softer now, almost tender, as she undid the button and slid the zipper down.

The clothing between them quickly became an afterthought, discarded piece by piece until there was nothing left but bare skin and the electric tension that had built between them. Logan’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him, the heat of his body making her gasp softly.

Her hand slipped between their bodies, the heat of her palm pressing against him with an aching precision. She wrapped her fingers around his length, her touch firm and deliberate, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

Logan’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the intensity of her touch forcing him to steady himself. He leaned into her, his forehead resting against hers as she began to move, her hand stroking him with a rhythm that was both torturously slow and utterly consuming.

A low growl rumbled deep in his chest, and his hands tightened on her hips, pulling her closer until there was nothing between them but the slick heat of skin against skin. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a strained rasp, thick with desire.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, though her breath came in short, quick bursts as her movements grew bolder. “You’re awfully quiet for someone who’s supposed to have all the control.”she whispered, her tone teasing yet tinged with her own need. 

He chuckled, a deep, gravelly sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Don’t push me, darlin,” he warned, though the way his hips moved into her touch betrayed just how much power she held in that moment.

“Oh, I plan to,” she shot back, her voice playful, her fingers tracing deliberate paths that made his entire body tense beneath her touch.

Logan’s hands slid up her back, his fingertips digging into her skin with a restrained urgency. He caught her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her soft gasp as he shifted their positions, guiding her back against the desk. The wood was cool against her bare skin, but the heat radiating from him made it impossible to focus on anything else.

His lips left hers to trail down her jaw, then lower, nipping at the curve of her neck. “You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?” he murmured against her skin, his voice a low growl.

Y/N’s laughter was breathless, her hand never pausing in its steady rhythm. “I think you like it,” she countered, her tone light, though her body betrayed her own rising need.

Logan pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his smirk dangerous and full of promise. “I think you’re about to find out just how wrong you are.”

His hand moved with deliberate slowness, tracing the curve of her thigh with rough fingertips, the contrast against her softness making her tremble. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over hers as he whispered, “It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

Y/N barely had time to reply before his lips descended to her neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that made her arch beneath him. His hand slid between her thighs, his touch light but purposeful as he explored her heat, teasing and testing her resolve.

A soft gasp escaped her lips, her head tilting back as his fingers moved with skill, parting her gently. Her breathing quickened, her body instinctively shifting closer to him, seeking more of his touch.

“You’re so sensitive,” Logan murmured against her collarbone, his voice a low growl filled with a mixture of admiration and intent. He pressed his thumb to her clit in a slow, deliberate circle, his movements calculated and unrelenting.

Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp as she struggled to form coherent thoughts. “Logan…” she breathed, her voice catching on his name, both a plea and a warning.

He smirked against her skin, the trace of something darker in his eyes as he planted soft, deliberate kisses along her neck. His lips brushed over her shoulder, sending a shiver through her, before he whispered in her ear, his voice thick with desire. “No, not Logan, darlin’.”

She froze for a second, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them. The tension crackled with unspoken authority. Logan’s breath was warm against her skin as he continued, his lips brushing the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “You know what I want you to call me.”

Her pulse quickened, a flicker of resistance sparking within her, but she couldn’t deny the way his voice, low and commanding, made her heart race. She met his gaze, the challenge still alive in her eyes. “Professor,” she whispered, the word feeling foreign yet somehow right on her tongue.

A low chuckle rumbled from him, and he pulled her closer, the grin on his face both triumphant and dangerous. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice now a gravelly whisper that sent a fresh wave of heat crashing over her. “Just let me take care of you.”

Her body arched as he pressed deeper, his fingers finding a rhythm that had her gasping, her thighs trembling against his forearm. Logan watched her intently, his gaze dark and hungry, taking in every reaction as though it fueled him.

Her breaths came in ragged bursts, her head falling back against the desk as her body succumbed to the pleasure he built within her. Logan didn’t relent, his movements growing more insistent, his free hand gripping her hip to steady her as she began to fall apart beneath him.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice a rough command, and when her eyes fluttered open to meet his, the raw intensity in his gaze sent her spiraling.

Her release came like a tidal wave, her body tensing and then shuddering as a broken cry escaped her lips. Logan didn’t stop until the last tremor left her, his touch slowing but never fully leaving her, grounding her in the aftermath.

As her breathing steadied, Y/N met his gaze, her lips curling into a lazy smile. “Fuck Professor.”

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, his words a mix of accusation and surrender.

“And you’re stalling,” she replied, her tone daring as she tilted her head to meet his lips fully, capturing them in a kiss that was fierce and demanding.

Logan groaned against her mouth, his self-control shattering as his hands roamed over her body, claiming every inch he could reach. 

Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, the heat between them building with every stolen touch. Logan’s lips left hers, trailing down the line of her neck, his stubble scraping her sensitive skin in a way that made her gasp.

“Y/N,” he rasped against her throat, his voice thick with desire and restraint, his hands tightening on her hips.

Her answer was to arch into him, her breath hitching as her body pressed against his. “No more talking,” she whispered, her voice firm but breathless, her fingers tugging him back to her.

The cool edge of the desk met her back, but the warmth of his body was all she could focus on as he leaned into her.

She could feel his hands roaming gently, tracing the contours of her body, but it was the way he moved—intentional, slow, and purposeful—that had her pulse quickening. His lips ghosted over her skin, just enough to leave her shivering in anticipation.

Logan’s hands were firm on her hips, his grip possessive as he pressed her back against the desk. His mouth was everywhere—her jaw, her throat, the dip of her collarbone—hot and unrelenting, like he was making up for all the time they’d spent pretending this wasn’t inevitable.

But Y/N wasn’t in the mood to just take whatever he gave her.

With a smirk, she pushed at his chest, catching him just off guard enough to make him step back. His brows furrowed in confusion, lips parted like he was about to argue, but she didn’t give him the chance. Instead, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him into his chair.

Logan let out a low, breathy chuckle, eyes dark and sharp as they flicked up to meet hers. “That so?” he murmured, his voice all gravel and challenge.

Y/N just smiled, swinging a leg over his lap and settling onto him like she belonged there. Like she was claiming him the way he always tried to claim her.

Logan’s hands immediately found her thighs, sliding up with slow, dangerous intent. His gaze was locked onto hers, heavy-lidded and unreadable, but his fingers dug into her skin like he was daring her to keep going.

And she was going to.

She rolled her hips against him just enough to feel the sharp hitch of his breath, the way his fingers tightened in response. He groaned low in his throat, his control cracking, his grip guiding her just a little rougher, a little more desperate—

Knock.

They both froze.

A heartbeat. Then another.

Knock.

“Professor Howlett?”

Y/N stiffened. Logan’s jaw locked, his grip on her waist iron tight as if he was physically restraining himself from losing his goddamn mind.

The voice was muffled through the door, but the words were clear. “I just had a question about the midterm—are you in there?”

Silence.

Y/N barely breathed, her body still pressed against his, her heart pounding so hard she swore Logan could feel it.

His hands didn’t move. His eyes didn’t move. He was staring at her, exhaling slow and steady through his nose, and fuck, he looked like he was about to ruin something.

Instead, he leaned in, his lips barely brushing against her ear as he muttered, voice thick with frustration, “This isn’t over.”

Y/N smirked, her lips ghosting over his jaw as she whispered, "I wouldn’t dream of it."

Logan exhaled sharply, a low, frustrated sound rumbling in his chest. His hands flexed against her thighs like he was this close to dragging her right back down, to make sure she regretted every ounce of that teasing bravado. 

And with painful reluctance, he lifted her off his lap.

The second her feet hit the floor, she felt the loss of him—the heat, the weight, the way he’d held onto her like he wasn’t ready to let go.

She met his gaze one last time, taking in the way his jaw was tight, the way his knuckles were white against the arms of his chair.

And she already knew—when this moment finally came back around?

It was going to be worse.

© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[nameless-jamie]

Been working on smth…

Jamie Tartt x ???? Fem! reader

TW: suggestive innuendos, kissing, cursing

A/N: Hi guys I’ve been working on smth new! Here’s a snippet. I wanted to see your reactions to it (and maybe you can guess what Jamie’s and Y/N backstory is) or maybe you have any other ideas for it.

The first thing Y/N registered was warmth—soft, steady, and entirely too comfortable. The second was the distinct feeling of being trapped. She blinked against the morning light filtering through Jamie’s curtains, her cheek pressed against a firm, bare chest, his arm slung lazily around her waist.

Her breath hitched.

Jamie was already awake. She could feel his gaze on her before she even looked up. When she did, he was smirking, tousled hair a mess against his pillow, eyes heavy with sleep but sharp with amusement.

“Mornin’, love.” His voice was low, husky from sleep, tinged with something else—something knowing.

Y/N swallowed. Her mind raced through fragmented memories—his hands on her waist, her name a rasp against his lips, laughter between tangled sheets, the way he had kissed her like he never wanted to stop.

She shifted slightly, and his grip instinctively tightened, fingers splayed across her back as if he had no intention of letting go just yet.

“Jamie,” she started, voice quieter than she intended.

He hummed, watching her with that infuriatingly pleased expression. “Yeah?”

Her lips parted, but no words came. What was she supposed to say? Good morning, thanks for ruining me last night?

Jamie, as always, seemed to enjoy her silence. His smirk softened, eyes flickering over her face before he reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Y’look good in my bed,” he murmured. “Knew you would.”

Her stomach flipped.

She really should say something. Something normal, something casual—Haha, yeah, fun night, mate!—but she was still pressed against his bare skin, still feeling the ghost of last night on her lips, and Jamie knew it.

So she did the only thing she could.

She buried her face back into his chest with a groan.

Jamie chuckled, his hold on her tightening, his lips brushing the top of her head. “Yeah, alright,” he muttered, voice full of something dangerously close to fondness. “Five more minutes.”

Y/N had absolutely no excuse.

No drunken mishaps to blame, no moment of weakness fueled by too many shots of tequila. No, she had walked into this with full awareness, with every nerve in her body on high alert, and still—still—she had let Jamie Tartt kiss her like he had every right to, touch her like he already knew the shape of her body by heart, and pull her into his bed like this was inevitable.

And the worst part?

It felt inevitable.

She could try to deny it, but it wouldn’t change the way she had let herself lean into his touch, the way she had curled into him in her sleep like she belonged there.

Jamie’s fingers traced lazy circles against her back, warm and absentminded, like he did this every morning, like he wasn’t at all concerned about what happened next.

She, on the other hand, was very concerned.

Clearing her throat, she peeked up at him, only to find that infuriating smirk still playing at his lips.

“I can feel you thinking,” he murmured. “It’s too early for that, love.”

Her stomach flipped at the rasp in his voice, but she forced herself to focus.

“How did we even get here?” she mumbled, more to herself than him.

Jamie tilted his head like he was actually considering the question. “Well,” he drawled, his smirk widening, “if I remember right, you were lookin’ at me all night like you wanted to snog me senseless, and I, bein’ the gentleman I am, simply obliged.”

Y/N groaned, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “That is not what happened.”

Jamie arched a brow. “Oh? So you weren’t the one who dragged me back to yours last week after that pub quiz?”

She glared at him. “That was different.”

“How?”

“Because I was frustrated!”

Jamie grinned. “Yeah, and I helped with that, didn’t I?”

She let out an exasperated sigh, but Jamie wasn’t finished.

“Alright, so what about the other night? When you kept findin’ excuses to touch me? Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that look, I clocked it, Y/N. Thought I was gonna have to start chargin’ you for all the times you grabbed my arm.”

Her face burned. “It was dark, I needed to make sure you were still there.”

Jamie’s smirk softened, something flickering behind his blue eyes. “I’m always here.”

Her breath caught.

He said it so easily, like it was a fact, like he wasn’t completely rewriting the rules between them with a single sentence.

Jamie studied her for a moment before nudging her chin up with his knuckles. “You gonna run?” he asked, voice quieter now.

She should. That was the smart thing to do. But running felt impossible when he was looking at her like this, like he was waiting for her, like he had been waiting longer than either of them wanted to admit.

So she swallowed, exhaled, and did the only thing she could think of.

She kissed him.

And Jamie—smug, beautiful, impossible Jamie—sighed against her lips like he had just won the easiest bet of his life.

[chains-of-destiny]

New update!

Hey everyone!

I hope you're all doing great! Just wanted to let you know that I've finally uploaded the rewritten Prologue and Chapter 1!

This update brings 58k additional words of story changes, rewritten text, new choices, and an extended parade scene. There are a lot of new variables, so you will need to start a new save to play the update.

While the main plot remains largely the same, some story elements have been adjusted. For example, you can now meet an important character earlier in Chapter 1, whereas they originally only appeared in Chapter 2. However, they won't remember you in Chapter 2 yet—that will be addressed in the upcoming Chapter 2 revision.

On a more technical note, the issue with the pictures has been resolved largely (fully) thanks to the help of the person behind cogdemos, so everything should display correctly now. I've done my best to iron out any bugs, but if you spot any inconsistencies, errors, or things that seem off, please let me know!

Link to the updated demo: [Here]

I'm…content with how Chapter 1 turned out, and while I don't plan to revisit it as extensively as I have over the past few months, I'd still love to hear your thoughts. If you have any feedback, critiques, or suggestions, feel free to share them with me!

Thank you all for your patience and support. I hope you enjoy the new content! 😊

[prokopetz]

@himejoshimarcille replied:

Ah, yeah, that's true— probably leaning more towards Madoka than any of the other series you mentioned, with something of a persona bend to it (can you tell i like when monsters are based off of a person's inner emotions and turmoil)

All right – Puella Magi Madoka Magica meets Persona 3/4/5 is a much more well-defined target. That's something we can work with.

(I'm specifically going to exclude Apocalypse Engine games, since you've expressed reservations about those, and also Forged in the Dark games, both because of their similarities to Apocalypse Engine games, and because FitD doesn't really do in-depth combat, which you'd specifically identified as a desirable feature. Sorry, Girl By Moonlight fans – you're gonna have to sit this one out!)

First off, if you're okay exploring very crunchy combat, Double Cross springs to mind. It's a localised Japanese game about superheroes with weird powers granted by an alien virus, and hits the bullseye of your intersection of inspirational media remarkably well, having both a central "corruption" mechanic whose progress accelerates with the use of one's powers and turns you into a big gnarly monster if it maxes out, and also a Persona-style social links subsystem that's used both to keep the aforementioned corruption mechanic under control and as a source of miscellaneous bonuses. Your potential stumbling blocks are a. the aforementioned super-crunchy combat, which may be intimidating even for Dungeons & Dragons veterans, and b. a localisation that isn't the greatest, introducing occasional clarity issues due to wonky translation. It also doesn't directly do the "monsters based on your inner demons thing", so if that's a central requirement rather than a nice-to-have you may need to look elsewhere.

If the weird brainfucky monsters are what you want to focus on, and you're not averse to doing a little legwork to adapt a slightly off-the-wall suggestion, @orbitaldropkick's CAIN may be worth a look. Out of the box it's more Persona meets SCP Foundation, but reflavouring it as a magical girl game is definitely within the realm of possibility if you're okay with the ever-present risk of magical girls turning into monsters and/or exploding their own heads (and if your main genre touchstone is Madoka Magica I'm guessing you are), and additionally it would be very funny to try. Where this one falls furthest short of your criteria is that character creation and advancement isn't terribly deep, though combat is remarkably solid given how few rules toys you have to play with.

Beyond that, my collection starts to get into stuff that meets some but not all of your criteria, like Blazing Hymn (mechanically it's in the right ballpark, but thematically it's aiming for Symphogear meets Evangelion rather than Madoka Magica meets Persona), so I'm going to cut it there. If you have any criteria you didn't mention that would rule out these suggestions, please let me know and I'll see what I can do.

Hey! Unsure where else to ask this question, so... do you know of any TTRPGs that would work well for a sort of magical girl setting? I've seen a few PbtA systems that try to tackle it, but I also have a player who likes in-depth character building & combat, so PbtA isn't always the best fit.

I'm afraid that's too vague a brief to offer a good answer. You wouldn't use the same sort of system to run a game inspired by Pretty Cure as you would to run a game inspired by Puella Magi Madoka Magica, and what works best for either of those wouldn't be suited for a game inspired by Senki Zesshō Symphogear. You're going to have to narrow down what you mean by "a sort of magical girl setting".

(As always, folks, please refrain from jumping in and providing your own recs until after the requesting party has provided that clarification. Wilfully ignoring the stated criteria in order to just plug your favourite system is a great way to catch a block around here.)

[pennyold]

teasing | r.c

Summary: Teasing your boyfriend during the dinner didn't end well... He wanted to have you ruined, begging for mercy.

Warnings: rough sex, dirty talk, suggestive content, choking, teasing, face slapping, spitting on the face, slight masochism (don't read it if you don't like it)

w.c: 1,6k

a/n: this is not a romantic shit, i just wanted a excuse to post again alr? So, I really wanted to write about this so bad, but I don't know if you guys are ready for my dirty mind ideas... so enjoy it, and I hope you like it!! And not proofreading, sorry for any grammatical mistakes!!

main masterlist ↲

peace and love, penny ★

All set, Rafe was waiting for me in the living room. I looked in the mirror and noticed the invisible straps connecting my panties to the black stockings. I turned around and went down the stairs. When I looked at Rafe, he smiled at me, hugged me, and kissed me on the cheek. "So precious, as always." He took my hand, leaving the house and walking towards the car. He opened the door for me, and as I sat down, my dress got caught. I looked at him, and he kept looking at me. "What a provocateur, darling." I smiled, and he slammed the door in my face.

During the trip, he wanted to put his hand on my thigh, but I didn't allow it; I just held his hand. "Let me," he said, "not now," I said, noticing how he was looking at me, smiling. "Please," I grabbed his jaw and kissed him. "Wait until we get home." He shook his head, looking at the road. "We could turn back." I shook my head, laughing. "No, we're going to have dinner and then home." I smiled at him, and Rafe focused on the road.

We were having dinner at Rafe's and my favorite restaurant, where we had some of our first dates when we met. Very cheesy, but it doesn't change the fact that he liked coming here frequently, and it had become my favorite place too.

"Do you like it?" he asked, pointing at my plate. I had ordered something different from the usual. I nodded, "It's very good, delicious," I said, smiling at him. I looked at his plate, and he had almost finished it. "You were very hungry, weren't you?" he nodded, wiping his mouth. "Yes." Besides, I want to go home, right? I slightly tilted my head, and he smiled, "I haven't stopped thinking about it." I knew what he was referring to, but I wanted to tease him a little. "What are you talking about?" I said, tempting him. "You know what I'm talking about." I shook my head, drinking from my glass. "Don't play with me," he said. I laughed, "I don't know what you're talking about." "About your..., you look beautiful," I nodded. "I know, you told me at the house." It seemed like I had thrown it back at him, and in a cruel way, but I just wanted to tease him. "I didn't mean to..." he raised his hand and asked the waiter for the bill. "We're leaving." I took the napkin from my lap and wiped myself.

"What's the rush?" he was drilling me with his gaze. I smiled at him and looked at the waiter when he stood next to the table. Rafe paid the bill, stood up almost knocking over the chair, and helped me get up. "I can do it myself," I challenged him. I was playing dirty, but I liked how he couldn't say a word. As we walked towards the car, I opened my door before he could. He didn't even look at me and returned to the driver's seat, started the car, and drove away.

I grabbed the doorknob. Rafe was driving at high speed, so I clenched my thighs and adjusted the seatbelt. "Rafe..." He didn't speak or look at me; he pressed the accelerator harder, and I could feel my body contracting against the seat. Finally, he slowed down, and we arrived home. When I unbuckled my seatbelt, Rafe opened the door and extended his hand for me to get out. I stayed in the seat fixing my lipstick and combing my hair, "Could you get out of the damn car?" I nodded, taking his hand, and walking to the house door, leaving him behind. I opened the house with my keys and left my bag in the dining room, and upon hearing the door slam and the front door lock, I knew I had crossed the line.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He spoke to me from behind, and I simply removed my heels and left them aside. "I don't know." I held back the smile and headed towards the kitchen. "Look at me," I ignored him, pouring myself a glass of water. When I turned around, he was right before me, with a serious expression. "You like to play dirty, don't you?" I remained serious and nodded. "And in public, what a slut." He grabbed my cheeks and jaw with one hand and tightened his grip, making me look at him. "This pretty girl wanted to tease me, ‘m I wrong?" I shook my head; he wasn’t wrong.

At this point, my panties were so wet, soaked. I couldn't even speak. I swallowed hard and squeezed my thighs, trying to lessen the throbbing of my clit. I let out a moan and opened my eyes wide; I messed up. Rafe smiled, "I know you're a dirty bitch who likes being called the whore that you are. Right, darling?” I nodded, holding my breath. I was going to moan again, but I held it back in my throat.

"This dirty bitch needs to be fixed, go to the room," he demanded, and I obeyed, walking barefoot, I picked up my heels and went upstairs.

I knew what was going to happen to me. Normally, I don't bother him like that; I just wanted to play a little this time. Now I had to serve my sentence.

Upon entering the room, I sat on the bed looking at the full-length mirror we had next to the bed and remembered the countless times I looked in the mirror and saw his reflection fucking me, which turned me on even more. I got startled when I heard the door slam again, and my skin prickled. Without looking at him, I looked in the mirror once more, then saw his reflection in it, "Are you reflecting on your actions?" I ignored him and tried to get out of bed, but he pulled me back down with a yank. "I didn't tell you to get up, so sit down.” I nodded and took the edge of my dress to pull it down, but he placed his hand over mine, pulling it away from the dress. "No... I want to see how you take it off."

I wore thick stockings and began to unfasten the straps that connected to my panties. I slowly took off the stockings, and when I lifted my leg a little, my folds parted, and I felt a familiar throb starting again. I bit my lip and continued with the other one, and when I finished, I remained motionless, waiting for him to speak. "The panties too.”

With my heart racing, I did it. I slowly took them off, leaving the fabric on the floor and closing my legs. "Are you wet?" he said, running his face along my neck, then licking it, leaving a wet sensation on it. I nodded, closing my eyes.

Then he slid the strap of the dress off my shoulder, kissing it. "Do you like it like this or rougher, huh?" I whined, squirming; Rafe grabbed my jaw, making me open my eyes and look at him through the mirror. "Are you going to keep that damn mouth shut all the time?" I was left breathless and then spoke: "Slut me out."

I should have thought of the other answer, but after all, I was enjoying it, damn it, of course i was.

He slapped me and then spat in my face. There was a puddle between my thighs, dripping my juices around his cock. "I'm crazy about you, so bad that I want to ruin you." He pushed his pelvis against my core, hitting my uterus. "Would you let me, darling?" I moaned, biting my lip. "Fuck... yeah" I barely manage to form a coherent word.

Rafe took my neck and squeezed it lightly, making me gasp."Squeeze harder," I said, breathless, and he did. He squeezed me but quickly let go, kissing my cheek. "You might be a little slut, but don't make me choke you again for pleasure," then he leaned closer to my ear, "Make me give that big ass of yours a slap, mmh." I turned around, rubbing my ass against his pelvis, brushing my folds against his still hard cock. "Do you want me to slap you while I fuck you? Is that what you want?" I nodded, looking at the pillows, then he thrust his cock into my pussy, stretching my walls once again.

I was a mess moaning, screaming into the pillow and squeezing his cock when he slapped my ass. I could feel my stomach tightening and my pussy contracting, "Shit, I'm going to cum" he slapped my ass hard and pushed my face sideways against the pillow "Whores like you aren't allowed to cum" I whimpered and squeezed his cock "Let me cum, please" he mocked my pathetic voice and fucked me faster "Beg for it" I grunted against the pillow without being able to utter a word, I was about to cum, I could feel my pussy getting hotter.

"Please, let me cum" he ran his hands down my spine to my waist, tightening his grip without stopping to thrust and pull out his cock. "Cum, cum on my cock, pretty" and I did, I reached my climax, covering Rafe's cock with my sticky cum "So sticky... wait until I cum" he kissed my cheek and caressed my cheekbone with his knuckles "I'm going to cum in this tight and lovely pussy. Ready for me and fill you up?"

[gyllenhaalstuff]

haii :33

idk if u do mlm or not, but I think mlm Donnie D. or Pilot K. fics would be awesome :33 (sorry this is so awkward I've never asked sum1 sumthing b4

I got you. Never written mlm before tho, so I’m in unknown territory.

Helping out

- Donnie Darko x M Reader ᡣ𐭩

Summary: Your best friend Donnie wonders if he likes buys and you agree to let him explore it with you

Warnings: Internalised homophobia, oral, handjobs, masturbation, bottom!reader, top!Donnie, unprotected sex, anal sex.

Word count: 1670~

Notes: I can’t write 20+ minutes of prep so no, this isn’t realistic.

────୨ৎ────

Another Friday night spent at your best friend’s house. Perhaps a bit sad that this is what 18 was for you. All your classmates were probably out drinking, fucking, and God knows what else.

At least you had Donnie, so you didn’t have to be lonely by yourself. Instead of sulking, you two would play video games, stuff your faces with sugar and Red 40, and sneak out of Donnie’s window to smoke on the roof.

Playing Street Fighter with Donnie was basically a death wish. That boy was not only the most obnoxious winner but also the worst loser. You didn’t mind taking a few nudges and/or hits from him.

“Ouch! What was that for?” you hissed at Donnie’s hit on your arm. “For beating me,” he stated, but didn’t press rematch. “I can’t play anymore; my eyes are gonna pop out of my head.” You chuckled and almost choked on your Twizzler. “What else should we do?”

You expected Donnie to suggest getting high or playing another game, but he had other plans. “Have you ever had sex?” Well, this was unexpected, but he seemed serious. “Uh, yeah, once,” you hesitantly responded, “with Jasmine.” Jasmine, or Jas as her nickname had been, was your ex-girlfriend. It didn’t last long, but you got some experience points from it. “No, I know about Jas,” Donnie swallowed. “I mean with a guy.” You were a bit startled by his question, but most of all confused. “I’m not gay?” Was all you could muster. Sure, sometimes you saw a man and thought, ‘he could have me any day’ but everyone had thoughts like that. You had never acted on them anyway.

“Cause I’ve been thinking,” Donnie continued, “maybe I don’t like girls.” You were surprised by his confession, not cause you thought he was straight; you just never thought he’d say it out loud. “Well, that’s cool with me, you know,” you stammered unsurely, but Donnie looked lost in his thoughts. “I just wish I could see what it’s like.” You didn’t fully know how to respond. The silence lingered for a bit. 

Your mind was spinning with questions. Was he asking you to sleep with him? Was he just thinking out loud? Would you sleep with Donnie as a kind, friendly gesture? Where would you even draw the line?

“If this is what you’re asking for, you can try some things with me, but I’m not having sex with you,” you huffed. It felt like you had to push each word out of your mouth. But your heart lightened when Donnie’s eyes lit up. “You would?” He began fidgeting, playing with the seam of his jeans. “Dude, you’re my best friend. My only friend, in fact. I wanna help out,” you stated. It was important for you to underline that this was an act of friendship, not attraction.

Donnie shifted uncomfortably on the rug beneath him. “Okay, uh,” he stumbled over his words, “what can I do?” You thought for a moment, didn’t figure anything out, and just decided to draw a random line anyway. “As long as our clothes stay on.” Donnie looked pleased with it.

His lips pressed against yours, and you prayed to God the feeling that washed over you was a stroke and not a sexual awakening. Donnie parted his lips, and for some reason, you did the same. This was a time for helping out, not self-interrogation. He deepened the kiss and snaked one of his hands to your hair, tangling his fingers in your locks. A light pull of your hair sent shivers down your spine, and you hated that it did. You hated it even more when a weak, whimpering noise slipped from your lips. Though Donnie didn’t seem to mind; instead, it seemed to spur him on. 

He scooted to sit in front of you, not breaking the kiss. You felt a hand on your shoulder, pushing you down onto the rug. You didn’t resist. Later you would wonder why you didn’t, but your mind had checked out for the time being. All that existed was Donnie’s tongue in your mouth, his legs straddling your hips and his hands fumbling and touching your clothed torso.

You tried to ignore your blood rushing to your crotch, how you were actually getting into this. But Donnie didn’t. He pulled away from the kiss and smiled, “You’re hard.” He seemed thrilled and proud. You were the opposite, but he was right; you were getting really turned on. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” you mumbled, as an attempt to save yourself from the situation. “I do,” Donnie smiled before ending the conversation by bringing his lips to yours.

It didn’t help how Donnie was beginning to grind against your straining cock. You were getting unsure of how you were going to end this. You didn’t want to have sex with a guy, but right now sex with Donnie didn’t seem like such a bad option. You let go of some of your apprehensions and slipped a hand under Donnie’s shirt. His breath hitched, probably from surprise. His skin felt warm and soft. Grappling his waist made you want to take his shirt off. You decided not to fight it.

You began pulling it off of him. “Isn’t this against your rule?” he grinned, as if his plan all along was to prove something to you instead of himself. “Forget about the rule,” you shook your head and finally smiled. Once his shirt was off, he seemed keen on doing the same to you. And you weren’t a hypocrite, so you let him.

You were both turning into a mess, grinding against each other, before Donnie sat up. “Can’t we just fuck?” He looked so good like that, hair all tousled and lips red and swollen. You had no choice.

The bed was a much nicer surface to be on, though Donnie decided to stay on the floor, sitting on his knees. His hands began unbuckling your belt. Your head repeated how this was wrong and how you shouldn’t be doing this over and over, but it only seemed to turn you on more. 

His pale hands wrapped around your cock and pulled it out of your underwear. Your face flushed in embarrassment, but Donnie didn’t waste any time before putting his mouth on you. His tongue swirled around your tip, and you hated how this felt better than any blowjob Jas had ever given you. Your knuckles were turning white as you held onto Donnie’s sheets, your hair falling in your face as you looked down on your friend. 

He released you, saliva ran down his chin, and he took out his own cock. You hated how hot it looked, Donnie jerking himself off in front of you. He then climbed onto the bed with you and ordered you to lie down. You didn’t know what to expect. But suddenly it dawned on you what gay sex meant: getting fucked in the ass.

“Won’t this hurt?” You asked, growing nervous. Donnie spit on your cock before stroking it along with his own, earning a muffled moan from you. “We’ll find out,” he smiled, “I’ll try my best to be patient.”

Donnie released you from his grasp and stuck two fingers in his mouth, coating them in saliva. He then lowered them to your ass, swirling them around your hole. You didn’t know how many nerve endings existed there before he touched you. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” he said earnestly before inserting one of his fingers into you. It felt weird, but not baffling necessarily. He went a bit further in before curling his finger, hitting a spot that made your cock twitch. He grinned at the sight.

He slipped in another finger and set a pace of thrusting them into you and curling them up towards your pelvis. This new feeling had moans spilling out of you, which had never happened before in this quantity. It felt like you were constantly on the brink of an orgasm; maybe you just needed more to get there.

“I’m ready,” you stated eagerly. Donnie raised an eyebrow at you in return, “You sure?” You nodded insistently, just wanting to cum. 

Donnie didn’t argue with you on that. Instead, he lined up against you before slowly pushing himself into you. His mouth hung open as you swallowed his cock. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t painful. In fact, it hurt a lot. You gritted your teeth and clenched your fist to get through it, and you did. Once he began moving and hitting your spot, the pain slowly started disappearing, pleasure taking its place.

Donnie mumbled all the names for God he knew and all the swear words he could think of. There was no doubt in his mind now about which way he swayed. There was also no doubt about who he liked. His heart had grown its own boner (I’m sorry I had to).

His hand went to stroke you again, making a drop of pre-cum drip down on your stomach. Who cares if this locked you out of heaven? You were already there. 

Your thighs clenched, and your moans grew whiny as you neared your climax. Donnie spat on your cock, making his hand move quicker. You let out an embarrassingly high-pitched moan as you came. Donnie stilled his hand and watched your cum paint your skin. 

He finished not long after, cumming inside of you with a whimper. He stayed in you for a bit as you both tried to get your heart rates down and breath back. You hissed as he pulled out. Donnie laid next to you; you both stared at the ceiling, wondering what just happened, post-nut clarity setting in. 

“Did this clear things up for you?” you asked, hoping this wasn’t all for nothing. “Yeah,” he mumbled back, “I liked it.” You tried your best not to smile.

“I didn’t hate it either.”

[biggie-chcese]

Another Rain Code Fandom Event?!

Hello, it's me, Biggie (or Snivy)! In the past, I've worked with many lovely people to create the Neon Downpour fanthology zine (which is completely free to download, btw, if you haven't seen it yet!) and also ran last year's Rain Code Ship Week. Both were amazing, so I'm thinking of running another fandom event this coming spring or summer. With that in mind...

NOTE: I will not be running another fanthology zine. As fun as it was, it's a lot of work and requires a lot of time I simply don't have.

Read below for more info:

Rain Code Minibang

A minibang is a fandom collab where fic writers and artists work together on a piece. The fic writer anonymously submits their summary of their idea, and the artists may either choose which summary they'd like to draw for. Or, if enough people are okay with it, I'll randomly assign partners. Once chosen, the artist and writer work together to make a oneshot fic + an accompanying illustration.

Character Collage Collab

This is something a little unique. It's inspired by a collaboration ran by milaza_dgs on twitter. It would be a collaborative project where every participant draws one character in the Rain Code cast each. Together, we'll end up having an art piece for every character, which I will arrange together in a pretty collage that links credits to every artist. I'll either be using carrd or brush up on my own CSS skills for the final product.

Prompt Week

Just as it sounds, a prompt week is when the host(s) give out a prompt for each day of the week, and everyone who wishes to participate can create whatever they want to match that prompt. I'll then reblog/retweet it to the main account hosting this prompt week. As for shipping or gen, you can specify in the tags which you would prefer, or if you'd rather it just be both.

DTIYS

DTIYS stands for "Draw This In Your Style." The host shares a base image and anyone who wants to participate can redraw the piece in their own art style. It could be a contest, or it could simply be for fun.

If you have any other suggestions, I would love to hear them! Also, if anyone is interested in co-running one of these events, please let me know!

[neurospiczzzziee]

Day 4: Gardening/ Flowers

Day 5: Confessions

Stolas: Oh Blitzø, I have a gift for you. You have been so kind to let me use the Balcony for my plants that I thought I should get a plant for you.

Blitzø: . . .

Stolas: Is everything alright?! I can get something diffe-

Blitzø: Stolas. . .I'm in love with you. Fuck, I love you so much.

Okay so yesterday I did wind up doing a quick color and I posted it by adding it to the reblog action, but then I realized I don't think people was actually seeing it. . .😭. Idk I'm confused, so I'm just making it a separate post🤷🏻‍♀️.

Technically this follows the rules of day 5 🤔 confessions. . . I made it a goal to do each day. Is this low-key cheating. Maybe 🤔😏???? I had a really long day at work today so idk if I have the energy to come up with a new idea. I'll see. . .

I'm having difficulty coming up with a new scenario. If anyone has any suggestions please let me know.

If I do a new drawing I will definitely post it.

Anyways as always I hope y'all enjoy 💕

[obey-me-hoe]

*Those not mentioned already had a set done*

If you have any requests/suggestions for the character designs feel free to let me know!

Nail set taglist: @ryminsteddiesashanne @olivia-willo-w (tagging you bc I want your opinion please 🫡)

[hostess-of-horror]

Turbo/King Candy x Reader Headcanons

💕🏎️🏁A Valentine's Day Special!🍭👑💕

Note: Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! I hope you're all doing well and I figured this would be the perfect time to contribute some headcanons to the Tumblr bandwagon. This is also my very first time writing about Turbo/King Candy in a more fanfiction sense, so please go easy on me!

@sneklover @tiramegtoons/@sliceoflifesalami @starleska @snailstrailz @starryside-1 @depressedasswarlock @crispytubes @pippengin @simpingforcys @blackthewolf17 and anyone else who wants to read this!

Content Includes: Gender Neutral Reader, Slight Suggestiveness but SFW in general, Possessiveness (not Yandere), major spoilers for Wreck-It-Ralph

Hey! Click on each name/title for a love song! (please don't judge me, this got kinda self-indulgent.)

Turbo

For starters, Turbo is... selfish at worst, misguided at best.

Yes, he eventually game-jumps and ends up getting RoadBlasters as well as his own game unplugged, but before all that, he was quite the "charmer."

To many within the Game Central Station, Turbo was insufferable or at least a little annoying. His arrogance was enough for them to steer clear of him, regardless of whatever shenanigans he was up to.

It was worse when it came to him falling for someone. Like, who would ever reciprocate any feelings for this guy?

You. The answer is you.

It caught everyone off guard, including Turbo, who used his signature racing puns as a pick-up line (and not even a good one at that).

Once you accepted, oh boy, was he thrilled!

After a good solid minute of showing off his victory to others at Tapper's, his usual cocky self faded as he realizes you are his now.

Like, truly his.

And with that realization, he is overwhelmed at the mere thought of you actually being his partner.

Turbo still likes being the Best Racer Ever and all that, but this time it's all for you - he just has to let you know that you are one lucky person, what with all the 1st Place victories and the trophies that came with them.

As much as he wants to maintain his "cool and popular" look, he can't help but cartoonishly swoon over you from time to time.

Sometimes, you would catch him staring at you with big ole' heart eyes or hear him giggle like a goofball whenever you're nearby.

He absolutely denies it afterward.

Turbo may not be the epitome of the word "Casanova" but what he lacks in smoothness he makes up for with cheesy puns.

Oh my gosh, you cannot get this man to shut up when it comes to his puns - absolutely loves plays on words!

And of course, they're all racecar themed.

But there are also moments where his puns are rather... risque~

It didn't matter where you two were, if Turbo is feeling particularly mischeivous or really lovey-dovey, he will try to fluster you!

At one point, he tried to get you with one really raunchy pun while on a date and you played along with a slick comeback instead...

Guess you can say it really revved up his engine.

King Candy

Unlike his past self, King Candy is more reserved, having to maintain his sugarcoated facade for over a decade at this point.

He still loves his puns (which are now candy themed), but now he knows how to really treat his partner well.

Be it chocolates of every variety, lollipop roses, jewelry, a trip around Sugar Rush in his racecar - you name it! He is a king, after all!

He will spoil you to death, whether you like it or not.

Not to mention the special treatment you would get as the King's "Thweetheart".

Royal permissions abound - having access to the best seats in any place, not just the Racing Arena, not having to pay for almost anything (although you still pay anyway because it feels illegal not to), having Sour Bill and other servants to cater to you...

Long story short, you got yourself a Sugar Daddy that also just so happens to be a Short King.

Was it to distract you from the fact that he's not actually King Candy? Most definitely, if you're unaware of this.

If for some reason the gifts aren't doing it for you, then His Royal Sweetness will do his damndest to make you swoon through flirting.

You have no idea how or where he gets it from, but that doesn't matter because he really has a way with words...

Sure, they can be flowery and cutesy and maybe even poetic, but there's a sort of tenderness in his voice that never fails to make your heart melt like a marshmallow in hot cocoa.

Especially when he whispers sweet nothings in your ear...

One day, you decide to try and flirt back; that is when you find out your royal beau can be easily flustered!

You took it far enough to make him turn as red as a Hot Tamale - especially when it comes to praises.

Ever since then, King Candy tries his hardest NOT to be flustered into oblivion as you tell him that he's such a good little racer~

How much he dominates all the others in every way possible... and for that he deserves a reward~

... he has yet to succeed.

You may not be royalty (...yet, maybe?) but you certainly felt like one.

King Candybug

Oh, you sweet little thing... what did you get yourself into?

Perhaps you lived and loved him since the peaceful days of Sugar Rush, or since before the RoadBlasters Incident, but regardless...

You are his.

There is horror in a monster's love; a horror in which you cannot resist - to be loved under smiling fangs and sharp claws, where you dance upon that tightrope between life and death

And once you fall, you fall knowing that you're going to be okay.

Despite what happened to him, he's still your lover.

You loved all of him, and even if the world was crumbling down and he was the cause, you somehow saw past all that.

Being the Cybug King's Chosen One is... not what you expected.

You thought he would be more like an animal - a creature driven purely by instincts.

But no. Instead, it's him. The Real Him. That adorably arrogant bastard in all of his glory.

And you reveled in it.

His favorite game to play with you is not Hide and Seek, as fun as it is. No, his favorite game is Flirting~

And his favorite method is lifting up your chin to meet his eyes.

For so long, you had always the advantage. No matter what, you always won.

And he hated it.

It drove him mad, constantly losing to the one race he couldn't beat! He vowed to one day finally conquer it and once he does...

Who knows what will happen next?

So this... this is vengeance.

[mersei47]

Commissions open ⋆˙⟡

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[cherryblossompink303]

Patience: ~The refreshing battle in Karuizawa!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: Haruhi and y/n's summer vacation is interrupted by a high stakes battle of refreshing ➼ what to expect:  "He has to keep telling himself not to stare, usually that wouldn't be an issue, but for some reason right now he is having a hard time telling himself that he doesn't care." ➼ warnings: none ➼ Part Fourteen | Part Sixteen

n the silence of the Hitachiin twins’ bedroom, Hikaru’s phone loudly blasts with his ringtone. It’s far too early for shenanigans like this. The sound rouses Kaoru from his deep sleep with a groan, “Hikaru… your phone.” He whines, rolling over onto his back and nudging his brother in the shoulder.

“Hikaru…” Kaoru calls again, finally managing to rouse Hikaru from sleep.

“Mmm, answer it for me, will you?” Hikaru groans, his voice raspy with sleep.

Kaoru rolls to the bedside table and find’s Hikaru’s cell phone, flashing rapidly and displaying Tamaki’s name and picture. In his sleepy state, Kaoru finally connects the dots between the ringtone and the time of the call, “No way… don’t you recognize that ringtone?” He groans.

“You gotta be kidding me… We’re only three days into summer vacation; why can’t he let us sleep in?” Hikaru blindly searches the table for the phone, picking it up when his fingers eventually find it.

“He’s probably been up since dawn.” Kaoru sighs as he and his brother rise from their mattress, shirtless as Hikaru flips open the cell phone and cautiously answers.

Kaoru wraps himself around Hikaru, “Yeah, what?” Hikaru grumbles.

“THEY’RE GONE! MY BELOVED DAUGHTER HAS VANISHED OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH!”

Hikaru thrusts the phone away from his ear at Tamaki’s volume, “She must’ve been kidnapped by a band of gypsies! I just know it! Contact the police! We have to request an emergency to the SDF!”

Hikaru notices that Tamaki’s volume has lowered, so he brings the phone back to his ear in utter confusion, “Wait, slow down, you’re not making any sense. Now what?”

Kaoru patiently waits for Hikaru’s reaction, “What do you mean Haruhi is gone?” He gasps.

In his respective estate, Honey gasps, clutching Usa-chan, “Huh? So Haru-chan is really missing?”

Mori stands in one of the many open spaces at his estate, practicing his katana handling, “And her family is bankrupt?”

“It’s the only explanation!” Tamaki prances back and forth under the four framed photos of the club members, trailing his poor landline along behind him.

“I’ve been trying to get through to Haruhi’s home phone and her father's work for the past several days! And no one will answer!” Tamaki continues to hop around in distress.

“She's been evicted and forced into indentured servitude! We have to rescue her!” He weeps pitifully.

“Oh~ Haru-chan!” Honey whimpers woefully.

Across the portrait of the twins is written ‘idiots.’

“Boss, please, not so loud! Have you tried Haruhi’s cellphone yet?” Hikaru suggests.

“Cellphone? Why on earth would she have a cellphone?!” Tamaki hollers indignantly.

“Of course! She was issued one by a secret, underground network of commoners, known as the Plebeian Exchange.”

Sitting alone in his kitchen, Kyoya sighs across the line with disappointment, “Not to interrupt your delusion… but, y/n and Haruhi are currently in Karuizawa.” He informs carefully.

“They… were turned out of their homes, kidnapped by gypsies, and forced into servitude…! In Karuizawa?” Tamaki tilts his head.

“Moron.” Kyoya scolds irritably.

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"Ah, who would've thought working at a bed and breakfast would be the ideal way to spend my summer" Haruhi says while putting out the washing on the line, you sat nearby watching her with a book. "I suppose working here would be less stressful than the host club"

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The Refreshing Battle in Karuizawa!

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"I must admit at first I was a little bit apprehensive on telling the guys about my plans for the summer" haruhi shrugged, you take a sip of your drink. "I'm surprised about your plans for the summer aswell, working I can understand but working for free? You could be living it up in a resort right now, I did offer to pay for us to go to one of Kyoya's family's resorts"

Haruhi laughs "I'm not going anywhere near one of those after last time, why are you here with me though"

"I told you, I don't want to go back home, besides it's...peaceful here" You shiver, noting that the wind has picked up.

"Haruhi!" A helicopter all of a sudden flies over, hovering over pension misuzu.

"Despair not! Daddy's come to save you!"

you sigh "So much for peaceful"

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"Oh my what dashing young men you are! These hunks must belong to Haruhi! Call me Misuzu-chi"

"She's an old friend of Ranka's, they used to work together at the same shop years ago" Kyoya explains "Well naturally you would know" Haruhi rolls her eyes "Kill me"

"I went into business for myself two years ago and believe you me, running this adorable little pension is like living a fairytale!" Misuzu exclaims, spinning around in glee.

"So then, haru-chan is like your indentured servant?"

"She's more like an unpaid employee. This also happens to be ranka's preffered method of keeping track of her daughter while she's busy working"

"What the...how do you know all this stuff? and why is y/n here?"

"'Take my little girl under your wing' she says, she practically begged me, and since I still can't afford the expense of hired help, it works out for everyone. she's a model employee, really, it's such a shame I can't pay her anything" Misuzu shakes haruhi by her shoulders "Oh, tell me what you boys think of this cute little apron she's wearing. I made it myself!"

The boys all give her a thumbs up "You are quite an exquisite seamstress"

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you all end up sat together for tea out in the pension's garden, you and Kyoya ending up sat at a seperate table from the others while they question Haruhi on why she got a job.

"You know, you still haven't told me why you came to karuizawa" Kyoya took a sip of tea, watching Tamaki in dispair nearby as he finds out that all of you had invited Haruhi on vaction over the summer. "I told you, I have something to do here"

"What business could you possibly have in Karuizawa?" he raises an eyebrow, although you are unsure whether its because of the circumstances or because of your secrecy. "If you must know I am visiting an old friend" kyoya squints at you, looking you up and down.

"Don't I have the right to spend my summer vacation the way I want to?" thw two of you tune back into the main conversation. "According to the handbook, jobs are prohibited" you lightly elbow Kyoya for pointing it out.

"Uh...i, uh...had no idea"

"hey, did you hear? haruhi went and got herself a job without the schools permission" "No way, thats grounds for expulsion"

"Guys if she's not being paid it isn't a job"

"I think Karuizawa is way better than switzerland anyway" "And overseas travel is so exhausting" you laugh at kyoya's words.

"Of course, you do have the right to spend your vacation as you please. But then again like it or not, so do we. And you know, I for one, find pension misuzu to be exceptionally charming"

haruhi breaks into a crisis at Tamaki's words.

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"I'm so sorry boys, I'd love to have you all as guests, but i'm afraid there's only one vacant room left"

"One room you say? well that settles it, I'll have to stay here to represent the club"

"Hey that isn't fair!" Honey cries "Have you no feeling of loyalty? of any solidarity boss?"

"Togetherness is our guiding principle" the twins laugh slyly, tamaki breaks. "My own words twisted and thrown right back in my face" the twins slide over "Here's an idea, we bet you'll like it" "Why not hold a little competition.

"Call it 'the guest relations odd-jobs contest' at pension misuzu"

"It's very simple we all just lend a hand around the place for the afternoon" "and whoever makes the best impression on Misuzu chi gets to sleep in the vacant guesst bedroom"

"That's brilliant! I think it's an absolutely delightful idea! Yes. The winnder of the contest will be determined by how refreshing they are! Remember, refreshing is the name of the game in guest relations"

"Refreshing! Refreshing yay!"

"Now, don't think this is going to be a walk in the park. Cause I'm planning on working you boys to the bone" haruhi groans in the corner "Sounds like a blast"

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You and Kyoya, of course, are not participating in the contest, instead sitting out in the gardens watching Tamaki butcher fence mending.

"So how is it that you have a friend in Karuizawa of all places?" Kyoya questions once again now the others are distracted with the competition. "It's a long story"

He tilts his chin upwards squinting at you analytically. "You're hiding something"

"I am not"

"You are"

"i'm not"

"Y/n what on earth could it possibly be that you would need to hide it from me"

"I just can't okay! Drop it"

"So there is something then" Kyoya smirks. Dammit.

Haruhi approaches in the midst of your tense silence "Kyoya-Senpai. You're keeping your distance from all his"

"Of course, winning means i'd end up staying alone, which frankly doesn't appeal to me. I'll just sit back and watch things unfold, then head for the cottage"

"The cottage, you mean your family's?"

"That's right, we all have one in the area"

"So who's your favourite to win? There must be someone you have in mind. Do you care to bet?"

"Mm, no thanks, I don't have a clue"

"Really? it's easy enough to tell at a glance"

You roll your eyes "Honey-senpa's brand of cute doesn't really fit Misuzu's notion of refreshing, so i'm afraid he's out Tamaki comes a little closer to the ideal provided he keeps his mouth shut. But we all know the likelihood of that. Ordinarily you'd figure hikaru and kaoru. Then again, seems we have a dark horse." you explain, nodding to mori "But since he goes nowhere without Honey-senpai so his participation is null really"

"Which means..." you attention is drawn to the twins, who have appeared on the patio nearby "Victory will be ours"

"well maybe not, I couldn't help but notice that the only room still available is a single bed"

"No big deal we can always bring another bed over from the cottage" "Yeah or we could even squeeze into the single"

"How sweet, i guess you guys really are always together huh?"

"always"

"The two of us have been together subce we were born, so we've never needed anybody else "We never bothered making any friends until a few years ago, we thought the world was made up of idiots"

"really?"

"That was before we knew you, we'd totally let you sleep with us"

"uh, thanks, I'll pass"

Kyoya pushes up his glasses "The contest isn't quite decided yet, there's still a number of ways to make this game more interesting"

"Oh yeah? Thinking about helping the boss are you?"

"We're not going to lose, it's no use" Kyoya just gives a curteous laugh before returning to his book

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You had moved into the resturant while you wait for your 'friend' to arrive, hoping that the host club is too distracted by the competition to ask questions, Tamaki at the very least was too busy focused playing the piano, something that you did not doubt Kyoya had a hand in.

You aren't paying too much attention when some comotion outside with a few crashes result in "And the victory goes to the Hitachiin brothers!" is cried through the entire pension.

Tamaki slams his hands into the keys at the result, you aren't fully convinced that Tamaki hasn't gone catatonic at the news.

your phone buzzes.

'New message from S.S: sry something's come up, meet tmrw?'

You sigh, quickly typing back a reply before going to console Tamaki.

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The next morning yet again you were sat in the corner of the resturant while the twins sit arguing with Tamaki, leaving Haruhi stood there wanting to be anywhere else, Kyoy and the others are sat nearby at the bar.

A jingle of the bell signifies someone entering the resturant, you sit up straight at the sight of who has entered, a tall boy with black hair that you had been waiting for over the past day.

"Hi Sam" you smile, Sam sits down opposite you at the table. "Sorry for making you wait" he scratches the back of his neck, placing his bag on the table. "No it's okay, I'm going to be in Karuizawa for a while"

"who's that boy sat with y/n?"

"I didn't know y/n-chan had any friends in Karuizawa"

"I'm glad you messaged me, although I must that I was a little surprised" you laugh under your breath "Yeah it has been a while hasn't it, I know it was a little out of the blue"

Sam smiled "Nethertheless, I come bearing gifts" he reaches into his bag, pulling out a medium sized gift box. "You gift wrapped it" You raise an eyebrow

"They're sat a little close aren't they?"

"Did he just give her a gift? Her birthday isn't for another two months"

"Why did she not tell us about him?"

"You don't think they are..."

Kyoya heard the whispers, of course he did, he hears everything. He has to keep telling himself not to stare, usually that wouldn't be an issue, but for some reason right now he is having a hard time telling himself that he doesn't care.

A few minutes later the two of you stand "It was good to see you sam, we should meet up again sometimes"

"For sure" as Sam goes to leave he nearly bumps into a boy on his way in to deliver fruit "Good morning, Arai produce"

"Good morning to you, working boy eh?"

"Yes maam, i'm helping out at my uncles shop for the summer"

"How refreshing! Haruhi, would you put these in the refrigerator for me?"

"Okay!"

"Haruhi fujioka?"

"Arai?"

Next time on patience 'The host club's double date!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows @missbrebre1012 @sleep-7372 @strawberrbitch @reticent-writer @eternal-dokja @meme848 @mistyhydrangeagarden

[alcoholfreenayeon]

perfect date night with mina

Kiss my troubles away

CW: Mina x Reader, fluff, slightly suggestive

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day to yall! This might not be the perfect date night but I feel this is something Mina might do and I haven’t posted in a while so this is something I did a bit quickly and it’s not going to be one of my best works🙂‍↕️

You and Mina look outside the window as it thunders and rain’s relentlessly.

“Well….”, you comment blankly, already accepting that the night is not going to go as you both had planned.

“Maybe in a few minutes?”, Mina says hopefully. Thunder roars and several bolts of lightning flash. “Or maybe not….”, She sighs softly.

You groan and fall back on the bed. “It’s just so unfair. The entire week was sunny and like the hottest days in months. Months. And now the one day we had planned something it’s raining like it’s the end of the world!”

Mina gives you a sympathetic look, she knows how long you had been looking forward to just spending a good night out without any worries for work and now the weather ruined all the potential plans you both had made in the last few days.

You groan and stretch before collapsing back on the mattress dejectedly, a small pout on your face.

Mina stares at you, a small smile forming as she sees you throw a mini tantrum. She found it so adorable to see you pout. She sits next to you before firmly pinning your arms down by your wrists as she straddles your waist. “Mmm…you are so cute right now”, she murmurs quietly as she stares into your eyes.

Almost immediately you feel yourself blush, your cheeks going red, you gently struggle against her grip on your wrists but she just holds them down even more firmly. You even avert your eyes, looking to the side as try to remain calm.

She laughs quietly and blinks slowly as she keeps gazing at you adoringly. “Just because our plans got interrupted doesn’t mean they have to be canceled, we can just change them. I still want to have a date night with you darling.”, she whispers enticingly as she leans in closer, you can feel her breath on your face now.

“Yeah but….”, you trail off as you feel her hot breath on your face making you squirm which in turn makes her smile mischievously.

Mina leans in, her lips barely a hair’s breadth away from yours, you close your eyes and hold your breath in anticipation. A few moments pass and nothing happens making you slowly open your eyes to see Mina’s mischievous expression as she bites her lip.

“Oh you thought I was going to kiss you? Do you want me to?”, she asks softly as she squeezes your wrists tightly.

You feel lost for words, helpless to do anything except look at her right now.

She breathes hotly on you again, pouting just a little, “I’m not going to kiss you until you ask…beg me to. I want you to desperately want me like how I want you right now.

You squirm again, her words having an effect on you. You can’t help but bite your lip now. “Please…Mina…kiss me.”, you manage to ask quietly.

She smiles excitedly, leaning in and finally kissing you until you both are out of breath. She then pulls away, panting as she looks at you before diving in again. Making out with your several minutes until you are feeling dizzy from being so out of breath. Each kiss making you forget all about your sourness earlier and instead drive you crazier for her touch.

She then gently bites your collarbone before moving up to your neck, whispering how much she loves you and how much she needs you the entire time.

Within a few minutes she began to get more intimate unable to help herself when it came to you, your sharp breaths and gasps only encouraging her. The night passed slowly and passionately leaving both of you entirely exhausted. Both of you feeling hungry, sleepy and tired but too lazy to get up and too comfortable to let go of each other.

[madmeks]

A short drabble I wrote featuring Mira after the events of Return of the Ork

Forgive the meme reference. I couldn't resist.

Pairing: Titus x Mira

Warnings: None, this one's SFW

Description: Mira deals with Andrin Prime's nobility after orks land on the world.

Tagging: @beckyninja @yanagikou @flunkyofmalcador @finchly-tintinnabulation @kit-williams @justanothermemestrider @theemeraldwings @wormiusdebilius @74rn @severalpossiblemusiks @vspin @blukitty40k @nereidof40k @katesfoxhole @samaelzdraws If anyone would like to be tagged in future fics, please let me know :)

If you're interested in reading any of my earlier fics, please check out my pinned post.

“Oi! Space Mehreen! You fort I’d forget about you? You fort I – bzzt – robbin’ me uv my loot? I’ll rip yo – bzzt – out your throat!”

Mira finished donning her grey and blue arctic uniform coat and accepted the flak armor chestplate from her vox operator, freshly colored white for the fields of Andrin Prime. She buckled the armor on as her command squad fell in behind her, heading for the motor pool where the Cadian vehicles were being fueled and armed.

She tried to keep her breath even as the memory of the crackling vox broadcast echoed in her mind. The alien voice scrambled by interference and modulated by what sounded like some crude xenos augmetic, but it was still one that she’d remember until her last day.

Somehow, Grimskull had returned.

“Any word on the greenskin landings around the Ultramarine position?” she asked, turning to her vox officer. Before the young man could answer a thin, reedy voice echoed from down the hall.

“I say! Officer! Halt at once!”

Mira and her command squad turned to regard one of the Governor’s aides scurrying after them. Jeweled eye augmetics gave him the appearance of an agitated frog as he huffed to a stop before them.

“I demand, in the name of the Lord Governor of Andrin Prime, appointed in the light of His Most Holy Emp – where are you going?”

She knew from experience that waiting for the full account of the Lord Governor’s titles would take more time than she had to spare, and set off before the fop could finish. Breathless, he followed after them, drawling alongside her.

“We all heard the transmission from that xenos menace. The orks are here, and you’re abandoning the city?”

“Not abandoning, your Excellency,” Mira squared her shoulders as she kept up the rapid pace. “A garrison force is being left that should be able to forestall any orkoid advance until reinforcements from the Mordian 17th can be recalled.”

“Your duty is to protect us!”

“My duty is to bring battle to the enemies of the Emperor,” she snapped, struggling not to role her eyes at his squealing tone. “Does the office of the Lord Governor suggest otherwise?”

Showing more courage than she would have given him credit for, the nobleman stepped in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. His affected tone melted away met her gaze.

“Listen here you upjumped little peon,” he hissed. “You and those wretched Astartes were sent here to rid us of a few dirty squat miners. It’s been months and you couldn’t even do that. And now you’ve all brought the Greenskins here!”

“Have we?”

Mira regarded him coldly as he stepped forward, shaking a be-ringed finger in her face.

“You have! We all heard the transmission. This ork is here because of one of the space marines!”

“It would appear so.”

“It is so!” he sputtered. “And now I refuse to allow you to take our defense force out into the wilds just to aid the Astartes who’ve brought this threat down on our heads. They’re space marines for Terra’s sake! They’re supposed to die if need-”

The noble’s sentence was cut short with a clack of teeth against teeth as Mira’s glove fist connected with his jaw. He fell to the tiled floor of the hall in a heap, out cold.

Mira continued down the hall toward her the motor pool and her waiting Chimera, her command squad following behind her.

“Corporal, vox ahead to Lieutenant Titus that reinforcements are en route.”

[shewrites02]

Pathetic | Toji Fushiguro x Reader |

A/N: This is a stand alone fic but in my mind it coincides with my previous fic Deserve. It is the same reader, though in my timeline this fic occurred first. I don't knowww if I'm quite feeling making a whole series but open to suggestions.

Join my Taglist <3

Word count: 780

Leave a comment if you enjoy :) feel free to reblog!

If there was any doubt, you are positively sure now. You hate yourself. That is the only explanation for why you would possibly be cuddled underneath Toji at 3am. The only explanation-

You’re an idiot. And you hate yourself. You’re an idiot who hates yourself. Who must enjoy the pain this man inevitably inflicts on you.

You watch as he sleeps peacefully, ignorant to the woes that plague your heart. This isn’t the closure you were looking for when you came here. One last time. That was all it was supposed to be. A goodbye. Not a wake for the future the two of you could’ve had.

As if sensing your unease in his sleep, Toji tightens the hold he has on you, bending down to lazily place a kiss on your forehead before falling back asleep. The gesture is a loaded gun, shooting the final bullet of reason in you.

This man would never really love you.

Trying to stifle your tears makes your chest burn as if you're choking. You couldn’t stay here. Can’t wake up the next morning and pretend he isn’t the same man from a month ago.

The man who made you beg for his attention. The man who couldn’t be bothered with your presence before the sun came up. He is still the same man using you for access to your body.

You slink from the slip of the hunters grasp,with the reassurance you were going to the restroom. In one swoop you snatch your clothes and hurry off. The embarrassed scurry you do to get your clothes on is motivation enough to get out the door as quickly as possible.

You don’t bother to wake Toji, in fear he may question your decision to leave in the middle of the night. The last thing you needed was an interrogation. At least that’s what you hoped- Fushiguro is already three steps behind you struggling to put a t- shirt on as he follows you out to the complex’s garage.

“Y/n.” He calls out, but you do not stop. He calls your name again, this time clamping his hand around your wrist impeding your escape. “Why are you leaving? You know you don’t have to leave.”

“Yeah, I should Toji. I'm just going to go.” It is easy to feign certainess when your back is to the man. When he can’t see the tears threatening to stream down your cheeks or the disappointment in your eyes.

“C’mon doll, its cold out here-” He tugs on your arms, urging you to follow. “let's talk in the morning.”

When you don’t move his brows furrow in a scrunch and he's on your side in minutes, peering over your shoulder to get a glimpse of your face.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He demands.

You can’t help the cackle that leaves your mouth. “What's wrong?” There isn’t a single thing “right” about the relationship- or lack thereof- the two of you have.

He ignores you for weeks at a time, busy on these supposed work trips while you wait around like a lost puppy until he comes back to stick his dick in you.

Pocket pussy.

That was all you were to him. All you are ever going to be.

Stupid. Stupid. Dumb. stupid. Bitch. You shuffle your feet to finally walk away, embarrassment beginning to settle its way on your cheeks. You make a half-hearted attempt to tug your arm free in hopes Toji will be so willing. He is not.

“This was a bad idea.” You reiterate

Tears are falling the moment the words leave your mouth.You fight hard not to let your voice tremble, to show all the pain bubbling in your chest. This absolute burning, suffocating, aching pain. Fueled by the scorched memories stifling your thoughts.

“Y/n please-.” He utters your name as though it’s his mantra. Like he actually cares for you. Like this isn’t more performative bullshit to have you second guessing yourself in bed tonight.

No. He wouldn’t get you this time.

This time you won’t be so naive. Won’t trust the distress in the twitch of his brow, or how desperate his eyes look. Ignore how broken his voice sounds.

None of it mattered. You are done playing the fool.

“You treat me bad Toji! You make me beg for your attention, for a version of you, hell- I don’t even think exists anymore but still-” Your voice catches in your throat. As though creating an interruption to allow your brain opportunity to catch up to your tongue. But It is too late-

“Still I’m standing here.. Not feeling good enough for you. How pathetic am I?”

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