#reader x latte cookie

[amphibiahawks321]

Latte : Soo~ what do you think about your first broom ride sweetheart?~

CookieM!Reader : ......

[Shows Y/N cookie's hair in complete mess]

CookieM!Reader : that was... SO EXHILARATING!

Latte : Aww, I knew you would've loved it!~

[Latte cookie gives Y/N cookie a quick kiss on the lips leaving a lipstick mark still holding both of her cheeks making Y/N let out a loving chuckle with his eyes closed]

[brittle-doughie]

Blueberry Blues (Parfaedia)

It had been quite sometime since you were given your suspension from Parfaedia Academy after your little…tradition of using uncontrolled spells without any sort of discipline within a dungeon you had found.

While the staff, including professor Espresso Cookie, were relieved to know you were safe, they still had to tack on consequences for violating your in-academy suspension and sent you home.

The solemn feelings you felt ate away at your desire to practice your spells and magic, blaming yourself for your predicament. While the academy hasn’t explicitly expelled you, the lack of word from them told you everything you needed to know.

What were you going to do?

Your parents were so proud of you to have enrolled in Parfaedia Academy and now what were you going to tell them?

That you were essentially expelled for your lack of control and practicing of dangerous, unregulated magic?

That for all their efforts, only to have you ruin that?

The guilt ate away at you and your desire to practice magic…

….

…

Maybe you should’ve…wait, was the mailbox outside your window not empty?

You head outside and open your mailbox to see a letter designated to you.

It was from…Blueberry Yogurt Academy?

———————————————————————

“Dear Mx. Y/N Cookie

On behalf of the Blueberry Community, we are delighted to announce an opportunity to offer you admission at Blueberry Yogurt Academy as a Day student in the Class of XXXX.

We feel strongly that based on the results that Parfaedia Academy has received about you that while you’re passionate about foraging your path in the realm of magic, you’ve nonetheless displayed the academic and personal qualities that make Blueberry Yogurt Academy the rich and engaging school that it is!

However, we have noticed that you are still enrolled within Parfaedia Academy and you haven’t made your final decision. We implore you to be thoughtful and careful over your choice, but here, we believe that you and Blueberry Yogurt Academy will make a wonderful match! We hope that you come to the same conclusion as we have!

We look forward to having you in the community as well as what we hope to be a lifelong connection with the wonders of the academy and with the warmth of its family. Again, our most geunine congratulations for you here at Blueberry Yogurt Academy!

Sincerely,

Assistant Head of the Admissions Department for Blueberry Yogurt Academy.”

———————————————————————

Blueberry Yogurt Academy.

An illustrious institute that houses brilliant minds and they were approaching you for a chance to enroll!

Y-you couldn’t believe it! This was it! If you had attended, you could make your parents and friends even more proud of what you dream to be: One of the greatest magic users in all of Crispia!

You headed back inside, all excited and giddy to share the news to your folks…when you looked around your room.

All this Parfaedia memorabilia on your walls and desk. A banner of the academy, a photo showing your first day at the academy, your awards in a number of classes you attended, you chuckle to yourself a little at remembering that you were always Latte Cookie’s favorite while Eclair Cookie was fascinated to know what you did to come up with such spells!

But the one class you never got one from was…Espresso Cookie’s class, he wanted you to follow the steps exactly and didn’t exactly enjoy when you always added a bit of your own pizzazz to the spells, always getting tired and needing caffeine afterwards..

Nothing you did seemed to be good enough to him, but you found following exact measurements and procedures to be unfitting to your style, leaving you at odds with Espresso constantly….

Maybe..by doing this and accepting into Blueberry Yogurt Academy, you can make him and your other professors proud by being a better magic user than before!

You could make them proud of you…

After thinking it over, your resolve was ignited and you began writing a letter.

It was time to get back in the magic saddle!

[vxlentinescookies]

Can I’m have cream unicorn cookie pure vanilla cookie and latte and dark cacao cookie x reader who is extremely overprotective over sorbet shark cookie and peppermint cookie and squid ink cookie and ask them if they can adopt them please sorbet and squid ink they have being alone in the ocean for years and peppermint is orphan they deserve a family so much please make it super wholesome headcanons please

→ ❛From the Sea with Love❜

→ Characters; Cream Unicorn Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie, Latte Cookie & Dark Cacao Cookie → Quote ; N/A → Genre ; Headcanons → A/N ; Sorry it took me so long to get to this, I've been a bit burnt out so im taking it easy, but i hope you like it!

Cream Unicorn Cookie

“You’ll always have a home with us, little cookies”

They’re one of the gentle cookies who will be ecstatic to take care of young ones with you, after all, they have done so since ages!

Will be there by your side if you need any help dealing with meltdowns or simply understanding some of them! Im very sure that Cream Unicorn knows its way along language barriers

One of their favorite times of the day is spending time with you all, sleeping together in a cuddle pile.

While not overprotective, they know that certain adventures can be dangerous, especially for Sorbet Shark cookie, yet, its sure they can handle themselves.

Pure Vanilla Cookie

“I never expected to be a father so soon, but with you by my side, im more than happy to be one”

Also one of the gentle cookies who will be ecstatic to take care of young ones by your side, though in this case, its because Pure Vanilla always dreamed of having kids with you!

Will read a lot on how to take care of kids, might even end up becoming a bit overprotective at times, so its best to let them know that its ok to tone it down a bit, they’re not going to hurt themselves!

Along the last hc, he will resort to Dark Cacao at times for help on parenting, after all, Dark Cacao is the ancient with a kid.

Overall a good parent, will gladly stay with you by the sea shore to take care of your adopted children.

Latte Cookie

“Well, I never expected to become a mother so soon, but if its with you, my dear, then I have no objections”

Eager to step into this new stage of life with you by their side, after all, parenting cant be all that different from teaching, right?

Well, it quite isnt like that. She realizes that rather quickly.

Will, regardless, do her best at taking care of your new children, but knows that there’s so much that can be done, as they’ve already gained a semblance of independence.

Will remind you to take care of yourself, still, as she dosent want you to overwork yourself, or stop caring for yourself in favor of others.

Dark Cacao Cookie

“This time, it’ll be different, I promise.”

Is a bit adamant on taking in new children because of what happened with Dark Choco, but he trusts you with reassurances that this time it’ll be different.

Does his best as a (now second time) father to them, taking care and nurturing them

Accepts though, the fact that these three are mostly independent, so that makes things a bit easier on him.

Will still watch over them with you, and help you tone it down whenever you become too overprotective. These kids have gained their independence, allow them to be children.

[yappaccinocookie]

they kidnapped me!

Heya! I just want a story of cookies going into your world, shrunk you down into a size of a cookie but you still remain as human, and you were pretty scared that anything in earthbread could kill you but rather...they decide to take care of you! (Especially some cookies too)

this request was lovely oh my gosh, how come i never did this?! sorry for the delay I have been gone for a long time. there are not that much characters, since I wrote for the ancients like in the last post I decided to not write for them although this prompt is so fitting for them. also, nothing here is meant to be romantic it's strictly plotanic because dough x flesh isn't really my thing...

LOWERCASE INTENDED!!

you weren’t sure what was more terrifying: the fact that you had been shrunk down to the size of a cookie or that the cookies themselves were the ones who did it.

it all started when you stumbled upon a strange glowing object in your home. you didn’t even get a chance to touch it before a group of cookies appeared out of nowhere, looking at you with wide eyes and murmuring amongst themselves. one of them muttered something about “balancing the scales” and, before you could react, everything went blurry.

when you came to, you were no longer towering over the cookies. in fact, they were towering over you. your hands were still human, your body still the same—but you were their size now, and the world around you felt impossibly big and dangerous. "uh oh?" you heard one of them say.

"dude, what did you do to me!? im tiny!" you say, or maybe squeaked. your voice was embarrassingly high pitch now. the cookies melted in panic

"d—dont worry were gonna take good care of you! our world is full of candy." you weren’t sure if that was supposed to be comforting or terrifying.

Espresso —

"Well?..."

espresso clicked his tongue, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. “calm down,” he said, as if that were the easiest thing in the world. “you’re not the first anomaly i’ve dealt with.”

despite his sharp tone, he quickly set to work creating solutions for your new size. he built a small platform for you to stand on while he worked and even crafted a tiny cup for you to sit in. “this should keep you from getting underfoot,” he muttered, clearly more focused on solving the problem than comforting you.

while he wasn’t exactly warm, he did make sure you were safe at all times. “you’re fragile like this,” he said bluntly. “try not to get yourself killed while i figure this out.”

he's responsible, but very boring to be around. espresso is not the best care–taker, he's straight forward and doesn't sugar coat anything despite the sweet ingredients he's made with (other than espresso)

Latte —

"So much misfortune, are you alright?"

latte gasped when she saw you, immediately kneeling to your level. “oh no, you poor thing!” she said, her voice full of concern. “this must be so overwhelming for you.”

she wasted no time casting protection spells around you, ensuring nothing could harm you while you adjusted. she even used her magic to create a soft bubble-like barrier for you to rest in.

“i know this isn’t ideal,” she said gently, “but we’ll figure it out together. for now, just focus on staying safe, okay?” her warmth and patience made it easier to trust her, even in such a strange situation.

latte is like the mom friend who gives you a safety lecture and bakes you cookies afterward. unfortunately, she also has a tendency to overthink things, which means you’re probably stuck listening to her brainstorm solutions for hours while you sit in your little magic bubble.

Caramel Arrow —

caramel arrow cookie stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “this… is going to be a problem,” she said finally.

she didn’t waste time sugarcoating things, immediately taking charge of your safety. “you’re too small to fend for yourself,” she said matter-of-factly. “stick with me, and you’ll be fine.”

she fashioned a small carrier out of her cloak, tucking you inside so you could travel with her. while her demeanor was serious, you noticed how she always made sure to keep you in her line of sight, her sharp eyes scanning for any potential threats.

caramel arrow doesn’t mean to be intimidating, but she has the energy of someone who’s always ready for battle. she’s the type to keep you safe while also making you feel like you’re in a military training camp. “don’t touch that. don’t wander off. and definitely don’t make noise.” stricter than my mama, at this point don't do anything.

Crunchy Chip —

crunchy chip cookie frowned when he saw you, his wolf sniffing at your tiny form curiously. “you’re… smaller than i expected,” he muttered.

he wasn’t one for words, but his actions spoke volumes. he quickly ensured you were safe, his wolf often curling up around you protectively. “stay close to me,” he said gruffly. “the world’s dangerous at your size.”

though his tone was harsh, he went out of his way to make sure you were comfortable, even sharing his rations with you. “don’t make me regret this,” he muttered, though his actions showed he genuinely cared.

crunchy chip’s wolf is more affectionate than he is. you’ve caught the wolf trying to lick your face more than once, while crunchy chip just stands there, awkwardly pretending he doesn’t see it. compared to your wolves when u went outside normally, this wolf smelt very edible...

Moonlight —

moonlight cookie’s expression softened when she saw you, her glow casting a calming light over your tiny form. “oh, little one,” she said softly, her voice like a lullaby. “you must be so frightened.”

she used her magic to create a serene, dreamlike space for you to rest, ensuring nothing could harm you. “here, you are safe,” she said, her tone soothing.

she treated you with gentle kindness, often sitting with you and sharing stories of earthbread to help ease your fears. “you are far from home,” she said softly, “but you are not alone.”

moonlight cookie’s magic is so relaxing that you’ve accidentally fallen asleep mid-conversation more than once. she doesn’t mind, but you’re starting to wonder if she’s doing it on purpose to keep you from stressing out.

Clover —

clover cookie’s eyes widened when he saw you, his harp nearly slipping from his hands. “oh dear! you’ve been… reduced!” he exclaimed, kneeling to your level with genuine concern.

he immediately began to sing a soothing melody, hoping to calm your nerves. “there’s no need to fear,” he assured you, his voice gentle and reassuring. “we’ll find a way to fix this, but for now, let’s focus on keeping you safe.”

clover fashioned a small pouch from his satchel and carefully placed you inside, humming softly as he carried you around. “don’t worry,” he said with a smile. “i’ll make sure nothing harms you.”

clover’s idea of “keeping you safe” involves serenading you at every opportunity, even if it’s not entirely necessary. you’ve had to politely remind him that a song won’t stop a cakehound from chasing you, but he insists it’s for morale.

moral of the story: get espresso cookie...

[hugemilkshake]

This is based on what happened to MyCookie can I please request for a Child Reader holding Burning Spice Cookie's Battle Axe infront of her Teachers?(Almond Cookie, Latte Cookie & Espresso Cookie?)

(PS: There reason for it is it's for protection)

Even if it is for protection you probably shouldn’t. I don’t think any of them get paid enough to deal with an axe welding child

[sugarcreambiteskingdom]

Christmas Special! Part 1/3

Almond Cookie:

It was another successful day at investigating one of the crime scenes by Salt Cube Corner with your Partner and Lover Almond Cookie

You two we're just chatting while walking towards the Kitchen of the Station

Although once there every employee we're chuckling

Even the Chief Caramel Cake Cookie and Almond's Idiotic Partner and Friend Tyro Cookie we're Chuckling

You and him we're both confused until you two looked up

It was a Mistletoe

You two looked at eachother before looking at all of them and in unison said the word "Really?"

Caramel Cake Cookie: You know the rules~

Tyro Cookie: KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!

It didn't took long before the whole station was chanting it

Almond was about to protest because he preferred kissing you in close doors but that changed

When you grabbed by his vest and smashed your lips together for a long hot and steamy kiss

Everyone I the office Cheered

Almond's face was red like a tomato after that

Tyro Cookie teased him for it and got smacked with a File behind the head

For Tyro Cookie it was worth it

Espresso Cookie:

Another Day...Another successful and tiring research alongside your Boyfriend Espresso Cookie

You two we're just about cleaning up the place until Madeleine Cookie barged in and asked for your and Espresso's Assistance about an experiment gone wrong?

The two of you followed him but soon enough as you two got to the said room Madeleine Cookie made you both stop

The room looks tidy and neat

He smirked suddenly

Espresso Cookie: Wait where's the so called creature you said terrorize the room?

Y/N Cookie: And also the Room looks fine I don't-

Espresso Cookie: What? What's wrong Dear?

You Facepalmed knowing what month it is today and what usually comes with it especially seeing how you and him stop by under the said door

You pointed up and he looked at the thing up above you two and it was a Mistletoe

Madeleine Cookie set both of you up and you could tell Espresso Cookie is going to strangle him for this

But rules are rules as you then grabbed Espresso Cookie before he starts beating the shit or of Madeleine Cookie and kissed him

Oh who am I kidding? After the kiss Espresso Cookie did still strangle Madeleine Cookie

Because Madeleine Cookie knows damn well how Espresso Cookie is still getting used to at having a Romantic Partner and Madeleine Cookie is doing everything in his ability to tease him for it because last he check Espresso Cookie was a "BUSY" Cookie to even find one

Latte Cookie:

It was a very tiring Christmas Party at the academy with your Girlfriend Latte Cookie

Right now you both are now having a Teachers Christmas Party after the Christmas Party for the said students

It was Fun

Until the Teachers started chuckling

You both looked at eachother for suspicion that they we're planning something until one of the teachers said to look up and there it was

A Mistletoe

The principal and almost half of the teachers doesn't know you two we're dating and we're expecting a Kiss on the cheek

Same goes for Latte Cookie to you after she kissed you on the said cheek

Eclair Cookie: Your turn Y/N Cookie! You know the rules of the Mistletoe~!

Espresso Cookie: Well this outta be interesting

But you know the rules of the Mistletoe that it has to be on the lips

So you grabbed Latte Cookie by the waist and kissed her properly which shocked the whole Teachers in the Teacher Lounge there

But they didn't mind and clap and even cheer for you guys and your beautiful relationship

[minolikeswords]

HI HELLO EVERYONE

Highkey going insane bc of the new crk event and the cookies as well!!!

Camellia cookie is so Bbg I seriously need him, I have to say though, I was a little surprised to find out he was a charge and not an ambush. I don’t think we’ve had an ambush cookie since Rebel? also releasing so many charge cookies back to back is definitely a surprising move.

Also, the new costumes are so good??? Pomegranate cookie and espresso look so damn pretty. Let’s hope I have better luck with the costume gacha than I do typically </3

[lovesickletters]

I was wondering if you still do Lovesick Letters. If so, could you do one for Latte Cookie?

💜ℒ𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ 𝒞ℴℴ𝓀𝒾ℯ | ℒℴ𝓋ℯ𝓈𝒾𝒸𝓀 ℒℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇💜

My Dearest,

How have you been, my dear? It’s been such an awful long time since I’ve seen you around the halls of the academy, I hope you haven’t been trying to avoid me! Espresso Cookie’s been so busy recently with these new Magic Candies he’s been working on, running to-and-fro like he’ll run out of jam, and he’s been keeping me just as busy too! I haven’t had the time to check in on my favourite student so often as I’d like, I’ve half a mind to give him a stern talking to on the matter.

Nevertheless, I’m determined not to let work get in the way of my time with you, so… Would you care to meet me for a latte?

All my love, Latte Cookie

[damselettism]

You have wings!

Requested

Characters :

I honestly love this idea, many cookies are amazed by your beautiful wings. Some cookies specifically the children want to ride on your wings !!

Let's picture this, you help the birds deliver packages in the wishing tree. What would their response be to you delivering the package?

Latte Cookie :

Latte smiled as you dropped her delivery, two coffee's and a tempered pickaxe. Sheesh I wonder what she's gonna do with that, "Thank you dear, hey are you free for a while? I could brew you a Latte!" Your choice if you wanna accept.

Custard Cooke III :

"Oh, why thank you my fellow servant for giving the future king his package for your hard work I reward you with coins! And for me can I ride with you for a while? Hehe..." An excited champ, would probably ask Chili Pepper cookie for coins so he could give you something whenever you give him his package!

Espresso Cookie :

" Ah, thank you would've preferred this to be delivered more early." He just takes it and leaves, it's not like he doesn't care he's just really busy. Good service!

Despite the tags, this is obviously plotanic since the anon didn't say anything romantic.

[murder-cookie-dust393]

I could see a Yandere Latte Cookie being rather motherly to her S/O. Like there was this one fanfiction I read that imagined that Latte is quite patient and could wait 2-6 years for her affection to be returned. But would slowly get less sane and more hysterical as that time passed until she would resort to conventional Yandere stuff like kidnapping

Sorry this took me a few days to answer- I’ve been literally working on a few things-

Tw: stalking, passive-aggressive behaviour, implied kidnapping,

But anyway- I agree. She is the mother, the mom, the female parent.

Now- I also 100% agree that the more time passes without reciprocation, she’ll slowly descend into her obsessive madness.

She’s always caring for your well-being, and lots of head pats from her, whether you’re shorter or taller; younger or older.

If you become close, she’s much more likely to get physically affectionate (if you don’t mind it). Hugs, actual greeting cheek kisses. (Not the air kisses every peepaw European chronically does)

As time goes on, she’ll start to ask odd questions, almost passive aggressive. “Who was that? Oh, just a friend. I see.

You’ll occasionally find odd symbols written on your window: hearts, a drawing of 2 figures kissing- and other hints.

She’ll be stalking you if you go too far. She could use her magic, when she needs to. But she prefers riding on her spoon and seeing you for herself (especially at nighttime).

Oh no! Looks like you find yourself trapped with her magic, and her crazy grin gleaming in the light.

“I’ve waited long enough…I think it’s time I get to share all my feelings and love for you~!”

[infraaa]

O h

✨F u c k✨

𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐈

affogato cookie x gn!reader

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 • • •

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 • • •

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 • • • ❥❥❥

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 • • •

tw // character injury, graphic violence, implied ptsd episode, slight gore I suppose, and it's just a tad bit suggestive with red velvet in the beginning, but it's nothing too heavy.

【cw // affos goin through it now. It's hella angsty so just a little warning abt that.】

TAKE CAUTION UNDER THE CUT

BOLT!

Cold sweats, panting, clutching his chest… he looked around at his surroundings. It’s light outside and the birds quietly chirped. Looking at his hands did he realize that he only had a nightmare. A bad dream. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he laid back down and turned to hug you… except you weren’t in the bed. He hugged the blankets which made up whatever warmth you left over. “Y/n?” He sheepishly called out. He looked more closely… he made a fool of himself. After realizing you weren’t there, he sat back up and rubbed his eyes. 

Cutting over in the kitchen, you sit at an empty kitchen table with a cup of coffee, when Red Velvet approaches you. He puts his hand on the wood beside you, and the smell of buttercream fills your nose. “I can tell you’re upset.” He says sleepily, his voice still drunk with sleep. He takes a chair and sweeps it backwards and plops down onto it. “Babe.” Red Velvet said in the midst of the stillness. What did he just call you? You turned to him, taking a sip of coffee. Rubbing his lips together with a sharp inhale, he grazed his claws gently on the table. “I think you should talk to him at some point. I get that you’re nervous, you're unsure, you may even be afraid to confront him maybe, but I do recommend that you talk to him about how you feel.” You blinked, settling his words in the peaceful morning silence, and after a second you wrapped your hands around your mug and let your skin embrace its warmth. “What if I don’t want to right now?” “I’m not saying you have to talk to him now, I’m saying at some point.” He paused in the middle of his sentence to confront himself.

He doesn’t want a casual conversation.

It’s seven in the morning. You’re here, he’s here… everyone else as far as you both know are still asleep…

He scoots his chair over a bit to where he’s closer to you.  Putting his arms on the table and resting on them, he continues to pour his blue eyes into yours. You take a drink of your coffee and look back at him. He had a certain look in eyes, something you’ve never seen in him. His eyes looked softer. Was it because he was tired? It had to be. You dismissed this soft puppy dog look he was giving and went to get up when you felt his clawed hand creep onto your fingers, making you freeze in place. You looked back at him with a question in your eyes. “What?” “Talk to me.” Compelled to say no, you took a breath. “I–” You stopped yourself for a second. Was he trying to comfort you? Was he trying to get you to vent to him? Did he just want you here? You slowly sat back down in your seat at the table. Looking at him, you furrowed your eyes. Looking at your phone, you saw the time. 7:05. “About yesterday,” you started, then pausing again to drink your coffee, “did you agree with Licorice?” He took a second to think, his head slowly raising back up from its resting position on his arms.

“I think…” He said. “You think–” “Wait, give me a second.”

Oh so he wasn’t finished.

“I think so, yes. When I met him through my mother, which she just brought him in to fill the hole that Dark Choco made when he made the choice to disband, He seemed… off. I don’t know, he didn’t have the same visions as we did. He wasn’t interested in rebuilding the world like we do, he was interested in claiming it. But he had a very particular way of wanting to achieve that and at first tried to undermine me because of my status at the Tower.” Okay, so this was intriguing. Call Affogato an overachiever, sure. But call others out to get ahead? Seemed normal. Strangers? Huh… You got up for a second, “Here, let me get you some coffee. How do you take it?” He looked up at you. ‘Black. Black and strong as night.” You nodded. “Anyways, what do you mean by ‘undermine you?’” Red Velvet sighed, eyeing you as you stood at the counter getting a mug out of the cabinet. “So… he tried to make himself look like a better person by trying to build a sense of morale or respect… Truth be told, he started with me. I run the tower, I'm responsible for all the cake monsters. He tried to say that I wasn’t a fit leader because of my own visions. Now don’t get me wrong, I understand that my mother was always a radical thinker in the light that she just wishes to see Earthbread crumble. I want to make it new, so that there is no segregation. No differences– equality, sameness, you know?” 

His ego is large, what the fuck… and Red didn’t even have to do anything.

“It just sounds like he needs to mind his own business. He can be pretty nosy at times.” “Pretty nosy alright, yeah.” He got up and started walking towards you. “And the whole Creme Republic Incident? He blamed me for not being there when he didn’t even know me at the time.” You started pouring his coffee into his mug when you felt his warm arms drape over the countertop in front of you. You saw his hands and exhaled, feeling the warmth of his body come close to you. “You did, you knew I was there.”

You remembered joining the Cookies of Darkness long before Affogato did. During your training you grew close with Red Velvet as a personal trainer. He saw your growth in his army, and how you treated his cakes. He admired you for your sense of justice and compassion, and if you were there, you managed to soften his sharp edges just a bit. But this also led to you developing a friendship with him outside of work. Your mind raced about the times you two would both sneak out, go hang out in the forests, play with the cakes… you two would always have a good time when you both would hang out, away from everyone else.

You saw his fingers snake around the granite of the countertop slowly, almost like actual snakes stalking down prey. Feeling the push of the air leaving his nose at the crown of your head, and upon looking down you see that his fingers intertwine with each other. His arms have wrapped themselves around your hips, and all the sudden, you could feel your breathing pick up. You turned towards him, his fingers unlocking for a second before moving back to their locked position. “What are you doing?” You asked, hushed…

Don’t wake anyone.

Don’t wake anyone.

Don’t. Wake. Anyone.

“What am I doing?” He asked with a coyish smile. Holy shit. That was the only thing that was racing through your mind. “I like you, that’s what I’m trying to do. With that, he quickly moved his hands to your sides, pulling your body to his, making you gasp. Putting his normal hand then to your cheek you stare at him— wide eyed. “Red… this is wrong, we shouldn’t-“ you said hesitantly, moving one of your hands to his chest. He smiled, closing his eyes for a brief second. “Are you listening to me?” “Of course I am. I know this is wrong…” With a swift move of his hand back down, he kissed your lips– as you lightly took hold of his forearm. You moaned with slight discomfort in the kiss, squeezing at his arm gently.

This is wrong.

This is very wrong.

Letting go of your lips he took your chin in his two normal fingers and lifted your reddened head to look him in the eye. “But you can’t need without a want.” You bore into his eyes with confusion. Sure, Affogato would have these moments with you, quite literally all the time. He was known to be passionate and clingy at times, but his love language was exactly that– acts of service and physical contact. Red Velvet however…

You felt as though in the past you could trust Affogato.

You feel as if now you can trust Red Velvet. 

At this point, your mind is racing. Do you want to continue with this? Do you want to potentially get caught by someone? It would mean utter chaos if Affogato caught you. But with these suffocating thoughts came ones of fire. Setting off firecrackers in your heart and butterflies flying amok in your stomach, it was almost like temptation by the serpent that lended Eve the apple and beckoned to take a bite; just a bite, just a nibble. Just what were your feelings towards Red Velvet?

As you were contemplating this decision, you felt the crimson general lean down to kiss your jawline, then your neck, going down to your shoulders and back up again, taking his hands and slowly going up and down your sides. You took a breath and leaned into him. Was the feeling of pressure and heated passion getting to your head? Like blood rushing up while you would hang upside down? Was it dizzying? Your hand autonomously moved up into his red and black bed hair, leaning into him with a quiet sigh. Recognizing your new twisted sense of consent, he picked you up and placed you on the countertop for easier access. Wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, you could feel his hands creep down underneath your top as he kissed you, feeling at your now warm skin, blushed with rouge. In the heat of the moment did he attempt to lift your top up. You pushed him away to put a finger to his nose. “No no..” You said teasingly. He smirked at you.

God damn. He just won’t behave.

He sure is cute though.

You both resumed and after a few moments you both heard the sound of a door open. Reality came back to greet you with a vengeance as you then reacted fast, a little too fast for Red Velvet’s liking. You quickly pushed him off of you and hopped off the countertop, ushering out of the kitchen as fast as a hare. He looked back at you as you scampered off, scurrying back somewhere. He smiled and put a finger to his bottom lip. He took a drink of his now lukewarm coffee sitting beside the coffee pot as his cerulean eyes took to a lustful sheen. “Red, what the fuck are you doing?” Licorice stood at the entryway to the kitchen with crossed arms. He turned his head to look at the necromancer, daring not to move his body around. “Coffee.” “Yeah whatever, just let me get my tea.” He quickly moved over to go get his morning cup of tea, walking over to a cabinet to get his box of tea sachets when he saw a silhouette in Red’s pants. He gave Red Velvet a disgusted look. “I swear to the fucking witches. Bruh it's too early for this.” He walked off after putting his tea away.

Later on after you quickly showered, getting the scent of Red Velvet off of your body and washing him out of your mouth, you could smell your boyfriend walking into the room, the sweet smell of vanilla and coffee filling your nose. You suddenly felt an immense feeling of heavy guilt and shame. He truly did nothing to you, he didn’t deserve to be cheated on. “Good morning, amour.” He said to you as he hugged you from behind as you put on your body spray. “Good morning dear, watch your nose.” He backed up for you and then as you finished, you could feel him cling back on you. “So, what are the plans for today?” Latte said she wants to go out again, I said I digress, I would rather not waste gas.” You nodded, agreeing with him. Gas sure did cost a pretty penny. “So… staying in?” You asked. He nodded. He looked at you as you finished in the mirror. You wanted nothing more than to get away from him as quickly as you could– the guilt was starting to become overbearing, eating you alive like a parasite. Even the glow of your ring light was making your eyes hurt. Affogato on the other hand looked at you through the mirror.

Say something.

Say. Something, Affogato Cookie.

His knee twitched, and with that he cleared his throat. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.” You looked at him, getting your attention was always easy for him to do. “Sure, what is it–” “Y/N! Breakfast!” You could hear Latte call out. “Oh!” You suddenly looked out the door, and started to head out. “We can talk later, come on.” He put his hand up and smiled politely. “I’m alright… thanks.”

At the dinner table, everyone except Affogato gathered for breakfast. As everyone was eating, Licorice and Red Velvet had finished early and were on their phones. Red got a look from Espresso that read discontent. “Why… why are you on your phone at the table? Put it down, that’s bad table etiquette.” “Blow it out your ass four eyes, Pomegranate Cookie is texting me about Chiffon, my dog. He got an ear infection shortly after I left and I asked Pomegranate to look after him and tell me about any developments.”

A sudden, extremely believable lie.

Espresso shrugged and continued eating. “Oh, the poor puppy!” Latte exclaimed, “I hope your dog gets better!” He only nodded, the reply swooshy sound coming from his phone.

bitch ass motherfucker w a small dick – Today 9:26

『wth was goin on this morning in the kitchen?』

He smirked and started typing again. Licorice’s phone then vibrated on the surface of the table. He checked it.

E-thot man whore w gay highlights – Today 9:26

『you always somehow wanna be in my business where you clearly dont belong smdh anyways since you asked I now have torturer’s rights.』

bitch ass motherfucker w a small dick – Today 9:27

『naur. sTOP.』

E-thot man whore w gay highlights – Today 9:27

『bih naur??? ugly cries anyway i was abt to get some fuck unlike you w your greasy ass hair bfffthahah』

He looked up at Red Velvet with a plain face and he returned the look. “You get on my fucking nerves.”

“Naur? Really Licorice?”

“FUCKING NAUR.”

“NAUR.”

“NAAAAAAURRRR.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO FUCKING TALKING ABOUT?” Affogato yelled out from the living room. Red snorted under his breath and put his phone in his pocket, dismissing himself from the table before walking behind you and giving you a quick head pat. Affogato walked into the kitchen and saw you and everyone else finishing breakfast. He took Red Velvet’s empty seat at the table, eyeing everyone as they ate. “What was all that?” “Don’t worry about it, they were annoying each other.” Latte said as she finished up. “And me.” Espresso groaned.

The rest of the day went on without incident… however you never spoke to Affogato, leading him into a state of paranoia. He refused to eat after a few days, the pain was killing him. You presumed that he may have wanted space, but that only made it worse in his head. All he wanted was to talk to you. That’s all he wanted really, and the coldness in his bed made him feel weak and useless. He wanted you. You.

You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. 

You were driving him c  r  a  z  y.

At one in the morning, you heard someone crying. Waking up, you opened your bedroom door to see little black, dots on the floor. You lowered down to see what this was, and upon closer inspection it looked like ink from a black pen that busted. Following the little splotches on the floor you were led to the bathroom. The inky like substance gathered at the crack at the door, puddling there. Opening the door, the smell of ink was so… overpowering you covered your nose. It was in the toilet, on the toilet seat, the handles of the sink, the countertop, the shower curtain, the walls…

It was everywhere.

You gently took hold of the bathroom curtain with a concerned look on your face. “Affogato?” You called out, which made him immediately stop crying. Holding his breath, not making a sound, he felt his breath gather up in his chest and throat, making him cough and gargle. You open the shower curtain to see Affogato, his clothes soiled with the black substance from the collar of his shirt down. He was panting– you could see the ink in his teeth. His fingers, straight down to his nails– loosely coated in liquid black as he shook gently, sitting in a now completely stained bathtub with splatters of whiter leaking through the black shiny mass that was this sticky thick liquid. “Oh witches…” you muttered under his breath. “My… my magic… I can’t– I can’t use my abilities anymore.” He whined as he curled up in the bathtub. “Affogato,” you whispered, crouching down carefully, making sure not to slip on the tile floor. “I think you should talk to me–” “I’ve been trying to do that for the past THREE. FUCKING. DAYS.”

He spat the viscous black liquid at you, clearly now in a state of anger. Do you really want to get served now? Oh god, what would he do..?

It had to come out.

“Listen, just listen to me honey…” You tried to reach out to him but he grimaced backwards against the shower wall. “Listen… about… about the day we went to the shopping center, I went with Licorice and Red Velvet, and we went into a winter boutique… he pulled me into the bathroom and he started talking about you.”

Spilling the beans, you could slowly see his eyes widen. He heard all the things about how he was an untrustworthy liar, how he was irresponsible, how he was narcissistic like his mother… god that one hurt like a bitch. He didn’t mind it personally, he’s heard gossip and rumors about him countless times before. But, for Licorice to tell you these things about him, making you avoid him… what if they were lying? What if they didn’t like him anymore?

What if… he wasn’t good enough..?

Do you dare tell him about yesterday morning?

You had to.

“And… yesterday in the kitchen… Red Velvet… um…” You could already see it in his poor off white eyes– his whole childhood was flashing through his eyes. “Oh god, this is gonna piss you off…” You swallowed the large lump in your throat, wondering how you should reword this. His eyebrows began to furl. “Why? Why? Why why why why why whywhywhywhywhywhywh…” he started to murmur to himself as he gripped his hair. “What, y/n what?! WHAT?! WHAT IS IT?!”

“I’m trying to think this through, give me a second!” “Think what through?!” 

It came out wrong. He overwhelmed your mind and your senses were clouded with nothing but the stench of xylene and alcohol, and the ink only seemed to seep deeper into your surroundings… manifesting something from the drain of the tub. Small little dark purple and black rivlets of ink started to gather and clot at the base of the drain, thickening into worm like shapes. “He…”

His hands shook as he started to let out this blood curdling scream, sending you back against the now closed bathroom door, slamming shut and knocking the back of your head.

“You will never amount to anything. You are a worthless child, and I will always blame you for why your father left for that goddamn waste of space whore…”

And after a few seconds of silence, the door busted back open, this time with a very concerned Latte, Espresso, Licorice, and Red Velvet waiting behind it. As soon as he saw Red Velvet and Licorice, his eyes suddenly filled with rage… and the room, the room started to fill with this dark mauve lavender smoke as he began to cough violently, spitting up ink from his cried out throat, dying of heat and burning from the chemicals. Hissing could be heard, and a large worm-like entity rose out of the smog, purple glowing eyes staring back at you and the others hungrily, fueled by the same rage that its host held. It picked him up slightly, allowing him to slightly levitate off the surface of the bathtub. Smaller snakes similar to the large one slithered out of the bathtub, hissing as they did so. A few snakes stayed behind and latched themselves to Affogato’s shoulders.

And after the smog cleared and his coughing subsided, the lot of you backed away… terrified of the figure that was floating before them. Focused on Red Velvet’s form solely, slithering out of the bathtub with the mercy of the large serpent behind him, hissing like a bomb about to go off… and that’s what Affogato has become– a ticking time bomb about to explode…

“REEEED VELVEEEEET!”

Launching out of the bathroom, the lot of you separated like ants. Red Velvet took you by the arm and quickly charged upstairs. “GET A FUCKING GUN, GET A GUN RED, HE’S LOST HIS MI-” “Ohhhh…. Oh Licorice! Don’t think you aren’t gonna get it either!” The large serpent summons Affogato’s staff out of its mouth, purple slime emitting from its tongue, covering it in the gooey substance that was similar to the inkblot that was created in the bathroom. With maniacal laughter, he slammed down on the ground with his newly found staff, spears stabbing down at the wooden floor, cracking as the ink pours in the hole, summoning a torrent of snakes. The shockwave of the small blast that his staff made upon impact of the floor sent Licorice backwards, falling onto the sofa, and as soon as he was trying to get up, he saw the tip of the longest spear at the end of the staff at his chest, prodding at the fabric and the very miniscule fibers of his clothes. But before he could plunge his staff into Licorice’s chest, he felt a hard bonk to his shoulder, briefly sending the large serpent back on its side for a brief moment before it stood back up with a slight grunt. He turned, only to see his youngest sister wielding a baseball bat in her hands, teary eyed as she tried to hit the large serpent again, but missed in the process, only hitting Affogato’s staff instead.

“NICE SHOT!”

 The purple swirls at the top of his staff were stained black, no longer emitting the purple sheen that it once did. “Latte Cookie, watch out!” Espresso exclaimed as he toppled his older sister before she could be hit by his staff. “You alright?” She nodded, shaking slightly. They both look up at the now corrupted cookie, while then for a second, Espresso looks back towards Red Velvet Cookie, who came back down the stairs with you in one arm and a gun in the other. “WHAT DID YOU DO?” Espresso yelled out. “I have no idea!” 

“FEEL MY WRAAAATH! AAAAA HAHAHAHAHA!”

Slamming his staff down onto the ground, he conjures up even more snakes, and they slither to find their way towards Licorice Cookie’s legs, slithering around them and leaving a nasty train of black inky slime behind, tying Licorice down and rendering him unable to move. He tried to do the same with Red Velvet Cookie, but was rendered unsuccessful when he swatted away the pesky little snakes with the barrel of the gun. 

“Wait, I think I know what’s wrong with him!” Latte said as she hurriedly moved over towards Licorice Cookie. Espresso Cookie followed her close behind, urging you and Red Velvet Cookie to follow suit. Suddenly, Latte Cookie used a shield to protect the lot of you as you bunched up in your little group. A brown and cream colored book then came to her as it opened, flipping through pages. “I think this is something called an overblot.” Espresso looked over his older sister’s shoulder with curiosity. “Overblot? The… the heck is a-an overblot?” “Licorice choked out through the grasp of the snake, coughing. You quickly tried to untangle the snakes from Licorice’s body, only for them to multiply and hiss at you. “An overblot… according to this passage,” Latte started as she flipped through pages, regaining her place in the book and sliding her finger down the off white page, “is a type of monster that births from a magic user that overuses their magic to the point of it becoming unstable,” she read, “magic users normally overblot due to many factors, however a few signature causes include trauma, extreme stress, or an excess in negative energy blotting something called a “magic wand.” Each overblot monster has an attached entity in which it takes representation of the overblot monster, often in the form of a person or an animal.” Affogato screamed as he hit away at the shield that formed above you with his staff in an attempt to break it, hitting away at it again and again… not stopping for anything. Red Velvet held you with the gun in his hands belting you to him by your stomach. “How the hell do we stop him?!” Latte than frantically flipped through the paragraphs on the page, looking up to see small cracks in the shield she formed, spreading outward with each hit like gentle glass breaking.

“We… we have to wait for his magic to deplete completely… but we can help this go by quicker by… fighting him. The more magic he uses, the quicker it will deplete. And no, Red Velvet, you’re not shooting my brother.” Well, someone told me to go get a gun–” 

“I have no need for siblings like you, who have failed to protect me and stand by me, and your flaws give me ADEQUATE cause… to send you lot to the ENDS OF EARTH TO ROT!” With one final hit, the shield broke, shattering into itty bitty pieces around and on you, leaving micro cuts on your skin. You saw sickened eyes, eyes of white surrounded in a deep sclera sea of black, ink dripping from his lower lashline like mascara running. A smile from ear to ear as he laid eyes on his targets, Red Velvet and Licorice Cookie… and then his siblings… and last… maybe even you. “Red Velvet, I need you to use the gun to untangle Licorice so he can help; us with his magic! For now, Latte and I will hold Affogato off.” Red Velvet nodded, and while keeping you close, he turned the safety of the gun off and cocked it, shooting each snake, watching them wither into puddles of black ink, staining Licorice’s cloak. “Don’t shoot me!” Licorice yelled.

Espresso and Latte had a pair of catalysts that floated next to them, using their respective magic against Affogato to repel him away to aid Red Velvet in getting Licorice free. When Coffee and Latte magic collide, the effects of the collision are almost monstrous in heat and intensity. Beams of coffee and milk surrounded Affogato, trying to strain him of movement, entrapping him in a circle of Solomon. “Now! Go! He can’t move!” Red Velvet urged, pulling Licorice up on his feet. Summoning his scythe, his dead, pale colored eyes bleated as they bore into Affogato’s distraught form. “Now! Come forth, my servants!” Standing behind the two coffee siblings, he slammed his scythe down on the floor, summoning a legion of shadowy, goopy creatures with glowing gold eyes that seemed to be at Licorice’s command. “Go forth, my beasts!” He yelled, gesturing to them to attack Affogato, and at the simple command did they charge forward in small groups in different directions, from the left, right and center… all to surround Affogato in the coff like key that held him in place..

But that only lasted for a brief moment when a torrent of ink spilled through the circle, trying to slow the licorice creatures in their mini stampede of sorts. The little minions however broke some parts of the circle in an effort to intercept Affogato, climbing onto his ankles to hold him down. “Everyone! Go!” Licorice yelled, Latte and Espresso stepped back, catalysts still in hand as they tried to repel Affogato using their own respective magic spells, however, that only did so much to him. With the two siblings and the licorice minions, the small snakes started fighting off the minions one by one, biting down on them and paralyzing them. The snakes would absorb the magic from the minions, which would replenish Affogato of his dark magic. He suddenly began to cackle, a deep cackle as he shot his staff outward, a large lavender beam coming from it. It split in two and managed to hit both Espresso and Latte with incredible force, sending them out of the cabin into the snowy yard outside with rough crashes onto the frozen ground.

He turned over to the necromancer at his very right, who beckoned you to go out to help the coffee siblings outside. Red Velvet stepped forward, gun in hand as he directed the barrel and chamber to the floor. “Affogato, please snap out of it!” Red Velvet yelled out, “we know you’re in pain right now, you’re in severe psychological distress and we get it, but at least–” “Why should I hold back anymore?! You tried to take the ONLY THING, the ONLY COOKIE in my life that seemed to matter to me, and YOU… tried to tear me and them APART!

“I WILL NO LONGER BE STOLEN FROM!”

The snakes charged at Red Velvet first, causing him to shoot at the snakes, which did some harm to Affogato. Licorice summoned more of his minions, then looked at how the snakes acted. His eyes widened all the sudden, as things started to clear up. The snakes acted as mini conduits of energy and magic that replenish Affogato! And they all seemed to be born from…

“The glass snake behind him… that’s it!” Licorice shouted, alerting Red Velvet next to him. “We have to destroy the snake behind Affogato!” Red Velvet smiled, aiming his gun at it to take a shot. However, upon shooting the snake, the bullet only seemed to ricochet off the glass into a window. “The glass that makes up the snake looks like it’s bulletproof!” Red Velvet shouted.  “A simple bullet will not be able to break the glass!” Suddenly, Affogato took his staff and swung it at Licorice’s head, swiftly sending him into the entertainment center. Screaming he put his hand to his hand only to see blood riveting out onto his pale fingers. Fresh blood dripped from the newly found spikes adorning the sides of the staff. Red Velvet attempts to shoot the glass snake again, making the dark cookie cry out in pain. The second bullet would ricochet into the television on the wall. But… the second bullet left a tiny, very fine crack. His eyes widened as he went over to protect Licorice who sat on the floor, bleeding heavily. “Affogato, stop!” He smiled manically and raised his staff high in the air, preparing to swing at Red Velvet, cornering him against the other injured cookie. Perfect timing… you, Espresso, and Latte entered the cabin, slightly reddened and bruised from the snow, and saw the state of the two cookies against the entertainment center. “THE SNAKE!” Red Velvet yelled, “YOU HAVE TO BREAK–” Affogato swung roughly at Red Velvet, cutting him off and sending him into a violent scream. Stopping for a second, he started to giggle once more, he descended into insane laughter and started to bludgeon the two cookies under him, the snakes taking over their bodies to absorb their blood and strength. “STOP HIM!” Espresso yelled. The three of you attempted to intercept Affogato from three sides, with Espresso taking the snake in a chokehold and performing a boiling spell on it. Then, he noticed the fine crack.

“Latte, get the baseball bat you had!” She looked up to her younger brother who was in the process of heating the glass of the snake in an attempt to enlarge the crack. “The glass…” you muttered. “Red Velvet was trying to shoot the glass. We have to break the glass of the snake! Latte, you can use your magic to aid Espresso in heating the layers of the glass!” Espresso shook his head. “No, we have to use a lot more force to break the glass. Our magic can only do so much!” You ran off with Latte to get some bats, while Espresso stayed behind, jumping off to hit the snake with a beam of coffee magic, making Affogato wince. Summoning more snakes out of inky puddles, they slithered quickly towards Espresso Cookie, who levitated off the floor with his catalyst. The snakes gripped at the tail of his cape with their fangs, Flipping through the pages, he smiled at Affogato, who was prepping his staff once more. “Oh, so you wish to go down with them, little brother?” He asked, his voice laden with poisonous intent. “That voice… so familiar. So bitter…!” Espresso expressed as he shot a torrent of coffee beans in Affogato’s direction, pinning him up against the wall, like small needles. His eyes focused in on the crown  of the snake’s head, preparing to shoot a beam of magic at it when all the sudden, Affogato charged forward and suspended his younger brother to a window, holding him by the neck with his staff. The snakes start to slither up the wall, closing in on Espresso’s head.

“You've always tried to outsmart me, always tried to get me into trouble, frame me for things you obviously did, made my life hell and you always got away with it like you’re so much better than me… you have no right to disrespect me any further… matter of fact…” Using the staff to forcefully lift Espresso’s chin upward painfully, the snakes blinded him, sliding over his eyes. “You won’t be able to harm me any further… you’ll be dead.”

“Nice thought!”

SLAM!

[amphibiahawks321]

✨[Some Cookie Run : Kingdom x M!Reader Cookie in a nutshell]✨

[brittle-doughie]

Attempt #4. THE INBOX DIMENSION WILL NOT HOLD ME-

I was playing some Noita and remembered that dungeons (The video gamey kind) canonically exist in CRK. Say Y/N Cookie is a student of Parfaedia Academy, they really like trying to make their own spells. Y/N Cookie is very creative, perhaps a bit too creative for their own good. Y/N Cookie's spells vary in quality across a wide margin with some just straight up backfiring in their face. After some very memorable and very spectacular accidents Y/N Cookie receives a brief suspension. Does this deter Y/N Cookie from continuing spellcraft? No! They look back on the events of the Triple Cone Cup. For the third event the champions journeyed through a dungeon labyrinth, surely more of its kind must exist right? Y/N Cookie does some exploring and finds another mysterious labyrinth, perfect for testing out new spells! So Y/N Cookie starts dungeon delving into this new labyrinth of mysteries to use the spells they've concocted against what might dwell below. Of course, Y/N Cookie being Y/N Cookie, their fellow parfaedians eventually discover both their whereabouts as wells as what they've been up to. How would Y/N Cookie's fellow Parfaedians react to finding them dungeon delving all alone, with these new spells of theirs, no matter how hurt they might be? (Sorry if you've actually been getting these)

Wayward Soul (Parfaedia Cookies)

I have been getting these, plz-

You knew it was only a matter of time. That they’d get suspicious of how you were all too eager to carry out your suspicion. It took a little tracking magic to find out where you’ve been going…

Almond Cookie is first on the scene to stop you on your use of unsorted and odd magic here. Don’t you know how dangerous it is to handle this kind of magic, even in a closed and empty environment like this? He’ll ask you to lower your staff, he really doesn’t want to have to use force on you.

Latte Cookie is soft, yet still stern with her speech towards you. First, she makes sure you’re okay and you have no injuries on you. Next, she gives you a talking to about using these vast amount of spells without supervision. She was more worried about you being hurt than breaking the rules.

Seriously? Your professor, Espresso Cookie, reminded you on why you were given your suspension and it was for things like this. He can admire your energy to make all sorts of spells with your imagination, but the spells catalogued in your book should he the preferred ones, undocumented spells are too risky to practice.

The three ask you to follow them back to the academy grounds. They’ll talk more back in the classroom where they’ll decide on how they’ll reprimand you.

You clutch your staff, your grip shaking a little.

You didn’t regret practicing your magic like this, but boy were the incoming consequences not sounding good either…

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; latte cookie

requested by ; anonymous (20/05/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; latte cookie

outline ; “latte cookie relationship hcs pls? 👉👈”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

latte cookie is an incredibly well-meaning, if somewhat forgetful, partner who always does whatever she can to make you smile even on your worst days — even making herself late (well, later than usual) for work at parfaedia just to ensure that you get to start your day on a positive note and with plenty of love and affection to carry you through to the other side

she’s big on casual affection and doesn’t shy away from pda unless it could be seen as inappropriate in front of her students — so things like: pecks on the cheek between sips of your favourite hot drinks, resting her head on your shoulder as you watch it rain from your bedroom window with your arm around her waist, her burying her face in the crook of your neck and giggling as you kiss the crown of her head, using ‘i love you’ as a punctuation to almost everything she says to you, and cupping your hands in her own and blowing on them to warm them up if you complain about the cold are all come easily and naturally to her

there have been times where she’s nearly hurt you or accidentally damaged odd items in your home when she’s started daydreaming and accidentally used some latte magic in the midst of her drifting — of course that usually snaps her back to reality and she checks you over for injuries, sheepishly apologising and tenderly kissing any part of you that might be hurt (and offering to replace anything that she’s damaged during these moments before you even bring it up)

when it comes to pet names she’s a fan of calling you things like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘dear’ — but she’s happy to be called whatever (even if things along the lines of ‘babe’ and ‘hot stuff’ might get you a joking shake of the head or a flustered squeak in response)

her favourite kisses are the ones that are intimate and that incite that sort of breathy giggling that puppy love tends to bring, the type that occur in moments like this: sipping on hot cocoa on a cold winter evening after she’s been at the academy all day, kissing between each sip and giggling when she licked away whipped cream that had smeared messily across your upper lip; surprising her during her lunch break at parfaedia and watching her face light up when her gaze lifts from her eager students and she sees you, nearly falling to the ground as she runs up to you and practically tackles you into a hug — peppering kisses along your cheeks and lips as you both laugh so hard your sides ache; spooning in bed just before she has to leave for work, with you clinging to her back and lazily kissing her shoulder as she presses the back of your hand to her lips and debates just staying home for the day (which she doesn’t because her students need her and she’d hate to disappoint them) — quiet moments, fun moments, silly moments, but she loves them all, as well as the kisses that come from them, equally

if you ever wanted to learn magic, especially latte magic, then she’d be more than happy to teach you — offering you all of the books she used to study from, as well as her own notebooks and bits she procured from her academy, to help you learn in whatever way suits you best (and, of course, she’d be there to answer any and all questions you have, just happy to have you be so interested in something she’s passionate about)

her students all know you as ‘sweetheart’ and ‘my partner’ and a bunch of other lovey-dovey pet names because she speaks about you so often — going on tangents about something funny you’ve said, your accomplishments, and how much she loves you pretty regularly (which they love and will rarely ever interrupt because it’s so sickeningly sweet when she does it)

she has a few photos on her desk in her office — one of her first class she took on as a professor, another of her family, and one of the two of you from your first anniversary as a couple (you’re both smiling broadly and hugging with fireworks in the background of the image, she remembers the date fondly and made it a point to bring espresso cookie a box of assorted imported coffee beans after the fact as a thanks for covering her classes for that day)

[starmoonsunearth]

Someone just ask me...

Why did i don't post crk x reader for along time.....

Welp, this is for you....~

"Shall we dance?"

Latte cookie x Y/N

I hate latte's dress, so i changed it....

[nymphomatique]

gold star student

professor!logan howlett x fem!reader

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

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

wc: 8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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