#but if you are capable of doing that... teach me

[the-librarby]

HOME EARLY

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

18+ MDNI.

Simon is overwhelmed by the urge to breed his wife.

Umm ovulation hit, and it’s clearly apparent here. Good luck and happy reading.

You think it’s your imagination when you hear the front door creek open. It’s almost four am, and the wind is making every wall in the house shake so you dismiss it and try to go back to sleep.

But then there’s a thud from the living room. You shoot up in bed and rush to flick the lamp on, listening out for any other sounds. Cautiously you reach for the metal baseball bat beside your bed and slowly step down the hallway into the living room where you heard the noises. When you get closer, there’s a weird shuffling of clothes rubbing together, with the bat now high in your hands you peek around the corner and see hulking figure by the doorway. It doesn’t seem to move, busy looking down at something in their hands before placing it on the entry way table.

Their calm and careful movements make you sigh a breath of relief. You flick on the floor lamp around the corner, alerting your husband into looking you way as you lower the baseball bat.

“Jesus Simon, you scared me,” you mutter, propping the bat up against the wall.

Simon drops his keys down alongside his phone, “Sorry darlin’ didn’t mean to wake you,”

When you catch full sight of his face, your eyes widen. There’s blood crusted on the side of his face that seems to connect all the way down to his split lip, you rush over to take a closer look, “What happened?”

He moves out of your worrying grasp by tilting his head away and grabbing your outstretched hands, “Nothin’” he mutters, “Perp’ got scrappy with a knife, had to disarm him. Looks worse than it is,”

You frown trying to look closely at the wound in the dim lighting, “Let me clean it,” Simon is already shaking his head not wanting to make a big deal of it but you won’t let him brush you off, “Let me clean it, Simon. It won’t take long, who knows what was on that knife, could get infected.”

Simon looks down at your determined gaze and sighs, already defeated. Your stubbornness matched his easily on a good day, not that anyone ever believed little Simon’s wife could be capable of that. He’s learnt to just give in when it came to you wanting to take care of him.

“Whatever you want love,” he says softly, letting go of your hands.

“Wait for me in the bathroom.” you reply, stepping out of his way.

Simon does as he’s asked and walks across the lounge room, he’s just about to round the corner when he sees the bar leaning against the wall. All he can do is smirk at the sight of it before disappearing into the bedroom. He’d got you that bat out of protection, and at first you had laughed when he tried to teach you how to use it, calling him paranoid because of his work. All he knows is now he would never want to be on the answering end of one of your swings.

He flicks the switch on to your ensuite bathroom, allowing the warm light fill the small space. Your home was on the smaller side of cozy, being this close to the city meant you couldn’t afford to have a bigger space, but each day Simon was working towards saving up for a bigger place in the suburbs. A place big enough to have little ones running around, the idea is what got him up everyday for work.

He flips the lid of the toilet down and sits on it waiting for you to walk in. He looks down at his hands to see dried dirt and blood under his nails, as well as his wedding ring which glints softly under the lighting. He should have showered at work but it was just one of those nights where he couldn’t wait to get back to you. He was having a lot more of those nights lately, the thrill of chasing criminals just wasn’t his biggest priority anymore.

When you walk in you see Simon hunched over the toilet waiting for you, he watches as you turn the bathroom tap on to wash your hands, “Should take your uniform off.” you suggest.

He hums and begins to unbutton it without question, by the time you fish out the first aid kit from under the bathroom sink he’s already hung it over the shower door leaving him in his white undershirt.

You nod your head in the direction of his top, “Lose the top too,”

He raises an eyebrow at your little smirk but assents, “Yes ma’am.”

You let out a small appreciative hum as he slips it off, carelessly letting it hang from the bathroom counter. With an antiseptic wipe in hand, you step in between his outstretched legs and reach for his chin. Simon tilts his head pliantly in your hold and lets you gently wipe away the crusted blood on his cheek and jaw. Absentmindedly he rests his hands on your bare thighs and feels up and down.

“You’re home early,” you comment, focusing as you get closer to the open cut on his cheek.

Simon grunts when the antiseptic touches the open site, “Yeah, slow night,”

You raise an eyebrow, “That’s the third slow night this week, scarin’ all the criminals off or something?”

He wishes, it would be his biggest dream to rid of all the scum in this city if it meant you could walk freely without any danger.

When he doesn’t reply you frown and tilt his chin up with your pointer finger until he meets your gaze, “Seriously, what’s up with you Simon? You’ve been off all week,”

His arms circle your thighs protectively and pull you closer, “Can’t a man just miss his wife?”

You smile sweetly and thread your fingers through his hair to sweep it off his forehead, “That’s it? Nothing else is going on?”

He shakes his head, “You’re the only thing on my mind, love.”

You roll your eyes at his sappy comment and lean over to reach for another antiseptic wipe. Due to limited mobility with Simon’s arms wrapped around your legs you have to grip one of his shoulders and stretch your arm to grab it. You tear the corner open with your teeth and drop the package into the small waste bin before wrapping the wipe around your finger. The cut on his lip doesn’t look as bad, and it’s already starting to scab. So you carefully dab around the edges with the upmost concentration, when you get too close to the open wound Simon hisses and pulls back.

You mumble a small apology but grab ahold of his chin to keep him still, “Almost done, stop moving,”

“Fuckin’ hurts,” he mutters.

You look at him incredulously, but it quickly melts away when you see the small smirk on his face, “You’re such a baby,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the side of his mouth, “Thought policemen were meant to be tougher than this,”

He tightens his arms around your thighs and squeezes hard in a flex of his strength. You grip his shoulders as you begin to lose balance but he doesn’t seem to care as he rests his chin on your stomach to look up at you, “Can be tough if that’s what you want,”

You pat his shoulder, “Alright sweetheart, no need to prove yourself,”

“Not enjoying the lip you’re givin’ me, love,” he retorts.

You smile condescendingly, “Gonna do something about it?”

Without warning Simon stands from his seat, lifting you up with him. You laugh and grab his shoulders for support before wrapping your legs around his waist. He takes a step before turning to face the bathroom mirror and drops you on the counter, his hands rest either side of your thighs as he leans close into your space.

Even covered in cuts and bruises you can help but admire how handsome he is. You lean back against the bathroom mirror and run your hands from his shoulders down to his chest, the healthy fat that covers his muscles makes a certain part of your brain purr.

Simon notices immediately and drags you closer until your hips are pressed against his, “Somethin’ you like?”

You look up at him lazily, hands still caressing his chest, “Just admiring the view.”

With his hands still gripping your thighs he leans down to kiss you against the mirror. When his lips meet yours you try to be gentle as to not disturb the cut, but he dismisses all your worries of hurting him when he leans in harder. You can only gasp against his lips when his hand reaches under your shirt—his really—and slip beneath your panties.

“Simon—” you start, pulling away to rest against the mirror when his finger teases at your folds.

He shushes you and presses his lips against yours again leaving you no choice but to let him do as he pleases. It’s a gentle tease at first, he’s more occupied with the way his tongue finds yours than the lazy caress of his finger against your clit. You grab his shoulders for anchorage before dragging your fingers up into his hair at the nape of his neck. His finger is joint by another, both pressed together as rub circles around your clit more earnestly.

You can’t help the way you involuntarily bite down on his lip at the sudden burst of pleasure that spikes up your spine. Simon hisses and pulls away, when you realise what you’ve done you immediately start apologises, “Sorry,” you gasp, holding the sides of his face, “Sorry Simon, are you okay?”

Simon zeros in on the way his blood dots your bottom lip, turning it a rosy red. It’s barely anything but it’s enough to make his cock twitch, “You’re killing me, sweetheart,”

You huff, swiping your thumb under the fresh blood that has beaded on his lip unbeknownst to the thoughts that are running through his head, “I didn’t bite that hard,”

You place your hands on his shoulders before he can kiss you again, “We should clean tha—”

“No,” he couldn’t think of anything worse than separating from you right now.

You look at him questionably, “Just so it can heal properly Si—”

“No,” he says more authoritatively, rubbing your clit with renewed vigour just to convince you.

Your head thunks back against the mirror as you let out a moan. You sink your nails into his shoulders and clench your eyes closed as you focus on the pleasure slowly building within your core. When he leans in this time you let him, instead of a kiss like you were expecting, you feel Simon’s tongue swipe across your bottom lip. With a hooded gaze you look at him suspiciously, only to see his pupils have dilated and his breathing has turned more ragged. Rather than commenting on it you tug him closer and kiss him messily, uncaring of the way his bloodied lip tastes.

It elicits a groan out of him and a reward for you as his middle finger slips further down and curls up inside. You gasp, opening panting against Simon’s mouth as he makes quick work of fingering you just the way you like without all the teasing.

“Fuck, Simon—” you moan, clawing your nails down his biceps, “More, please, more,”

Simon grunts, gripping your thigh with his free hand while the other complies with your demands and sinks another finger in. Having you blissed out against the bathroom, with just his fingers alone strokes the egotistical part of his mind— he was responsible for bringing you pleasure, for making you happy. He was such a good husband, and he would be an even better father. A vision of you with your belly swollen and your tits heavy against his palm sent such violent pleasure down his spine that he almost came in his pants at the thought. He has to grip his cock, hard, until it’s stifled to a weak twitch so he can collect his thoughts.

You’re still blissfully unaware, rolling your hips against his fingers until your clit bumps against his palm, completely taking control over your own pleasure. Simon only watches as you bring yourself to the edge, jaw slightly slack as you move with unrestrained inhibition.

“I want a baby,” he announces.

Your eyes fly open, moment completely shattered as your orgasm recedes. You drop your full weight against the counter, hands propping you up by your sides, “What?”

Simon licks his lips, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt, “I want a baby,” he says more clearly.

You pant softly, trying to catch your breath, “Where is this coming from?”

His hands come forward to hike your shirt up, slowly caressing your hips, “Can’t stop thinking about it,” he says cautiously, scanning your eyes for any sense of worry, “I want to take care of you—”

“You do take care of me—”

“And our baby,” he finishes.

At your pause he continues, “Do you not want this?”

You frown, licking your lips in thought, “I do,” you respond tentatively, “I just didn’t think you were ready, I know your job means a lot to you,”

He shakes his head, “Not anymore,”

You sit up properly and carefully cup the side of his face, “Is this why you’ve been coming home early?”

He turns instantly to kiss the palm of your hand, his wordless response says it all. You can’t help but huff and smile at the display, of course there was a reason. There’s always a reason behind Simon’s actions.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You whisper.

He looks at you from the corner of his eye before leading a trail of kisses down you wrist, “Didn’t know how to tell you,”

You laugh, “Well you had no problem telling me now, what changed?”

One of his hands reaches down to rub at your stomach, “I was imagining it,”

You bite your lip and try to laugh it off, but his movements send a shiver down your spine, “Imagining what?”

Simon looks at you more earnestly now as he rubs all around your stomach and hips with his massive hands, “How beautiful you’d look with a swollen belly, carrying our child,” he looks down at you as his hands slide under your shirt to cup your breasts, “How nicely these will fill out towards the end of it,”

You gasp at the rough squeeze of his hands, it makes you throb and circle your legs around his waist. At your response, he grabs your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, you wrap your arms around his neck for balance and stare into his eyes. His gaze is steady, and unflinching, there was no room for doubt.

“You really want this?” You ask.

“Yes,”

You smile and cradle the side of his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone, “Okay,”

“Okay,” He nods. “Now?”

You balk at his eagerness “Now? I’m on the pill, Simon, it won’t work now,”

Your reluctance doesn’t deter him as he leads a trail of kisses down your neck, “Not even if I fill you up?”

Lord help you, the idea is consuming him already. You look up at the ceiling as he pulls the neckline of your shift to continue his trial across your collarbone, “That would kinda defeat the purpose of birth control,”

He pauses, “But it’s not one hundred percent accurate,”

You sigh, “No, it’s not one hundred percent accurate,”

He smirks smugly, “Then I have a chance,”

“A slim chan—” you try to say before he cuts you off with a kiss. It’s urgent, and messy and excited. In his hurry to get the ball rolling he yanks at the old sleep shirt you wearing too hard causing a hole to tear through it.

“Simon!” You gasp, staring down at it, “This is my favourite top to sleep in,”

“Sorry darlin’,” it’s an empty apologise to get on your good side as he lifts the shirt off your head, “I’ll make it up to you,”

You huff as you let the shirt fall away to the bathroom floor, “How?” You challenge.

Simon licks his lips as he stares at your exposed chest, “By filling you up real nice,”

You refuse to acknowledge the way that sends a shiver down your spine, “That’s not really making up to me if it’s something you also want,”

Simon hums, you’re right. It’s completely selfish, he does want this— a lot. So much so, that he doesn’t even defend himself as he reaches for the waistband of your panties, “I’ll spoil you once you’re pregnant,” he promises, pulling your fabric down your legs until they’re all the way off.

He leans forward and latches on to one of your nipples, you gasp and squirm when his teeth tease around the sensitive edge of it until he pulls away, “No missus of mine will lift a finger when she’s carrying our child.”

You moan, arching your back off the mirror to avoid the cold glass pressing against you. Simon continues his path over to your other breast, taking your nipple into his mouth while his hand takes care of the other. You reach for the zipper of his pants, doing your best to remove them without getting distracted.

Simon gives you a hand by shoving his pants and underwear down in one go once you’ve managed to unbutton them. His cock is flushed and aching, it throbs once against his abdomen before you take it in your hand and give it a leisurely pump. He groans and thrusts his hips into your hand as you continue your pace. It’s not long before he lets out a warning grunt, twitching and leaking within your palm, making the slide nice and wet. His forehead rests against your shoulder completely taken over by the way your fingers circle around the sensitive head of his cock taking him closer to the edge. You can tell by his shallow breathing that he’s almost there, so you give him one last flick of your wrist before squeezing the base of his cock cutting off any impending orgasm. He grips your thighs, hard, and clenches his eyes closed at the pleasure coming to a painful halt.

“That’s fucking karma,” you whisper into his ear.

He groans and drops a kiss against your shoulder before straightening up, “No more fucking around.” he states, hooking your legs over his arms so he has a nice view of your dripping cunt.

With one of his hands he guides his cock forward, rubbing the head of it through your wet folds. You lean back with your hands propped against the counter as you watch. When the head of his cock catches, he slides all the way home, stretching you wide open. You hiss at the sting, even after all this time you’re still unused to the way he’s able to stretch you so far.

“S’fuckin’ tight,” he grunts, barely restraining himself from holding still. “How have I still not broken this cunt in?”

You clench your eyes closed waiting for the sting to pass, “Too big,”

He rubs his thumb soothingly up and down your inner thigh, “You can take it love.”

When the pain recedes you let out a deep exhale and rest against the bathroom mirror. Simon takes that has his sign to give a shallow thrust, slowly taking his time until you’re completely falling apart on his cock. Every punch forward sends a breath out of you forcing you to breathe in short pants. He grips your hips and pulls you forward on each thrust sending him as deep as he can in this position.

“Simon,” you moan. “M’close.”

He only grunts in acknowledgment at your warning. You can’t help but reach down with your fingers to circle your own clit, Simon is immediately drawn in watching the way you move against him to get yourself off. It’s not long until you’re clenching tight around him, dragging him down with you into your first orgasm. You rest against the mirror of the bathroom, taking heaving breaths as you try to collect yourself. Simon is still holding your hips with his cock inside you as he does the same.

“Gotta go again,” he mutters.

“Huh? What did you say?” You pant.

Weakly he thrusts forwards to test the waters, you cunt immediately spasms around him in overstimulation. “S’not enough love, I need to fill you,”

“Simon—” you huff as he straightens up, making his cock shift, “We can try again later,” you press your hand against his abdomen when he tries to thrust back in, “I don’t think I have another one in me,”

“Course you do,” he assures, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears, “Just one more, and I’ll be satisfied. You can do that for me can’t you?”

You whine when he thrusts forward against your wishes. It aches, and you’re exhausted, but with each gentle thrust the twitching of your thighs slowly starts to fade. Simon hoists you up into his arms, walking you into the bedroom, all while still inside your cunt to ensure his seed doesn’t leak out— he’s got to get the most out of this after all.

Carefully he lays you down on the bed, its soft surface is incomparably better compared to the hard counter. You sigh in instant relief and shut your eyes, Simon won’t let you rest though. With one leg propped over his shoulder, holding you nice and open he grinds down into you. He barely even thrusts out as he focuses on driving as deep as he can into your cervix.

“Fuck!” You shout, holding your lower abdomen. You can feel every inch of him going impossibly deeper.

“I’m gonna make that belly swell,” he slurs, “You’ll have no choice but to have my child,”

“Simon—fuck—come on,” you whine, begging for him to finish inside you.

“Almost there doll,” he groans.

“Want your baby,” you moan, gripping onto one of his hips to pull him closer, “C’mon Simon, you’ll give it to me won’t you? Don’t back out on me now,”

It’s a ragged breath he breathes out in response to your comments, “Need you to take care of me— take care of us, you’re the only one who can do it,”

He clenches his eyes closed and slams into you one last time as he comes again. You’re starting to feel uncomfortably full with both his seed and cock still straining against your hole. You start to feel boneless as sleep washes over you, Simon will take care of everything as always so you feel no need to stay awake.

Until you feel your world tilt as you flip over. When you open your eyes you’re already on your stomach, knees sunk into the mattress with Simon lined up behind you.

“No,” you cry, angling your hips away, “Simon, no more baby, that’s enough,”

Simon is mesmerised by the way his come is starting to leak out of you. Before it can drip onto the sheets, he plugs it up crudely with his thumb, using his other free hand to hold your wriggling hips in place.

“One more sweetheart,” he promises, “Just one more, and that’s it,”

Jesus what the fuck did you sign up for? He’s completely taken over by his own self image of you, pregnant and barefoot that he can’t even see how wrung out you are. You’re completely exhausted, sore, and full. But all he’s seeing is how much more you can take. With his thumb still plugging your hole, he leans over your back to whisper in your ear.

“You agreed with me earlier,” he states, “this is what we have to do, I need to fill you up with as much as I can,”

You pout slumping your shoulders against the mattress, “I’m sore, Simon, I can’t do it again,”

He lays gentle kisses against your shoulder, “You’re gonna look so beautiful with my child,” he repeats, “I’ll take care of everything, including these,” he reaches down to hold your tits in his hands, pinching both nipples with his thumb and forefinger, “When they get full. I’ll do it all for you,”

You moan weakly, jutting your hips back against his pelvis where his cock is already hard and waiting. Without waiting for a verbal response he lines himself up with your already soaked entrance, and slides back in. It’s easy now, you’ve moulded yourself against the shape of him after multiple rounds and the way his come drips out around the sides of his cock makes it a wet slide. All you can do is grip the sheets beneath you and cry every so often at a particularly harsh thrust that makes you even more sore. You must have your wires crossed because eventually the soreness builds into pleasure, and soon enough you’re meeting his thrusts halfway hoping your clit will smack against balls for some extra stimulation.

“That’s it,” he groans, gripping your ass tighter as he pulls you back against him, “Last one, darlin’ make sure you catch all of it,”

“Put it in me,” you slur, “All of it Simon.”

As if hearing your prayers Simon reaches down to rub your clit, immediately sending you over the edge one last time. Your thighs squeeze shut around his hand, and milk him of one last orgasm. You moan at the past pitiful ropes that fill you up, if you don’t get pregnant this time. You’re sure once you’re off the pill you’ll get pregnant next time.

Simon makes sure to push every drop in as deep as he can before finally pulling out. You moan in relief, slumping against the mattress entirely fucked out and at your limit. When he touches your thigh, you bat his hand away.

“Get the fuc’off me,” you mutter, “Fuckin’ manic,”

He chuckles and leans down to kiss your cheek, “I love you,”

You cringe as you feel his come start to leak out of you, “Love you too.”

[braunhamsteren]

Eren is an office worker

I've been working in the "office" for some time now, and I really wanted to think about what kind of employees these AOT guys would be. So far, only Eren. I will be very glad if someone likes it.

Eren is an employee who recently came to work, but has already had a fight with every department and employee. He does not adhere to the dress code; he is most often seen in black jeans and a plain T-shirt or hoodie. Less often, he wears a black shirt. No one ever knows what he's eating, because there's never a food container with his name on it in the shared fridge. However, he will always be happy to purchase products for his department somewhere else. More often, he communicates respectfully with colleagues, but sometimes… It can be very easy to inflame the anger and stubbornness of a young employee.

By the way, this stubbornness will encourage him to work overtime. If the task for a project turns out to be too difficult or bulky for a typical workday, he often stays up late, ordering energy drinks and snacks for himself. You are the only person in the office who got a job later than him, so he will be supportive and offer all possible support. Of course, he won't be able to protect you from the wrath of his superiors, but he'll be happy to invite you for coffee and openly discuss what he thinks is unfair treatment of you. He will also often invite you for a walk during your lunch break to criticize the decisions of colleagues. Members of the older generation often complain about his smoking habit, but unlike them, he never stays in the smoking room to gossip, and surprisingly, he doesn't smell like tobacco.

"I'm not conflicted, I'm just right. Often."

"If I hadn't said anything, we'd still be doing this shit the old—fashioned way."

"These deadlines are just a joke, right? Good… Where's my big coffee mug?" ties her hair into a bundle

"No, I'm not leaving until I'm done. It's obvious, isn't it?"

Eren can be annoying sometimes, but he commands respect. He doesn't fit into the system, but at the same time he proudly carries his "I" through all the office wars. To be honest, he's the only one who treats you with great understanding. With him, no project deadlines are scary.

"If they bother you, tell them it's my fault. I'm used to it, and looking at their displeased faces is my hobby"

"Why are you so sad? Come on, let's buy you a croissant"

One day you were sitting in a meeting room after another meeting with your superiors and customers — another failed deadline, although it wasn't your fault. The door opens abruptly without knocking — Eren is on the threshold, with two cups of coffee in his hands.

"Well, sufferer?", he puts a cappuccino cup in front of you with smiling foam emojis. "I heard you being torn apart. What the fuck…"

You can't help but grin: he's the only one who calls a spade a spade.

"You could have helped me", you grumble, but he just waves it off.

"So that what? You know they're idiots. I'd rather teach you how to keep your nerve cells in this job."

And here you are sitting on the fire escape (Eren hates the smoking room during lunch when employees from other departments gather there. He says, "It really stinks there now, but it's the smell of hypocrisy!"):

"Rule number 1. Listen to the boss, nodding, and then do it your own way. They value the result, not the process." "Rule number 2. Ignore all these passive-aggressive chats. Just set the reaction to “👍” and score. Let's break through!"

Suddenly he stops abruptly, noticing how you're staring at his jeans with a hole in the knee.

"Yes, the dress code is for those who don't know how to work. I can do that."

You ask why he's staying here at all if everything is so bad.

"Because someone needs to be shown that the rules are just someone's fantasy", Eren shrugs, smiling contentedly. "Well…I like having someone to protect."

He doesn't look in your direction, but you understand that this is the most sincere confession he is capable of. Over time, you start to be friends, Eren turned out to be a reliable person. Despite all his "tricks," his attitude to work is admirable. Once again, you've been sitting in the office late — not because the deadline is on, but because the boss scolded you for some nonsense in the morning, and now you're just staring at the monitor, pretending to be working. Suddenly, there is a light knock on the table from behind— it's Eren. He puts a plastic cup with an iced latte and your favorite mint syrup in front of you (it's adorable that he remembers, even though you only said it once) and a sandwich.

"Eat it! You look like the only thing you've eaten today is the boss's screams."

You can't help but grin. He's right.

"Thanks… But you're not just here at a late hour, are you? Is your project dragging on again?"

"Well, first of all, yes. The customer made a bunch of edits again. Secondly…" He plopped down on the chair next to you and took a flash drive out of his pocket. "I have something here."

You're getting nervous.

"What is it?"

"The presentation that our "beloved" boss has to watch tomorrow. I'm done with it…I'm not going to tell you, it's better to open it and see for yourself."

You open the file and almost choke on your coffee. On the third slide, instead of dry graphs, there is a meme with a sleeping cat and the inscription: "It's urgent! We must pretend that we are all working!"

"You… Are you serious?!"

"What about it? He's not reading anyway, he's just pretending. Let him have fun. It would not be superfluous for this harmful person to smile a couple of times."

You laugh, but then you realize:

"But if he finds out it's you?"

"Oh, he'll know it's me right away. But you know what the best part is?", Eren grins. "He can't fire me. Because I'm the only one who understands their newfangled security system."

You shake your head, but there's a slight elation inside you.

"You're not normal."

"Thank you", he takes a sip of his energy drink. "By the way, if hell starts tomorrow, just say you didn't know anything."

The next day, of course, the boss exploded with anger. But, as Eren predicted, it didn't go beyond the screams. And in the evening, he reappears at your table with coffee and a satisfied smile:

"Do you want to go to the cinema? I guarantee you popcorn and a good mood.", he put his hand on the arm of your chair.

A sincere smile appears on your face. Of course, you will agree, because it is impossible to refuse Eren.

[noimnotdeadyet]

y

yanqing disc? :eyes:

speaking of yanqing disc the one im in just told me tHERES A YANQING W IN THE LIVESTREAM KSSNSKRBE NOW I GOTTA GO BACK AND WATCH IT MY SON WINNING LESGOOOOOOO

gasp that sounds so good for a month challenge jsbsowhr JulYan becoming real... :)

IDOL AU? .0. oml that sounds so fun

(i just spent 15 minutes tryinf to figure out how translating factions into companies and groups would work ykw fuck it company is Hoyo and they do fucj all hsksheekfh)

Yanqing fucking DESERVES to get the opness of a Mary Sue after what hes gone thru like i hear ppl use MISHA over him bro is outclassed by a destruction 4 star even in a 1v1 HOYO SAVE HIM GIVE HIM A BUFF PLS???

(i should make faeqing/voracityqing op :3)

if he gets a super op game breaking meta crushing form/buff then GOOD FOR HIM JUSTICE FOR OUR LIL SWORD BOI

Faemi awkwardly glancing away like "what? noooo... i mean, meow? meooowwww..."

(i have smth fun planned for Faemi's true identity cuz i found the story so funny lol)

Ovid tapping his clipboard like this aint gonna get you out of theraoy its a temporary distraction at best at your constant need for control even if it means exchanging your kid's happiness for his 'safety' except the world aint fucking safe ya nut so SPEND TIME WITH HIM, TALK TO HIM, COMMUNICATE, AND TEACH HIM HOW TO LIVE NOT SURVIVE IN THIS WORLD INSTEAD OF HOPING TO LAN YOU CAN PROTECT HIM FROM IT FOREVER.

Ovid then aggressively jabs a finger at him constantly hiding things from Yanqing/Bloodlustqing/Blooddressedqing/Yanqing AUs in general

"communicate communicate communicate. its not just for healthy marriage ykw"

if Jing Yuan has a need for control than Yanqing has a need to prove hes capable and useful

oh wow ANOTHER GENE IN THIS FOUND FAMILY UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS

Yanqing like "its just 2 borisins" and then jy & fx like "we know damn well if there were 100 you would have still done it"

"yeah just like 'its just 2 stacks'? 'its just 2 hours'? 'its just 2 assassins'? 'its just 1 impalment wound'? all this proves is the Master Diviner is the lesser hypocrite here"

ykw if this is actually what its like in canon... then its no wonder he keeps insisting to be taken seriously like an adult (-. -o

sneak peek of a tentative timeline for my erudition yanqing fic!! ughh ive only got like 3 chapters of the mainfic done and i need to post the prequel before i can post the mainfic & for this one im trying to get the whole fic written before starting to post, instead of like swmtbb where i write as i post. UGHH I HATE THIS KID

in case you're wondering why swmtbb updates so slow... its bc of 1. writers block and 2. this fuckign thing but i prommy its worth it i love this fic

[cockroachparty]

an unconventional study tip that has helped reduce my stress:

spend an hour doing a hobby you enjoy before leaping into your workload

this goes against much of what we read on keeping a good study schedule (aka get your work done before doing the fun stuff) but when you're stressed, it can be really hard getting into study mode when all you want to do is decompress

which is why allowing yourself an hour to do that thing you really want to do (NOT DOOMSCROLLING) can help you out in the long run. doing that thing you love will help calm your nerves and clear your head, making it easier to tackle your assignments.

get one good hour of your hobby in and then lock tf in.

[mumintroll]

its crazy how bad secondary school pe lessons are like they could actually teach good excercise habits to children but instead they just gather all of the most unfit students into one class together and tell u to run 1600 metres straight without stopping and shout at you and call you lazy if you stop to walk for a little while. like hello

[scssenach]

"Yes, my daughter." She confirmed, amused by his apparent surprise. Even in the future, educated women weren't taken seriously, so she couldn't blame him for his reaction. "She's a remarkable young woman." She smiled, but there remained a hint of sadness in her eyes. "You remind me a lot of her, actually." Claire perched her hands on her hips as she gave him a once over. "Outspoken, brave, clever. And stubborn as a bloody mule."

His sincerity about teaching warmed Claire's heart. It wasn't often that she stumbled upon a genuinely intelligent man. And to find a man that was willing to turn a blind eye to old-fashioned expectations was refreshing. She had made sure to instill a sense of pride and confidence in Brianna as she was growing up, and Claire liked to believe she did a decent job. Women were capable of just as much, if not more, than men, and the Fraser-Randalls were living proof of that.

"Girls aren't much different than boys at that age. Lord knows Bree gave all the boys her own age a run for their money when she was young. She used to get scolded by her teachers for correcting them during lessons. The downside of having a historian and a doctor as parents, I suppose."

A mischievous quirk in her lips hinted at an idea blooming in her mind.

"What age range do you prefer for students? My daughter might not fit your demographic anymore, unfortunately, but I know a few younglings that could use a tutor. Two girls and a boy, to be exact."

Fanny was a curious young girl who Claire was certain would flourish under proper teaching, Mandy was growing up fast. If they were back in the twentieth century, they'd both surely be enrolled in school by now. Although Claire was certain the girls could learn some valuable knowledge helping around the house and from various family members, it wasn't a terrible idea to think of enlisting the help of a proper tutor. And, by all accounts, Benjamin seemed competent at the very least.

At his hesitant admission, Claire cracked a grin. She was used to being right. Even when she was wrong, she was right--or at least that's what Jamie would say. She wasn't entirely afraid to admit when she was wrong, but when it came to such philosophical sentiments, she had enough experience to be sure. She knew what it was like to be surrounded by people and utterly alone. She knew what it felt like to be enshrouded by a suffocating loneliness, a grief that was so all-encompassing that took all her strength to press on. But they were soldiers, its what they did.

"If you were serious about your desire to teach girls, I'm sure we could arrange something. Though I will warn you, Major, they may very well test your faith as much as your patience."

"Your daughter?" Benjamin echoed, aghast. He hadn't meant to sound so stunned -- well, all right, perhaps in a manner of speaking, he had -- but how was that even possible? It just wasn't done.

Seeking clarification, he pressed, "Did you mean to say she sought additional schooling? Although rare, I have seen womenfolk get the privilege of additional tutoring from time-to-time. In fact..." Here, he beamed, looking down at his boots with a touch of shyness. "I would very much love to tutor girls, myself. I taught boys before enlisting, but education for all is important, wouldn't you agree? I'm certain I'll receive push-back for my convictions, but I'm willing to take on any student who asks...including your daughter, should she ever change her mind about her studies. Sometimes, the right teacher can reinvigor interest in the classics."

When Claire affirmed that her late husband had, in fact supported her pursuits, Benjamin's features relaxed into a more genuine smile. "I should have known," he replied. "Surely, he is responsible for your daughter's quest then, as well. A supportive father can do wonders in this climate."

A beat of silence passed, then Claire offered, “Loneliness finds you anywhere you go, even at home. I never felt entirely connected to England anyway. But I wouldn’t say I’m completely untethered."

Benjamin jerked at that, disquieted to hear his own findings echoed back at him. He didn't wish to admit to being lonely -- not even to his dearest friends -- so he shrugged and agreed, "I suppose that makes sense. When you fight, you fight for your homes and the people you love...not for a king, or any man in charge."

To Benjamin's surprise, this time when Claire chastised him with a maternal sternness, he felt a stinging ache in his chest. Her words echoed sentiments that his own mother had spoken to him many years ago, and with a rueful smile and nod, he bowed his head. "I don't wish to inflate your pride and say you're right, so...I'll merely concede by taking your words under advisement."

[itspileofgoodthings]

also re: my last post (ran out of room) this is why cards and letters and words of affirmation from the kids are so important to me. not (just) because it’s like “oh they like me” but because it’s like “oh they got something”

[weirdbabs]

she just wanted him to say that it was fucked up for scabs to make her head into a giant dobermann to bite her arm!! shes got ptsd!! and instead she was met not only by him telling her to suck it up and ignore her bodys natural response, but him revealing he TOLD her about it. bc it would make her a better fighter

[blueskittlesart]

do u have any navi thoughts from your oot replay

i've been waiting to answer this until I actually beat the game in my current playthrough because navi is another one of those characters that i think of in like a "set" with several other characters who serve relatively the same thematic purpose; in this case that purpose being the "mother" character, and i wanted to have all the characters in that set fresh in my mind. it's notable that while oot shows us very clear and consistent instances of the ways in which the adults of hyrule fail to protect their children, there ARE several adults who DO go out of their way to both oppose ganondorf and protect and nurture the children under their care. All of these characters are adult women, and all of them explicitly help the children out of some sort of parental responsibility or sense of duty towards them. in this group I include link's late mother, impa, nabooru, and navi.

all 4 mother characters, despite being adults or adult-coded, reject the inaction mentality which characterizes other adults in the game. they become either direct supports or shields to their children from the conflict the world has to offer them, and they are always explicitly punished for their interference--link's mother is killed trying to protect her son, impa's village is burned, nabooru is brainwashed. The mother's fatal flaw is that she will protect her child above all else, even in a world in which children cannot truly be protected. however, with the exception of link's mother, these characters manage to persist even in the face of her punishment, and this is where I think navi becomes the exemplary character.

Navi, after a lifetime of being link's only support system, the only adult in his life he could truly, consistently count on, receives her punishment at the hands of ganondorf--in the final battle, she is pushed out. she is unable to reach her child. she cannot protect him. However, BECAUSE link has grown up with her at his side, he is strong enough to take ganondorf down. and when ganon rises again, navi is there to support link, promising not to leave his side, and the intuitive targeting of that battle (a mechanic which navi is inherently tied to!!) makes it a cinch to win. Navi, and the other mothers we meet, are a reminder to the player that the world doesn't HAVE to be the way it is. Their persistence when punished, their insistence that their children ought to be protected, is a reminder that good adults do exist, and that good adults raise good children. link and zelda are able to win in spite of the adults who refused to help them, but also BECAUSE of the adults who DID. It's a reinforcement of the core theme of oot--that childlike idea that the world SHOULD be good and fair and if it isn't, it should be changed until it is. The mothers of oot are examples of what the world COULD be, reminders that it is possible to grow up without losing hope or growing bitter, and they are examples of the next step for the children they've raised to change the word--to continue fighting even in the face of punishment, to refuse inaction, and to foster that same hope and persistence in the generations to come.

[softzosan]

I was just thinking... in many ways, I feel kinda accomplished with my life. like I'm 30 years old now, happily married, working a full time job that I love (even tho it can be exhausting), I'm going to therapy, I'm exercising like 2-3 times a week, seeing my friends and family regularly, have no debt... just a bunch of good, adult stuff.

BUT THEN I'm also sitting here, having written about 100k of gay one piece fanfic in the last 6 months LMAAOO

[remotewatch]

also obsessed with the way my professor will be like “points deducted for formatting errors” and not tell you wtf they are like why do I have to come to YOUR office hours to decipher MY own grades like why even leave a comment with the grade atp????

[aidenwaites]

So many people tried to tell me to use a prong collar or a shock collar or whatever for Renfield. I only relented on a slip collar for a little while (collars that tighten when tugged on) on the advice of a trainer and because my anxiety got so bad after one or two bad encounters, but I didn't like using it and i don't think it was actually all that much more effective than a normal collar, because I don't do leash pops or whatever and it just made Renfield more uncomfortable/overwhelmed.

And tbh- unless you are a professional or a professional has walked you through using it, I don't think you should be using an adversive method collar. Too many people use them wrong and there's a risk of making reactivity or pulling or other behaviors worse. The most effective dog training is patience, and empathy, and rewarding desired behaviors when they happen naturally. You might have a dog that's reactive to the point you can't have playdates or use dog parks, but you can still learn how to work with your dog, work with their anxieties, and find a way for them to be comfortable. Your dog isnt reactive, or doesnt pull its leash or bark a lot, out of spite to you. It's because it's anxious or excited or doing what it does naturally, and you can learn how to communicate with them and solve those problems.

Renfield never needed a prong collar! He still pulls sometimes, because his natural gait is longer than mine, or because he's in an unfamiliar environment and too overwhelmed to focus entirely on me. But he's always responsive to me and always trusts me, and I know how to read him and how to remove him from a situation when it's too much for him. You have to work With Your Dog

[romy350-romyakari]

THANK YOU PAST ROMY

She did one good thing,

OUTLINES

I used to make outlines of the fics I got stuck actually writing or got insecure and just kept them on the shelves

I may... write some of them as practice bc I am going through my old fanfic plans trying to remeber stuff, I never abandon an idea but I think it can be a good think to try and work on them now that I have the drive to try

If something goes wrong I can make a revised version of them or rewrite them another time but I have been having the itch to write

That and I want to practice writing before adding more to the old wip list with super new ideas that need more time to flesh out. (I am delaying those till I get at least 2 of these done if not more bc I have ideas but not enough to tie them together and make it as long as I want them to be)

[zehecatl]

"south park gave an entire generation the idea that taking anything seriously is cringe"

maybe you were a failure of a human person who decided a silly satire show should dictate your entire moral standing, but i, a superior being apparently, came out of it with the knowledge that enjoying myself is superior to anything else and if i love a dumb cartoon about paper cutouts, then that’s fucking cool as shit actually

[sassyandclassy94]

A Tale from the Market

Today my department manager said “See you Saturday! Remember, come in a good mood so we can deal with the dumb*** boys.” as I was leaving for the day (she’s off Fridays)

I found HER telling ME to to be in a good mood ironic because she’s the one who’s miserable and always screaming and throwing her weight around in the cooler but, I digress.

Anyway, she then told me she’s gonna tell James to work the darn salad pallet on his own and that Abby WILL NOT be helping him. I said yeah right and asked if she’s also gonna tell Ryan not to be a… and I spelled it out for her.

She goes: “Yeah! Yeah I’ll tell Ryan not to be a ‘Richard’! I’ll tell him to leave his problems in his car too! We’re sick of this moody crap!”

Also also!! Apparently one of the front end ladies witnessed Ryan treating me terribly last weekend. Granted I did go crying to her - I was PMSing, I’m not actually that week - and telling her in a tearful panic that he’s been threatening to leave. Yesterday she waved me over and said “I talked to Ryan last night; he’s not going anywhere, so you can rest easy. I told him ‘Look buddy. You’ve got it good here. This is an overall nice place to work, it’s an easy job, and you’ve got a sweet coworker! So please, stop being a ‘Richard’, okay? Don’t mess this up.” (Fun fact! This lady calls me and Ryan “The produce king and queen”, and I’m not gonna lie. It makes me feel so good and like we’re a dynamic duo or something)

Once again, I’m gonna win over this little turd like Sledge won over Snafu, BY GOLLY. With a lot of prayer and the same amount of patience, it CAN be done.

[orphiicheartd]

Georgina 100% is the sort of person to remember the people she and her husband have been with or just really like in general ( the most interesting ones, anyways ) and constantly keeps in contact with them, writing to them and giving them frequent gifts at her whim