#and in my degree the content is the same but the names are all different

[sometimeswritingsometimesdying]

i am not gonna touch uni work until classes start so help me god. why are these people studying already

[incognit0slut]

Doctor Reid

PART 2 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Established Relationship Your boyfriend finally agrees to indulge in your fantasy by playing a very different kind of doctor, but on his own terms.

Content: (18+) 4k, roleplay, lingerie, finger sucking, nipple play, fingering, female oral, edging, soft!dom as per usual and him being what you guys like to call ‘a little shit’ a/n: season 12 Spencer can stay between my thighs all day every day. also, i have no knowledge on any medical terms this is just ✨vibes✨

10:34 AM

The box was heavier than you’d expected. It had been weeks since you’d ordered it—weeks of wondering if this would even get here without some awkward explanation. You’d agonized over every little detail, scrolling through pages of different costumes, wondering which stethoscope looked the most real.

And now it was finally here.

You didn’t waste a second. Your fingers worked quickly, ripping through the tape and cardboard until the contents spilled out. A crisp, folded white coat with perfectly pressed lapels and a stethoscope. And it was a real one, with cool metal tubing that felt heavy and authentic in your hand. Everything looked even better than you’d imagined.

You barely took the time to fold back the box flaps before hurrying to the next room, where your boyfriend sat comfortably on the couch, idly thumbing through a book.

“Spencer!” Your voice practically sang in excitement. “It’s here!”

He glanced up and lowered his book. "What's here?"

You grinned, bouncing on your toes as you closed the distance between you. "The doctor is officially in," you declared, holding up the white coat like a trophy, the stethoscope dangling from your other hand.

You watched as realization dawned across his face as he blinked a few times, processing the items in your hands, before letting out a soft, amused huff.

"Wow," he said slowly. "You really went all out."

"Of course I did,” you affirmed, grinning from ear to ear as you held the coat up to his chest, sizing him up as though he were already playing the part. “And it’s perfect.”

He leaned back into the couch, trying to put some distance between him and your infectious enthusiasm. “You know I’m not much of an actor.”

“Baby,” you drawled out, emphasizing the pet name with that affectionate tone you knew worked like a charm on him. It was the same sweet voice you used when you wanted something, the kind that could coax just about anything from him. “You’re not trying to win the Oscars, it’s sex. I promise you’ll like it.”

He shook his head like he was the most put-upon boyfriend in the world, letting out a mock sigh of exasperation, though the faint smile playing at the corners of his lips betrayed him. He closed his book and set it aside.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said at last, dragging the word out as though it physically pained him to say it. “If we do this on my own terms.”

“Your own terms? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see. And,” he reached out, pinching the collar of the coat between his fingers. “I’m not wearing that.”

You pouted. “What, you don’t want to look like a real doctor?”

“I think I can pull it off without the costume.” He flashed you a smile. “I’m technically still a doctor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “Your multiple doctorates don’t exactly qualify you for this, Doctor Reid.”

“I thought having six degrees would be enough for anything.”

“Too bad none of them is needed now,” you shot back, poking a finger at his chest playfully. “The role I’m thinking of requires a different kind of expertise. More…” You paused, pretending to mull it over, “Hands-on. Less theoretical.”

The laugh he let out was short and incredulous, his eyebrows raising as if he couldn’t believe your persistence. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

You sighed dramatically. “Babyyyy.”

“You know, one of these days that tone isn’t going to work on me.”

“Oh, please, you love it,” you taunted, leaning in closer. “And don’t act like you’re not curious about this.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head, weighing the pros and cons, debating just how far he’d let you push him. And then there it was, that spark in his eyes. Faint but undeniable—the one that told you he was already half convinced, even if he pretended otherwise.

“Alright, fine,” he finally conceded. “I’ll play along.”

The grin you wore was at least a mile wide as you shoved the stethoscope into his hand.

1:52 PM

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Spencer looked up from his stack of papers, and as soon as he saw you standing there, dressed in nothing but lacy lingerie that clung to every curve, his mouth fell open. He blinked, trying to process the sight. Because yes, while you looked incredibly sexy, he was still baffled.

“Since when does a patient wear... that?"

You stepped closer, letting his eyes follow your every move as you shrugged with a hint of feigned innocence in your smile. "Well, I thought I'd save you some time, you know? Make it easier for your examination."

"Mm-hmm," he hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his desk. "I'm not so sure this is standard procedure. I think you might be bending the rules here."

"Maybe. But I'm sure Doctor Reid can make a special exception, right?“

You shifted slightly, arching your back just enough to draw his attention. His eyes dropped to your chest, and for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he noticed the way your nipples strained against the sheer, barely-there fabric of your lingerie. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile, but it broke through anyway. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.

“Of course,” he finally replied. “I think I can be persuaded.”

With that, he leaned forward, sweeping his documents to the side in one smooth motion, before patting the now-cleared space on the desk in front of him.

“Take a seat, Miss,” he said, his voice turning low and authoritative that lit a spark of excitement inside you. “Let’s get started.”

You bit your bottom lip, fighting back a grin as the cool wood of the desk pressed against the backs of your thighs. You watched Spencer stand up and slip between your legs, his hands finding your knees and spreading them just enough to close the distance until the heat of his body was flushed against yours.

“So, tell me,” he started, his voice lowering as he fell into the role. “What seems to be the problem today?”

A flutter of nerves danced in your stomach, and suddenly you were very aware of what was happening. You’d initiated this—had begged for it, even—but it was something entirely different now that Spencer was towering over you. The confidence you’d felt earlier wavered for just a moment as his palms ran slowly up your thighs.

“I, uh,” your voice faltering slightly as his hands continued their slow journey. “I… I haven’t been feeling well.”

His fingers brushed lightly against the frills of your lingerie, teasing the lace between his fingers as he maintained eye contact. “Any symptoms I should know about? Dizziness? Shortness of breath?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest as his thumb traced small circles over the fabric. “All of the above.”

“I see.” His eyes flickered down to your lips. “Can you open your mouth for me?”

Slowly, you parted your lips, and the moment you did, Spencer’s hand came up to your chin. He tilted your head back gently, exposing the graceful line of your throat.

“I’m going to run a few tests now.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. “It might feel intense, but I need you to stay relaxed and follow my instructions. Can you do that, Miss?”

You nodded as best as you could, mouth still open, and he gave you a small, approving smile.

“Stick your tongue out for me, just a little bit.”

You followed his instructions, extending your tongue just far enough to meet his touch. His eyes gleamed with focus as he brought his thumb to your mouth, pressing it lightly against your tongue.

“Hm,” he hummed, his eyes still fixed on your mouth like he was about to make a serious diagnosis. “I think I might be starting to see the problem here. But I need to check one more thing. Can you close your mouth around my finger?”

You complied, your lips wrapping around his thumb, feeling the rough pad of it pressing down on your tongue.

“Good,” he sighed, the approval in his voice like a reward in itself. “Now try giving it a gentle suck.”

You could feel the tension rising in you. Your cheeks hollowed as you did what he asked, and you couldn’t help but think back to the hesitation in his voice earlier, the way he’d claimed he wasn’t sure about this, that he wasn’t good at playing roles. You would’ve laughed if your mouth wasn’t occupied.

But you were an obedient patient, after all. You started sucking lightly, feeling the weight of his thumb resting against your tongue. There was something undeniably arousing about how he watched you, eyes heavy with focus, and that steady weight of his finger as he pretended to assess your reaction.

The first rush of arousal made itself known between your legs. You gradually increased the pressure, and before you knew it, you were bobbing your head. But just as you fell into a steady rhythm, his hand tightened on your chin to stop you.

“Just as I suspected,” he murmured after a moment, pulling his thumb away slightly to speak. “You’re suffering from an acute sensitivity.”

You swallowed, eyes wide as you played along, trying to keep your composure despite the heat pooling low in your stomach. “Is… is that serious?”

“I’ll need to do a further examination to understand the extent of your condition,” he mused, his eyes flickering between your face and your body as if assessing you before he straightened up slightly. “Let’s check your vitals now.”

He reached behind you, fingers brushing your lower back as he grabbed the stethoscope that had been sitting on the desk all day, the one you’d practically begged him to use. His expression turned serious, as though he were truly diagnosing you, and he leaned in close, pressing the flat side of the stethoscope against the pulse point on your neck.

“Deep breaths,” he instructed softly. You inhaled sharply, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest as the cool metal made contact with your skin. “Your heart rate is definitely elevated.”

He moved the stethoscope lower, brushing it along your collarbone, before pressing it just above your heart. You felt the thump, thump, thump of your pulse echo through the metal.

“Definitely fast,” he noted. “We might need to find out what’s causing such a reaction.”

And before you could respond, without warning, he moved the stethoscope lower, pressing the cold metal against your nipple. You let out a soft, involuntary moan as the sensation caught you off guard.

“Ah,” he muttered, tilting his head as if he were genuinely analyzing your response, his thumb grazing the lace-covered peak around the stethoscope. “I think we’ve found one of the pressure points.”

You watched as his fingers trailed up to the edge of your lingerie, dragging his knuckles along the lace before he tugged the fabric down, letting your breast spill free. Without a word, he pressed the stethoscope directly against your bare nipple. The sudden contact made you jolt, your back arching as a quiet whimper slipped from your lips, and your nipple hardened instantly under the cold metal.

“Heightened sensitivity to stimuli.” He moved the stethoscope in small circles. “Very, very responsive.”

His eyes flickered down as he used his free hand to tug down the other side of your lingerie, exposing your other breast. You tried to keep your cool, tried to pretend like his touch wasn’t turning you inside out, but it was getting harder by the second. And God, he knew it. The way he played with your other nipple, rolling it slowly between his thumb and forefinger like he had all the time in the world, was enough to make your thoughts scatter.

You tried so hard to keep your composure, but then he gently pinched and tugged on your sensitive nub, and a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips before you could stop it. With a satisfied grin, he pulled away.

You blinked, momentarily dazed. “What—?” you breathed out. “Why did you stop?”

“Medical procedure,” he said simply, his tone so casual it almost made you forget the heat of his touch moments earlier. “It’s important to give the patient time to stabilize.”

You shot him a bewildered, almost exasperated look that said are you serious right now? But he just smiled that slow, self-assured smile of his. He was clearly enjoying this far too much.

“We’re doing this my way, remember?”

You huffed in mock annoyance. “Really? That’s how we’re playing this?”

He brushed his lips on your shoulder. “That’s how we’re playing."

5:22 PM

“Doctor Reid?”

Spencer glanced up from where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He raised an eyebrow, casually stirring a hefty amount of sugar, the spoon clinking softly against the mug. “Hmm?”

The coolness of the counter pressed against your back as you watched him. “I think it’s getting worse.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just let his gaze rake over you, taking note of the way the thin fabric of your lingerie clung to your skin.

“Worse, how?” he finally asked, setting his mug down.

“It’s… spreading.”

“Spreading?” He mused. “Where, exactly?”

“Everywhere.” Your fingers nervously toyed with the hem of your lingerie, lifting it just enough to show a glimpse of bare skin beneath. “I really need your help, Doctor.”

His eyes immediately zeroed in on the sliver of skin you revealed. You watched as the realization flashed across his face. The corner of his mouth twitched as though he was fighting back a satisfied smirk, and you knew then that he’d taken the bait—he had to confirm just how bare you really were.

“Come here,” he ordered softly. He stepped back from the counter just enough to make space. “If it’s spreading, I have to conduct a full-body assessment.”

You slowly made your way to him with shaky legs.

“Up,” he instructed, giving the counter a gentle pat before letting his hands settle on your hips. “Sit.”

The cool marble touched the backs of your thighs as you hoisted yourself up. Then, without warning, Spencer’s hands were on your legs. He grabbed your calves, and before you could even catch your breath, he maneuvered your knees apart, placing the palms of your feet flat onto the countertop.

His eyes dropped between your legs, and the sight of you completely bare, your pussy lips glistening under the dim light, confirmed what he’d suspected. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he took in every detail, the way you were flushed, open, and dripping.

“Is there a reason,” he began slowly, his voice dropping to that dangerously soft, detached tone. “Why you’re not wearing anything underneath?”

“I… I thought it might make the examination easier.”

He smiled. “How considerate.”

Then with painstaking slowness, Spencer used both thumbs to part your folds, spreading you open completely to his gaze. It was almost clinical, the way he did it, as if he were studying you like some fascinating experiment. And it was working. You could feel the heat of embarrassment rushing in your veins. God, he had you spread open like this in your kitchen counter, and all you could think was how absolutely shameless this was.

He took his time, of course. Because why wouldn’t he? Spencer Reid didn’t rush experiments. No, he would spend all the time in the world analyzing, learning, committing every detail to memory. And right now, that focus was on you. He dragged his fingertips through your arousal, spreading it leisurely over your folds like he was testing its consistency, as if that slick heat was something he could measure and quantify.

And all you could do was hold your breath.

“I have to say,” he started again, his voice low and taunting as his fingers slid back and forth slowly, grazing just over your entrance without actually dipping inside. “You’re overly lubricated. Are you always like this?”

You exhaled a long breath, trying to steady the rapid rhythm of your heart. “Y-Yes.”

Spencer's smile deepened, his gaze never leaving your face as he pressed just a bit harder, testing your reaction. “Interesting. Do you get this wet from just a little touch, or does it have to be… more?”

“J-Just a little,” you admitted, hips instinctively shifting toward his fingers.

“Mmm,” he hummed approvingly, and finally—finally—he let his finger slide just inside your entrance, only to stop right there, buried to the first knuckle. He didn’t move any further. “Is that all it takes? Or do you need more to truly feel the effects?”

“I...” You let out a whimper when his finger twitched inside you. "M-More."

“And how much more, exactly? One finger? Two?”

“Two,” you gasped, every coherent thought slipping away under his touch. “Two… Doctor.”

A satisfied smile tugged at his lips, and without another word, he obliged, slipping a second finger inside you. The stretch made you bite back a moan as you felt every inch of him dragging against your inner walls. You couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers, pulling him deeper as your slick arousal coated every thrust.

“You’re even more responsive than I thought,” he noted, adjusting his angle to brush against that sensitive spot inside you. “Your partner must enjoy this… a lot.”

He was playing his role all too well. Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter as his speed picked up. "He... He does," you breathed out. "He—he loves it."

Spencer hummed thoughtfully. "Good," he said softly, almost as if to himself. "Because this is a very special condition that requires a great deal of attention. And I'm sure that you need all the attention you can get, don't you?"

“Yes,” you sighed, nodding frantically as the pleasure built in steady waves. “I… I need it.”

"I thought so. Patients with your symptoms typically respond very well to intensive treatment."

With that, his fingers began to thrust deeper, faster, harder. The sensation of his long fingers stretching you had you moaning as you felt every drag, every inch while he continued to work you open. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, he pressed a thumb firmly against your clit.

“Oh, fuck.”

He circled your swollen nub in slow, delicious patterns, and your body clenched around his fingers. This was it. You could feel it. The way your pulse pounded in your ears, the heat pooling deep in your core, every sensation building higher and higher. You could feel that sweet, sweet edge approaching, so close you could practically taste it—

And then he stopped.

Everything. Stopped.

“Spencer!”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t rush to soothe the ache in your body. He simply slid his fingers out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing.

“Open your mouth.”

You parted your lips, and he slipped his fingers inside, letting you taste yourself. The mix of your own slick and the heat of his skin made you moan softly, your tongue swirling around his fingers

“You see, you can be very responsive,” he commented in a low, measured tone. “But I think we should take a break, rushing the treatment would only compromise the results.”

He said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world, like he wasn’t purposefully doing this to drive you insane. You wanted to laugh, and you did. But it was a defeated, breathless sort of laugh around his fingers, because you knew the man settled between your thighs still held all the power over you.

08:56 PM

“Babe?”

He laughed softly, not even glancing up from the book he was reading. “No more Doctor?”

You ignored the amusement in his voice as you walked up to the bed where he lay sprawled out, so casually composed, flipping another page like he hadn’t spent the entire day driving you mad. You reached the edge of the mattress, shadow casting over him, and his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours.

“I wanna cum.”

Spencer’s smile widened, the kind that made your stomach flip with both excitement and irritation, and he placed the book down beside him. His hand reached out lazily to brush your thigh.

“Yeah?” he drawled, tilting his head to the side. “Does my sweet girl want to be taken care of?”

You nodded eagerly. “Please.”

“Well, I do like it when you ask nicely,” he muttered, one hand sliding up to grip your waist. “And you’ve been very patient all day.”

“I have.”

“I think you deserve it.”

“I do.”

He let out an amused laugh. “Alright, lay down on the bed.”

You didn’t hesitate. You quickly shifted, lying back against the pillows. Spencer’s hands were on you immediately, gripping your thighs and dragging you toward the edge of the mattress. The room spun for a moment when he settled onto his knees. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, his fingers squeezing your calf as he pressed a soft, teasing kiss against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Comfortable?”

You nodded, and just as the breath left your lungs, his fingers brushed against the slick, wet folds of your pussy. He traced the outline of your lips gently, gathering the moisture that had been building all day.

“Poor baby,” he cooed sympathetically, his breath ghosting over your wetness. And just when you thought you couldn’t take another moment of teasing, he pressed his tongue flat against you and licked a long strip from your entrance to your clit.

A desperate whine escaped your lips. “Please…”

Spencer didn’t miss a beat. He licked another long, languid strip to your clit, swirling his tongue around it before flattening it again, dragging slowly just to savor the way you trembled beneath him. One of his hands gripped your thigh firmly, keeping your leg steady over his shoulder, while the other slid underneath, lifting your hips closer to his mouth.

And when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth with a gentle suck, a choked moan tore from your throat.

“Spencer,” you whimpered. “Oh god…”

The vibration of his low groan reverberated through you. His fingers gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open and pinned beneath him. You weren’t sure what was more overwhelming. The sensation of his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit or the wet, obscene sounds of him slurping against your soaked folds. Either way, it was driving you wild, pushing you closer and closer to that edge where everything blurred and all you could do was feel.

And then his tongue shifted, dipping lower to probe your entrance. He pushed inside, exploring, seeking, like he was determined to reach every possible inch of you. And damn it, it felt like he could. Each thrust and twist of his tongue sent a surge of delicious heat through your body, and you couldn’t help the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders, squeezing him tighter.

You could barely breathe as the tension coiled tighter, so fucking tight you thought you might snap. And he knew it—he could feel it, the way your walls clenched around his tongue, the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders. And still, he didn’t let up, thrusting his tongue into you deeper, faster, while his nose rubbed insistently against your clit.

He kept going, over and over, tasting you like you were the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. It was too much and yet not enough, and soon you couldn’t stop the desperate chant of his name spilling from your lips. You weren’t even sure what you were pleading for anymore—more? mercy?—all you knew was that you on the brink of falling apart.

One last stroke was enough to shatter you completely.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you came, but with the way he was working you over, you didn’t stand a chance. The moment you felt yourself tip over, everything broke—your body tensed, your back arched sharply off the bed, and a loud moan tore from your lips. It was like your body had a mind of its own, hips grinding desperately against his mouth as if seeking every last bit of friction you could steal.

And when you finally came down, you were a breathless, panting mess. Spencer gave your clit one final, teasing suck, before he pulled back. He crawled up your body, hands sliding up your sides to push your lingerie higher. Gentle, warm kisses tickled your stomach as he threw you a smug look that only he could pull off.

“How was that,” he murmured, pausing to kiss just beneath your ribs. “For your little fantasy?”

Mind-blowing. Intense. Better than I imagined.

“Well,” you managed to say, fingers tangling into his hair. “If that’s how you plan on treating me, Doctor, I might just have to get sick more often.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin, and he nipped gently at your side.

“I think it’s best for you to do a regular check-up, then,” he teased, letting his lips ghost over your skin as he crawled further up, settling his body over yours. “Doctor’s orders.”

You couldn’t stop the soft, breathless laugh that escaped your lips as you pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his mouth.

You’d be more than happy to comply.

[moraxussy]

You Can't Take One Without The Other

Damian Al Ghul x Twin!reader

Content Warnings: mention of the word "abuse", nothing major, and not proof read:3

Despite her seemingly cold demeanor accompanied by her unmoving stature. Talia Al Ghul is a woman—a mother that lets her hard shell peel open when it comes to what's hers—her children.

Damian Al Ghul, her prodigy, blood born assassin, but also her beloved son. So composed and calculated yet also holds a temper that it easily triggered. Trained to kill on the spot without mercy, the young boy is honed to secure any emotion that hinders his mission—the Al Ghul's mission. He was made to not let any other being get in his way, to use all means necessary as long as he's able to give expected results, preferably exceed them. Yet despite his killer instincts and apathetic front, he is a boy of value. He believes blood over all matters.  He cherishes his family to such a strong degree that he's willing to kill just to preserve and protect it. No outer force can sever his belief on this. But it doesn't stop at family. Damian adores animals and takes care of them unconditionally. It pains him to see any of those creatures hurt in any way. Which pushed him to pursue the path of veganism.

The Demon Prince, Heir to the Shadows, and Son of Assassins....

Damian Al Ghul

Damian may possess the prowess and talents meant to satisfy the legacy of Al Ghul, never forget his other biological half, his twin sister.

The youngest, Talia's sweetheart, her doll, and her precious killer. Her little girl, the same as Damian, trained to be the perfect assassin for their family's legacy and for the preservation of the world, isn't just a weapon, she is also a daughter she dearly loved with all her heart. The mother might say she doesn't pick favorites, but one might think otherwise once you see how she treats the two differently. Although tender towards both, Talia can't help but train Damian a little harsher than her heiress. If you try to argue with her about this, she would just shut you down. But deep down, all she wants to do is give her daughter the childhood her mother failed to experience while also helping her build strong walls to protect herself once their mother leaves them on their own devices to strive for independence. Of course, this doesn't make the daughter twin an ordinary girl. She also values family and cares for animals but not the same degree as her brother. Believing that animals are a resource meant for humans for which they should be treated with respect and value if one wishes to utilize its maximum potential. This contrast in stands causes quarrels between the two during moments involving any animal. Not to mention she as well possesses the  strength and capabilities that qualifies her as an excellent assassin whose efficiency in the shadows allows her to parry and counter any attack thrown to her by her foes.

The Demon Princess, Heiress to The Shadows, Daughter of Assassins, and Talia's Second Chance...

You

The Duo of the Shadows, The Successors of the Demon, The Treasure of Talia Al Ghul

Together, no enemy can stop the twins. No matter how harsh nor how inhumane the training they are put through, as long as each twin is there to root for the other, they are ready to take the abuse. In the glory of their legacy. In the name of Ra's Al Ghul's greatest aspiration.

But what will happen if a new variable is introduced to the family of demons? A man of night once again reminded of his time in the shadows. A wake up call for the Dark Knight that what happened all those years ago gave birth to consequences that he now has to bear.

Will the bat be able to handle his demons? Will a mother finally let her young fly on their own?

Notes:

Hi so this is my first time making a batman based fic. I'm still new to the community so I'm basing on just common knowledge. I really wanted to try and focus on how Damian and the reader would be in the clutches of the shadows. I'm still learning though!

[namisin]

❝ HOPE WHEN THE MOON GOES—

(—THAT YOU DON'T GO.)

⚝ pairing : gojo satoru x reader.

⚝ synopsis : satoru likes you to a painful degree, dare he say he loves you. everyone but you can see it. the problem? you only want to be friends (with benefits).

⚝ content : 18+, fem reader, tiniest bit of angst, fwbs to lovers, oral (m receiving), college au, piv, pet names, brief mention of dubcon? (drunk reader), mentions of alcohol, rated w for whiny gojo, pet name(s), prὁne-bone, possessiveness, praise bc he's just a sweetie, choking, reader is spoiled but so is he, MDNI.

⚝ word count : 3.2k | 11 min read. y'all idk how this happened

⚝ a/n : gege please dpwm i need my man back this INSTANT. but tysm u guys for the warm welcome !! like, comment &/or reblog for smooches on the mouf ♡

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 friday night, another club outing satoru did not wanna be on.

granted, it was a setting that would otherwise be right up his alley. satoru was the life of the party after all, the loudest one in the room without fail. but he could distinctly remember the point before your arrangement began, and after.

it didn't matter before that he could get anyone he wanted, have any warm body take up space in his king-sized bed. it didn't matter that you could do the same; dance up on anyone, grind your perfect ass against them until they had no presence of mind but to follow your piper's song to the nearest empty room. then regale your best friends with the details the next morning.

however, after the first time you propositioned him, drunk out of your mind but purring in his lap like a needy cat, it only became harder and harder for him to keep his hands to himself in public. his patience to wait out these parties to get you home wore thinner, to the point of near-nonexistence. obnoxiously thrumming bass, bodies smacking together like mindless fish caught in a net, having to yell and strain to hear his friends standing less than a foot in front of him...things he never minded at all before became all too fucking annoying.

but you've always acted as his life raft, bidding his escape with a, "wanna get out of here, toru?"

and he followed every single time, ignoring shoko's wiggling eyebrows and geto's smirking as you led the way out the door. their jeering bounced right off his skin; he felt damn-near invincible knowing he'd be having his own kind of fun, with much better music.

tonight was no different. you stood by the bar, drumming your fingers against the counter while waiting for the bartender to return with two drinks. satoru's eyes roved over your body shamelessly over the rim of oval glasses, taking in the expanse of your legs that weren't covered by your leather miniskirt and the way your top hugged to your figure. he approached with his bottom lip tucked, much like his hands in the pockets of his pants.

by the time he arrived to stand next to you, the glasses were placed down with a muted "clunk," just barely perspiring as his usual was passed into his freed palm.

"my saviour," he greeted, bent over at the waist to let the words brush against your ear, "what would i do without you?"

"mmm-mm," you shrugged, grinning in return, "probably die of thirst."

satoru exhaled sharply through his nose, rightening his posture to take a sip of his drink. he caught the double entendre he wasn't even sure you meant to drop — there was a constant thirst inside him that you really were the only cure for. a thirst to hear you whine and beg for him, call him toru in that sweet tone that made him want to legally shorten his name.

another long sip.

the way he wanted, no needed, you was almost obsessive. he knew that. but could he be blamed? you were pure temptation wrapped in the most enticing body; you were the raging flame and he was but a moth, acting on pure instinct to capture that warmth for his own. every night he spent with you was a testament to that effort, prodding and caressing your body in every way he knew how. he pulled every trick out of his book to have you writhing on his sheets. satoru was sure the neighbours hated you both, but at least they knew his name well.

"you lovebirds coming over to the table?" shoko raised a thin brow at the pair of you, an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips.

"lovebirds? sho please, you know better," you laughed, crossing the space to link arms with her.

ah. satoru felt a twinge of something pinch in his chest. that problem still remained.

he worshipped the ground you walked on, blessed your name like you were his deity, but you still only saw him as a friend. granted, he was a friend with extensive benefits, but a friend nonetheless. hell, for as long as you two have had this arrangement, you've never spent a full night with him — instead opting to scoop your clothes off the floor, grab a quick shower and bid him a soft goodnight, simultaneously calling yourself an uber as you left his apartment.

his face was much dimmer following behind you and shoko, having dropped a small wad of cash he didn't count on the bar-top, and he drew his glass back to his lips in an attempt to quell that pinching feeling.

it wasn't as if he never offered for you to stay the night, never lifted his messy sheets on the opposite side he always kept vacant for you. but, it was hard to stay persistent when you always answered with some variation of, "thanks toru, but we're just friends, remember? i don't wanna make it weird for us."

he watched your hips sway under your skirt with a furrow in his brow. the hem flapped around the very tops of your thighs, drawing other eyes that weren't his own cerulean pair to its attention. he itched to make a show of you being his — maybe throw an arm over your shoulders or lean down to peck your lips — but knew how well (not well at all) it would go down with the other party if you caught on.

it just meant he had to be the one to get you out of there sooner.

satoru let you have your fun, down a responsible-enough number of shots, twist your hips this way and that on the dancefloor with geto and shoko. they both towered over you, almost forming a protective ring of raven black and coffee brown around your twirling body, and he was grateful for it. the imagery alone of some other person creeping up behind you, grabbing at your waist in an attempt to steal a dance, was enough to tighten that vulnerable spot in his chest.

after downing the rest of his second drink, he stood, leaving another roll of money in shoko's purse and making a beeline for you on the dancefloor. geto parsed him with a knowing look as he squeezed passed them, shoko only gave a thumbs up and a wide grin. they both knew all about what went on between you two, and they knew all too well how much satoru pined over you.

if it wasn't the way he looked at you, or the way he'd mindlessly put his hands on the small of your back, on your hips, around your shoulders, then it'd have to be the fact that he grouched about it at every given opportunity. the minute you left him alone, he'd go on and on until one of them had to smack him in the back of the head to shut up.

so, watching him slot his hips to yours, immediately winding them in tandem to the beat, they understood quickly to leave the pair of you to your little world.

"let me take you out of here, y/n," he murmured, you spun in his toned arms to settle into his torso. your arms circled his neck as he pushed his nose closer to yours to bump them together.

"you stole my line," you drawled, "getting impatient on me, toru?"

satoru bit back a groan, the way you spoke coupled with the eyes you gave him from beneath the canopy of your lashes was staggering.

"maybe i am, you're holdin' out on me."

you blew a raspberry of a laugh at his frown, "you saw me last night, you baby."

"twenty-four whole hours too long."

your eyes rolled unconsciously, he could be such a little shit when he didn't have his way. still, you were never one to deny him.

"take me home then, before you start sobbing for pussy in the club."

a triumphant beam overtook his face at that, he actively disregarded the teasing lilt to your words. all he heard was "take me home," and it was like you waved kikufuku in his face.

he picked up you up easily, princess-style, making you squeal and nearly kick a patron close by. you giggled out your apologies, but satoru was already leaving, carting you off to the exit of the club.

your back landed hard against his front door when he put you down again, and his body followed right behind. your lips crashed together with fervor, teeth colliding and tongues looping around each other. you mewled so sweetly into his mouth as his hands wandered up under your top, grabbing hold of your tits over your bra. his cock twitched in its confines, you had an effect on him that would be scary if he didn't relish in it so much.

"lose this shit already," satoru huffed against your lips while tugging the hem of your blouse upwards. you obliged with the nth roll of your eyes, and with the top gone, you pulled him back down for another searing kiss.

you marked your path downward after switching your positions, pushed his shirt up to his chest to lick a wet stripe down his abs, until you came face-to-face with the sizeable bulge in his pants. he smoothed your hair away from your face while you pulled his belt buckle apart. an exhale stuttered in his chest — you mouthed around his bulge from the outside of his boxer-briefs, though with the sounds satoru made, you may as well have shoved the whole thing into your mouth.

deciding to end his misery, you hooked your manicured fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling his cock free to smack against your cheek. you licked another matching stripe up the underside, shadowing the pulsing trail that was his most dominant vein, then kitten-licked at his slit once you hit the peak.

with one hand wrapped around the base of his cock and the other on his thigh, you took his pretty pink tip into your mouth, and his face absolutely crumpled.

satoru groaned, long and low, his head thumping against the door as it was thrown back. you could feel the corners of your mouth tingling from the stretch, straining a little to fit around his girth despite making this journey countless times by now.

he stammered out a hiss when his tip hit the back of your throat, you would've laughed if not for the fact that you desperately held off your gag reflex. his grip on your hair tightened, coming to hold it in a fist to both keep the hair out of your face and guide your movements as you sunk further down his length. you breathed through your nose and willed your throat to relax, more broken sounds sprang from his lips as you let him in.

"f-fuck, just like that, pretty," he praised hoarsely, gently bobbing your head up and down his length with his grip on your hair. you powered through the tears flooding your lashline and the rivulets of spit accumulating to drip down your chin.

while he worked your mouth, you pried your lids apart to peer up at him, eyes rimmed red and pupils blown wide.

and that was his undoing.

his body tensed hard as he held your head down, nose right up against his pelvis and tickled with snow-white hairs. his abdomen spasmed under the point of it, undulating as he painted your throat white.

"you're so fucking good to me," he mumbled against your lips after helping you back to your feet. satoru, of course, was the shameless type to make the fuck out with you right after dumping his cum into your mouth; and he did just that. he picked you up again while his tongue swiped over yours, blindly walking you up the stairs to his bedroom.

he plopped you down unceremoniously, pulling your legs apart to sink between them. you'd lost the skirt somewhere along the way, that left nothing but your thong to separate you from satoru's still-leaking, still-hard dick. however, even those got ripped down your legs and tossed to the side — every article of clothing was a victim in his ever-expanding need for you.

"i need to fuck you, will you le'me fuck you?" he babbled in a pitchy, fissured voice, circling your clit with his fingers. he dipped them shallowly in and out of your hole to smear your wetness right across your folds. all he needed was for you to nod the affirmative before he was rapidly replacing his digits with the head of his cock, gathering your syrupy arousal to drench him.

"just suckin' me off has you this wet, hmm? i knew you liked me."

"sh-shut up and put it in already, toru- hate it when you tease."

satoru snickered, but complied, grabbing at your legs again to flip your body over. he knew you loved getting fucked prone the most, you didn't even hesitate to grab a pillow to hold on to. something about the way you seemed to scream for him that much louder, claw at the sheets and burble for him to give you more more more— made it his new favourite position too.

so, with little hesitation, he positioned and pushed his cock into you, slowly enough for you to adjust to his girth. your eyes rolled back almost immediately, the way he filled you up could never get old.

you mewled into the pillow once he found a good starting pace, dragging his cock deliciously slow against your spongy walls. still, it was only a taste of what you knew he could give to you.

"more, toru, want more- shit!"

you barely started getting the greedy words out before satoru was settling a hand on the small of your back, using it and his palm flat against the bed as leverage to drill into you. now that he knew you were adjusted, he didn't hold back — what kind of guy would he be if he didn't give his girl everything she wanted (and then some)?

drool and tears soaked into the white pillowcase while your sticky essence doused his cock, collecting in a ring at the plinth of it. repetitive strings of "fuck yes!" mingled with his deep groans to ring throughout the room, bouncing off the walls in conjunction with his hips bouncing off your plush ass. he couldn't help but free up a palm to smack it, then two, three more times when he heard how much more noisy it made you.

"g'nna cum for me? yea?" he took note of the way you started to quake beneath him, your cunt clenching and releasing uncontrollably around his length. he knew your tells by now, and that quiver in your moans told him everything without you needing to say a word. satoru secured his hand around your throat, squeezing just enough at the sides for your brain to go foggy and remaining thoughts turn to mush.

like a thief in the night, your orgasm stole through you, bringing the simmer in your blood to a boil. heat flashed through your body, collecting to pulse through the walls of your cunt that clamped down against satoru's battering. with another ruined groan, he was right behind you, cock twitching and throbbing wildly inside you. rope after rope splattered your insides, though that didn't stop his hips from jerking in a fractured pattern.

you both came down panting. you turned in his arms to look up at him, his softened eyes were already centered on your face. as mean as he was when he fucked, he was always otherwise gentle with you — tender in a way that made a part of you melt with every touch. but he was your friend, and you both had a good system going. what would be the point of ruining it?

"what're you thinkin' about so hard already?" satoru's usual pouty cadence returned quick, successfully knocking your thoughts off track.

"i need a shower," was your only reply, and you moved to crawl from beneath him. your bed-partner's features toppled into a genuine frown; he knew exactly what that meant.

you were leaving him again.

but he wouldn't let it happen this time, not if he could help it.

"wait, y/n," he moved to gently grasp your arm before you could scoot off the edge of the bed. you turned to him with question in your gaze.

"let me join you," he propositioned, and a hint of a smile pulled at your lips.

"i don't know if i have the stamina left, toru."

"i won't- we can just shower. y'know, together," he started, freeing your arm to rub at the back of his neck, "and you could, y'know, stay."

your expression turned wry, "toru, you know why i can't-"

"no, actually, y/n. i don't," he scowled, "why can't you? why don't you? we've been close enough for so long, slept together for so long. you know i can take care of you."

exasperated, you stood. he followed quick, moving to hold your arms again. even in his own displeasure, he was mild. you were melting again.

"you tell me all the time we're just friends, but what if- what if i want more? need more, than just friendship with you?"

you gawped up at him, blinking in place of something to say. of course, you always had a kind of a feeling — satoru was not the man known for his subtlety — but it was another thing to hear him say it to you, much less with this desperately pleading intonation.

"satoru, i..." you sighed, "i can't fuck this- we can't fuck this up. you're too precious to me."

"but what if we don't? you're precious to me too, y/n, more than you even know."

and for all you knew, he could be right. he was always sweet with you — patient, attentive, doting, so painfully soft. it wasn't like the thought hadn't crossed your mind before, either. you contemplated staying with him several times before, fantasized on what a 'morning after' — many 'morning-afters' — would even look like. but shit, what would you do if you one of you found a way to mess things up? topple a best-friendship you've had going for more years than you could even trace back?

"i just- i can't lose you, satoru."

"you won't. you're stuck with me forever, pretty, we promised."

he moved to cup your cheeks, holding your face akin to the way someone held precious china.

"i like you way too much. shit, at this point i think i love you."

your bottom lip wobbled. this snow-haired fuck really did always make it hard to say no to him.

"i-i like you too, toru. a lot."

"so you'll stay," he gleamed, making a statement more than he was asking a question, "please say you'll stay."

"yes, toru, fine. i'll stay."

with his smile still very much in place, he leaned down to kiss you.

god, he couldn't wait to finally wake up to you tomorrow.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 20: written but never sent

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

Spencer greatly enjoyed handwriting. Electronic devices irritated him to no end, as he felt that typing on them was so impersonal and trivial. Handwriting required careful thought, reflecting desires and passions in the shape of the letters, and capturing feelings in the prose... everything written by hand represented something intimate, at least to him.

That’s why, when he got a pen pal, it was inevitable that he would start developing feelings. He had contacted you as part of a school assignment, as both of you were studying the same Ph.D. in linguistics, and one of the tasks was to analyze how different people express themselves in writing.

All he had was your name and address, the strictly necessary information to send a letter. He was the first to send one, sharing some details about himself, why he was pursuing the degree, the work he did, and how he would apply the knowledge he was acquiring.

He patiently waited for your response, which arrived a week later in a small brown paper envelope with a maroon stamp. Your letter didn’t seem like just a required response to fulfill the assignment. You sounded genuinely interested in what he had shared, and you addressed every point he had mentioned.

What surprised him the most was that at the end, you talked about books he had mentioned and ended with a question:

Have you read The Resilience of Language? It's a great book that could help you a lot. I highly recommend it! Best regards, nice to meet you.

There was a question at the end. The answer was no, Spencer hadn’t read that book. He could have simply stopped there, taking your recommendation and using your letter to complete his assignment. But something inside him wasn’t content to just end the communication there; he thought it would be rude not to offer a reply. So, as soon as he received your letter, he took one of his notebooks to write back.

Spencer used one of his gel pens with a fine tip and deep pigmentation. If someone were observing him, they could say that all these actions reflected a sense of importance: selecting the paper, his best pen, carefully crafting his handwriting—all of this added weight to the act.

He sent the letter, still unsure, but hopeful nonetheless. He was amazed when he arrived at the building and found another letter in his mailbox, with the same characteristics as the previous week.

A year had passed since then.

Every week, without fail, you exchanged letters. By now, he knew you better than he had ever known anyone, as the semi-anonymity provided an extra layer of trust for sharing everything that had happened during your week. You started by exchanging generalities, talking about books, and discussing the Ph.D. classes. Slowly, you began to share less trivial things: how the place where you lived was, your job, elements of your identity.

In recent months, you were writing to each other as if you were close friends.

My migraines have improved, in case you’re wondering, and this week at work has been less demanding than usual. We only handled a fairly light case (if you can even call it that in my line of work), and I had time to analyze some of the works you recommended. How’s everything going with that guy at work?

When Spencer finished, he hesitated about how to sign the letter. At first, he would send you his regards, write some polite expression, or simply wish you a good day. But now, he felt the need to sign off differently.

Affectionately, Spencer.

He didn’t think you would notice, just a gesture of the growing trust between you. He patiently waited for the postman to deliver your reply, and after several days, he eagerly read your words on the paper.

I’m disappointed about the guy. Turns out he’s a jerk, you know? Sometimes I wish I could meet someone who can genuinely love me, without focusing solely on the physical. Maybe it’s bold of me to say that, but I think you understand. I want a connection that comes from appreciating who I am, with someone who shares my interests, someone respectful, intelligent... but I won’t bore you with my romantic nonsense. The point is, I’m not dating anyone at the moment. I’m focusing on our Ph.D., haha. I hope you’re doing well, and I look forward to your reply!

However, he was quite surprised when he read the signature that followed your name.

Yours sincerely…

Had you signed that way in response to the dedication in his letter? Something felt strange within him, and his chest warmed with an unfamiliar feeling.

For a moment, he wondered if there was any possibility that he could meet the expectations of the special person you described, and when he realized he was imagining himself with you in that kind of scenario, he felt embarrassed.

It was ridiculous to think about. You didn’t even know each other, and you lived miles away, you were just friends who had taken a school assignment too far.

Time passed, and the signatures grew more affectionate, more personal… just like the content of the letters. It got to the point where he couldn’t deny it anymore: he was in love.

Though after realizing it, he spent a long time wondering what he should do with that feeling. Weeks passed before he came to a decision.

Spencer was returning from Maine when he decided to finally write to you. He was sitting on the plane, with his notebook in front of him, and his mind as blank as the page.

“What are you struggling to write, Reid?” Emily asked, sitting beside him “You’ve been staring at that notebook for ten minutes without the pen touching the paper.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, trying to downplay it. He didn’t want to talk about it, not with Emily, not with anyone.

A couple of hours later, with a pile of crumpled-up drafts beside him, he finally managed to write something:

I can’t start this letter without first telling you how much I’ve come to value our correspondence. For over a year, our written conversations have become one of the most important constants in my life. Each week, I eagerly await your letters, and every one of them brings me a pause in the middle of my routine: a space of calm where our words connect in ways I never imagined possible. I’ve read and reread your letters so many times that, sometimes, I feel like I know them by heart. Even so, I always discover something new in your words: an idea that eluded me before, an emotion that makes more sense over time, or a reflection that sheds new light on my own experience. Although we’ve never met in person, I feel like I know you better than many people I speak to face-to-face. Is that strange? Maybe it is, but the truth is that there’s something about the depth of our conversations that transcends physical distance. All this time, I’ve tried to rationalize what you mean to me, but there are things that can’t be measured or analyzed logically, no matter how hard I try. What I want to tell you —and what has taken me so long to write—is that I’ve fallen in love with you. At first, I wasn’t sure what this feeling was. I thought it was just admiration or gratitude for the friendship we’ve cultivated, but with each letter, with each shared thought, I realized it was something deeper. I love you, not just for what you share with me, but for who you are. For the way you see the world, with such clarity and empathy. For your insatiable curiosity, for your unique way of finding beauty in the smallest details. I don’t want this confession to make you uncomfortable or push you away. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, and I’ll consider myself lucky just to have known you in this way. But I couldn’t go on without being honest with you. I hope that, whatever your response may be, we can remain the same two friends who have shared so much through these pages. With all my love, and praying to be able to be yours, Spencer.

He kept the written words as if they were a treasure, feeling his heart race every time he thought about that secret tucked away in an envelope on his desk. Unfortunately, that letter never saw the light of day, all because of his fear of losing who might have been the best friend he had ever had in his life.

[jeanbie]

HIGHER THAN HEAVEN ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

genre: university au | warnings: sexual content, fem/afab!reader, masturbation, listening-to-the-other-fucking, sexual tension, slut/whore shaming (men being pigs), "slutty"!reader, mentions of spit | wc: 10.7k | ♬

note: why has this been a wip for like...a year? also i always like to try out new versions of levi and i feel like he'd actually be just a normal kinda grumpy guy in a modern setting so i hope u guys like my uni!levi interpretation ꒰* ॢꈍ◡ꈍ ॢ꒱.*˚

⏤ Levi wants to be mad that his neighbour keeps screwing guys really loudly. But how can he be mad when she's just so goddamn pretty?

It's the third time this week.

Levi knows what it means to let off steam, and he knows that exam season has just finished. For the last few days, the volume of noise where he lives has climbed exponentially; flats throwing parties, yelling in the hallways and laughter outside his window. 

Levi's happy, too, that his exams are over, but he has to admit, he thought there might be moral standards from the people he called neighbours. 

He sighs, momentarily tapping down the volume of his music as he hears what he thinks might be his neighbour against the shared wall. The sound is fleeting, and he almost thinks he's making it up, and then he hears her soft whimpers and two hard thuds against the thin separation between their bedrooms. Levi waits for a second, blinking, and then he closes his eyes.

He's never really met his neighbour. It's been around eight months of living next door to one another, and he doesn't think he's actually ever seen her. Once, he decided he'd try to confront her when she left her room, but just kept missing the opportunity. 

Unlike his previous three years of university, Levi had decided to bunk alone for the final climb of his undergrad degree. His friends would all be upstairs somewhere, either in studios of their own or sharing six-bed flats amongst themselves, but God knew that Levi needed the space this time around. 

In his first year, he'd shared with quite possibly the worst human beings he'd ever had the displeasure of knowing. He spent more time at Erwin's flat than his own, which is why he ended up moving in with him in his second year. Then, he took a spontaneous study abroad for his third year (spontaneous, as in all of his friends were doing the same thing, and there was no way he was staying here on his own when they were out having the greatest times in different countries), and now, in his fourth and final year, Levi just wants to know that being alone doesn't have to be a luxury. 

He needs the space, and the quiet. Granted, his studio is spacious, although it would be perfect if he wasn't on the ground floor with little to work with for a view. Eight months down the line, and he's still waiting for that promised peace and quiet.

There are two other people in this hallway, but his next-room neighbour, Room A, is by far the most interesting. He knows that the people in Room D are party animals, and during freshers week, they made that fact glaringly obvious. Room C are ghostly, silent most of the time until they remember that they, too, have music to play to block out other people's noise.

Levi likes being in Room B because it's not too far from the exit. If he were to open his door, he'd be adjacent to Room A; the space is so tight that he's not even sure they would be able to leave or enter at the same time. 

The list of what he thinks he knows about his next-room neighbour is longer than what he actually knows. He knows for certain that she's female, and that she cares about the cleanliness of her flat. If Levi's not listening to the sound of other people's mess, he can hear her vacuuming every other day, which he can respect. 

Levi knows that her name is Y/N, because he's heard it being called a few times, both for business and pleasure. He also knows that she's in her final year, just like him, because once he overheard her on a phone call complaining about her dissertation. That's about all he knows confidently. 

The rest is speculation, things he thinks he knows from listening: he thinks she sleeps with the radiator off, because he always hears the switch in the morning. He thinks she keeps her keys on her door because he hears them clink when it closes, and he thinks she mumbles to herself sometimes, because the walls are thin and if she's not on the phone, then who could she be talking to? 

Finally, Levi thinks that she might be a bit of a whore, and he means it endearingly, because the amount of times Levi has heard her fucking somebody is becoming ridiculous.

At first, Levi tried to be understanding. After all, it wasn't like she was screwing guys in the hallway. She was in her room, in her own time, and he tried to come to terms with that simply being out of his hands. The noise was unfortunate, yeah, but he could always put his headphones on for an hour or so. 

Then it just kept happening, like clockwork, like some sick joke. 

After about the sixth time, he was fed up. He'd thrown his headphones down, scowling angrily as his eyes flickered to the time in the corner of his computer screen — 1:23am. It was bad enough that he was working all night on his stupid assignment, and now his neighbour was screwing some asshole so loudly that he may as well have had no headphones on in the first place? 

At least she sounded good. 

Levi had deliberately ignored that thought for a while, until he heard her having sex with some guy a few months ago. He'd sighed, like a routine at that point, and remained seated on his couch, the remote in his hand ready to raise the volume of the football game on TV.

The noise was faint — if Levi had to predict based on the floor plans of their rooms, she'd probably be on her bed — but if he strained enough, he'd be able to hear her mewling, the even fainter sounds of slapping skin. 

He sat there, silently, listening in like a priest taking confessions in church. His silence was judgement and equal measures of fascination. Having never really listened to her before, Levi never knew she sounded like that. Submissive, but seductive, dirty and slutty. Hm.

He had learned to respect her sex life — even creating his own for a while, too, giving her a taste of her own medicine. If anything, that only made things more lively in Room A. Somehow he blames himself for it having got to this point, presently, where he sits listening to her for the third time in a week — and it's not even Friday yet.

16:34 Levi: she's at it again 16:35 Erwin: AGAIN???? 16:37 Hange: isnt this like the fifth time this week? 16:37 Levi: third

Levi turns his chair to face the other wall, looking up at the blank plaster. There's another thud against it, and he blinks, his brows raised slightly. Is she fucking someone against the wall?

16:39 Furlan: theres no way its that bad 16:40 Furlan: send vid

After skimming over the texts, Levi's eyes flicker back to the wall. Then, he rises up from his chair and walks towards it, angling his body with his ear to the noise. Now that he's close, he can't hear a thing, and he scoffs — typical — and prepares to move away.

"Mphf — damn, bitch. You're more of a slut than I thought."

Levi stops. 

Bringing his phone to his legs, Levi slumps his shoulder against the wall casually and almost cranes to listen. Without seeing anything, he feels like a fly on the wall. He hears someone with a deep voice grunting — he doesn't care about them — followed by occasional gasps, much softer, honeyed, elusive. 

"You thought I was a slut?" 

Levi hears her voice quivering, but there's little hurt in her tone. It's all lust, and he can hear the smile in her words. 

For a second, Levi hears her body thud against the wall again and he flinches backwards. She must be directly on the other side — if the bricks weren't there, her body would be up against his own. 

"Dunno what I thought," the male voice says, strained. "Wasn't-expecting-this. Shit, that's tight."

"Mm. You like it?" There's a beat of silence, and the faint sounds of breathy moans, high in an octave that sends goosebumps pricking over Levi's arms. "You like me?"

"Like your pussy. Shit, girl."

With every imagined thrust, Levi can hear her moaning, her voice raising as the pace fastens. Levi stands there, his eyes zoning out on the crack under his door and eventually, he pulls back. There's a slight ringing in his ears, and blood rushes to the tips.

16:51 Levi: phone can't pick up the volume 16:51 Levi: just trust me

It happened two more times before the weekend rolled by, and Levi thought that she must be on a conquest of bedding every guy on campus. Half of him thought it was to spite him specifically, although he wasn't even sure that she knew what she was doing was bothering him so much. 

Friday evening had been a strange eve of silence, but he still felt on edge, as if waiting for the sounds to emerge. The weekend soon enough rolled by with no more sexscapades, and he felt almost a sag of relief in his shoulders.

Levi had just gotten out of the shower when he heard a knock on his door.

"Oh. It's you."

When he pulls it open, inwards on his own room, Levi props his weight against the door and stares out at Reiner, who is holding a light board under his armpit. Reiner holds it out to him with a nonchalant shrug and holds the door open with his foot as Levi takes the board with a raised brow and plonks it onto his bed. 

Reiner stands in the doorway until he comes back, not quite daring to enter.

"I need one of those," Reiner offers in conversation. 

"Well, you've got a job, buy one,” Levi replies, making Reiner smirk. "If you've broke it, then you can pay for it."

Reiner throws up his hands, "Hey, they don't call me the gentle giant for nothing."

Levi's face drops into a disapproving frown, "Nobody calls you that."

"You're right," Reiner sighs with a charming grin and then folds his arms. 

Reiner and Levi know one another from one of their elective classes, and by some magical fate — or a wild coincidence — Reiner had been a mutual friend of one of his closest friends since first year. He also lives upstairs on the third floor, alongside some other guys and a girl that Levi didn't know very well, but had met once at a party and had kissed. He'd considered bringing her back to his room just to torment his neighbour but passed up the temptation.

Thinking of his neighbour, Levi's eyes quickly dash to her door, wondering if she might be inside and listening to them. Reiner doesn’t catch the look — or maybe he does, prompting him to his next sentence.

"You should come out tonight," Reiner suggests.

"Where?"

"A few of us are getting some drinks at Sonny's," he says. "Feel like I haven't seen you properly since that party, like, what, three months ago? You should get out more, have fun." Then, Reiner's smile widens and he, too, glances to his left to Room A, "Escape your sex fiend of a neighbour."

Levi might have cringed at the thought of her listening in, but to his surprise, he found a thrill rush through his body. Maybe she was listening right now, curled up to the door.

"I don't like Sonny's," Levi replies.

"Oh, you've been there before?"

"No. But I saw it on Eren's Instagram once, and it looked awful, sorry."

Laughing, Reiner shrugs his shoulders. "I don't care. It's just nice to get out. Really — what if we changed bars, would you come then?"

Just as he says that a soft thud can be heard from behind him, beyond the walls of the thin hallway that houses Levi’s room and his neighbours'. Levi almost cranes to catch the sound, half expecting his party animal hall-mates from Room D to come bounding inside, dressed in flamboyant attire to listen to loud music whilst getting ready to hit the town for the Friday deals that bars boasted of to rowdy students. 

Instead, the door just to the right of Reiner swings open and a young woman steps inside. Levi blinks — depending on which direction she goes in, Levi's life could get a little bit more interesting.

Levi knows that he’s seen her before in the common room, chatting to other friends around a pool table, or shaking a vending machine with a stranger to try and free an overpriced bottle of Dr Pepper from the machine's claws. 

Levi blinks once again, and Reiner turns at the sound of the door creaking open, and the breath almost leaves Levi's body in one giant exhale when she steps in their direction, towards Room A.

Ah. So this is Y/N.

Reiner's eyes move up and down with intrigue as she — you — step closer towards them. Judging by your almost surprised gaze, and the flit of your eyes as you look between them and the door to Room A, even Reiner knows that you are the aforementioned sex fiend, the famous neighbour who screws guys all the time and makes Levi all hot and bothered. 

Nothing is said — there is nothing to be said. For a split second, you pause, judging the space past Reiner to your door, to your sanctuary, meanwhile, the two men size you up, intrigued by your very existence. Levi feels his conversation skills run dry — what could he say now that you were here?

He has to confess, against his previous wishes, that you were pretty. Beautiful, even. He tries to downplay it by thinking about you pushed up against the wall with a cunt full of someone else's cock, but if anything the thought only makes things worse. 

As you push through the awkward silence of the hallway, Reiner slightly inches closer to Levi, as if to give you space as you stride by. To their surprise, you do so with a lifted gaze, having the nerve to look shy, guilty, friendly. 

Everything would be easier if you weren't his type, weren't Reiner's type. Levi thinks about that for a second as his friend devours the sight of you, and Levi feels his stomach dip. He's never even spoken to you before, but he feels like Reiner has just crossed a boundary somehow. 

The fact of you being as pretty as you sound, as desirable as Levi imagined you had to be to bring so many people back to your den (either irresistible or slutty, but sometimes those went hand in hand and he knew it) just makes the dull ache in his abdomen worse, his heartbeat fluttering ever so out of pace.

As you pass, you peer over at the two men, gazing at Levi in particular. You even look around him, eyeing his room. Then, when you look back at Levi, it’s as if something clicks — it was as if you registered that this man had been enduring your fucks and flirts for weeks and weeks on end, and had been courteous with not complaining once. 

You look at him, over him, sizing him up greedily. Levi moves from foot to foot in a way that looks impatient, although he isn’t sure he's fully convinced you of his indifference when you smile charmingly, your cheekbones full and round.

"Hello," you say — Levi almost buckles. He's only ever heard your voice through walls and doors, never face to face. He blinks dumbly, says nothing.

"Hey," is what Reiner offers with a wide grin, his gaze flickering to your body and then back to your face. But you don’t look back, only look over Reiner's shoulder to Levi, and then turn to your door and thrust the key into the hole. 

Your door untwists, unlocks, and in you go. After it closes and clicks with the lock, Levi hears you shuffling in your room, and then he finally looks back at Reiner. 

For once, Reiner says nothing. He raises his eyebrows and pulls a face, one that Levi rolls his eyes at, and then Reiner claps his hands together and announces his silent leave. 

Levi watches as if frozen in place as Reiner leaves the hallway, and when his own door closes with a slight tick, he strains to hear you beyond the wall, but can hear nothing.

A whole day has passed since then, but Levi can’t stop thinking about it.

He hasn’t left his room all day, to the stressed displeasure of his friends. The hallway has been frozen in a quiet stillness, with nobody coming and going at any point. Levi hasn’t heard you stirring since you walked past him and Reiner the day before, but he supposes he’s just thankful that he has no fears of being bombarded with sex for hours on end, or minutes at a time depending on which loser you lure home. 

Levi drops his plate into the sink, sighing with both hands flat on the side of the counter. To the left, he casts a dirty glance out the window, looking at the grey landscape beyond the glass. The car park to the hotel that is tucked neatly behind his building is virtually empty, and the giant lake-sized puddles ripple with rain. He felt like it always rained here. 

Listening to the rain, Levi finishes his ritual of cleaning the dishes and then turns off the tap with another sigh. It has just been too quiet today — unnervingly quiet, in a way that makes Levi feel more on edge than at ease. He's been craving this taste of silence for so long, but now that it’s here, everything just feels off. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose with an irritated exhale and moves through the thin archway to get to his bedroom, near the front door, when he hears something beyond the threshold of Room A next door. Levi stops in place.

The noise is so faint that he almost misses it. He leans his head closer in the direction of the wall, waiting for the next sound to give when he hears it again — a breathy whimper. The whimper transforms into a moan, one that Levi can hear as clearly as he would if he were in the room. There are no other voices, and Levi pulls away from the wall quickly like it's on fire.

No. It can’t be.

Levi finds it both annoying and amusing when he hears you entangled with some random guy every other day, but just the possibility of it being you, and you alone, in your room with nobody but your fingers, makes Levi’s throat tighten.

Before, it felt as though your sex life was a performance intended for Levi to listen to, but now that it’s just you, the moment feels private and intimate, and Levi doesn’t know what to do.

The moaning continues, staggered, stuttered, falling and rising in a tempo he knows only the hand of the moaner can create. By now, he’s somewhat of an expert on your noises, how you respond to whatever your partner is doing — the unfamiliarity of your pleasure tonight has thrown him off, and all Levi can do is apologise in his head and pull himself back against the wall. 

He’s come this far listening to you play with others. It would just be unfair not to hear how you really like it when you’re alone.

Levi can’t be sure what it is you’re actually doing; he’ll have to leave it to his imagination to conjure up the perfect image of you on your bed, legs spread, fingers stuffed up your cunt. He closes his eyes as he leans his head against the plaster, quite literally straining to hear every gasp leaving your mouth.

The world seems to slow around him, the sounds of your one-man show all he can hear. All of a sudden, he’s thankful for the unnatural silence of the hallway outside so he can hear it all.

What he pictures is lewd and perfect; you’re biting your lip probably, trying to contain yourself as you plunge your fingers deeper inside your pussy, curling them in a way nobody else can. The lights are dimmed, but in his mind, the picture of your body is crystal clear; the shape of your body is outlined by light, shadows cast attractively around the perk of your breasts, the glisten of crystalline sweat on your skin. 

With your chest rising, Levi watches in his mind as your thighs quiver, your knuckles pushing against your opening — if it was possible to get more of your finger in there, you’d do it.

Your fingers slide in and out covered in wetness, each plunge inside accompanied by another moan that makes him shudder. Levi’s ear is flat against the wall, his cock hardening uncomfortably beneath his joggers. 

All of a sudden, the shame of eavesdropping washes over him and he pulls away, breathing heavily as he moves from the wall to the bathroom. For good measure, he slams the door behind him, immediately turning on the tap and washing his face. What was he thinking?

Thankfully, there’s nobody to greet his ashamed walk back into his bedroom. He rubs the side of his face with a groan and glances back at the wall. For a moment, he pauses, but he hears no more sound.

Levi’s been in a sour mood since the weekend, and nobody around him knows how to solve it. 

At first, it had started with the dream he’d had; the dream where he’d shoved your head into a pillow and fucked your brains out, which woke him with a start and another guilty walk to the bathroom. Then, he’d turned up late to his class and simultaneously discovered that Reiner had, in fact, broken the light board he loaned him the other week.

After that, he received a bitchy email from the receptionist at his building about upcoming fire alarm inspections, and because he’d been too busy looking at his phone, Levi had slammed into a group of first-year girls in the library and caused one of them to drop all of her books and her coffee on the floor. Now, his wallet was five pounds lighter and his expression was sour, and no matter how hard his friends tried to coax him out of his foulness, it was no use.

“At least you bought her another coffee,” says Eren with a shrug as he watches the flustered first-year disappear out of the student café with her friend.

“Not the point, dipshit.”

“It’s probably ‘cause of the lack of sleep this man gets thanks to his harlot neighbour,” Hange suggests, their shoulders hunched as they finish up one of their handouts for their evening class.

At that, Reiner looks up from his phone and adds, “Hot harlot neighbour.”

“Is she actually?” asks Erwin. “I don’t know if I can trust your judgement in women, Reiner.”

“She is beautiful,” Levi mutters reluctantly, his face still drawn together with irritance. Admitting that fact only makes him feel worse, especially when the memory of his dream creeps back into his mind. He sighs and rubs his neck. “But she hasn’t really made any noise in a while.”

“Maybe she’s on her period,” says Eren unhelpfully. 

“Whores are on the pill,” Porco adds, suddenly reminding Levi of his presence. The blond-haired guy sits to the right with a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of sexist to call her a whore when I know most of you probably have higher body counts?” replies Isabel. She’s crept up on the knit of friends, but contrary to normal, her being here doesn’t make Levi feel any better. Right now, there are simply too many witnesses to his misery.

Eren shrugs. “Fine. Then she’s a slut.”

“As if that’s any better,” Isabel says dumbly. “You guys are pigs.”

“But she is beautiful,” Reiner says again. “I’m telling you — it’s a miracle Levi hasn’t made his move yet. If I lived next door to someone who looked like that…” He trails off. Levi cringes. How did he end up being friends with the worst people in the world?

Reiner sells Levi as actually having enough confidence to get up and knock on her door, when the truth of the matter is that Levi is too afraid to even approach the wall when he hears a noise anymore. In the time between him listening to you finger-fucking yourself and him having such an out-of-pocket dream about you, Levi hasn’t even wanted to listen to anything he hears outside of his room, too afraid of what he might do or think if he hears you again.

Besides, what would he even do? It’s been almost eight months of sharing a wall, and he’s come no closer to knowing you or anything about you. You’re as familiar to him as any stranger in this café, but the only difference is that he’s heard the way you whimper when your cunt is stuffed with cock and you’re up against the wall, which most people would have trouble competing with.

When you know how someone sounds when they’re most likely cumming on someone else’s dick, it’s an unbeatable bond.

Levi looks up at Reiner as if to say something, but then his eyes are drawn to the doors to the café. They widen suddenly, and after watching his expression shift, Reiner follows his gaze and looks over his shoulder.

After a few seconds, he whips his head back to the group and hisses, “That’s her!”

The speed at which their heads turn is almost funny to Levi, and he might have laughed had he not been so full of mortified fear at the sight of you. 

You look pretty today — really pretty. Pretty in a way that Levi can’t even begin to make sense of considering the only way he’s seen you so far is in glimpses, in the corridor dressed in comfy clothes, or stark naked with his dick up your snatch in his head. His whole body fills with a sticky heat as he narrows his gaze on you, hoping that by staring you might disappear like a mirage and spare him the embarrassment due to come.

But nothing ever goes the way Levi wants it to. He breathes in heavily when your gaze pans across the room as if you’re searching for someone, stopping with a comical wide-eyed look of surprise when you see a group of six or so people all watching you with strange intensity. 

Levi is not at all prepared for the way your brows knit together in confusion as you assess the strangers, only to raise in acknowledgement when you finally look at him for a moment too long. 

Words are not needed to convey the silent series of events that spiral after that look. Levi knows instantly what you’re thinking and what it means. He knows that you know he’s told everybody about you — and he knows that you know he knows who you are and how often you do what you do. 

There’s no way of explaining how confident he is that you’ve cracked the code in your head — he doesn’t know anything at all, only that when your face brightens into a smile he knows he’s screwed.

So fucking screwed.

“Oh shit, you were right,” Porco says after a while of mutual silence, and Levi is strangely grateful for the distraction of his voice as he turns back to his friend. “She’s hot!”

“And you’re being fucking loud, shut up,” Levi grumbles, his face scrunched into such a tight frown that it hurts to hold it. “Yes, that’s her. So what.”

“She’s looking at you,” Hange says rather unhelpfully. They’re sitting with their elbows on their spread legs, head low as they glance at you over the top of their glasses. Their brows are so high they might as well become a part of their hairline as they say a few seconds later, “Still looking.” A beat, and then, “Still looking.”

Levi huffs quietly, trying to find something interesting on the low table in the middle of the group to latch onto. All he can find are some of Hange’s papers and Porco’s bagel wrapper — neither are particularly inspiring to stare at, but he stares anyway, acutely aware of the heavy weight of your gaze on the side of his face as you approach the coffee counter. 

“Maybe it’s because you’re all fucking gawking at her,” Levi replies stiffly. 

To their credit, the group does their best to mask their very obvious staring, but Levi already knows that their hanging mouths have caused irreparable damage. He makes it a point not to look back over at you, and based on how his friends try to busy themselves with random things, he guesses you’ve reluctantly looked away from them and are currently buying something.

After today, Levi will never come here again — he’s just suddenly remembered that you’re real, and the notion of seeing you out in public just became his next biggest worry.

“Maybe you should go and say hi,” Isabel suggests, her mouth full around a bite of brownie. 

Levi looks at her with an incredulous look. “And why would I do that?”

“She’s your neighbour,” Isabel replies slowly. “It’s polite. And friendly.”

“I’ll go and say hi, if you want,” offers Reiner. When Levi throws him a dirty look, he says, “What? She smiled at me before. I might be her next conquest.”

“Not much of a challenge for her,” Levi mutters. Besides, you weren’t even looking at Reiner back then — but as soon as the thought comes to his head he immediately exiles it. He’s not going to stoop as low as to fight Reiner on it; it will only deepen the hole he’s dug himself now that he's opened his mouth and told people about you.

After around four minutes, Levi has exhausted all possible resorts of interest around the table and anxiously rubs the back of his neck. Reiner still has his head looking up towards the coffee counter, but the others have mercifully ceased their curious staring. He levels his breathing and takes a quick swig of his tea, all before absentmindedly turning his head to look over his shoulder.

Your back is facing everyone, your head thrown back in laughter at something someone next to you is saying. Levi represses the urge to bristle at his own thoughts of what you might be laughing at, what possibly makes you laugh and smile — what coffee did you order, or maybe you are a tea person? Hot chocolate? Levi’s face falls into a narrow look of horror — Jesus Christ, he’s in so deep and over what? The sound of you?

Levi decides that he’s possibly gone insane after a long four years in academia and rests his cheek on his shoulder for a minute, gaze low. His friends are right, to a fault; he could just talk to you, scratch the itch until it’s gone and he can relax and live like a normal human being again. But that would involve taking initiative and actually confronting you, which in the grand scheme of things seems like a terrible idea. 

He’d rather just forget about the delusional display of heated fantasies he’s conjured up after getting just a peek at you.

“Oh, shit. She’s looking again.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly Levi looks back at you without even thinking about it. 

Sure enough, you’re looking back at the group, a cup of something steaming in your hand as your friend leads the way through a cluster of tables towards the double doors leading out onto the wide front courtyard. The screaming voice in his head is commanding Levi to look away, but he just can’t. 

He watches you as you look back at him, mapping out every detail he possibly can while he has the chance to just look without any consequence, and feels his breathing constrict when you smile, so softly that it knocks the literal wind from his lungs, and raise your free hand in a wave.

And he doesn’t even move.

Somewhere behind him, Levi hears Reiner snigger and the brawny guy lifts his own hand to wave back at you, a grin plastered on his face. Your eyes barely move to look at Reiner in acknowledgement before locking back onto Levi with an almost hopeful look, and now would be a great time for Levi to move or do something in response, but he doesn’t. And he doesn’t know how to respond when your smile deepens into a smirk, almost like that was exactly what you wanted him to do.

“Why does she look down bad?” Eren asks quietly, making Porco cackle with a laugh that makes you look away and slink after your friend. Levi affords himself the time to watch you go, watching the way your ass moves in your jeans, the way your breasts bounce in that shirt, the way your waist looks and the way your hair moves and the way your smile widens—

“You’re a lucky son of a bitch,” Porco says, shaking his head with an amused look on his face. “If I lived next to someone who looked like that, and looked at me like that—”

“Well, you don’t, so fuck off,” Levi snaps. Wrong answer: the boys in his group laugh even louder, and Levi wants to shrink to the size of an ant and drown in his tea.

God. Levi realises with a gigantic sigh that today has been a long ass day.

Levi rubs his hair with the towel and glares at his reflection in the mirror. He stares, long and hard, and frowns at what looks back. For a guy who is to be considered “grown”, he cannot believe how stupid he's being, how stupid his brain is.

He has never once had a crush on somebody he’s never even met before, and only actually seen properly about two times. In the long four years of being in this city, Levi has never entertained an interest in anybody, mostly because he felt he didn’t have the patience for a relationship nor the time, which is why the way he’s feeling now is all the more bothersome — and even worse when the person he’s having trouble understanding his feelings for is someone he’s barely met, never talked to, and knows likes cock more than the air they breathe.

It is simply outrageous that he likes you so much. And he’s not even sure if what he feels would qualify as liking you. 

Levi has never spoken one word to you and has never made any effort to do so, but alongside the audible archive of moans he has of yours in his memory and the mapped-out beauty of your face, Levi can distinguish that the pooling pit of desire in his tummy is closer to a crush than it is just general appreciation. And this feeling sucks.

Suddenly, Levi thinks back to seeing you in the student café and physically cringes at his reflection. All that for what? A smile? He is pathetic — Levi cannot believe that he has become such a strange man, and it is entirely your fault for being so pretty. And sounding so fucking sexy.

Levi hangs his towel on the small heated towel rack and washes his hands, hoping that in a metaphorical sense, it will wash away all of the terrible thoughts he’s having. Then, he shakes them dry and flicks off the bathroom switch, striding back into his room with a sinking feeling of emptiness. 

He makes his way to the kitchen and looks longingly at the kettle. A cup of tea would do wonders for the creeping headache forming in his skull, but like the idiot he’s suddenly turned out to be, Levi instead leans up on his toes to grab a bottle of whiskey from on top of the fridge and finds an accompanying glass to pour himself a drink. 

It’s been a long day, and he needs something strong. Quite frankly, Levi thinks he also deserves it.

For most of the evening, Levi entertains himself with his whiskey bottle, a glass and whatever the hell his TV can pick up in the black spot he calls home. He’s not sure how many glasses he’s had by the time he hears the corridor door swing open with its alarmingly loud squeal, but judging by how the room seems to tilt on its axis, Levi would wager a guess as to believe he’s had at least more than six glasses. 

He feels his heart in his ears, pounding like a war drum, and he immediately reaches for the remote and turns down the volume. Like a cat, he feels his ears prick at the slightest sounds, and quite quickly, it’s as though stones are weighing down his stomach when he hears a boyish kind of snigger in the hallway, followed by the sound of keys in Room A’s door.

Please no. Not right now.

Not when Levi’s trying to come to terms with the unnatural feelings he’s somehow garnered for you.

Levi hears you shush the guy of the night and push open your door, its hinges moaning with relief when both of you stumble inside and it closes with a click. It’s almost embarrassing how quiet Levi has gone in an effort to eavesdrop — as much as he dislikes the idea of you being fucked by some random guy, he has to admit that he’s come to find some enjoyment in the vision of you being destroyed, in the music made by your pleasure. It took a while to admit it, but now that he has, it’s like a weight being lifted.

Once again, he is left to wonder what you’re doing when he can no longer hear your moans or the guy’s stupid voice muttering: Levi’s imagined you stumbling through the narrow passage past the bathroom and towards your bed, arms snug around the guy’s chest. You’ve probably sat down, and the guy is between your legs holding your face with his hands.

Only you haven’t. Levi hears a familiar thump against the wall and his eyes widen excitedly.

“Get this shit off.” Levi hears the guy grunt unhappily, and, hey wait, when did Levi suddenly end up listening so close to the wall?

“You don’t like it?” you ask, your voice so quiet through the thin layer of brick separating you from Levi’s ear. 

“Like it better when it's not on,” the guy groans, and a few more thumps against the wall sound along with a strange dragging noise that Levi presumes might be your back. “God, you’re so hot.”

Well, that they can both agree on.

Levi closes his eyes as your voice begins to rise, foolishly high and breathy and in a way that makes Levi’s dick harden under his clothes. He pictures your face in his head, thrown back in a twist of pleasure, and fights the urge to grip his cock with his hand — he loses the battle and curses as he grabs his dick and begins to pump his wrist.

Levi leans his back against the wall and dips his head low to his chest, his eyes unwillingly fixed on the sight of his own cock hardening in his hand. Levi acknowledges that jerking off to his neighbour having a shag is a bit weird, but it could be worse, and as long as you can’t see him, he doesn’t care. 

He tightens his grip around his dick and drags his hand up and down, biting down on his lip to keep his satisfied groans from eliciting any unwanted attention.

On the other side of the wall, you feel the brick behind your head as the stranger lifts one of your legs up over his shoulder, falling to his knees like a beggar and lifting the bottom half of your skirt up over your hips. At some point during your ungracious entry into the bedroom, the man managed to slip down your panties and now has full, unrestricted access to your cunt, and wastes no time pushing his head between your thighs. 

Feeling the man’s tongue running flat up your slit, you moan breathlessly and stare up at the ceiling. You’ve fucked so many men it’s impossible to remember all of them, but you never get bored of the feeling of someone’s tongue up your pussy. Your heart stammers in your chest as you peer down at the stranger; his face is pushed between your legs and hidden from view, leaving you with nothing but dark locks of hair to gaze at, hunched shoulders and a pale hand pressing into your leg.

Admittedly, the only reasons you picked this stranger to approach in the bar had been because of the way he looked, and you close your eyes and let your jaw hang open in pleasure, all while your thoughts linger on who you pretend is between your legs instead of him. 

“You taste amazing,” the guy groans into you, and you smile pleasantly. Everybody likes being complimented, don’t they?

“Yeah?” you ask, smoothing one of your hands up around your tit, “It’s all yours.”

The guy groans, as does Levi, who’s listening so loyally that he might as well smash a hole in the wall and look through. Nothing is left to imagination anymore; it’s as if you’re narrating your night just for Levi’s sake.

“Yeah. You’re right. This pussy’s mine,” the guy laughs, nipping his teeth against your inner thigh and making you squeal unexpectedly. 

“Come on,” you rasp, worming your fingers through his twirly locks of hair with a slight grip. He winces and looks up at you from over your stomach, eyes dark and wide with the pain of your fingers tightening around his curls. “Fuck me, big guy. I want your cock.”

Levi’s wrist quickens. He blames the whiskey for the strangled little pathetic sound that burns in his throat, but there’s no way you heard it. Although these walls are so thin that he can hear every sound you make, there’s no way you can hear any of his noises. The logic defies Levi at that moment.

“God damn, you really are a needy girl, aren't you?”

No, you’re not, Levi thinks. Only you are — you grin down at the handsome man removing himself from between your legs and shuffle closer to grab a taste of yourself from his lips. He groans into your mouth, one hand on your ass and the other around the back of your neck. 

With his arms around you, the man guides you towards the end of your bed and ungracefully drops you down, groaning when you bite your bottom lip and stare up at him with an expectant look in your eyes. Levi could only dream of what makes the stranger growl like that as he strains to listen in. You open your legs to invite him in, watching as he pulls a condom from his back pocket and takes his jeans down to his ankles.

Levi’s cock is throbbing, the tip an angry shade of red as he swipes his thumb and smears a slip of pre-cum across the curved edge. Levi inhales deeply, feeling his whole body stiffen as he pulls his fist up and down, the fingers on his other hand grazing across his balls with a sensitive flush. He hears you moan outrageously loud and his wrist trembles — he must have slipped it in.

You tighten your legs around the stranger, pulling him and his dick further into your cunt, the wetness of it slippery and inviting and divinely powerful. Every man you’ve had up there has made a comment on how good it feels, and as the guy moans loudly and tells you it’s the best pussy he’s had, you think of your neighbour; his surprised expression when he saw you in the café, the way his friends threw him looks when you smiled. 

You know he’s been listening (if he hasn’t, then he’s admirably unbothered or deaf), and the thought excites you wildly.

You look beyond the man and to the wall, imagining your neighbour staring at the brick with a blank expression. Maybe he’s angry that you have another man over. You hope he is. 

Biting back a laugh, you moan for good measure and match every thrust with a sound. The guy stuffed inside of you mutters a string of curses, chest puffed with pride, oblivious to the vision you have in your head of your neighbour snug between your thighs, his face steeled into his usual displeasure. 

“Mmf, yes,” you whine, a little louder than you usually would. “Right there.”

“Say my name,” the guy growls, slapping your thigh rather sharply, “like a good girl.”

You flush, knees practically bent over to your chest as he folds you in half. For a second, you can’t even think of his name, don’t know if he ever even told you. Instead of wounding his pride, you drop a few girly moans and hope it distracts him, which it does. You wonder what would happen if you were to moan out your neighbours name — if you even knew it, that is.

“Oh, god,” you moan genuinely and close your eyes as the man sinks his cock in further. Thank goodness this man’s dick is long, you think, feeling the tip brush against a weak spot inside of you. The mattress beneath your spine is shaking uncontrollably, and the man peers down at you with a glint in his eye.

Levi’s head leans back and a breathless groan escapes — fuck, he thinks, but there’s no time to take it back, and certainly no chance he’s been heard. 

Unbeknownst to Levi, your ears prick up curiously. The man snug inside of you looks at your face with an equal amount of curiosity, his hands wide against your skin as he fucks you at an unmeasurably quick pace. It’s as if he has somewhere else to be than here, but the pressing wrinkle in his forehead deepens as he fucks you harder, nails digging into your skin, spit flying from his mouth to your breasts.

“My friend said your pussy was good, but I didn’t think it would be this good,” the guy says, his voice raspy. All you can currently focus on is the squelch between your legs, and for a hopeful sound of annoyance from your neighbour.

When nothing comes, you opt for staring up at the guy with wide eyes, as if the thought of being passed around a few friends shocks you. In actual fact, you could care less, just as long as you both feel good.

His next few thrusts knock the wind out of you, and Levi clings to those pitched sounds like they’re his new lifeline. Pumping the length of his cock with his hand, Levi clamps his eyes closed and tries not to become self-aware of what the fuck he’s doing, instead focusing all of his energy on the twisting ache in his stomach and the dull groan of his wrist bones.

What Levi does next horrifies him. His hips jerk suddenly, his breathing laboured as he imagines himself in your room between your legs. Just the thought of looming over you, chest bowed over yours, your legs over his shoulders as he sinks himself into your cunt. The look of pleasured joy on your face, that stupidly beautiful smile lifted so high. 

In the swirling darkness of his closed eyes, Levi conjures up images of you flustered and naked, covered in sweat and cum and as your breasts bounce the shine on your body curves — fucking hell, he’s in so deep, he’s so fucked.

“Oh! Oh, there, yep, there — hmpf!” 

Levi hears you so loudly that it’s as if you’re panting it in his ears. He fists his dick almost furiously, feeling the creeping heat move across his body like a wildfire. The phantom illusion of your body underneath him pulses, the feeling of your cunt wet and squishing around him feels so real he might believe it if he weren’t uncomfortably self-aware of how screwed up he is, fantasising about a girl he’s never even talked to before.

Even through the wall, Levi can hear your bed rattling against the opposite wall, each slap of skin as the stranger fucks himself into you; Levi zeros in on the sounds and produces the perfect scene in his head, one that makes his dick twitch in his hand and his feet slip slightly across the wooden floor. 

His chest rises and falls heavily, his hands trembling, his balls so sensitive he’s resorted to clinging to the wall like a rock climber with one hand while he pumps his cock with the other. Listening to you being fucked stupid is going to make him cum all over himself, and for a split second, that seems fine. That would be okay.

“Goddamn. You’re tighter than I expected,” the guy says, which sends Levi over the edge. 

He groans softly at the floor and feels his whole body trembling as the coil in his stomach suddenly releases, and a string of cum shoots from the end of his cock. Levi keeps pumping, cum falling down his hand and to the floor in a grossly filthy manner, one that he’s trying his best not to stress over as he focuses all of his energy and thoughts on the hand wrapped around his cock and how badly he wishes it was your pussy gripping him instead.

When he does open his eyes, Levi blinks away the blurry tunnel vision and tries to catch his breath, now uncomfortably aware of the sticky mess covering his hand and the floor around his feet. For a second, he feels complete bliss — until the ringing in his ears subsides and he hears you whining in that pretty fucking voice you have, and the shame washes over him like a bucket of cold water.

Levi forces himself up off the wall and stares back at it, almost as if it might transform into a window for you to gape at him, the dirty eavesdropper who just had an orgasm over a daydream and the sound of his neighbour fucking some random guy. He blinks in horror.

The guy screwing you groans like an animal — a dying animal, Levi thinks bitterly, until he realises that he’s the first person to have orgasmed in the strange threesome and he isn’t even in the room. 

Although guilt is consuming him, Levi can’t commit to pulling away yet. He might as well see it through to the end now that he’s become a part of it all.

Your cunt clenches around the guy’s cock like a vice, coaxing whatever last reserves of self-restraint he has before he grunts out a loud, “Fuck!” and slams his hips into you one last time, filling the condom with cum.

You feel the warmth bulging inside of you — lucky for someone to have gotten off in this exchange. Your pussy throbs and you squirm unhappily, hoping he might keep going.

“More?” the guy asks, breathless and shocked. “For real?”

“Mm. More, I need more,” you tell him, your walls fluttering around him. “Please, please give me more—”

No, no, no, Levi thinks in a panic. Please no more! As if being subjected to listening to some guy cumming after being in your pussy was bad enough, Levi wants nothing more than for it all to be over so he doesn’t have to listen anymore. He knows he could easily put in earphones and tune you both out, but that’s not the point. 

Still, he feels a sudden rush of bitter hatred when the guy slaps your skin and makes you whine, all before laughing and pulling out. Levi hears nothing for a moment until he hears a drawer pulling open and slamming shut, and he thinks in a hot flush that he’s about to have a terribly unhappy night listening to you getting screwed again.

You watch the stranger shake his cock for a moment once the old and used condom is off, and he quickly puts on a new one while he’s still hard and admirably shoves himself back inside. Your wet warmth welcomes him back encouragingly, and there’s no trouble keeping him hard once you’ve gripped him back inside. The man shifts himself inside of you and moves in and out, his eyes trained carefully on your face as if assessing your enjoyment. 

He creeps a hand between your legs and thumbs the hood of your pussy, and your eyes flash open with surprise at the feeling of his thumb on your clit.

“My god, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he comments, and Levi curses.

This can’t go on! Levi feels his mind reeling and he refuses to take responsibility for what his body does next; he wipes his hand on his joggers and glares at the door. Taking a few strides towards it, Levi forgets the cum on the floor and grabs one of his jumpers, pulling it over his head as he grabs his five seconds of courage by the balls and swings his door open. 

The sound of you being fucked is made even more pronounced in the hallway. Levi’s never admired his other hall-mates until now, because he knows they’re all either listening in the same horror as Levi used to or they’re out somewhere missing all of the drama. Still, Levi feels his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he raises his fist, and without thinking any of it through, he bangs his hand on your door three loud times.

The sounds cease.

Levi hears a flustered “fuck!” and a confused moan, each one from a different person, and now that he’s knocked, Levi knows if he does a runner, you’ll only know it was him when his door shuts in the now uncomfortable silence. Standing in the hallway, he knows he has to live out his embarrassment and see it through. 

The stranger pulls out of you in a fluster, staring down at you with surprise. “Should we answer it?”

You crane to listen, half-hoping it was a knock on someone else’s door and not your own, but you reluctantly glance up at him in shock and pick yourself up off the bed.

“Um…” you start, flustered and scanning the floor for something to put on. You spot your dressing gown slung over the chair at your desk and reach for it, giving the guy a pointed look as he scrambles for his underwear. You hoped it wouldn’t have, but the vibe is killed rather cruelly by whoever is banging your door so loudly. 

Tying the cord around your waist, you pass by the guy with a sheepish smile and smooth a hand across his chest. In a way, the stranger is surprisingly handsome, especially considering you only picked him out for the way his hair looked. He grins after a while and grabs his shirt, holding it in his hand as he leans to kiss your lips and slither past you.

��Lemme get it,” he suggests, already making his way to the door. You let him go without protest, simply standing to the side as he reaches the door, twists the handle and pulls it open. The map of muscles in his back tense when he sees Levi standing outside.

“Levi,” he says dumbly. Levi blinks in confusion. How does he know this guy, and more importantly, how does this guy know him? The stranger seems to pick up on his blatant confusion and shifts uncomfortably, “It’s Samuel. I live in Isabel’s flat.”

Levi visibly grimaces.

This city is just too small and he hates it so much. Why the fuck did the guy fucking you have to be someone in close connection to one of his closest friends, and why the fuck did it have to be the guy involved in the sex Levi has just jerked off to?

“We met?” Levi decides to ask.

“Not officially,” mutters Samuel.

Levi ignores him and glances back into the darkness, schooling his features into disinterest with all of his strength when he sees you standing in the shadows.

The revealing V of your dressing gown attracts his attention, his eyes trained on the curving line of your breasts pushed together by your folded arms. He looks up to your neck and face, shining with a thin sheen of sweat, and then finally acknowledges your face. 

Your makeup is smudged in a way that makes Levi’s cock twitch again, but he refuses to feed in to the pleasure he so badly wants to seek at the sight of you, fucked-out and equally surprised to see him standing like a loser in your doorway. You take a single step forward in what looks like wonder.

“What…are you doing here?” Samuel asks hesitantly.

Levi remembers he’s there and glares at him. “I live next door.”

“Oh,” says Samuel.

“I don’t care that you’re fucking. Trust me, I don’t.” He’s lying. “But can you be quiet about it?”

His voice cuts deep, making Samuel flinch, but in Levi’s peripheral he sees your face twist into an amused smile, your feet shuffling across the wooden floor to arrive by Samuel’s side.

“She’s not that loud,” Samuel attempts to say, in a pathetically unenthusiastic voice. Even he must know to an extent that you’re actually extremely loud.

Levi’s brows raise. “It’s not her I’m bothered about.”

“Oh,” Samuel says again. He turns to look at you like a deer caught in the headlights, but when his face drops at the look of amusement on your face, something tells Levi that Samuel may have expected you to defend him the way he just tried to defend you. 

Samuel’s eyes narrow and he snatches himself away from the door to find his shoes and phone. “Whatever man. She’s a slut anyway, you must be used to it by now.”

Levi hums, his eyes on you as you look back at him, unmoving, unbothered. Your eyes drop suddenly to his bottoms before pulling back up with your brows raised. After looking down with reluctance, Levi spots the cum he wiped on his joggers in a smudge across his thigh and he pauses.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t think of any other words.

Samuel slips his shoes back on and levels a dirty look in your direction, but you just smile sympathetically and wish him goodnight. He mutters something rude under his breath and barges past Levi on his way out, and Levi makes a point of watching Samuel go whilst trying to pretend that neither of you has just spotted what is drying to a crusty stain on his joggers.

Levi continues to stare down the hallway even when the door has slammed shut and Samuel has disappeared, but the sound of your feet shuffling on the floor makes him look back. He must be a good actor, because your brows furrow for a moment when you lock eyes, as if you aren’t sure whether or not he’s angry.

Of course, Samuel had been right. You were a loud fuck, you were a bit of a slut, and Levi is very familiar with the guests coming and going from your bedroom. But none of that matters at all now he’s here, looking at you hidden underneath a dressing gown, your lips parted with hesitance.

Levi stares at you for a second, wondering what he could possibly say to you now that the chance is right there. He should have known he’d say something stupid — Levi copies your facial expression and clicks his tongue: “I know you can actually do better than that.”

His words take you by surprise, but he watches as your wide eyes soften and your smile twists — his stomach churns, thrilled, enamoured. If he was stupid, he’d push himself into your room and kiss you, but luckily, he’s exhausted his daily dose of stupidity and fallen back into his usual state of normalcy.

“Oh, really?” you ask sarcastically. This is the first time he’s heard you talking since your shy little hello a few days ago, and without a wall between you and some dude’s dick up your pussy. 

Levi hums, weaker than before. “Him, of all people?”

“Well, I don’t pick them for their personality,” you tell him, and he blinks as he realises that you’re actually discussing the people you bring back to your room. Levi lets it sink in until it does, deep in his stomach, and he feels his neck burning.

Suddenly, Levi is uncomfortably aware of how aware you are; you know you’re loud, and you know Levi can hear every moan and cry and whimper, every thud against the wall, every gasp of breath, every boy. And something tells him that none of that is accidental.

“...Thank god for that,” he drawls finally, his gaze hardening on your own. This time, you hum, mockingly, and tilt your head while you look at him.

Levi doesn’t know how long he stands there for. All he knows is that the tension between you is so thick it’s almost choking him. He doesn’t even know if you can feel it too — the unimaginable jolt of sexual tension coiling around his body like a snake, his whole body vibrating excitedly. 

It would be so easy to move forward towards you. Levi doesn’t even think you’d refuse him. The sultry look in your eyes is inviting, enticing, and he lets his gaze wander back to the slip of skin above your breasts before he snatches his gaze back.

“I’ll be more quiet, if that’s what you’d like,” you say after a while.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks at you for a second, weighing his options. Then, his gaze softens and he grunts — no. Be as loud as you want.

You seem to understand, for the smile widens into a pleased grin. “Alright. Sorry, Levi.”

He prays that you didn’t just see his body flinch as you said his name. Levi grunts again and waves his hand dismissively, turning for his room before the excitement of everything makes him become stupid again. He’s done enough stupid things today, thank you!

“Night, Y/N,” he says through clenched teeth, and if he had looked back, he would have seen the smile widen to a degree he could have never even expected, the confirmation you needed being your name on his lips, a name he would have only heard had he been listening.

Levi refuses to give in to his dumb urges and leans his back against his door when it shuts closed, listening shamefully as you hesitate before closing your door behind him. Finally, he lets out an exhausted breath and closes his eyes again.

For fuck sake. He’s a moron.

A moron who wants to fuck his neighbour, and is pretty sure that you know it.

Would you let him?

Levi stops himself from groaning like a pathetic loser when he thinks of you again, this time opening your door and letting him in, slipping the gown down your arms so that your breasts fall out for him; his hands grabbing them, pushing you back on the bed you were just being fucked on; his dick slipping inside of you, your cunt clenched around him, lips on his hands, cum filling you up like a cake, pooling out of you—

Levi feels his cock twitch again. He sighs loudly. 

He’s going to need another shower. Preferably a long cold one. Hopefully cold enough to send him into shock and kill him, just to spare him from the humiliating reality that Levi Ackerman has become an infatuated sad fuck with a raging hard crush on his stunningly sexy neighbour. 

Levi groans again. Fuck.

[darqx]

Hi I understand if you don't reply, but I was wondering if you have any advice to beginners who want to start making their ocs a reality? (Like in the sense of having Charecters that have been in your thoughts for a while, but it's hard to encapsulate them into physical form?) As I have some that id like to make either into a game or comic but I'm a little stuck..

Also I'm curious if there will be any other content with the best boy himself rire?? : 0

Hullo! Ah, (physically) designing characters, how fun ❤️ - there is part of a reason why I only have a handful of them lol XD; ANYWAY here are three things that help me, so hopefully they can help you as well :)

(I'll use Demon!Rire as an example as unless you are an old guard of mine, he will probably be the most recognisable of my characs.)

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

❓What do you know about them?

First of all since you already have your character in mind, congratulations you are most of the way there already! It's helpful to know the general vibe of them. And I don't mean the super detailed things that may arise from like..."Get to know your OC" quizzes - we are more looking for the core feeling of a character here. If you dumped this character into different AUs what things are going to stay the same/similar? Some things you should consider are:

What is their personality like? Why do they do the things they do?

Do I already have any physical traits for them in mind? Hair/eye/skin colour? Body type? Age? Name??

📝 Write a simple paragraph or some dot points about your character with these things in mind.

---EXAMPLE---

Sophisticated and charming, Rire outputs an aura of power and elegance. His pleasing physical appearance and gentlemanly demeanour usually enchants or commands people. Realistically, he is extremely manipulative and sadistic, and finds entertainment in the reactions of others.

---/EXAMPLE---

🤔 Make informed choices

Ok cool, you know something about your charac! Now build upon what you know to make them real - it is important here to try and match your design choices with the characterisation and "why"s of the character, and less with what you personally think will be cool/cute/whatever. What I mean by this is just pretend they are a person you are describing to a forensic sketch artist - you are giving "facts" as to what you think they look like not making stuff up (eg you would NOT be like "oh yeh she was totally a punk rocker however i'm going to say she wore a long flowing gown cos I think she'd look prettier in it?"*)

*Note that designing a character with opposites in mind can work out if you can at least answer the cursory "why" of it being a part of the character design. For eg maybe the punk rocker is secretly the alter ego of a socialite - flowing gowns and high fashion by day, grunge by night. Like Batman.

📝 Feel free to use dress up doll games and image searches for particular types of clothes/hairstyles/etc if you need inspiration. Thumbnail a bunch of different designs and see what works.

---EXAMPLE---

In my prev example paragraph I highlighted a few things in red. Here I'll break down how they can help craft a physical appearance:

Sophisticated and charming / elegance - to me, these combined make me think of ballrooms and black tie functions and nice suits. A well tailored outfit and someone who knows how to wear them.

Gentlemanly demeanour (well to some degree lol) - since I already know he's hundreds of years old (973 to be exact) I decided that an aristocratic Victorian-esque aesthetic would suit him. Somewhere in between a modern look and something with a bit more fantasy steampunk flair. He smiles quite genially until he's doing it with all his teeth.

Aura of power - he's got to be a bit of an imposing character so he's quite tall (or at least taller than all of my other characs) and carries himself confidently. Hooray for the ability to loom. Dark colours for this character, to cut an impressive figure.

Pleasing physical appearance - kinda stereotypical type of good looks that aesthetically most people would be like "yeh he's pretty". Athletic build - muscular but not bulky, broad shoulders, tapered waist etc etc.

Extremely manipulative - first of all, he looks rather human, for a demon - his entire species is designed very particularly like that. Then there's the sunglasses. The "why" [does he wear them] is they function to hide his eyes (one of the main parts of him that give away his demon-ness), but also as a bit of a red flag to the audience that something isn't quite right with him. I mean, look past his charm and he wears them all the time. The black and yellow colour scheme also ties in as warning colours ⚠️

Put them all together and this was one of my first sketches of Demon!Rire.

*Note that I already more or less knew how he looked other than his outfit; you will probably have a lot more sketch duds as you figure out what your character looks like.

---/EXAMPLE---

🔐 Don't lock yourself in

Despite the fact I've just said "pretend your character is a person", remember you're still their creator so obviously you have final say over them. Sometimes you'll find that they grow and change from what you initially thought of them (or you just evolve in how you draw them). Don't be afraid to make the tweaks and changes that enhance these - whether they be physical or core characteristics - and you'll get closer to the true character you always had in mind.

---EXAMPLE--

I now draw Rire with a more pronounced V-shape, longer, wavier hair, and somehow he ended up with way more pronounced eyelashes than I usually draw on my male characs. Which works out quite well considering how I tend to draw his eyes. Anyway the point of this is that these things developed over time as I kept drawing him.

---/EXAMPLE---

🍀 Try it out with your own characs! Have fun and don't force yourself to try and get it "right" on the first go.

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ on my mind since the flood ❞ ─ a darling, in any life blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader. summary: the red thread between two people destined to be together may stretch and tangle, but those ties will never break. or: a 45min train ride makes two 43 year olds feel like teenagers. content warnings: divorce babes, divorce. kinda spoiler-ish. watch the 3rd season before. the reader has a backstory and a job, if that bothers you grow up don't read. word count: 960+

Your hair was different, that was the first thing he noticed.

Much like himself, you had soft wrinkles beginning to show up on your forehead and around your eyes, a gift from your late thirties that kept on giving. Your eyes were the same though, he could recognize those anywhere at anytime, even if it had been decades since the last time they stared back at his. Your nose, your lips. Your smile. The way his name sounded coming from your tongue. It was all extremely familiar, as if he was fifteen again.

"You're staring, like a creep, airhead." The old nickname rolls out like you had spent merely seconds apart and it makes him laugh, it has been weeks, maybe months since he last laughed genuinely like that, with his whole face.

"I just got lost—" In your eyes. "In my memories for a bit. You look so much the same."

"Well, my pay check won't allow me any plastic surgeries so—"

"Wise ass." And there it was, like a reflex, his own nickname to you leaving his lips before he even thought about it, if he did think about it he probably would've held it in, a 43 year old FBI agent using childish nicknames not being the best look, but it didn't feel like that with you, at all, it felt natural. You both laugh at it for a second and a comfortable silence follows it, but Aaron couldn't keep it like that, he needed to know more, where have you been, what were you doing... Have you been in Virginia for long? He kept it as casual as he could considering his curiosity, "How have you been?"

"Alright, good, yeah. I’m teaching at Scalia, started this year, I want to keep practicing though, but I’m gonna settle down in Virginia first." You shrug, taking a sip of your coffee. You were purposefully leaving details out, you had seen him on TV a lot since coming back to the states, FBI, profiler. You wanted to see how much could he get from you without words. "What about you, mister FBI hotshot?"

If you two were still teens the way your teasing came out would've made him blush, and quite frankly if he wasn't so self controlled maybe he would've blushed right now, he did feel warm, but instead he just let a chuckle out of his throat, "Well, FBI hotshot just had his divorce finalized, not that glamorous being in these shoes." You already knew what he was doing with his life, it made sense to give the only actual news he had, "Scalia? Law degree too, then." Aaron clicks his tongue, not holding back the instant smirk the realization brought. "Your mother used to say we were so similar we shared the same brain, remember?"

"Welcome to the club, then! Meeting every Friday, membership perks only after the second one, though." His eyes went straight to your fingers, seeing the lack of any rings he nods to himself. Twice divorced. Dark heavy coat, makeup accentuating your features, red lips, hair pulled back. You care about being seen, and desired, but don't want to be approached, a teacher-lawyer, no time, a lot of perfectionism. "Yeah, I stay far away from criminal. Civil and International Law cases mostly. Families, divorces, cross-board custodies." A child of divorce trying to save other children of divorce. Very typical behavior.

Aaron felt like he could stay like this for hours on end, sitting by your side uncomfortably on the train after fate pulled you two to one another again, hearing you tell him about your life in London, your divorces, your time in college. You made him feel young, like you were still his childhood best friend who he fell for. Like if he were to kiss you like he did when you were both thirteen you would still blush and grip tightly on his shirt. Nostalgia was indeed a bittersweet thing.

"I think when you moved away was the last time I openly sobbed." He shakes his head, the thought leaving his brain in a quiet, hushed voice tone, like a secret he wasn't supposed to be telling. It had been years, you were both fifteen when your parents got divorced and you were taken to England with your father. 28 years since the last time he saw you, and he still can feel the same pain if he thinks too hard about it, the way his heart felt like was being sliced apart, getting smaller by the minute as your father's car got further and further away. His mood soured in a way his feelings were only able to function normally again after meeting Haley.

Your hand softly touched his with the confession, your thumb going to his palm and drawing small comforting circles, "I cried myself to sleep a lot that year." Aaron glued his eyes on the way your hands touched, and you thought he might reject it, find it weird after so many years, but instead he just closed his around yours tightly, a silent thankful prayer to the universe, mixed with the warning that he had no intention to let go.

You both stay like that as you talk the rest of the ride, cellphone numbers and e-mails are exchanged, along with longing glances beginning to make you shy like the school girl you once were, when you fell for him the first time. You often wondered what would've happened if you stayed in Washington. Before Jack, Aaron wondered it too from time to time, but truly, he wouldn't do anything different now, he wouldn't choose any alternative ending that would take Jack from him.

But at least now he had a second chance, right?

[agustdef]

Will You

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Black!Reader

Genre: Fluff; Idol AU/Idolverse

Word Count: 3k

Warning: Light Language

Rating: PG-13

Beta Reader: @hobeemin

A/N: This was due to idk and I have so many ideas that I simply didn’t write a ff that ended up posted for much too long. So here’s to hoping to finishing these ideas.

“And without further ado, I am more than happy to introduce you to our keynote speaker Ms. YN LN.”

Clapping fills the room, and Jungkook joins in a beat late. His mind wandered as he’d listened to the other speakers for almost an hour. They’d all had interesting things to say, but something about being in a room with all these people with a person at a podium felt too much like school. Plus, a few of them seemed just to enjoy hearing themselves talk.

He refused to admit that to YN, though.

His beautiful girlfriend tried to give him an out when he said he’d come with her for this event. Told him how boring it would be and that she didn’t mind if he just did something else until she was done. Of course, he pushed for it, and she relented with one final warning about how he’d be bored as hell. To a degree, he’d known that going into it, but he wanted to support her. And to see her in her element.

Though they both work in the same industry, they’re on different ends of it. Jungkook as an artist and occasional writer, while YN worked legal. Their first encounter was when an American artist friend of his invited her out to dinner as a thank you for helping him with a contract issue with his label. They’d made him promises and tried to backtrack when it was time for the new contract. YN worked at a firm that specialized in that kind of thing, though they usually worked with smaller artists. His friend had been her big break, bringing in business and a promotion.

Of course, Jungkook was too much of a punk to ask her for her number at that meeting. He was too nervous about if it was forward, and he didn’t want to mess with the mostly professional nature of the event. But he got her card, and that was enough.

Until they kept bumping into each other at the more business-like industry events. Well, half bumping into each other and the other half him hunting down her name on programs and making sure to show up to those panels or events. It made him feel like a little bit of a stalker, but to combat that, he finally got his shit together and asked her out after running into her at a restaurant. 

Grateful to not be turned down was an understatement.

As they got to know each other, he felt himself fall hard and fast. She was perfect. Not in how one thinks when they hear the word, but in how that worked for him. That made their relationship work through the lows as well as the highs. 

I love you slipped out of his mouth five months in. 

If that didn’t explain why he put himself through this boredom, nothing, else would at least not in a way that made sense. His members still sometimes looked at him crazy with how he felt about her and how he could only sometimes find the words to explain it in a coherent way.

“I promise to try not making this too boring for y’all. I can not, however promise it won’t be boring at all. My line of work has to have some pitfalls besides all that paperwork,” YN joked.

The entire room laughs. It’s not the funniest thing in the world, but the way she delivers it and the energy she exudes as a person gets to people. It’s why Jungkook lets out a laugh that’s a little too loud and draws the attention of those around him. And of YN, though she doesn’t look his way to make that clear. He just nose from the way she pauses for a second longer, and her smile widens. 

Embarrassed isn’t even the right word for him at the moment. Part of him wants to flee the room, but he stays in his seat. It helps that anyone who side eyes him switches to being shocked to see him there. Being identified as a member of BTS is what he can handle; being embarrassed is not, despite what his variety show content and the lives over the years might suggest.

To let the feeling pass, he focused on the stage. Well, on YN.

“For those who don’t know me, I’m YN LN, and I've been working at Heights Law for the last six or seven years,. We specialize in fair contracts for indie artists. From things with their label to tours, merchandise, the people they hire, and even contracts between members if it’s a group. About thirty-five percent of those we work with don’t even have a label they’re signed to and don’t want to. And then about twenty percent of our clients are more mainstream artists looking for the same services.

We don’t work with any sort of label because we feel it ties us to worrying too much about keeping on their good side when trying to figure things out. And while we are not on a mission to do anything that would be, for the lack of a better word, line crossing with the people we are trying to get to sign the contracts, our clients come first. That’s made us stand out in a way y’all may have heard about a time or two. I’d like to personally apologize for making you sit through articles about a certain label trying to screw over up and coming artist Minx and all the weird things that were honestly not so weird about her tour rider.”

Again laughter, but with some whispers and grumbles thrown in. That entire situation had everyone in the industry confused as hell, and for the last few months, they thought Minx was trying to be greedy until everything was settled and it was shown that all her asks weren’t as crazy as they’d seemed. Even Jungkook found himself looking at YN like she’d lost it with every new bit of information that was released. He’d asked her about it, but she gave him a look, and he had to wait out the outcome like everyone else. 

“And for this, I think Minx is the perfect situation to discuss. I mean, when else will you see how things can go when a former lawyer turned pop star wants to sign with the label she used to work for but knows all their tricks.”

That was all it took to have people enthralled. After everything settled, everyone still had a million questions about it, but they were still waiting for someone at the firm to answer them. Jungkook had the fortune of dating YN around the time, so he got her to tell him, and Minx had invited them somewhere and told him more. So, he knew everything.

Which meant he could just stare at her. He didn’t think of himself as the type to be much of a creepy person, even if him trying to run into her wasn’t a clear indication of that. That and that looking at her was one of his favorite pastimes. 

YNs cute.

He would and did use a million words to describe her. But the first thought in his brain when he saw her was how cute she was, and he felt his heart triple in size from that alone. Her genuine smile and soft features do a lot to counteract the fact that she’s only an inch shorter than me, which throws people off when they meet her and had only seen her face before.

Those legs of hers, when she wears heels, drive Jungkook absolutely feral. And he has to fight off the thought of them as his mind spirals. He focused instead on the light tint of pink pushing through the brown skin because of all the bright lighting, the way there’s a stray piece of hair not as curly as the rest that she swears isn’t from heat damage, and she can fix, the soft red of her lips, and the way every part of her body seems light and open as she talks about a subject she loves. A look he’s familiar with and is how he knows she looks at him. 

More than anything, Jungkook is sure that YN loves him as much as he loves her, and like a revelation, he knows how much that is. How much space that love takes up in him, to the point that sometimes it feels like it’s overflowing. Right now, it feels like it’s overflowing.

“Questions?”

That one word pulls him out of his head, but he looks at YN with a clarity he didn’t have a few minutes ago, let alone a few hours ago.

Someone clears their throat, but his eyes don’t leave her.

“Why not just go with what the label wanted? I mean, sure, Minx had the background, but that shouldn’t make her any different than any other artist. Should she not be thankful to get into the place twice on different sides of it?”

There was agreement in the crowd, but it died out quickly with everyone else's quietness drop quiet.

Despite the shift in vibes, there’s a smile on YN’s face. 

“Why do you think that? Is it because others don’t have that same knowledge? I can see how that could be seen as unfair because it is. But because she has the background,, she used it to help herself best,, which made it so we could best help her and those in the future. However, I can assure you that they changed their contract language a lot since then. Height and many other firms who deal with them and this kind of thing all saw a shift for the better and for the worst with them. So, while you may wonder why Minx didn’t simply take what she should be lucky to have gotten from them, I hope you’re settled by the fact that unless the rare thing happens. Someone else does the same thing, no one else will be able to give the insight on how to best make the next contract work for the client in the way she did.”

The response is assertive, sarcastic, and professionally annoyed. It doesn’t leave room for anyone to say anything that doesn’t make them look any more like an ass. But the man at the podium opens his mouth a few times to try and figure out what to say. In the end, he walks away from the mic with his head down. Jungkook is sure that if it weren’t for pride, he would walk out of the room altogether.

“Any more questions,” YN said after a moment.

There’s one that Jungkook has. One he needs answered, but he finds himself glued to his seat.

Several people go up and ask their questions, all of them better than the first one, though some of them toe the line. There are also a few that Jungkook would deem flirting, but they don’t bother him. Not with the thoughts swarming around in his head.

Before he knows it, she answers the last question, and everyone is dismissed. A few linger to talk, but with this day being so packed, everyone wants to rush off to the next talk or event happening.

He sits in the seat for about fifteen minutes before she walks up to him, and when she puts her hand on his shoulder, he looks up at her startled, even though he watched her approach him.

“Ready to go?”

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes as he stares at her. He feels all over the place, but none of it’s uncertainty or doubt.

“I have a question,” he managed.

“Huh?”

“I have a question. I didn’t get the chance to ask it in there. I was… I’m nervous to ask it, and I couldn’t do it in there.”

YN frowned. “You can always ask me anything, my love. No need to be nervous about it. Plus, I’m sure yours is better than some of the bullshit I get asked in general when it comes to work.”

For a moment, Jungkook says nothing. All he can do is stare at her and try to keep his breathing normal. The latter is the hardest part, but YN takes his hand in hers and squeezes it tight.

Taking a breath, he gets to his feet, takes both of her hands in his, and stares into her eyes. He’s more than sure about what he has to say.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Question nor answer was said with any hesitation. However, Jungkook could tell that YN was still trying to process what was happening. He was too, but that wasn’t important now.

After a second, Jungkook released one of her hands, and with the other firm in his grasp, he led her out of the room. He hears her ask a question, but it doesn’t fully register in his brain. All his focus is on weaving through the crowd of people and out the door of the convention center. The place isn’t as isolated as some can be, so he walked past the parking lot where his car is and made his way past the hotel they were staying at.

“Where are we going?”

“Jungkook?”

“Jay?”

There’s a loud exhale too, but Jungkook paid it no mind. He’s on a mission. 

“For goodness sake, Kookie.”

YN matches his pace though she’s clearly confused by what the hell is happening. He knew he should say something, but couldn’t find his words just yet, so he kept walking until ten minutes later, they were in front of a popular celebrity-use jewelry store.

A few of the things he bought for himself and others - YN included - were from here, so he had a code that they gave him to get in. The door buzzed them in, and the moment that they walked in, there was a person there and ready to help. Though it might not be obvious to most, it was clear from the knowing smile on the woman’s face she knew what was up. 

Didn’t stop Jungkook from being so flustered, though. 

“Hi. Engagement rings. I mean, we would like to see engagement rings.”

Without a word, she directed them to the back of the store. They followed close behind her, and when they entered the room, she’s taking them to another person is setting down a tray of rings, with others sitting on a cart behind him.

Yeah, she knew.

Once everything is on the table, the man leaves, and they’re directed to sit. The woman who welcomed them stands on the other side of the table.

“This is a collection of all the rings we sell in the store. Though there are others, we can have custom made if what you see in front of you isn’t the right fit or you want a mix of styles. There’s a mix of the traditional sort and the non-traditional. Some are even without diamonds. Please, take your time to look through them and see if something catches your eye.”

Then she’s gone, and all the sound goes with her.

“We’re doing this?”

“You asked me.”

“True.”

Jungkook finally turns and looks at her, and despite all the nerves he’s feeling about if she’ll take it back, there’s a smile on her face. And a lack of anxiety like what’s going through him. Though he can tell, she’s a little thrown off by it all.

“I did. And I want to.”

“Then we better start looking, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

All the tension that was once there leaves the room, and they both turn their attention to the hundreds of rings in front of them. It’s an overwhelming site, but they dive into them. Jungkook tries to get YN to try some on, but she says that she doesn’t want to just yet, so they set them on the empty tray right in front of them. 

Each one feels perfect to Jungkook, but not right. More of the diamond rings that look how he’s used to seeing American engagement rings look like end up on the tray, which isn’t much of a shock with YN’s usual preferences.

A tray marked as morganite is second to last, and Jungkook almost avoids it, but then one ring calls to him. His eyes zone in on it, and he reaches for it just as YN gasps. His neck nearly breaks when he turns to look at her, but the slight pain means nothing as he follows her gaze to the ring he was reaching for.

Without another thought, he picks it up, takes her hand, and slides it into place. Though it’s a little loose, it fits her finger. The oval champagne colored gem is on a white gold band and surrounded on either side with diamonds that fan out, almost like leaves on the stem of a flower. They wrap perfectly around her finger and stop before they reach the palm side. Everything about it is YN. Is them.

“Perfection,” YN whispered.

“Yeah.”

And like the whirlwind that this was, Jungkook was happy to find that they had the same ring, the right size, on the premises, and he paid for it right then and there. It only left YN’s finger so they could clean it, and then it was on again.

They walked out of the room, and both were on a cloud. All those nerves Jungkook felt before were gone, but something else replaced it.

“I guess we have a wedding to plan. I can’t imagine when we’d even have it,” YN said.

“Now.”

Not the least bit startled, she turned to him with a raised brow. 

“Now?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe?”

Silence sat between them for what felt like forever, and then YN turned her attention back to the jeweler.

“We need to see wedding bands, too,” she said, then turned back to Jungkook. “And you need to start making phone calls.”

[vladajwrites]

Razor’s Edge

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 5851

Notes; thank you to everyone who has shown their support so far and taken the time to read my work, you are the ones who truly keep me motivated to write. much much love <33

(Not Beta Read)

You woke the next morning in the same t-shirt you had worn the day before, clinging to your skin from cold sweat. Your pants had been kicked off at some unknown point during the restless night of sleep you had. It was hard to recall the exact time you had eventually passed out on top of your bed.

Your phone was ringing somewhere underneath your pillow, causing your entire head to buzz. You groaned, wiping the sleep from your eyes. Irina’s name flashed on the screen as the caller on the other line. You answered the call, pressing the speaker button before dropping your phone on your chest.

“Hi honey, just wanted to let you know my flight made it into Sacramento.” Irina spoke. The passersby’s in the busy airport nearly muffled her voice. 

You picked up your phone again, looking at the time. How late had you slept in? The digital clock read 11:03 am. 

“Okay, I’m glad you made it safely.” You were certain your aunt could hear the rasp of your morning voice.

Irina hummed on the other line. “Just give me a call if you need anything while I’m away.” 

“Will do, love you.” You replied, clearing your throat before responding. 

“I love you too.” Irina replied before ending the call. 

You stared up at your ceiling for a moment, thinking over the events of last night. 

You couldn’t help but feel horrible for Charlie. Were he and his father close? Was his mother around? Did he have any siblings, relatives he was close with? So many questions seemed to fill your thoughts. Though, you knew they were questions that would more than likely go unanswered. It would be an awful choice, you decided, to bring up this suspected trauma unprompted. 

Maybe you could try to divulge more information from your aunt. Based upon her reaction, she must have been relatively close to his father at some point in time. Remembering back to the somber expression your aunt wore last night, you decided against that idea as well. 

You thought back on the relationship you had with your own father. He was an objectively miserable man. How would you have reacted, though, if you had lost him under the same circumstances? It would have surely still been devastating to some degree. 

You’d keep your newfound information to yourself for the time being. It was the only reasonable option you could think of. You were certain Charlie wouldn’t want you to treat him any differently after finding out about what had happened.

The familiar buzz of your phone’s ringer pulled you momentarily from your running thoughts. You grabbed your phone, pushing yourself up into a sitting position on your bed, your legs crossed closely in front of you. 

A message from an unsaved number appeared on the screen. You recognized it almost immediately as being Charlie’s from the group chat the night before. Only he hadn’t messaged both you and Robbie. It was only sent to you. 

You sucked in a sharp breath as you unlocked your phone. The message read, “Hey, Robbie wanted me to let you know he woke up feeling sick and won’t be able to make it tonight.” 

Your face fell into a frown as you read over the message again, your thumbs hovered over the keyboard as you thought up a response. 

Another message from Charlie arrived moments later. “He said he’d take over any revisions if you and I would still be willing to finish the presentation tonight.”

The corner of your lips twitched up into a half smile. Now that you and Charlie were on seemingly good terms again, there shouldn’t be any issue with just the two of you working on this together. 

Your fingers unknowingly found themselves twisted through your hair as you typed your response. “Works for me. Same time and place?” 

Charlie sent his response almost instantly. “Yeah, sounds good.” 

You had quite a bit of time to spare until 7pm rolled around. You went through your weekend routine as usual, cleaning up as you went throughout the home. By 6pm you had showered and pulled yourself mostly together. As you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, running your fingers through your drying hair, a new thought crept into your mind. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through Charlie’s mess of hair. 

Your skin burned hot as you dropped your hands at your sides. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back up at your own reflection. 

You couldn’t shake the thought as you made your way into the kitchen downstairs. You stared blankly into the pantry, your thoughts elsewhere. 

Of course, you had always believed there was something charming about Charlie’s character. He was objectively good looking, at least you had thought so. But, thinking back on those few moments you shared alone with him on the porch the night before, there was just something- something about him was strikingly beautiful. 

You bit at your lip, squinting your eyes as you pulled your thoughts together. You reminded yourself that the last thing you wanted to do at the moment was become wrapped up in unrequited crushes and feelings similar to the sort. It was just easier on your own. You had come to this conclusion years ago. It was understandably difficult to trust others, impossible to let anybody in. 

Just as you were about to shut the pantry door, your eyes caught a glint in the back of the pantry, just behind a bag of sugar. You reached forward, grabbing the bottle in your hands. 

You turned over a bottle of red wine, scanning the label quickly. 

You hummed to yourself, setting the bottle on the kitchen counter. You stared it down for a moment, tapping your foot against the hardwood flooring. 

You had no clue how long it had been stuffed away back there. Surely your aunt wouldn’t miss it too terribly. You glanced up at the clock above the stove which read 6:44pm. A small glass wouldn’t hurt anything, just something to dispel your faltering nerve. 

You dug through the kitchen drawers, searching for a bottle opener. Just as you popped the cork, a knock at the front door rang through the home. ‘Shit.’ You steadied yourself, nearly knocking the bottle off the counter. 

You thought you would have had at least a few more minutes to yourself. You quickly made your way to the front door, taking a deep breath before turning the handle. 

Charlie stood in front of you. One hand buried in his front pocket, the other holding the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. You held the frame of the door, following his line of sight to your bare legs. You felt your face grow hot. You hadn’t realized just how much of your oversized t-shirt covered the small shorts you wore underneath.

You quickly pulled your t-shirt up, holding it against your stomach. “Shorts, promise.” God, why were you acting like this? 

Charlie swallowed, looking up to meet your eyes. “Yeah, right.” There was a moment of quiet passed between the two of you. Charlie’s eyes drifted just past you into the entryway.

“Oh, right. Come in.” You pushed the door open further for him. He followed you inside, stepping beside you as you locked the door behind him. 

He turned to head towards the living room. Without giving it much thought, you interjected. “We can go up to my room.” You motioned up the stairs, watching as Charlie stopped in his tracks.

“Your room? Your aunt won’t mind?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he kicked his shoes off.

“Oh no, she wouldn’t mind. She’s out of town this weekend, anyway.” You replied.

Charlie froze for a moment, looking up the stairs past you. He met your eyes again before responding. “Cool, yeah. Your room sounds great.”  

You smile down at him, leading him up the staircase. 

“Well, this is it,” you shrugged. “Just put your stuff anywhere you’d like.” You finished, motioning around the room. 

You picked your bag off the ground and climbed into your bed, moving close to the wall. Charlie placed his stuff on the desk beside your bed before dropping himself into the adjoining chair. You began pulling out your things, watching as he intently did the same. He seemed so incredibly focused on the things in front of him. Neither of you spoke. 

As you opened your laptop to access the shared group presentation, Charlie spoke up.

“Okay, I actually went ahead and got everything finished up earlier today.” Your breath got stuck in your chest as you met his eyes. “I figured we could just work on any revisions together.” You could tell from just below your line of sight that he was nervously messing with the corner of a piece of his notebook paper. 

“Oh,” you weren’t sure what to say. “Well, thank you. You totally didn’t have to-”

“No, I know. I wanted to.” Charlie interrupted. 

You nodded, sucking in your bottom lip. You scanned through the presentation. It really had been finished. It must have taken him hours. 

There was an uncomfortable silence, making the air thick and heavy around you. You wished you could think of something else to say. An image of the opened bottle of red wine in the kitchen flashed in your mind. 

“Would you like something to drink?” You asked so softly, you couldn’t have been certain you had actually asked it aloud. 

Charlie’s eyes snapped up to meet you. Relief almost played itself across his expression. “Yes, please. If it’s not any trouble.” He rubbed his palms flat against the denim against his thighs. 

You shot up, crawling out of bed. “Not at all.” You gave him your most reassuring smile. 

You rushed downstairs, throwing open the cabinet where you knew Irina kept her best glasses. You grabbed two by the stem and held the bottle in the other hand. 

You made your way carefully up the stairs, stopping in the doorway of your bedroom. 

Charlie peered behind himself, eyes falling to the bottle in your hand. 

“Oh,” he began, “I didn’t realize…” 

You suddenly felt incredibly stupid. Did he even drink? 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve clarified. I can go and grab some water or something-” You began turning on your heel. 

Charlie was quick to rise to his feet. “No, no, this is great.” He carefully took the glasses and bottle from your hands. You inhaled sharply and nodded as his fingers brushed against your own. 

You climbed back into bed, watching him fill each glass, respectively. You couldn’t help but notice the way his hand slightly shook as he passed you your glass. 

You took a long drink, watching him do the same. It felt so warm in your throat. You sighed, sinking further into the bed. Charlie seemed to relax a bit in his spot as well. 

A few minutes passed by in a much more comfortable quietness. 

You couldn’t help but become distracted by the man sitting beside you. He just felt so far away. You wished he’d have sat on the bed next to you instead. Every once in a while, you’d feel him glance over at you as you reread the same passage over and over again, still for some reason, unable to comprehend what it said. 

You peered up from your notes, watching Charlie slide a scribbled over sticky note that sat stuck to the base of your lamp. 

You recognized it immediately, feeling yourself shift awkwardly. It was one of the lists you kept from film club, filled almost entirely with movies that Charlie had mentioned in passing. 

“Are these…?” Charlie asked, eyes widening as he made his way down the list. 

You rolled over onto your stomach, reaching over to pull the list from Charlie’s hands. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “I’ve almost gotten myself caught up.” You tried your best to conceal the shyness you felt at being found out. 

Your heart picked up quickly as he looked you over. There was something about his expression that felt so heavy, it was an unfamiliar sight. 

“What’s next on your list?” He asked, picking up the glass you had set down and refilling it alongside his own. 

You read over the scratched out mess of your handwriting. “Dawn of the Dead, but the 1978 version. Not the remake, of course.” 

A smirk spread across Charlie’s lip, as if he’d taught you well. He held up your glass to take from him. You took it from him slowly, feigning to be worried about spilling a single drop. By this point, your head was already beginning to feel fuzzy. It was a comfortable warmth. 

You slipped the note into your backpack, trying to focus once again on the presentation in front of you. It was useless. 

Before giving it much thought, you spoke up, “You know, I’ve already rented it.” 

Robbie could manage the revisions on his own, right?

“Oh yeah?” Charlie asked, turning in his chair to face you. 

“Yeah,” you began, trying to convince yourself that this next question would actually be a good idea. “Would you want to watch it with me?” 

“Tonight?” Charlie’s hands were back against the top of his thighs. His eyes flashed between you and the T.V. that was mounted above your dresser on the opposite side of your bedroom. 

“If that would be okay with you, I’m honestly not getting much work done over here.” You replied, getting up from the bed. 

Charlie cleared his throat before answering. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds cool.”

You smiled over your shoulder at him as you made your way over the DVD player that sat on top of your dresser. 

You messed with the CD case, popping it open and inserting the disk. You picked up the remote, waiting until the title screen flashed on the T.V. above you. You noticed the top drawer of the dresser was pulled halfway open; you slid it closed, scolding yourself. It contained the clothing you’d dread any guest seeing. You swore you were always so careful about keeping these things in order.

You flipped your bedroom lights off, dimming the lamp that sat on the desk beside Charlie before finding your place back in bed. 

You pressed play, finishing the last of the wine in your glass, before setting the remote and glass on the desk beside you. 

A few moments passed by uninterrupted. You looked over at Charlie. He was sitting so unbelievably stiff in the chair, it just seemed so uncomfortable. 

“Charlie,” you called out to him. He snapped his eyes to meet your own. “You don’t have to watch the entire movie from my desk.” You half laughed.

He stood quickly, nearly knocking things about your desk. You tried your best to hide your smile as he laid down on top of the mattress; the bed dipped under his weight. 

You both kept a fair amount of distance between each other. The movie was well underway. However, you found yourself becoming increasingly more interested in the uneven way Charlie’s chest rose and fell with each breath than what was happening on the screen.

You wished you could just reach over and touch him, move the hair out of his eyes, trace your finger over the arch of his nose. 

You could barely take notice of the way your vision had fixated on him as your head grew blurred and warm. 

You wished he’d turn and face you, say something. He seemed to be frozen in place, legs and arms held in a way that’d rival a statue. His face was fixated on the T.V., as if he were too nervous to move even an inch. It was so warm. The room felt so warm.

You could barely catch the small glimpses he’d spare towards you from his peripherals. You wish he’d just reach over- your eyes trailed down to his hands resting on his stomach, watching the veins in them roll as his finger flexed and twitched. 

You reached up, placing a hand against your face. Your skin was cold to the touch. Why did everything feel so warm?

Your clothing suddenly felt increasingly more suffocating. You were growing desperate for some form of relief. You pulled at the collar of your shirt. Your shorts felt so tight, nearly restricting. You couldn’t explain why you felt so hot. The t-shirt you had on could almost be a dress, anyway, right? 

You climbed over Charlie, one hand on either side of his chest. You steadied yourself on the ground, your head thoroughly swimming. You tried your very best to focus forward on the movie. You unbuttoned the waist of your shorts, carefully stepping out of them.

You heard a heavy sigh from behind you; the sound made the hair on your skin raise. 

“I’m sorry, moving out of the way. Promise.” You laughed, turning back to face Charlie. 

You slid into the bed, finding your spot in the small space between Charlie and the edge of the mattress. Opting not to try to climb over him again in your current state.

Charlie froze in place beside you as you shifted on to your side, trying to find the most comfortable spot between him and the screen. He was warm, so warm. You had just felt as though you were burning up moments ago, but the thought of him moving any further away made your body ache. His warmth was soothing. 

You could feel Charlie’s uncertainty as he began to shift away from you in the bed, providing you with more space presumably. 

You couldn’t explain why you did what you did next. You reacted without giving it much thought at all. You reached behind you, pulling Charlie’s furthest hand towards you until it rested on top of your hair. 

The new position forced him to shift in bed beside you until he was lying on his side as well. His hand flexed under your touch. You wished you could pull him closer. 

His fingers stretched throughout your hair and you sighed, feeling your back sink closer to his chest. You could nearly feel his heart pounding against you. Your hand fell to rest on your side. 

His other hand shifted, moving into a more comfortable position below your neck. “Is this okay?” He whispered right behind your ear. The feeling of his cool breath sent chills up your spine. You nodded, the words lost from you.

You reached up, tracing the veins wove through his forearm. His fist closed and flexed at your touch. The film, just as the presentation, was now lost on you. 

It was just him beside you. The way he smelt, his fingers carefully sliding through your hair and across your cheek, the unsteady beat of his heart against your back. You found yourself sinking further and further into his arms. A heavy sigh slipped from your lips as he pulled through the mess of your hair. 

At the sound of your voice, Charlie shifted his weight, wrapping his arm under your neck further to pull you around to face him. 

You both seemed surprised at his sudden movement. You were now face to face, just inches apart. The movie murmured faintly off somewhere in the distance. 

Even in the dark, his blue eyes were so incredibly clear. You reached up, brushing the hair that had fallen in front of his face away. His eyes flitted between your own eyes and lips. You had never noticed before just how full his own lips were. His lips were tinted a deep red from the cherry wine you had shared. You couldn’t help but imagine how sweet he’d taste. 

If you’d just move a bit closer- 

Both of his large hands wrapped throughout your hair again in near desperation. 

You returned the gesture, pushing your thigh through the middle of his own. Lips crashed against one another. 

It was unlike anything you had experienced before. This brash kiss fell into a soft rhythm, gentle exploration as you rocked into one another. 

It didn’t take long until the slow movements devolved into a harsh quick pace as you both grew more comfortable in each other’s arms. There was an air of near violence as your tongues wrapped around each other.

You needed more of him, needed to be impossibly closer in any way you could. Sensing this, Charlie wrapped his arms around you, pulling you on top to straddle his waist. 

You sat back, smiling down at him as he unintentionally bucked his hips up closer to you. It was wonderful seeing the state he was in. You knew you were in just about the same shape. 

You were quick to meet his lips again. He held you steadily against himself, continuing to rock himself against you.

Your hands hazily fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. You needed to feel more of his skin against you. The barrier of clothing that separated you from him made you miserable. 

Once the last button was popped, he sat up in bed. Pulling you up with him, his arm clung around your waist. He shrugged the shirt off of himself, throwing it on the ground. You were quick to bring your lips to his again, running your hands up his now bare stomach. He was impossibly toned, felt hard to the touch. 

“Fuck.” He groaned against your lips as your hips rolled against him. You could feel him getting hard below you. A blush crept up your skin. The sound of his voice like this built up an indiscernible feeling inside of you. You wanted to hear him make that sound again. 

His hands were quick to find themselves under your t-shirt, his thumb brushed against the outer lace of your bra. He reached behind you, fumbling with the clasp. You leaned your head against his, smiling softly as he gazed at you in wonder. 

You reached behind yourself, helping him with his work uncertain work. You slid the bra off yourself, throwing it next to Charlie’s discarded shirt. You grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it swiftly over your head. 

You could hear Charlie’s breath audibly stuck in his throat as his eyes darted wildly across your body. The full weight of this situation nearly hit you at once. You brought your arms shyly across your chest. You had never been in front of a man this way. 

You could barely meet his eyes. He was quick to pull you back in to kiss him. “God, you’re so fucking perfect.” He whispered against you as he kissed your forehead. Your arms melted down to your side as his hands traced the curve of your waist. 

You could feel his hands shake as he cupped your breasts, his fingers softly grazed against your nipples. You sighed, pulling him closer to you. That frenzied feeling returned in full force. 

You needed impossibly more of him. He was quick to act, laying you back down on the bed. He hovered over you, eyes burning into your nearly naked body in front of him. 

His right hand reached down, fumbling with his buckle. You watched intently as his hand slipped underneath the waistband of his boxers to adjust himself. Your eyes fluttered back as you traced your fingers mindlessly over the defined v-line that led further down his hips. He shook at your touch. 

His lips found themselves trailing kisses down your neck and chest. He was so gentle with you. Painfully gentle. Your hands wove through his hair, arching up into him as his pace quickened. He slid further down the bed, wrapping his arms around both of your legs, holding them open to kiss down your thighs. 

You were practically already coming undone below him. He’d come so close to the spot you wanted him to be. Every time he’d pull back away, you’d whine in frustration. He’d hum back against you in response. 

You couldn’t handle the pressure building up inside you anymore. Your right hand traced slowly underneath the lace of your panties. You stopped just before slipping through your folds, looking up to meet Charlie’s eyes. His expression seemed nearly pained, completely desperate. 

“I don’t know- I’ve never…” Charlie could barely get the words out from between his lips. Even in the dim lighting, you could tell he was flustered, embarrassed at his own lack of experience. It was reassuring to you though, you had practically no experience with all of this either. It was sweet, how shy he seemed at that moment. 

“It’s okay. I’ll show you.” You gave him a reassuring smile before carefully intertwining your fingers with his own. He followed suit, hooking his free hand around your panties before sliding them off you. Your desperation for him drowned out any insecurity you could have possibly felt with him above you in that state you were in. 

You brought his fingers against you, sighing into him as he carefully let you guide him in slow circles against your clit. The knot deep inside you only grew as he became increasingly comfortable. Your hands dropped to his shoulders as he became familiar with the pace and direction you wanted. 

His free arm wrapped around your back, gripping your sides with bruising force as you started to writhe below him. His head dipped beside your ear, “Please, please let me taste you.” He practically begged. 

You could only nod, sucking in a sharp breath as his fingers moved faster, losing their rhythm. 

He was quick to shift his weight as he sat up for a moment, pulling off his constricting jeans and socks, leaving him nearly entirely exposed. You groaned at the sight of him in front of you. He was so damningly beautiful. Your vision flitted down to the large impression in his boxers, your eyes widened at the size of him. 

Before you could process this discovery, he was kneeling on the bed in front of you again. One arm snaked around your thigh as you propped yourself on your elbows to watch him make his way through his. 

He kissed just above your clit, eyes looking up at you for approval. 

“Please Charlie,” you urged him on. 

His lips were against your most sensitive spot immediately. You cried out, screwing your eyes shut. Nothing had ever been so perfect as this. He kissed against you a few more times before deciding to explore you with his tongue, “Fuck, it’s so good.” He groaned against you, speaking more to himself than you. 

The vibration of his deepening voice sent shockwaves throughout your body. Your eyes and legs involuntarily worked to screw shut. Charlie acted quick, pushing your thighs back apart with a painful grip. You were sure you’d have his finger prints bruised into your skin the next morning. ‘Good’ you thought to yourself. 

You could tell he was trying his best to emulate the motion you had shown him with your fingers with his tongue. It was maddening, completely perfect. 

“Fuck baby, you’re doing so well.” The words spilled mindlessly out of you. He groaned as you rolled your hips against him. Your eyes trailed down his chest. His right hand found its way inside his boxers. He was palming at himself as if he were in pain. You wanted to be the one to relieve him. 

The sight of him pleasing himself as he worked you over was enough to nearly send you crashing blindly over the edge. You could barely get the next words out of you, “Don’t, don’t touch yourself.” You were trying to keep it all together as he whined against you, following your demands. 

“Fuck Charlie, I’m going to…” you said between broken moans. 

He pulled away for a moment, his entire expression darkened. It could’ve easily been terrifying in any other context, you noted to yourself. The fingers that had just been wrapped around your thigh found themselves quickly against your entrance. Your eyes widened as you connected with his gaze, realizing his intentions. You’d do anything to have him inside of you. 

He kissed your lips. You sucked the taste of yourself off of him, dragging his bottom lip between your teeth. His middle and ring dove forward inside of you. His other hand came up quickly to muffle your screams. 

“Shit, you’re so tight.” His chest shuddered at his own words. A tear rolled down your face as he talked you through it. “So wet for me.” 

His free hand pressed down against your lower stomach. The additional pressure was the last push you needed. Your whole nervous system seemed to snap as his fingers fucked you through your high. You could barely hear his praise as your ears rang out with incredulous force. You were sobbing out his name, vision white and spotted at the blinding pleasure. 

He pulled out of you carefully, slowly letting you come back to yourself for a moment before diving his tongue back against you. 

You writhed up against the footboard. It was too much, too overstimulating. Your hands pulled at his hair to push him away. He grabbed both your wrists with one hand, holding you in place below him. You were babbling, stuck between ‘It’s too much’ and ‘please don’t stop.’ 

Within a matter of moments, you were coming undone again against his face. Your mind was shattered, your body a wreck under his touch. 

He fell back against the headboard, catching his breath as he watched you ride out your high. 

As soon as you could partially catch your breath again, you sat up, watching him shift uncomfortably from his pressing erection. 

It was his turn to be taken care of. You crawled your way up to rest between his thighs. His eyes darted across your face, as if he were trying to read your thoughts.

You couldn’t hide your smile as you leaned into him. You kissed him slowly, licking across his lips. Your lips slowly made their way down his chest as your fingers grazed across the fabric against his cock. He whimpered above you at the pressure. The sound made your stomach clench. You’d give anything to hear it again. 

He slid further down the bed as your lips trailed kisses and shallow bites marks further down his stomach. 

Once you could tell he was in a more comfortable position, you hooked your fingers into the waistline of boxers. He lifted his hips, helping you pull them down his thighs before discarding them on the ground below. 

You sat back on your heels, mouth agape at the sight in front of you. You could do little to hide your shock at the uncovered size of him. 

You glanced up at him, willing yourself to put on a face that feigned at least a hint of experience. He smirked down at you, as if he could tell exactly what thoughts were passing through your mind. 

“You don’t have to…” he muttered, eyes still full of adoration for you. 

Before giving him the opportunity to finish his sentence, you wrapped your fingers against the base of his cock. You could feel him pulse under your touch. His next words were stuck and gone in his chest. 

You held his gaze as your hand carefully twisted its way up to the tip of his cock. You gathered his precum on your fingers and circled it around the length of him. His mouth fell open as his stomach flexed under you. 

“Does that feel good?” You asked softly. 

He bit his lip, nodding his head yes. You were quick to pick up your pace at his approval.  

His hands were desperate, switching between grabbing at the bedsheets and headboard and any of your skin he could get ahold of. Stunning whimpers and pleas spilled out of him as you found the motion and speed he needed. 

You pulled away for a moment, moving yourself further down the bed. You held him still in one hand again as you kissed a trail down from his navel. Your eyes met with his as your lips hovered above the tip of his cock. You gathered spit on the tip of your tongue and let it fall slowly onto him. He cursed a string of expletives, his eyes rolling back into his head as you took him into your mouth. 

You thought carefully over each motion, keeping your teeth back, hollowing out your cheeks. The sensation was entirely new, but the way he began to convulse below you let you know you were doing something right. You wanted nothing more than to make him feel the same way he had made you. 

His hands wrapped almost painfully through your hair as he bucked further and further down your throat. You tried your best to relax, allowing him to take the space he wanted. 

Your throat burned, tears and spit covered your face and chest. You wouldn’t have possibly wanted it any other way. 

You were both becoming increasingly sloppy and starved in your movements. His right hand grabbed at your throat, pulling your face up to meet his eyes. You stilled, letting him fuck your throat as he pleased. It didn’t take long before his movements stilled and stuttered. 

You felt him pulse in your mouth; you were flooded with his release, warmth coated your throat and tongue. The taste and sight above you made your entire body shudder. It was heavenly. You felt truly blessed to be the cause of it all. You could vaguely make out your name being spilled from between his lips.

His chest heaved as you carefully pulled away from him, his cock falling against his stomach. 

You caught his eyes again, making a show to swallow what he had given to you. He pulled you into himself, kissing all over your face until you were laughing in his arms. 

You dropped into the bed beside him, watching him shift his weight and stand. He scanned the room before spotting the bath towel that hung beside your bedroom door. He made quick work of cleaning the two of you up, tracing kisses across you as he did so. 

Your nerves were all shot. Your entire being was exhausted and heavy. 

He dropped the towel next to the discarded pile of clothing that had accumulated on your bedroom floor. Charlie slid back in bed beside you, lifting the disheveled duvet over you both. He pulled you up onto his chest. You sighed as he swept the hair out of your face. 

You were in a complete haze, halfway into a deep sleep. 

“Thank you,” Charlie whispered above you. 

You hummed, reaching up to kiss under his jaw. “Thank you.” You replied, pulling a sore a leg over his thighs, resting your head back down against him.

The movie’s title screen music played on repeat in the background; you couldn’t be the least bit bothered to turn it off. 

[wildemaven]

throttled control | frankie morales

-> pairing: frankie morales x pilot f!reader

-> wc: 760

-> content warnings: 18+ blog; smutty themes, established relationship, competency kink maybe, reader has call-sign but no reference to appearance or use of name

-> a/n: reposting from other account; this was a random thot after seeing frankie in that gif. this isn't beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

masterlist

“All right, baby…. Come on, now.” His voice is low and staticy as it reverberates through your headset. 

Those same words had ghosted over your naked body merely hours ago. Though similar in tone, the context in which they were uttered was vastly different. It’s evident that even at 10,000 feet, they can still deliver an aching want where you need him most. 

His hands flex over the cyclic, fingers adjusting and readjusting their grip on the metal control stick that teeters in a forward position between his legs. Dexterous and capable in maintaining a steady pitch as the large aircraft flies over the terrain below. 

Your mind wanders to last night, the vivid imagery still looping through your mind. His fingers working ardently to bring you closer and closer to the edge, a delicate pressure with an ample promise of sweet sweet euphoria. Those same hands holding you, gripping the meat of your delicious thighs as his cock thrust up into you. His movements were effective and shattering as he chased down the same dizzying path. 

“Hollywood!” Frankie’s voice cuts through your lusty remembrance. Your call-sign echoing through your headset, given to you by the guys after you had confessed to them during a drunken night of truth or dare your dream of becoming an actress when you were younger. That evening resulted in a not so humiliating call sign and a kiss with a handsome pilot— a now serious boyfriend. 

“Hmm?” You lift your gaze from his hands to his handsome face, the golden hues of the sunset washing over his beautiful features. 

“I asked you how the oil pressure is reading?” You can see the seriousness of his eyes from behind his aviators. 

“Oil pressure is in the green and temp is stable at 180 degrees.” You tell him while making a note on your log sheet, the sway of the metal aircraft has you glancing back over to where his hands are taut as they even out the pitch. 

“What’s got your head in the clouds?” He asks, his focus moving from the sky in front him over to where you’re sitting to the left of him in the cockpit. 

“Nothin’” You lie, but the smile you’re incapable of concealing gives away your silent thoughts, looking back to his hands steadily at work then back to him. 

Frankie follows where your line of sight had been, realization hitting him quickly. His tongue glides over his bottom lip as his right hand settles on your leg, the few gentle squeezes he gives you has your insides buzzing. 

“You still thinkin’ about last night too?” He asks, watching the way his hand flexes over your fatigue cover thigh, noting the way you shift in your seat at his touch. 

“You looked so good, baby. Been thinkin’ about it all day, too. Might need a refresher tonight.” He winks at you then refocuses his attention on the flight path. 

“Yeah— I like the sound of that. Might even let you do that one thing you’ve been wanting to try out.” You purr, anticipation already setting up in your core. 

“You mind keepin’ your kinky shit off the comms? We don’t need to hear the shit you two do in your spare time.” Santiago’s voice cuts through the communication system. 

“Fuck off, Pope. Jealousy ain’t a cute look for you. It’s not my fault what’s her name dumped your ass last week.” Frankie shakes his head, chuckling at your response. 

“Speak for yourself, Pope. I for one would like to know what this thing is that Fish has been wanting to try out.” Benny pipes up from his seat in the rear of the helicopter. “Care to share with the class, Fish?” 

“Nope.” Letting the ‘P’ pop between his plush lips as he says it. “And you can fuck right off too if you think about asking her for it later.”

“Why don’t you rest your eyes? We’ve got another 30 minutes of air time before we touch down at base. You’re gonna need all the rest you can get for what I have planned for you later, Baby.” Frankie suggests, knowing he’s fully capable of handling the aircraft on his own— a nap sounds nice too, to make up for the sleep you didn’t have last night. 

“Seriously!?” Santiago groans in annoyance. 

“Fuck off, Pope.” Frankie and you yell in unison. 

You adjust yourself into a comfortable position, placing your own aviators over your closed eyes. Your mind drifting back to last night with ease, gearing up for what’s to come later tonight. 

[lesb0]

I'm always trying to stay on the cutting edge of every permutation of our constantly evolving visual culture but the elusiveness of every new form makes it difficult for me, even as one of the youngest possible millennials. in fashion, my freshman students are all wearing 2000s or "y2k" fashion: baggy grungy or baby phat hiphop, with an elevated touch of modesty, good color theory, and a stark awareness of bodily proportion. in memes, legendary 00s icon, lisa frank. its embarrassing to follow influencers with over 10 mil, now, as if it breaks the parasocial connection.

someone asked yesterday if tiktok is now the premier vehicle of visual culture. I open tiktok. on one side, a zoomed in interview with the mother of a shooting victim. but the other side is a compilation of slime videos, a woman cutting soap, life hacks, and chinese "smart" product placements. you can hear and see both. this bizarre genre, I can only recognize as content. on social media, content is technically anything you can doomscroll, the action of spending over 2 hours on a social media feed, a for you page, a timeline, a dashboard to tumblr addicts.

I'm watching cable TV with a girl I'm seeing. the ads are remarkably only geared towards boomers and older gen x. but, so is the 'content', bad action movies made for cable and reruns of 80s/90s TV shows, but the exact same show marathoned in hours long successions.

to be an effective art historian, I have to take things from this ever-shifting visual culture and translate it into the equally fickle and amorphous art world... so what does 'content' look like for museum shows? my first 100+ object loan show was in part by a colleague, a younger curator at BAMPFA. a massive exhibition of all female nonbinary artists, from the 60s PoMo feminists to the self obsessed identity displayers of today. I absolutely LOVED it. I had no problem enthusiastically flitting from object to object, frontwards and in reverse twice, to spend special time with all my favorites. a fave professor stopped me. I hadn't even recognized him in the excitement. he looked bewildered, but laughed about how giddy I was. he didn't write any criticism on the show. my boss at the time, our museum director, told me she thought it was "such a big mess". my favorite lesbian professor clutched onto her wife with an anxious look. my lesbian artist friend had panic attack and put his headphones on in a dark corner. on the other hand, the younger undergrad girls from berkeley looked elated and delighted, flitting around and oohing and aahing at my same pace. I learned one of them was an engineering student named erin who needed a feminist pickup from the disouragement in her male dominated field.

so how has the 'content' show, or the art world reception to them, changed in the past 4 years? well for one, it seems like major flagship institutions are dropping the mononym altogether. as the french impressionists take over the east coast, none of shows feature one painter as a sole focus, but curators use juxtapositions to keep people interested. in MoMAs, monoynym shows are reserved for major retrospectives or figuratively and literally, monolith artists like simone leigh. the older art historians are hesitant to adapt to these changes. one of my favorite shows this summer, over 300 very different collection pieces packed onto the floor and across the hall, wasn't enjoyed by any of the critics I know. My dates all hated it. except one, a hot ADHD butch who had a tiktok doomscrolling addiction.

what does this mean for the future of how shows are displayed.... how do museums let go of the traditional princely standard: 3.5 inch hangings with a 25 degree downwards tilt? is it better or worse to compromise museums into messy 17th century curiosity cabinets?

[katelynnwrites]

Hold On To The Memories (They Will Hold On To You) | Laura Freigang

warnings: fluffy pancakes kind of fluff

word count: 1114

summary: five memories with laura, you'll hold on to them, they'll hold on to you and you will hold on to her

a/n: happy new year's 🎉

Your first memory of Laura is of her catching you as you quite literally fall for her.

The both of you are only thirteen and it is your very first summer football camp.

You had tripped over your laces and luckily for you, the blonde is there.

‘I’m s-sorry.’ You stammer with bright red cheeks but the taller girl only laughs as she sets you on your feet properly.

‘It’s okay. I’m Laura and it’s nice to meet you.’

Her hair is up in braids and her blue eyes are sparkling. The socks she is wearing are mismatched, they are different colours and one is longer than the other.

Right, there and then, you think she is the prettiest girl you have ever seen.

Laura sticks her hand out and you shake it with a shy smile.

‘Nice to meet you.’

******

You don’t see her at any other summer camp for years.

It’s not till she walks into Penn State’s locker room that you meet her for the second time.

You recognise her immediately. Her hair is darker but those eyes are the same.

Bright and full of excitement.

You had heard that the newest member of your team is named Laura and that she’s from Germany like you but it never crossed your mind that it would be your Laura.

Your Laura that you had spent every day at that one summer camp with, having water fights with your bottles and pranking the other children.

She spots you and her smile appears. The same brilliant smile that she had back then and the butterflies in your stomach get all fluttery again.

The striker walks up to you, holding out her hand for you to shake again.

You do so with a grin and she giggles, ‘You’re not falling for me this time?’

‘No.’ You blush as you shake her hand.

Little does she know that you’ve already fallen for her.

******

After Laura leaves Penn State to sign for Frankfurt, she takes your heart with her.

You’d grown close in the two years spent as teammates and life is not the same without her.

The two of you call all the time and while you continue completing your degree in the States, Laura realises that the way she feels about you is not entirely platonic.

She doesn’t tell you though but the phone calls get longer and longer, more and more frequent till you graduate.

Then you end up signing for Frankfurt and the striker picks you up at the airport.

One glance at you and the words are tumbling out of her mouth.

‘I missed you. I love you.’

She gasps and covers her mouth, not trusting herself to speak any further.

You smile softly and simply say, ‘I missed you too. I love you too.’

******

The first New Year’s day that you spend with Laura is special.

Both of you had shared a long and meaningful kiss in the middle of your apartment, your club teammates cheering all around.

Your favourite person’s hands rested gently on your waist and she had ignored them all, her attention on you and you alone.

‘I love you. Thank you for being mine.’

That is how it is with the blonde. She’s straightforward and clear about the depth of her feelings for you.

Your girlfriend is not afraid of expressing them and effortlessly shows you every chance she gets.

Laura Freigang is everything to you and when you look up at her with nothing but affection and adoration, she knows.

The entire team is in your shared apartment for the New Year’s party but you and her might as well be in your own world.

When all your guests have left and it’s truly just you and the striker, she pulls you close and holds you for a moment.

You let her, content to rest your head against her chest and listen to her steady heartbeat.

‘My New Year’s resolution is to love you. To never stop loving you.’ She softly says.

‘I think we share similar resolutions schatz.’

She giggles and brings her lips down to yours.

‘I love loving you.’ You tell her as the two of you look around the apartment you share.

There’s glitter on the floor after the party. You don't know where it's come from but it makes Laura sigh.

‘I’ll get the vacuum out.’ You offer.

‘Let's start on the empty bottles first?’ She counter suggests.

You agree. You’ll agree to anything as long as it's with the German woman.

As you clean up the bottles with her on New Year's day, you know for certain that you will do your best to hold onto this memory and her.

She's your person.

******

This most recent New Year’s day that you share with Laura is by far your favourite. It’s the most special to you.

You have had a fair number with her already and over the past few years, you have grown more and more in love with her.

When Laura pulls you out onto the balcony of your shared apartment, away from the party that you two have somehow ended up hosting again, she gets down on one knee.

‘Marry me? Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I can recognise anywhere. I can’t live with that. I want your midnights. I will stay with you when you’re lost, when I’m scared, when it’s hard and even when it’s wrong and we’re making mistakes. I love you and I promise you I will never stop.’

You have always thought her eyes are beautiful.

But now as they are looking up at you, with all the hope in the world as she trusts you not to break her heart? They’re radiant.

There isn’t a way for you to put into words how you are feeling but you try your very hardest for the blonde.

‘Yes. Of course I will Laura. I fell for you the very first time we met, at thirteen and you caught me then. You have caught me every day since and even when I think I can’t possibly love you more, you show me that I can.’

Your soon to be wife is choking back her tears as she slides the ring onto your finger.

You can’t help but laugh. You don’t even know why you’re laughing but your shoulders are shaking as the striker leans in to kiss you.

‘Silly you schatz. You and I could never be strangers. It’s you and me, forevermore.’ You promise against her lips.

‘Forevermore. Happy New Year baby.' Laura breathes, kissing you again with every ounce of emotion she possesses as fireworks go off in the background.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Gameplan

Hello! Another Drabble (second one i wrote) concerning the idea of Nightmare returning to his original form (Lovely Prompt idea by @spotaus )

First Drabble here Prev drabble here Next Drabble here

Warning, unedited and unbeta'ed. We die like my ability to spell anything.

----

Cross checks around the corner towards the street and waits for a moment longer before nodding "I think we are in the clear. We can talk here for a moment."

Killer just lounges back against a dumpster as he pants "Good! Cuz! I am not walking another step!"

Horror frowns as he searches his backpack. Slowly taking out some fruits "We need to stop this. We can't get the resources we need like this."

Cross groans as he rubs his face "I know I know. But we can't just settle anywhere! How do we explain..." He stops and slowly turns to look to the side at Dust.

Dust sits completely calm on the gorund, cross legged. Looking perfectly calm and content. With the still struggling Nightmare in his arms. Dust just sits there and looks at Nightmare with a raised brow and moves around a bit. Easily getting Nightmare to sit back in his lap with one of Dust's arm holding Nightmare around the middle wiht both arms trapped. And the second arm around his shoulders to pull him back easily. Nightmare looks grumpy beyond believe and Cross can't take it too seriously as Nightmare lost all his goop and corruption. All that remains is a perfectly normal and adorable tiny babybones.

Cross turns back to Horror and Killer and waits.

Horror looks at the scene before shrugging before turning back to prepare a snack for their now tiny charge. Looking calm as he moves.

Killer snorts "Why would we? Boss is tiny now. So what?" and he shrugs.

Cross groans as he rubs his face. He can admit that he will still need some time to get used to the change. But it is okay as he can accept it. After they found the old picture book and the just as old crown they had been putting together what actually happened. And well, even if they sometimes act dumb three out of four of them have university degrees of some type and Cross had always been one of the smartest soldiers.

That together with the known fact that Drema broke out of the stone young but grew up made the fact obvious.

It wasn't that they were in a situation of Nightmare having been deaged. They were in the situation that the Nightmare they had known had been an aged-up version of the real nightmare. Which is the very same grumpy babybones that Dust is holding right now.

Yeah. Cross just needs a bit more time.

Cross glares at Killer and focusses at the issue they need to actually fix "We know that!" he waves around them "But how do you think anyone is going to react to knowing we have Nightmare and that Nightmare is well... like this again?"

Killer hums and nods "I guess..." he turns towards Nightmare "How about a different name? What do you think Nighty? What can we call you?"

Nightmare glares with all his six year old force "Boss."

Killer snorts "got it tiny boss!" and he grins at Cross and shrugs "Guess that idea is a burst. anything else?".

Cross groans as he rubs his skull "don't you see the issue?! If anyone finds out about this they will try to take him from us and bring him to the Stars, if they don't just call the Stars!" Or worse. And they will think that killing Nightmare would be a reasonable solution to keeping him from aging up.

Killer actually glares as he radiates his blood- and LOVE-lust "Let them try."

Cross sighs as he rubs his face "what do you suggest we do?!"

Killer huffs "Obviously we do what we are doing now. We keep moving and universe hopping." and he nods.

Horror looks up with a frown "We can't do that. We will run out of resources. babybones need nutrients" as he says this he sits by Dust and Nightmare with the cut fruits. Nightmare focuses his full glare on Horror but Horror doesn't even blink. They have gotten used to this routine over the last few days and there is a good reason Dust and Horror do it.

Dust nods as he helps Horror by aiming the still struggling babybones "Not to forget his schooling. Now that he is young again he will need to relearn things. Can't do that while hopping from place to place."

Cross turns back to Killer and crosses his arms "See? horror and Dust agree."

Killer grumbles. "Fine! We find some stupid positive universe to hunker down in some abandoned building and do raids to get stuff. Easy!"

Cross crosses his arms "Still the problem of what we do if someone sees him. How do we explain that? people will think we stole him!"

Killer goes to speak. pauses and tilts his skull "I mean. Technically we did kind of steal him. Sure he was originally our boss, so ours. So we have the right to steal him again but still. Very much stolen."

Cross sputters "I! I wasn't serious!" well he was but not about the stolen comment!

Horror speaks up even as he feeds Nightmare, which Ngihtmare tries to fight but Dust is there to assist him. "Technically it wasn't stealing."

Cross sighs "Thank you Horror-"

"We kidnaped him." Horror finishes his statement as he manages to get Nightmare to eat a bit. Nightmare actually pauses and the stubbornness makes way for the much younger mind that enjoys the food and a tiny soft purr starts to leave the babybones. He doesn't struggle as much anymore as the second bite is brought over.

Cross stops and lets his skull fall into his hands "we are so fucked."

All three speak up "Language."

Cross groans louder. They are so fucked.

---------

First Drabble here Prev drabble here Next Drabble here

[not-goldy]

it’s no wonder Baekhyun's kfans are this deranged. he feeds into their delusions and he’s not even subtle about it. you get the fans you deserve. Him and Jungkook are the same. They sell parasocial relationships hard and it's gonna bite them in their ass one day. Weird cause these two have the talent in both singing and dancing, can't y'all just sell music instead.

I saw this comment under a pannchao post and most kpop fans and army agree to it. This is why I don't feel anything when JK is dragged through mud for some dating rumors. He's the one who fuels gf×bf dynamics with his fans, he's the one who deny having partner and only having army as his gf, he's the one who goes overboard with fanservice while other idols nor bts members does the same even if they do the same job as him, so obviously he's gonna get the fruit of it 🤷‍♀️ Do he think he can fool the f out of his fans and then have a peaceful dating life ? Either you draw clear borders with fans or you don't date.. as simple as that. It's even funnier when whole world can see what's happening while there's shippers who thinks he's dating his bandmate😭 even delulu than y/ns. I don't think anyone with self respect can be in a commited relationship with JK when all he does is sex chatting with his fans in lives and satisfy their Para social bf needs. And i think Jimin has more than enough self respect to be with a person like him.

I nearly agreed with you until you name dropped Jungkook.

I agree in part because I hate the fact these straight idols hide their Relationships when they have the privilege of dating openly without being persecuted unlike queer couples.

But leave Jungkook out of this please.

cos this same Jungkook is the one who nearly threw a fist when Armies would call him baby. Same person who squares up with his fans when they tell him they don't like content he puts out on live. He just shrugs and says well I like it.

Same Jungkook who got a tattoo and keeps adding to it knowing his fans hate it, not only that he also got pierced against their will and when he was told they hated long hair he went ahead and grew it out.

While you're out here claiming he panders to his fans there are several ex Jungkook stans who hate him because they claim he is a shitty idol who only does what he likes and doesn't care what his fans like.

Same person who was told by his members he had to post for each members birthdays because the fans were not happy he wasn't yet he didn't post any way.

Same person who's life motto is that he'd rather be dead than cool.

How do you reconcile these two things???

Same person who went to Itaewon during lockdown and wouldn't apologize because "IT WAS HIS PERSONAL LIFE" had it not been the fact others had died from covid and the sensitive nature of the issue he wouldn't have apologized at all.

He can't be tagged a carefree rebellious nonconformist idol while also seen as a fan-ass-kisser at the same time. Yall would have to choose a narrative and stick with it.

Personally I believe him when he says anything.

If he doesn't have a girlfriend it's because HE DON'T HAVE A GIRLFRIEND. yall jx not willing to stomach the fact. You are just like Tuktukkers istg.

Out of all BTS the one person who wouldn't give a flying fuck fans reaction when he's in a relationship IS JUNGKOOK. YALL WILL NOT MAKE HIM APOLOGIZE FOR LIKING WHAT OR WHO HE LIKES.

Even in our ship narratives we have this running theory that dudes always on the edge of the glass ceiling ready to shatter it to pieces but for consideration of Jimin. Even with that, every now and then he outs the dude.

He could have covered his bite marks or lied about it being an insect bite or pimle but dude just said naa that was Jimin. He be in my neck most times.

So we jokers see Jungkook waaaay differently from how yall see him. He is a complex living being not a one dimensional creature like you paint him out to be.

Fan service is part of Kpop. ALL IDOLS ENGAGE IN FAN SERVICE TO VARYING DEGREES. he's not the devil for doing fan service and while you think he doesn't have a sense of boundaries with it HE DOES. ITS JUST NOT THE BOUNDARIES YOU WISH HE HAD. SAY THAT AND GO.

ALL IDOLS TREAT THEIR FANS AS THEIR GFS AND BFS. ITS THE MONEY BLUE PRINT. ITS THEIR MARKETING STRATEGY.

AND YES, SINCE PORTRAYING THEMSELVES AS A AVAILABLE AND DOTTING ON FANS IS HOW THEY KEEP THE LOYALTY OF THEIR FANS THEY WOULD OBVIOUSLY LIE ABOUT THEIR DATING LIFE. I WOULD TOO IF I WERE AN IDOL.

But that doesn't mean whenever they say they are single its a lie💀💀💀💀💀💀

They are not always in a relationship.

That doesn't also mean they are all afraid to admit the truth about their relationship status. It depends on their age, how long they've been an idol and the level of success they've attained. A new idol on the scene obviously would be committing career suicide while a veteran couldn't give a fuck.

So when you talk of young Kook starting out his career I'd understand. He was subject to the control of his company and had to deny his relationships because at that stage he'd be risking much. But this Jungkook don't care I promise you. HE DON'T CARE BOUT YALLS FEELINGS ESPECIALLY AS HIS FANS ARE GROWING WITH HIM AND ARE AT THE SAME AGE AS HIM.

Also, some idols JUST don't CARE and would readily admit it if the person they are with is the one AND THEY LOVE THEM. you seem to forget that part.

It makes no sense to claim a partner and risk your whole career for a fling or someone you don't like like that can you be for real for once in your life?

Wait- ever think about that?

Normal people do this too. What's the expression, don't let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband or wife 🤭

We deny relationships all the time if we aren't serious about the people we are with. Or if we aren't sure where we stand with the person.

It doesn't make us evil and idols are just like us. Not every single person they messing around with is WORTH CLAIMING at all.

Which is what I've been saying for years, that if an idol is denying a relationship its usually because that relationship, fling or whatever isn't worth them claiming or risking their careers for.

If they are with someone they truly loved and revered denying them would be the last and the hardest thing they'll do and eventually theyll stop apologing for it, they grow out of their concerns for their careers, become mature and own up to it.

I keep telling my ladies, if a man keeps hiding you, if a man refuses to post you on his socials HE DOESN'T LIKE YOU LIKE THAT AND YOU'RE PROBABLY A SIDE PIECE TO HIS SIDE PIECE. DROP THE DUSTIE, LOVE YOURSELVES AND BREAK UP WITH HIM PRONTO.

Yall are mad these idols aren't claiming the imaginary girlfriends you want them to have.

Yall mad they aren't claiming the insignificant placeholders in their beds 🤣

Like leave them alone.

If the coochie is worth fighting for someone like Jungkook WILL NOT HESITATE TO PUT UP A FIGHT. IVE SEEN HIM RISK A LOT MORE FOR A MAN YALL CLAIM IS HIS FATHER- OR WAS IT MOTHER😵

SURELY HE SHOULD HAVE NO QUALMS FIGHTING FOR YALLS QUEENS IF HE'S WITH EM🤭

[bullet-prooflove]

Why I Write Named Reader Characters...

I’ve had a lot of new folks popping onto my blog and that usually that means this question arises so I thought if I do a post on it and pop it on my pinned page, it saves me writing the whole thing about again every few months.

All of my work is named reader so if that's an issue I'm sorry that's not going to change anytime soon and you are going to run across it more often than not.

I did a poll on it a while back and truly it didn't bother the majority of my readers and honestly, I probably wouldn't change it anyway if it did.

Writing 'reader' content started as an experiment for me because I had always written in 3rd/1st person and I wanted to explore the challenge of writing 2nd person after my degree. I found I really loved writing in 2nd person because it's very immerse and you get the distance that 1st person can't give you and the intimacy that 3rd person can't give you. I think by saying I'm writing OC fic wouldn't really ring true because the first thing that springs to mind when anyone says that is 3rd person writing and that is a whole other kettle of fish. I don't view what I do as OC fic, it's just the reader is the character. They are stepping into the character's shoes.

People enjoy my writing because of the way I write characters and that includes reader characters. One of my most popular couples is Beau Simpson x Reader (Ally). - Ally's name is used a lot throughout the work and people love her and her personality because of the relationship it shapes with Beau. If she was written as Y/N it would be a very boring and different story because the choices she/they made shape the writing. Writing her as a 'reader' gives the people who enjoy my work that proximity to Beau whilst exploring concepts and issues they can feel and identify with but it also provides a certain level of distance so the content isn't too heavy or stifling.

I despise (and I know this is a strong word.) writing Y/N because I feel it makes the work bland. You can't make a character out of Y/N because you can't include details like their perfume (what if it's not the reader's preference) or hobbies (what if the reader doesn't sew) or personality (what if the reader is more extrovert then introvert or vice versa) or even songs (what if the reader isn't a Johnny Cash fan) You have to make it generic so it's one size fits all and I find that too lackluster and confining. If I was truly writing a 'Y/N' character it would suck for me and my readers because all the personality and little details that bring a character to life and their relationship with the person I'm writing about wouldn't be in there. If you don't have a character in mind how would you know how they respond in certain situations or to things their lover does or says. The work becomes very generic. You'll end up reading/writing the same thing over and over again.

For me it's those details that make the work sing and part of that detail is names. Sometimes you have to use a name for it to make the impact that you want and that's why I do it.

"Y/N don't go..." doesn't have the same weight and impact as "Ally, please just don't leave." < the name shapes the language and the sentence structure. (I honestly was trying to write 'Ally don't go' but this characterisation took over, which proves exactly what I'm saying.)

WOW this has been a long one, sorry guys and welcome to my TED Talk on the way and whys of how I write.

If you don't like it, that's cool don't read. If you do great, I'll see you on board the good ship 'HMS Fanfic' *salute