#e cards coworkers

[scootatwoni]

btw insane how ppl act like the world is gonna end just becos i put my foot down and refuse to do the least important task at work...becos im not willing to clean up the mess others leave in the way of the things I need in order to fulfill that task

anyways the little chilchuck in my head telling me to stand up for myself in the workplace stay winning

[misscrazyfangirl321]

The terrifying ordeal of writing Christmas cards

[xxxvomitboyxxx]

[hematocephalus]

.

[laurfilijames]

Pick Me Up

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Unprotected intercourse. Hair pulling.

Summary: After being apart for over a week due to his obligations to the club, Jax surprises you by picking you up from work and taking you for a ride.

A/N: I wanna ride with Jax on his bike and then get absolutely destroyed by him, okay?

(Reader is not described other than having hair long enough to blow in the wind and be pulled)

---

The word terrible didn’t touch how your week had been so far.

You said goodnight to your coworker who lingered behind, your exhaustion and irritation unable to be hidden from your voice even though it was only a few words, and you slung your bag over your shoulder as your heavy feet carried you down the hallway and out the back door.

The sun was still hot, and you paused and closed your eyes for a minute, taking a deep breath as you let its warmth shine on you, having arrived at work before it had even risen and not stepped foot outside the building all day.

It felt rejuvenating, and you felt the tension in your neck and shoulders fall away as you reopened your eyes and took a step forward again, walking around the corner to where your car was parked while wondering if you should treat yourself to some take out for dinner tonight. Then you remembered the chicken and salad you had in the fridge, feeling guilty if you let it go to waste, and sighed, thinking how you just wanted this week to be over, having not gotten any of the things you wanted anyway.

You flipped your keys around the ring that you held in your hand, the one for your car now secured between your thumb and index finger, ready to unlock it and start your drive home.

That’s when you noticed him.

Part of the contributing factor to your sour mood was leaning against his Harley, smoking the last of his cigarette while his blond hair glowed like a halo on his head, his crooked smile greeting you as he squinted in the sunlight and stood.

It had been nine days since you last laid eyes on Jax.

Nine agonizing days that had you questioning everything you had with the gorgeous outlaw, and despite how much you wanted to give him hell, everything in you felt relieved to see him.

He strutted over to you, flicking the butt of his cigarette on the pavement as he made his approach, his cocky swagger never ceasing to make heat rise up through your body.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Well, this is a surprise,” you quipped, tilting your head as you watched him deflate slightly and look down at his pristine white sneakers, kicking a pebble before looking back at you with a shrug.

“I’m sorry.”

You nodded, not trusting your words to come out like ice.

“I miss you,” he added softly, closing the space between you where he gently grabbed your elbow and rested his forehead against yours, the contact making your stomach burst with butterflies while your heart ached in your chest.

“I miss you too,” you admitted, unable to deny it or keep it in despite telling yourself countless times that you wouldn’t give in so easily this time.

He smiled again, the rise of the corner of his mouth pulling out the crease on his cheek you missed so much, bringing your finger up to trace it before he pulled you into a hug and swayed on the spot with you.

You found yourself relaxing in his embrace, essentially melting into him as you always did, letting your cheek rest against the soft flannel shirt that he wore under his kutte, and you nuzzled yourself further into him, inhaling his scent of smoke, fresh laundry and cologne, your hands slipping beneath his shirt to card up his back.

“So, what are you doing here, Jax?” you asked, parting from him enough to see his face.

“I wanted to pick my girl up from work…make up for lost time…”

You smiled, watching his cheeks blush as his blue eyes moved down to look at your lips.

“Don’t think I was happy being away from you for that long either,” he explained, moving in close to you again while grabbing your ass at the same time.

“Jax!” You squirmed, checking behind you to make sure there was no one around who could be looking.

His chuckle sang to you, and when he angled his face down to capture your lips, you forgot about caring if anyone saw.

He pressed his hips into you as he deepened your kiss, claiming your mouth in a way that made you dizzy, his hands moving to hold either side of your face as he indulged in what he was clearly genuine in having missed.

“Come on,” he spoke in a lazy drawl, pulling away ever so slightly so that his lips still hovered on yours. “I’m taking you for a ride.”

You bit your lower lip, excited for your adventure while hoping he meant that in more ways than one, following him over to his bike with your hand secured in his.

Jax unclipped the spare helmet you always wore from the back and placed it on your head, gently feeding the strap through the loops to fasten it, the simple touch of his fingers on your chin making you yearn for him even though he was so close.

“There,” he said, smiling at you again when he had finished securing your helmet with the snap at the end of the strap, leaning in to kiss you softly. “You ready?”

You hummed and nodded, returning his smile as he winked at you and reached for his own helmet.

He sat on his bike, adjusting himself on the seat while he turned the key in the ignition and flicked the switch to the fuel pump, the loud, powerful rumble of the engine vibrating through you when it started up.

Jax looked over his shoulder at you and titled his head for you to hop on, gripping the handlebars with both hands as you positioned yourself behind him and he lifted the kickstand with his foot. You scooched forward until you were flush with his body, the sensation of your core pressing against him something you had been missing desperately, and you had no shame in tucking your hands up under his layers of shirts so they splayed out on his bare skin, feeling the trail of coarse hairs that disappeared in his jeans with your fingertips.

Riding with Jax was equally calming and exhilarating, feeling safe as you rested your cheek on his shoulder, but also free with how the wind made your hair fly, the gusts pressing against your body with powerful force as you traveled against it. He was no different; a risk, dangerous, but providing all you needed to feel like you were actually living, each moment spent with him making you come alive while simultaneously enveloping you in the safety of his arms, the proximity to his circumstance another thing that had your life walking the line between threatened and protected.

Despite it all, you would always choose him, knowing he would, and always had, chosen you over everything else, nothing able to stand in your way.

His hand dropped to rest on your thigh as he cruised, and you held him closer to you even though you had the freedom to ease up on your grip around his waist at this speed, feeling his stomach move as he chuckled.

Pulling up to a stop sign, Jax placed his foot down on the road, pausing even though no other vehicles were around to wait for. He twisted as much as he could, his head turning to look over his shoulder at you, his smile warming your soul as it always did.

“You okay back there?”

“Perfect,” you replied, seeing his grin grow wider, his eyes scrunching up at the sides.

“Hey,” he said, tapping his cheek with his finger and puckering his lips, requesting a kiss from you.

You happily did, pressing your lips into the blond scruff on his rosy cheek, feeling him hum against you.

It obviously wasn’t enough to satisfy him though, angling his face even more so he could reach your lips with his, his tongue dancing briefly in your mouth that sparked even more want and longing in you.

A car honked, annoyed and impatient with your obliviousness to the rules of the road, making you break your kiss earlier than you both wanted.

Jax scoffed and gave the driver the finger, earning another blare of the horn that made you laugh and bury your face in the crook of his neck, your lips gently pressing against his heated skin.

“Just fucking go then!” he yelled at the driver. “Jesus Christ…” he chuckled, shaking his head as he patted your thigh. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Where are we going?”

He smirked, a bit of mischief sparkling in his blue eyes, “I’m taking you home, baby.”

You bit your lip in anticipation of the promises held in his voice and his eyes, readjusting your hold around his torso as he pushed off the pavement and rolled through the intersection, turning left to head back into town and in the direction of home.

Golden rays still cast down on you as you rumbled along, the glow of the setting sun even more of a glorious view from the open air of his motorcycle, but nothing ever compared to him.

You squealed when Jax opened it up, twisting the throttle to add more speed, the bike easing forward smoothly but still a noticeable enough change to make your stomach jump. His laugh sounded out over the noise of the bike and the roar of the wind in your ears, making you giggle in response and smile harder, your hair catching on your parted lips as it blew around your face when he pushed his bike to go even faster.

“Hold on, darlin’!”

Those exact words were said again now, only his tone was completely different.

He was out of breath and panting, each word slow to come out and decorated by his efforts, his low grunts of pleasure a contrast to how bright and playful his warning had been earlier.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised from behind you, watching as you took hold of the headboard in front of you for support.

Jax gripped your hips and pulled you back, forcing your bum up and against his groin while your back sank into an exaggerated dip, seating himself even deeper inside your cunt that he had already been buried in for the better part of an hour now.

Resuming his pace, he thrusted in and out of you, dragging his thick cock slowly out before slamming it back in again, each blow making you whine and moan louder than before.

Having edged you the entire time, you were close, each movement a threat to unravel you completely, the longer he fucked you the further you came from being able to hold back your imminent orgasm.

Your bodies were wet, sweat and sex covering every inch of skin, your hair a mess and hanging in your face, sticking to your swollen, moist lips just as it had when you were on the back of his bike.

Long fingers raked through your tangled tresses, collecting it all into one of his hands with a twist and tugging on it enough it pulled at your scalp and made you shiver, angling your head back toward him where he leaned forward and kissed your neck.

“Fuck, you feel so good, darlin’,” he murmured, still thrusting into you at a forceful, precise pace. “You stay right here for me.”

He kept a tight grip on your hair, knowing it was wrapped around his fingers just like his rings were, keeping yourself where he’d positioned you out of fear that if you faltered and fell forward it would sting more than it already did.

Your hands secured their hold on the headboard, bracing yourself for what you hoped would be your demise, a lazy smile creeping on your parted lips when he continued to kiss and nip at your neck, his tongue swiping long strokes up to your ear where his breath followed to dance on the patch of wet skin he created.

“I love you,” he breathed, his voice soft as his mouth lingered on the shell of your ear, making your smile grow larger and tears spring out the corners of your eyes right before he upped his tempo and started fucking you with all he had, a gasp blowing out of your lungs that changed into wimpers and cries that filled the room.

“Jax - fuck! - I love you too,” you moaned, your head tipping to the side slightly only to be righted by him repositioning you by your hair.

“I know you do, darlin’,” he said through a smile you could hear playing on his voice, another unhinged sound spilling off your lips when he reached his other hand around your body to land on your cunt, two of his fingers roughly massaging your clit. “Now you be a good girl and cum for me,” he added, his words making you crumble and obey as soon as they were spoken.

The headboard shook and slapped against the wall as he pounded you harder, the secure clasp you still managed to have on it making it move violently to the sway of your body, and you wailed as you felt yourself gush around his cock that slammed in and out of you mercilessly.

The tension that ripped through your limbs eventually subsided into a relaxed, almost numb feeling, every part of you tingling and awoken, allowing you to focus on him, hearing his feral grunts as he finally unloaded himself inside you with a stuttering push of his hips.

As his cock pulsed and twitched inside your walls, he pulled on your hair more, bringing you closer to him as he met you halfway, his body collapsing over yours heavily, his mouth sucking and marking your neck with sloppy kisses.

A blissed-out chuckle came out of him as he fell onto the bed on his side, taking you with him while remaining buried in you, his arms enveloping you in a warm, lazy embrace that displayed all the addicting feelings that followed sex. Your legs tangled together, a soft hum passing your lips as you felt his stomach rise and fall against your back as he worked to catch his breath, his hand languidly running up and down your arm appreciatively.

Jax nuzzled his face in your hair, inhaling deeply like he was trying to consume every bit of you, his warm exhale ghosting over the sensitive skin that he had made raw with his scruff.

“I really did miss you,” he admitted, and the tone of his voice solidified that you couldn’t doubt that it was true for a second.

You smiled, reaching for his hand and bringing it up to your lips, pressing a kiss on each bruised knuckle and then over the rings that adorned them.

When he eventually slipped out of you, he rolled you over to face him, pulling you onto his body so you half-covered his, your leg hooking to rest high on his waist.

His hand ran over your hair, smoothing it down as he stared at you lovingly, the light in his eyes matching his smile.

He was the sun itself in your world, and like the moon, you'd chase him into each day to rid yourself of the shadows, unashamed to love him for everything he was.

Your heart swelled as he smiled bigger at you, the creases beside his mouth coming out, and you traced along the one with your finger, looking at him beam as if he hadn't committed heinous crimes in the name of the patch worn so proudly on his back and inked into the skin you so fiercely loved.

“Thank you,” you whispered, bringing your face closer to his so you were able to rub your nose back and forth on his.

A small laugh that turned into a hum blew out of him, his arms pulling you closer to his warmth.

“Anything for you, darlin',” he drawled, his exhaustion showing in his words.

He met your lips with his, softly brushing a kiss on them before capturing them fully, moving so you were guided onto your back and he laid his body over yours, proving that no matter how much energy he'd already expended in loving you, he wasn't nearly done yet.

---

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Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls

@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90

@paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

[steddieas-shegoes]

Modern AU where Eddie is a tech repair person at an apple store in Chicago while he tries to make it big with his band and Steve is a spoiled rich kid who is trying to cover up that he's been using his macbook to film for his OnlyFans or something similar and he needs that shit wiped.

Eddie is as professional as he can be, but can't help but be amused at Steve being worried that he's gonna see everything.

S: seriously, just wipe everything. nothing has to be saved. don't even look through each file. just start over. E: okay sure. but you know you could just buy a new laptop. S: my dad checks my credit card statements. E: okay, so tell him you bought it for a friend or something. S: just. can you wipe it? E: yeah i can.

Eddie doesn't let him know that he already has seen everything because of course he subscribes to S.H. and often leaves him bigger tips than he can afford. He doesn't even know why Steve does it since he's apparently rich, or his dad is.

It only takes a few hours to wipe it, and Eddie's grateful he managed to help Steve instead of his coworker who is a certified Creep ™️ who absolutely would have made sure to watch as many of the videos as he could first.

He calls Steve and leaves a message for him that it's done, but doesn't hear back and Steve doesn't come by. He does the same thing again the next day, and the day after that, starting to grow concerned.

He goes so far as to check Steve's OF page, just to see if there's an update, but sees it's been shut down, like it never existed.

He finally caves, does the most unprofessional thing he's ever done, and texts Steve's number from his own phone.

This is Eddie from the apple store. Your laptop's ready. Just want you to know after 30 days we usually get rid of unclaimed items.

There's no response.

But two days later, Steve comes into the store wearing sunglasses and a hat, clearly trying to hide.

When he takes off the sunglasses to sign everything, Eddie sees a healing black eye and swollen nose.

He isn't stupid.

And he suddenly feels extremely protective over him.

E: did your dad find out? S: find out what? E: about your online job? S: how do you know? E: I wasn't gonna say anything, and I swear everything got wiped without anyone including myself seeing, but I do subscribe to you and I recognized you when you came in. S, already having a panic attack: shit no. this is bad. okay you can't say anything about this to anyone. please. E: I wouldn't, I won't. but your dad found out didn't he? he did this to you? S: *nods* E: you safe now? S: *shrugs* E: need a place to stay? S: i've been saving. that's why i did this in the first place. so i can pay rent somewhere. E: I have a second bedroom at my place that just opened up. up to you.

And of course Steve takes it because he's desperate, and doesn't have real world experience with a lot of strangers, but has a good feeling about this.

Eddie finds that Steve is a very typical rich kid; ignorant to a lot of the world's struggles, but not an asshole despite his bitchy attitude sometimes coming out, thinks money can fix everything until Eddie shows him that apologies and a cuddle on the couch can be better.

Steve is so touch starved, he doesn't even realize the way he always folds into Eddie's side when they're just relaxing and watching a movie, or how he always lets his hand brush against his side or hand when Eddie gets home from work. Eddie helps him look for a job, and they find that he loves working at a daycare even though the money isn't that great.

They fall in love so easily, neither of them actually realize it happens until Steve comes home after a very long day before the Christmas holidays, covered in paint stains from crafts with the kids, and Eddie just welcomes him home with a kiss.

[anlian-aishang]

Tags: levi ackerman x reader, mutual pining [coworkers] to smut, only one bed, non-sexual spitting, alcohol mention, reader wears levi’s shirt, cunnilingus, penetration, modern AU, fem!reader Word count: 10,000 A/N: thank you to @lostinwildflowers for betaing this! Birch is one my writing idols, so I am truly honored. I hope you enjoy <3

This can’t be happening.

Unknowingly, the two of you shared a silent sentiment. After a late taxi, long lines of airport security, and racing to the terminal only to be delayed for several hours, the cherry on the shit sundae - as he would put it - was the midnight arrival to a hotel with only one bed.

“You’re sure?”

The look on the nervous teenager’s face conveyed the answer before he even uttered the question. Still, Levi knew he had to ask, audibly enough for you to hear - just so you would know that he did. In the face of liability, you had to acknowledge that he had tried his best.  

“I’m really sorry, sir.” Their eyes were darting in panic between you and Levi as if you were the antidote to this angry customer. But he wasn’t angry, at least, not at them. Wasn’t the brat’s fault that Erwin booked the wrong room. “I have that in the afternoon of September the 15th, E. Smith booked a single king bed for one adult guest.”

“Two adult guests.”

They shared a lengthy eye contact. From the background, you watched their miscommunication unfold and cringed with secondhand embarrassment. You nearly burst into nervous laughter when they shrugged, “I can provide you with extra complimentary toiletries.”

At his sides, Levi unclenched his fists in defeat, “...We’ll manage.”

The plastic key cards made a satisfying sound as the receptionist slid them across the marble countertop - equal and opposite to the dissatisfaction on Levi’s face. In one smooth motion, he handed you your copy while simultaneously whipping out his cell phone. Two clicks - speed dial and call. Two rings - Erwin answered.

You couldn’t hear the other end, but you had your guesses.

Hello?

“You fucked up.”

Sorry?

“As you should be.”

For what? 

“Stuffing two adults in one bed, what made you think we’d appreciate that accommodation?”

Given the looks you’ve been giving each other at the office, I thought you might. 

Levi violently snapped his phone closed in hopes you couldn’t hear that. Thrusting his phone in his pocket, he used his free hand to snatch luggage from yours. “Give me that.” 

A kind gesture, but irritation in his voice made it confusing. You thought to grab it back and insist that you could handle it, but instead, held your tongue. Clearly, he was steaming. Any objection, even a well-intended one, you doubted it would better his mood. Walking towards the lift, you concluded that nothing you had to say would supply ice to his ire. Though, the walk, time, and your calming presence, seemed to be working, you thought as you watched him delicately pad the UP button. 

In the intimacy of the elevator, Levi allowed himself one venting word, “Idiot.” He sighed, placed his thumb and pointer finger on each of his temples, and rubbed wrinkles into his skin. “As if we haven’t already been through enough.”

Today and long before, the two of you had been through plenty together. Tonight was the first time you would pin it on Erwin. All other times, it had been your own selves and each other to blame. 

He loved the way you looked in those small pencil skirts and see-through tights, but he hated what it did to him. Meetings in which he could only stare, absorbing nothing. In the middle of a phone call, when you walked by, he would forget its purpose and stammer aimlessly. Nights kept awake, staring at his ceiling, a blank canvas for projecting his wandering thoughts: how you would look with the skirt yanked up and the tights pulled down, how you took your outfit off after work, and if you wanted his help with that. 

Countless times, you had cursed the man you crushed on. The way he ran his fingers through his hair when overworked made you want to try it yourself, to take his stressors away - or better yet - serve as the relief to them. On hot days, he loosened his top button. On lucky days, the top two. On his way out the door, he would tug his tie out from under his collar, creating a loop wide enough for you to slip your hand through and use it to pull his lips to yours - or so you imagined. Each day, Levi had fed you tastes. Over time, your craving for him had grown unbearable. 

Ultimately, this out-of-town assignment was a test, and a final exam at that. Years of studying one another were culminating in one night, on one bed. The chime of the elevator interrupted your thoughts as if it was a warning: ground yourself. The plain of Levi’s expression and calm in his pace on the way to room 845 echoed its sense: he was unriled, uninterested. 

Your read was wrong. Levi was thankful that you trailed him: with his back to you, you could not see his rouge tint, the bite of his lip, or the twitch of his cheek. As he pressed his key to the reader, held the heavy hotel door, and slugged both of your belongings atop the desk and dresser, you admired the way he moved so suavely - when actually, he considered his motions stiff, careful, and calculated. 

Neither of you bothered to turn on the light. Taxed bodies, tired eyes, and tempted temperaments shared a desire to finally climb in bed. No need to delay things any longer. Levi unzipped his suitcase, the sound garnered your attention. Immediately, you noticed now neatly he had packed, admired his organization and pristine folds, then planned that when it came your time to unpack, you would aim to shield your messy methods from the clean freak’s vision.

A gray cotton tee - matching his eyes, black sweatpants - same shade as his hair. A navy canvas travel bag topped the pile. Levi leaned effortlessly against the white bathroom door and stated, “I’ll change in here.”

You nodded vehemently, as if he had ordered you on an important mission, “I’ll be out here.” 

Cute. And at that intrusive thought, he silently ducked away. 

Unbuckling his belt, tugging his zipper, freeing his legs from his slacks, Levi tipped his head back against the wall and sighed. Every muscle in his body finally untensed, he was set free from one cage of many. His business-casual confines had been done away with. Now, he just had professionalism, work relationships, and his fucking hormones to maintain. 

His boxer briefs were agitatingly taut, struggling to constrain years’ worth of tension in their cotton threads. Levi looked down to his lap and cursed himself. Hovering around thirty, yet all the composure of a fresh young bachelor. Gradually, Levi hooked his thumb beneath the elastic waistband and loosened just a little, allowing him room to breathe. Too much room maybe as the chill thermostat air contrasted harshly with his warmed passion and drew a loud hiss. Levi clenched his teeth hard in an attempt to bar his vocals, praying to whatever power that you wouldn’t knock on the door and call Levi, you alright? It was just the kind of person you were, and Levi had come to know you well. 

That anxiety turned out to be false, for your ears were ringing: ignorant of his desires, overwhelmed by your own. Gingerly, you unzipped your luggage and fret at the sight: a little black nightgown with lace on the hems. Its sight hit you like a load of bricks, lightning to the thunderous memory of your midnight, sleep-deprived, frantic packing. That woman was giddy for the business trip with her office crush and, in that frenzy, picked her sexiest pajamas for the special occasion. Goddammit! If only you knew that he wouldn’t be seeing it from across the room as a tease, he would be sleeping next to it, maybe even feeling it if one of you crossed your half of the mattress. Cursing yourself, you dug frantically in search of something - anything - else to wear to bed, but were rudely met with only pantsuits and blouses. You bunched your nightgown in your trembling fists, but its thinness and shortness allowed it to fit wholly in your hands - foiling your coping strategy. All you could do was tip your head back and sigh to the ceiling, Fuck me.

That feeling echoed when you draped it over yourself and saw your reflection in the hotel window. Your hair was disheveled from the long day. Makeup smeared and ran down your face, eyeliner to eyeshadow. Wrinkles in your silk dress. Looks like you were already fucked. 

On the other side of the door, Levi was thinking the same thing: he was absolutely fucked. His erection stood high after minutes of waiting. Cold water splashed on his face, but his fever seemed to evaporate it. Trying to think about humbling topics, but he couldn’t get you off his mind. To make his arousal vanish, there was one thing he could do, but there wasn’t enough time for that. Even if the shower were running, Levi doubted that the downpour of water would be able to suppress the noises of slapping skin or his embarrassingly heightened vocals. Fuck. Levi clutched the bathroom countertop and sighed at his reflection. His exhale fogged the mirror just before he hung his head down and conceded. God, help me. 

His prayers ignored, you ended up knocking on the bathroom door eventually: “Levi?”

Every nerve in his body froze. He stammered more times than he would have liked before managing a stern “What?”

“Sorry! I just -” humiliated heat seemed to radiate off of you, “- take your time, I just -”

Half listening, half panicking, Levi seemed not to pay mind to your take your time - stepping into his joggers and throwing on his shirt as fast as he could.

“- can I brush my teeth?”

You were startled when his response was a quick and loud turn of the handle, wordlessly letting you in. Levi was surprised to see you the way you were: temptress dress with a toothbrush and toothpaste innocently perched in each hand. The eye contact lasted for three seconds, but you could have sworn that it was that many years long. 

The twitch of your hands and your heart’s lofty goals placed a dollop of toothpaste twice as big as you normally would. Had to have perfect breath, just in case. Not even just in case, you were going to lay beside him - mere inches away - for the next several hours. In those seconds of pondering, gravity began to spill your toothpaste off the bristles and towards the pristine marble vanity. With haste, you jammed the toothbrush into your mouth, causing you to gag on your device. 

Levi felt his erection press against his waistband and rolled his eyes at his own stupid urges. You assumed that eye roll was for you and offered an innocent grin. Not so innocent, however, was your curiosity. His t-shirt was tight, leaving little to the imagination. One arm’s reach from an array of muscles, you kept your eyes deliberately on the mirror ahead. However, your doppelganger had a mind of her own apparently, gaze falling from eye contact and onto his chest, waist, abdomen. Without even having to turn his head, Levi could see your staring, obviously more obvious than you thought it would be. With your attention on his lower half, Levi allowed himself a smirk. 

Such a silly thing, but was this the first time you brushed your teeth next to someone? This handful of minutes was inexplicably romantic, oddly domestic. Pajamas, double sinks, and the end of a long day. You had been coworkers, acquaintances, and unknowingly requited lovers, but for this one moment, you were husband and wife. 

White toothpaste lined the gap between his top and bottom lip, and for some reason, you felt your knees buckle. Levi ducked down to spit, a polite attempt to hide it. Your eyes rejected his offer, instead widening as your pupils honed in on the sight. Leaning forward ever so slightly, you savored yet loathed the way his rejection ran down the pipe. What a waste. 

Levi sheathed his toothbrush back in its protective case, a neat freak through and through, and slid it back into his tote. Sifting through, he stumbled upon a mini bottle of mouthwash, making him freeze with indecision: added freshness at the cost of spitting in front of you again? He felt that once had already been rude enough. Levi shot you a side-eye and made an unexpected eye contact: he was trying to read you, you were already staring. Mutually miscommunicated guilt, both of you felt you had been caught and snapped back to aversion. 

It came your turn to rinse your mouth, and he couldn’t help it. Levi could have blamed his peripheral vision, could have blamed the bright lights that lined the mirror, but hard-pressed, he could not come up with an excuse for why he watched you then. The streak of white that shot out of your mouth, its wake dribbling down your lips. Goddammit, you cursed your clumsiness and hastily wiped your mess with a washcloth. He knew it as well as you did: he should have been grossed out. Only Levi realized, though, how much he liked it, he was just too ashamed to admit it. 

Though his arousal screamed, his lips stayed silent. There was a time and place.

Was there? You’ve worked together for how long? All those years, they never had a time or place?

A long inhale, a slow exhale, his fingers curled underneath the cold countertop, hoping its chill would thwart the flush of his chest. Fuck how badly he wanted to kiss you then, to thumb that white stain off your chin and into his mouth, to clutch the backs of your thighs and hoist you onto that vanity. Your waist in his hands, your sex in line with his -

“Levi?”

“Yeah?”

His rapid response, you mistook it as anger. While the voice on his shoulder was lust, yours was insecurity. Surely, you’re the last straw. Having to share a bed with a dork like you? He’s had a tough day. Don’t make him endure this.

“Do you want me to take the floor?”

A dumbbell dropped to the pit of his stomach. Of course not, but for you to bring it up, he must have been hasty to assume that you would share the bed. Levi grit his teeth, annoyed with his lofty goals. Two slow blinks, “I can.”

That was the last thing you wanted. “N-No… I don’t - I don’t mean…” Your lips parted in stammer. Eyes darted as if the tile walls would whisper you the answer. For a moment, you cursed the beautiful neutrality of his face: impossible not to love, but impossible to read. His stillness was contagious, though, and brought you to settle on an answer, “I’ll meet you under the sheets.”

Ears burned red as they checked: was that selective hearing or was that what you really said? Before his eyes could study you, you turned on your heel and closed the door shut.

Once again, on opposite sides of the door, your sentiment was shared: Phew. 

He took a few minutes after that. When he finally walked out, he found that you had been lotioning your legs over that time. Dim glow of the bedside lamp reflected on your smooth skin. If not for the way he had come to know you, to respect and appreciate you, this sight could have been the cover of some sketchy magazine. Eagerness glazed your eyes. Your hands had been massaging your inner thighs, now a perfect shield for the gem between your legs. Levi gave the slightest shake of his head, not disapproval, but disbelief. How did you manage such effortless perfection?

Was that not everything about you, though? The most minute smile in meetings. Biting your lip when you were bored. A laugh so beautiful that it served as its own positive reinforcement, beckoning others to amuse you again. Were you the one? 

Or was it the eyes of your beholder? Maybe you weren’t perfect, maybe that’s why you were in his eyes. Despite all the signs of your singlehood - never in a rush to get home, never a mention of a date - he never truly believed it. It was a war of his flawless intuition and steep infatuation. Either you were the one for him, or he had been wrong all these years. 

Get in the bed, idiot. 

His stride was steady, captivating, as he made his way to the side of the bed. In habit, Levi crossed his arms across his torso, prepared to lift up, but caught himself halfway. No, he would not be sleeping shirtless tonight. Neither would he sleep in his loose and breathable boxer shorts, but instead, stifling fleece. Already, for one reason or another, he was sweating. Upon approach, the layers upon layers of sheets, blanket, and comforter looked even more suffocating. He caught a glimpse of the thermostat, but then of you, and found your skin laden with goosebumps. Lips rolled beneath his teeth, bargaining, but he could not bring himself to turn the AC up while your body temperature was down. Just as strongly, he refused to do anything that might make you uncomfortable, like taking off his clothes, no matter how badly he wanted to. More words would have served you both well, tearing down the artificial barrier your doubts were constructing. 

Can I take this off? 

I would love nothing more.

But you were both stupid to imagine that dialogue.

Levi slowly reclined back, sighing as he sunk into the sheets. Already, his skin was burning. He combed his fingers back through his bangs and released a heavy sigh. A heavenly trial, you read it as a hellish endurance, and instinctually apologized, “...I’m sorry about this.”

You have nothing to be sorry for, Levi pondered the response, but deemed it too much. Instead, he feigned a disinterested mumble, “It’s Erwin’s fault.”

You, on the other hand, indulged your gut feeling, “He’s done worse.”

Levi huffed a single exhale, his version of a chuckle.

You turned on your side. He loved that you chose to face him rather than the wall. He hated that he even thought of that. You were so close, he could feel the mattress dip between you, could feel your breath cool against his skin. Eyes fluttering shut, your voice was either sultry or exhausted, a glass-half-full kind of thing. “Good night, Levi.”

Fuck, what a fight, battling the urge to kiss you then and there. Your eyes sparkling, noses nearly touching, he had sworn that this was how all the shitty romcoms went, but he failed to find anything lackluster about this scene. His lips yearned to close that distance, arms ached to perch themselves at your sides. Levi redirected that energy to his hands, fisting the comforter hard as he draped it gently over your shoulders, “Night, (Y/N).”

But how were you going to sleep like this? Although you were running off a 20-hour day, you felt that sleep would be a waste. Queueing for tickets to see your favorite artist, only to close the window the moment your turn came. Styling your hair just to go and get it cut straight after. Champagne dumped down the drain. Mentally, it was an unbearable thought. Physically, your body was even more resistant to the idea. Your middle was fucking throbbing. Nipples stood tall against their skimpy silk covering as if reaching for more contact, his contact. Legs squirmed against one another, trying to smother the burn between them, but you willed them frozen: don’t wake him up. 

In your best state of mind, you would have recalled the symptoms of his insomnia: always a tall thermos of caffeine on his desk, perpetual circles under his eyes, especially the times you both worked late. On your way out, you would peek through the pane of glass on his door to wave good-bye. Now and then, he would be hunched over his desk, imprints of the keyboard on his cheek - a makeshift pillow for his crash naps. With a shred of thought, you would have realized he was likely already awake, but you were incapable of even that. It was midnight when you crawled into the king bed. Red digits at your side now read 1:40 AM, yet you knew that not one of those one-hundred minutes had been spent in sleep. Coffee in the morning, nerves on the plane, hormones now, you had left composure back at your apartment and you weren’t sure you’d get it back at any point of this business trip. I mean shit, you swore, this was only the first night.

Only the first night. One of many sure to come, right? How many nights had he gone to bed alone, kept awake with longing of having you by his side? How many mornings had he woken himself up with a sleepy mumble of your name, only to find one half of his bed empty? It couldn’t all be for nothing. Now that he was sharing the bed with you, it was all he ever wanted, yet you were still out of reach. Uncharacteristic, the most reliable man you knew was spiraling in thought. 

But to you, it would make sense: the only one who could bring Levi Ackerman down was none other than himself. He saw it a different way: you were the only one who could dismantle him like this.

You could feel his heat emanating, could see his sweat reflecting. Before you could stop yourself, your affection had boiled over, “Levi…” your voice was hoarse, having gone hours without as much as a whisper, and unexpectedly loud. His silver gaze drifted to you, depleting the last of your reserves, you mused, “...you’re hot.”

A statement, not a question. In near pitch blackness, he allowed himself a rare smirk. Levi waited until it faded to turn towards you. 

You pinched the hem of his shirt in your fingertips, nails accidentally scraped his abdomen on the way. “Want this off?” You tugged lightly, “I don’t mind.”

At the same time, you shivered, and Levi filled in the blanks to ground his wandering mind. “Cold?” His hands brushed yours on the way to the bottom of the garment. Levi bunched fists in his fabric and lifted it effortlessly up, over, off his head - as he wanted to do all those hours ago. Pent-up relief, he thrust his shirt to you and offered, “Could’ve just asked.”

You were right all along. All along, those loose button-up shirts had covered a chiseled body. He must have been curling with arms like that. A pull-up bar on the back of his bedroom door, how many repetitions did it take to get these muscles? Your eyes scanned every inch of him but could find not one flaw. Your lips were moving, but words failed to emerge. There were a million things you wanted to say to him, to tell him, but only one came through. You received his gift gingerly and muttered, “Thanks.”

This was a moment you had distantly fantasized over for years. Turns out, this was even better than you dreamed. His shirt carried a garden of mint, lavender, and tea leaves in its scent. In putting it on, you felt that you gained a glimpse into Eden. The fabric was satin soft and sheer thin. In watching you wear it, Levi felt in the presence of an angel. It highlighted the curves he loved and introduced him to ones he had never noticed before. Brows narrowed, pupils dilated in his gaze - concerned and deviant. The straight cut forced your waist and hips to confine. The small-pattern chest was clearly never meant to accommodate a body like yours. Threads were spread taut by your cleavage, nearly torn apart as they strained to cover you. In his eyes, he thought it fit you perfectly. 

Arms finally through the sleeves. Beneath them, your hairs stood on end. Again, you shivered, but could not pinpoint why. It did not take the shiver, though, to convey your state. Your erect points stood above all. Levi looked to you with both pity and admiration, his voice their lovechild: “Look at you.”

You simmered, embarrassed yet teasing, “Looking isn't helping.” You crossed your arms before your chest and bundled yourself together, “If you really care -”

He did.

“- then do something about it.”

Unfolding the quilt from the foot of the bed, turning up the room’s temperature - those were the most straightforward solutions. But Levi was not thinking straight, and he had a feeling that was what you wanted. Slowly, Levi sifted his arm behind your shoulders, when you snuggled in, he sealed his wrap with a hand at your side. 

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

His gaze descended to meet yours. Likewise, you raised your gaze to meet. Painfully aware that this was a first for the both of you - neither his passion nor your arousal would shut up about it. At the same time, watching you shiver reminded him of all the times he had silently substituted your needs. Behind on work, you never asked for assistance, but would hurriedly throw things his way if Levi offered his help. When your car wouldn’t start that one winter day, who knows how long you would’ve paced in the parking lot had he not pulled his sedan beside yours and given you a jump? A sharp pang seized his heart in realization: he thought you were close, and now you were physically there, yet you still were not comfortable enough to ask him for anything - even though you both wanted it.

“Y’know,” his thumb rubbed your shoulder, “you should learn to just ask for what you want.” 

Indeed, 2 AM haze was shrouding his awareness, too - particularly his self-awareness. Was it not him who steeped your tea in the mornings and tidied your desk before he left each night? He could have - should have - just asked you out all those times. How much sooner would this night have come if he had? Levi swore to live without regrets, but that did not stop him from acknowledging the opportunities he had missed thus far. He tossed you the takeaway he wished he had learned long ago: “Makes things a lot easier.”

At first, you thought he was chastising you. The stern monotone of his voice could chill you to the bone at times, but when you took in his expression, you felt warm all over. His brows were not knit, but perched in a tender lift. His breaths were not terse, like when he got annoyed, but slow and calm. At the same time, though, you could feel his heart pounding hard, could hear it when you placed your ear over his chest. Clouded moonlight softened those hardlined features, and again, you wondered if this was your first night together or actually your honeymoon: wasn’t this kind of pillow talk reserved for spouses alone?

A deep swallow, and the last time you checked yourself. Could he have looked any more genuine? Any more readable? Transparent? You didn’t think so. For the man of few words, this was all but an admission of his feelings for you, and it was the best look you had ever seen on him. His advice, his command, invited you to try that outfit on.

“Practice with me?”

One slight nod, so slight - you knew no one would have noticed it but you. In that, you felt your confidence soar, pulling the words from your heart to the air between you both, “Hold me tighter?”

He did.

“Pull me closer?”

He did.

“And kiss me already.”

Levi could not describe it, the feeling that overcame him when he heard your demand. Proud of you. Relieved. At peace yet exhilarated. The serenity that all was right in the world, yet the anticipation of what he had wanted all along. The nature of the kiss aligned with the latter. For two agonizing seconds, he examined you. Assured by the sight of your smile, he longed to taste it for himself. Thumb pressed to the curve of your chin, index finger perched under it, slowly yet with unwavering passion - that was the way Levi brought your lips together. 

Soft, as he expected. Expert, as you had. Initial contact was delicate, the warmup slow. Levi always went so hard at everything he did, held such a sharp tongue, which was why the way he brushed against you made your heart stop. You knew strength to be his greatest, most innate feature, and therefore you deciphered that this tenderness was a display of exertion. Levi showed no signs of struggle, though. Touch-starved for you, yet his lips chose to waltz rather than tango. His hand on your chin drifted to the back of your neck. Nape cupped in his palm, he used that leverage to drift you here and there, allowing him to taste all of you - encouraging you to do the same with him. 

Levi tasted like peppermint, the brand so sharp that it made you sneeze now and then, he had learned after enough lunch breaks. You tasted like cinnamon, the stick that baristas stuck in his chai come the colder months. When your tongues met, they created a new taste. After minutes of exchange, they became addicted to it. Their craving demanded all efforts in that search: Levi’s grip pulled you closer, you threw an arm over his back. Breaths turned to gasps, a wordless understanding of all you would do for the other: grab his mail on the way in, walk you to your car at night, and kiss until you were out of breath.

The thought had never crossed your mind, but his actions disintegrated it - the possibility that this was some selfish, opportunistic spell. Levi was nearly shaking with anticipation, his erection pained with neglect, but that did not influence his pace. Each time you thought the makeout might end, he would catch his breath with “pretty girl…” before joining you once again. His kiss was lovely, as was the spark at your middle, but his ardor was gas to your flame, and before you knew it, you were ablaze. You found your body rise against his, pushing off the mattress, and rolling to grind against the friction of his rigid figure. Levi was everything you ever wanted, and maybe you were just that desperate or just that greedy - the fact that you needed more. He wouldn’t have you any other way.

You thought twice before breaking from the kiss, one last deep plunge of your tongue to his throat before pulling away, conscious to savor the taste. “Levi…” you sighed.

A string of saliva hung between you, the clean freak calmly closed his fist over it, and you felt yourself shudder again, “can we keep practicing?”

His lips were one degree north of flat, about as big of a smile as anyone would see on Ackerman. Tonight, just the two of you here, it felt inexplicably, particularly special. “Make love to me.”

An advanced learner, you always went the extra mile. Back then, Levi had no doubt, it was the reason you had been promoted so quickly. Now, it was that you had aced the first lesson and jumped to the next: no longer asking, demanding already. Sentimental was not a feeling he knew, but proof that you were this comfortable with him was indeed something. 

His praise reflected that feeling back onto you, “That’s right, good girl.” The back of his hand brushed unruly strands from your face. A kiss on your forehead rewarded, “like that.”

Once more, he pressed his lips to yours, but it was not even a second that he stayed - just a starting point to the journey that was exploring your body. Lips slid to the corner of your mouth, down your jawline, neck, then chest. A trail of hickeys and teeth grazes was left - tomorrow’s meetings and your professionalism having vanished from his mind. His hands joined the excursion: one gentle yet relishing in its caress of your neck, the other crawled up your - his - shirt. The familiar texture of his old garment contrasted with the novel feel of your skin. Muscles twitched with satisfaction, disrupting the fluidity of his motions, but you found beauty in the unpredictability of his touch. Rose-colored lenses were blind to the signs of his weakness, instead chalking those movements up to Levi’s expertise. As you tipped your head back and sighed, Levi figured it was the first misunderstanding that had done you two any good tonight. 

On his descent, he could not help but take a stop at your breasts. Turns out, it was never just his imagination, but given your curvature, of course your buttons would have been stretched to contain you. Those blouses had been his guilty favorite for that very reason, but his tight t-shirt was taking a close second. No, that slip you wore when you joined him in the bathroom, that must’ve been the best, right? Blood rushed, pupils dilated, his body anxious for a visual refresher.

You were going faster than he could have hoped. Already, he was proud of you for having graduated to demands. Now, you had learned to act on your own - either having read his mind or listening to your own desires. Levi could not decide which possibility he preferred, but when you lifted your top and perched it at your clavicle, he was ashamed to admit that his mind had discarded all other affairs. 

Levi nestled his cheek in your cleavage, and though you were over a thousand miles away, he felt he was at home. Warm pillows cupped him, and both of you felt that the space was made for him to fill. Levi’s breath was hot on your skin, yet your nipples appeared as though you were in a winter wilderness. Of course, he took notice in all your details, and sighed in mutual enamor, “Fuck, baby…” 

It was a tone you had never heard in his voice before. Desperation and desire in a man so ever assured and disinterested, you felt your panties drip from damped to soaked. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You, too, was what you thought to say, but somehow, the word seemed inadequate. His body was artwork: a symmetric abdomen, muscular forearms, veins that stood against his skin, you longed to trace him as such. Bangs that fell perfectly imperfectly over his face, begging that you run your fingers through them: mess with them now, gel them straight in the morning. You could slice paper on that jawline, could get lost in his eyes. No matter how long you stared, and stared you had, Levi was like the sunset: even after a hard day, always breathtakingly gorgeous.

Especially with the perspective you had now. One hand cupped your waist, the other your breast, perching you into his mouth, eye contact deliberately maintained throughout his movements.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Levi’s tongue swirled your nipple before his lips audibly slurped. “To get what you want…” 

Again, the fog of the nameless hours between night and day had blinded him to the relevance his words had to himself. How long had he wanted this? How good did it feel? He had no verbal answer for it, only the fervor of his actions: sprightly tongue and rocks of his hips. As you always had, you filled his gaps: while he could not fathom the words, yours overflowed. 

“Oh, Levi… Fuck, Levi…!” your desperate cries of his name made him leak onto the hotel sheets, no longer pristine. Your harsh exhales ran currents through his hair, and suddenly, it seemed you two had traded temperatures. Now, he was the one shivering while you sweat through the shirt. For his fever, he craved one antidote. Crawling down your body, his approach to the medicine cabinet. He prepared to ask for his dosage.

“My turn.”

Huh? 

You propped yourself up on your elbows and took a good look. A good look: Levi had wedged himself between your legs. Fingers caressed your thighs with a precise pressure, a touch that tickled in a way that made you want more, yet was strong enough that he could push your hips to the mattress and pry your legs apart. You had to bunch your fists and rub your eyes to check, maybe 3 AM was just fucking with you. 

Levi read your search for reassurance and inserted conviction into his tone. His stare and voice unwavering, “Can I taste you?”

Yeah, 3 AM was definitely fucking with you, for this was too good to be true. His sharp chin dwindled above the soft of your sex. His gaze set on your soul. Both of you agreed: his hands had never felt so calloused until they met your smooth thighs. It was a dream you would have woken up thankful to have had bestowed on you, but the grip he had on you was so perpetually undeniable: this was real. Head spinning, mind raced to catch up, yet Levi’s wait was so astonishingly still. Levi knew he would make you feel good. Based on your state, it seemed he was already doing that. Now, you just had to say yes, but he would not push you towards any one answer, nor would he do anything more until you arrived at it. If you wanted it, you had to ask for it, sweetheart.

A flood of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one screaming over the other, you felt you were drowning. In your search for stability, you relied on your sense of sight: Levi Ackerman between your legs. What the fuck are you waiting for? 

“Y’Yes, Levi.” You reached down and held his forehead. As you brushed his bangs from his face, he offered another half-smile, but it was brief, for he was past the point of eager. Still, the calm in his pace remained. Slowly, his hands snaked from the backs of your thighs to the sides of your hips. Thumbs hooked between the straps of your panties and your skin. His fingers clenched over them, bringing the garment past your knees, down your shins, and off your ankles. From chest to toes, you were now entirely exposed. At first, you wrangled with embarrassment, but his infatuation was your comfort. Hunger seized his vision, thirst drove his actions. You had nothing to be afraid of. 

His earlier route, lips to neck, neck to chest, chest to torso, was now mirrored. Levi cupped your heels in his hand and lifted your feet, allowing him to plant kisses up and up your legs, drags of his tongue followed to connect the dots. Minutes gone by, and even after having pocketed your consent, he still had yet to put his mouth there. Spending time to appreciate your thighs, he wanted you to know how long he had been anticipating this, and now that he had finally landed his spot, he would be damn sure to save the best bite for last. 

Left arm wrapped around your thigh, Levi nestled his head against it, allowing his perspective to stay sound on your sex. His right hand trailed from your knee to your middle, and at last, you knew he was getting started. At first, it was his fingertips, and at that mere first touch came your sudden awakening as to how dire your desire had grown. Your hands flew back and clutched your pillow, Levi admired the tendons that rose in your wrist, and your voice, “A’Ahh!!” 

He shot one glance up to check on you, but the look on your face ensured you were more than okay. With that, he decided to repeat the pattern of his rubs. Index and middle finger paired as they rode the sliver between your lips, your arousal slickened his knuckles. Once wet enough, he would split his digits into a V, each one taking responsibility for one of your folds. When that friction ran dry, he would return to your core, a seemingly never-ending source of lubrication, to run the process back again. You should not have been surprised, for everything with him was purposed - in the office or in the bedroom. With your interior and exterior in a coat of your own clear, he would have the freedom to run his mouth, no need to lick his lips or garner more saliva. Years of anticipation, now that the moment had arrived, he was going to spend the extra seconds to make sure this went according to plan.

Your glisten was so thorough, looking at you, Levi swore he could see his own weak reflection, the blush on his cheeks, the sweat on his forehead. In that way, his plunge was accelerated: preferring to trade the sight of his unruly state for the taste of you. Lips circled to match your curves, and you quickly identified this as a familiar feeling in an unfamiliar place. Levi was kissing you with the same tenderness he had displayed in your makeout, only now, he was between your legs. His jaw stretched wide to ensure he could reach every inch, from the top of your cleft, along your crescent sides, and to the spot where they rejoined. With his mouth in control, he let his hands indulge in your body, adorned upon your delectable waist, light squeezes of your ass, and massaging the divots of your inner thighs. His lips practiced that motion with a goal of perfection. Meanwhile, his tongue distracted you from any signs of his learning. Slow, purposed drags from bottom to top made your love pool on the tip of his tongue - each accumulation swallowed with a satisfied groan. Levi’s oral was pristine, only an occasional slurp and smack, allowing both of your vocals to take the stage. Your sky-high gasps, his low and satiated moans. He lived for the moments you would syllabize his name “Le-vi…” His “there you go” always followed, implicitly begging for more.

His neck began to bob in support of his movements. With that came a whole new level of pressure and slate of angles. His sharp nose slanted against your curves, lovely opposite to your soft. Your scent and your taste moved mountains within him, and in that, he noticed: his emotional pull was just as strong as his physical. All his life, he had grown to love bitter tastes, perhaps because they had been force fed to him. You were the first cube of sugar to have landed in his drink. Now, he had honey straight from the source. Levi felt his erection press hard against the mattress, “Fuck…” he whined, “you taste so good.”

Breath caught in your throat, all you could manage was a light sigh. As your lips twitched, he generously helped, taking the words right out of your mouth. “You have no idea…no idea -” Levi moaned, “how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this.”

At those words alone, you felt you might climax right then. Had he been eavesdropping on your dreams? How did he know that you had been fantasizing over that exact sentence for an unspeakable amount of time? “Me - Me too, Levi…” 

Your admission was even sweeter, lifting his feelings from indulgence to fulfillment. All the nights he had spent awake, wondering if you were thinking of him the way he was of you, your confession was confirmation that this had been requited all that time. Levi found it both gratifying and maddening: gratifying to have discovered that your feelings were mutual, maddening how many years had gone by until that discovery. Levi grew determined to make up for all that time, revenge reflected in the acceleration of his actions.

Levi shoved his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you into a shameless, unhideable angle. Good thing, he mused, no more hiding. Shoulders propped at your midthigh, keeping you perched apart. Fingers wrapped around your skin, he pulled you down the bed and crashed you onto his face. Your gasp was exhausted as you tried to keep up. Both of you knew, though: you were no match. As his tongue thrust to unfathomable depths, you likewise could not conjure any idea of how to withstand this. Nose rubbed against your swollen bud, brows narrowed in determination, he looked nearly angry. Working hard for your climax, harder than he had for anything else, even his own. 

Shit…!

If this keeps up…

A telltale tide turned in your tummy, spasms sparkled along your legs. Fingernails pierced the pillowcase, fighting off your impending loss of control. You could not delay it, not unless he - You fisted your hand in his hair, and he thought this was it. Instead, you pushed him away. “L’Le-vi…” a series of rapid pants, “hah, hah, ho’ld… on!” 

His tongue flattened still. Between the vertex of your legs, his steel attention rose to you. Not anxious, but concerned, You alright? 

“I, I want -”

At those words, he once again simmered with pride, thankful you had taken his ask for what you want to heart. After a few more breaths, you managed the minimum composure to plead, “I wanna cum with you.” 

Levi’s first thought was one of generosity, you know you can have - I can give you - more than one, right? But he knew you better, and he knew what you meant. You wanted your first to be with him, and though he was parched with thirst, desperate for the taste of your cum in his mouth, your wants were foremost his. With a deep, patient breath, he watched your twitches slow to still. When the threat of your orgasm vanished, he calmly laid one final kiss to your core, etching your taste into his memory. His silver stare swallowed you down, a mental polaroid of your pose. His palm massaged your sex in physical praise, promising that he would never make you wait again, and that he’d definitely make you cum next time.

He started to ascend back up your body, but you flung yourself forward and met him halfway. Brows arched in shock, his eyes widened briefly, you closed them with another kiss. Mint flavor of before had been washed away by the taste of you. Further evidence of his devotion, you desired to prove that you were just as committed to him. You hooked your elbow to his nape and threaded fingers through his undercut - your turn to pull him here and there, granting yourself the freedom to explore the parts of him that you had always wanted to. Most of all, the length growing harder and harder to ignore. 

Still, you were conscious to withhold your rush. You endeavored to slow your pace so that you could match the one he had performed on you. How good it felt - he deserved to feel it, too. You ran your hands down his chest the way rain slid down a windshield. Levi felt his boxers turn wet when your palms pressed upon his pecs, the buds of your hands kneading his tender patches. His exhales turned crackly, his inhales uneven. Laying kisses on each of his abs, down and down his torso, your contact held the compliments you were too shy to say. He heard them and reciprocated them: arm wrapped around your waist, bruises where his fingertips pressed - he hoped they would stay till morning, and that when you saw them, you would remember the love he had shown you tonight 

Finally, you dipped your fingertips below his waistband. Sweat glazed his hips, allowing you to slide your hands in, but at this point, there was not much room for you. His erection had taken all his threads had to offer. You spared him the begging, sliding his cotton down his outstretched legs and finally releasing him from their confinement. Soaked in his own anticipation, veins visible, his arc steep. The shade of his member matched the one of his cheeks: the pink of a vulnerable blush, the crimson of ardent lust. As he watched you watch him, another dribble of clear dripped down his length. Levi grit his teeth and cursed. From stifling heat to cool air, that drench turned from comforting to exhilarating. In the wake of his tried swears, you gently cupped your hand around his girth and cleaned him as best as you could, spreading the leakage of his tip down to his base - his shaft your path. Contrast to his stress, you soothed him as you always had, just a different context this time. 

It was his turn to cling to the sheets. Hands clawed into the comforter, you watched without shame, enchanted by the way his forearms flexed. Heels ground to the mattress, toes curled in sheets. Each motion was accompanied by either a sharp inhale or short exhale. Was it sadistic or considerate of you to keep pumping him despite that? 

Levi loathed the way he stuttered through your name, on the other hand, you adored it. Levi cupped the back of your head in his hand and tugged your ear to his lips. His breath was hot on your cusp, yet somehow, it sent chills through you. Your sex had landed atop his lap, his cock nestled between your folds, still wet from his prior excursion. Pleasure had him growling, the look in his eyes both commanding and desperate, “Let me take you.”

Obliging and insisting: as one, you leaned back and he pressed forward. Your head landed atop the plump pillow, his hand beside it. Before you could blink, he had plummeted onto your lips again. This kiss was so opposite of all prior: his tongue demanding entrance, grazes of his teeth, and bites of your lip, loud and messy. You had cut Levi Ackerman to his last thread of composure, that was where you had always wanted him.

And this was how he had always wanted you: your most unabashed, honest, purest and filthiest self. He always found it so painfully obvious, how much you strained to stay prim and proper, polite and professional at work. It was why he lived for the times you slipped up: an eye roll in meetings, the long sigh after a conference call. Levi knew that the real you was there, and now you were here: in this shared bed with his shadow cast over your skin. 

There was just one thing, though, that differed from his expectations. Desire was painted on each of your features, but they were glossed in nerves. Twitches in your lip, rattle in your lungs, eyes glistening, he feared they were tears. You cinched your hand around his wrist, and he recognized that smile. It was the kind you donned when you spilled your coffee or showed up late. Adorable, but unassured, and that would not do in this context.

“You’re nervous.” Levi did not ask you, for he knew his intuition was accurate. “Wanna stop?”

You shook your head and insisted vehemently, “No.” With a tilt of your chin and arch of your back, your lips brushed his with each word you spoke. Seeped down his throat, understanding swallowed: “I want to start.”

Levi returned your characteristic smile with one of his own. Tipping your foreheads together, “You’ll let me know if you change your mind.”

An order or a question? Either way, your heart scoffed at the idea. You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? There was no chance in hell you would change your mind.

“Or if it gets too much.”

That, there was a chance of. It had taken him mere minutes between your legs to bring you to the point of screaming and to the brink of climax, but that was what you wanted. His consideration fed you calm, you fed him reassurance. The flicker in your gaze settled, meeting his of solid steel. You tucked his bangs behind his ear and affirmed, “I’m ready, Levi.”

Fronts pressed, heartbeats matching, there was only one connection left to make. By the grips of his hands on the backs of your shoulders, Levi pulled himself those last crucial inches, and closed that final gap. His tip slick with precum, your slit dripping with anticipation, yet accommodating him was no easy fit. He had spent all that time down there with the goal of making it easy on you, but watching your face scrunch and hearing your voice whine was not half bad, either. 

In fact, he had not even made it halfway in yet, and you were already writhing. Levi bit the inside of his cheek and knit his brows, careful not to push you too hard, conscious for signs of your apprehension. You sensed his wavering and clawed his back, pulling yourself further down his length.

Looking up, his expression was strained. Reaching new depths, pushing past your initial walls, his voice poured exertion. Still, he did not stop pushing. Toes arched into the mattress, calves flexed with each labored drive. Each fuck brought the two of you closer. For him, one more inch of his length. For you, one more stretch of pleasure. For the couple, a proximity you had always wanted. Each of you felt a tremendous responsibility to be the one to close that distance.

Repetition after repetition, his muted grunts melted to audible groans. The air between you was no longer saturated by your gasps alone, but his as well. His strain was the only thing that could ground you from nirvana and back down to earth. Despite his squint, he caught that transition: from the throes of sensation to the snap back to reality, all because you were concerned for his well-being. More than any sense of pleasure, your affection was what made his heart pound in his chest. Doe eyes gazed upon him, You okay?

After a series of hahs and ahs, Levi managed just a couple words, “It feels - It feels…”

Good? Bad? Your heart tensed in anticipation. Pleading and ordering, “Tell me, Levi.” 

Knuckles tight, fingers trembling, “...good!” Levi clenched his teeth and pulled himself forward with an aim of backing his words with his actions. After struggling to past your entrance, the force of this fuck brought his tip to your end, drawing shrieks from you and shock from him. Strength of his magnitude had pros and cons, he supposed. His flaws, you deemed them his perfections.

The damp of your cunt was audible, resounding throughout the room. You found yourself at an impossible choice: which was more embarrassing, your voice or your sex? Levi’s thought was similar and opposite, the same choices, just which was better? Levi decided that their symphony was best, and realized he could turn up its volume if he accelerated his pace. 

“Levi, Levi…!” To say his name came naturally, practically a swear word: the satisfaction of cursing after injury or mistake, so wrong yet so right to scream it out loud. 

Pleasurable pain when he hit your weakest points, a delightful exercise as your walls stretched to accommodate him. His eyes remained set on your face, ears tuned to your voice, translating your body language into instructions. Rapid thrusts to make you pant, but only until you started to choke on your own gasps. Then, he would decelerate, replacing speed with strength. When he filled you up, you would sigh and roll your eyes back. To Levi, that was the sign to dial it back up and get you there. 

Since this started, his read on you had been perfectly accurate. You were almost there. Simultaneously yet unknowingly, your inner voices warned: you won’t last much longer. The thing was, you didn’t want to, for you had endured so much already. The heat in your middle was unbearable now. Each nerve had been fried to its last end. This sex had gone on for hours, but your yearning had been years long. In your haze, you were blind towards any reason to deny yourself any longer. You wrapped your legs around his waist and relied on your calves to pull him closer. Bringing him to your end made Levi approach his. “Fuck…!” His voice was a low singsong, an adult lullaby. “(Y/N), (Y/N)...!” No longer a choice between deep or fast, Levi somehow managed both. Physiology threatened to overrule now. No, already…!

“(Y/N), I…I’m - ! ” His mind was racing now. Should he ask to cum or tell you he was? Should he withdraw so that you could get there first? Levi labored to open his eyes, looking to you for an answer. His senses of sight and touch told him: you were already there.

The pulsation around his cock, the steep arch of your spine, your parted lips and blissed-out face. The scrape of your nails down his back, ignorant to the possibility of hurting him. This was how Levi had always wanted it: to be the one you clung to, to offer himself when you were overwhelmed. Count on me. The orgasm that overwhelmed you now, that had been his doing, right?

Once again, it was as if you had read his mind. Without him having to ask, you answered: “Levi, Levi!!” Your hands squeezed him tight, white patches beneath your fingertips. Clinging to him, the life raft through each of your waves. “Y’Yours… I’m yours…” 

He had gifted you tissues for your crying spells at work, had picked up your lunch on the way back from break, but this provision was far preferable, much more fulfilling. Even as you turned his skin red, even as your legs clenched him and squeezed air from his lungs - no, even better - those were precisely the motions that pushed him over the edge. 

One hand clutched the top of the headboard, tight enough that you heard the wood wince. The other caressed your face with feathered tenderness. In that difference, you were once again reminded of his duality: on one hand, a hardass, but for you, a soft spot. Those dimensions were reflected in his voice, too: swears that made your ears burn and groans that turned the air heavy, yet arid gasps that lifted your soul and praise fit for a princess. While your cunt had run raw and slippery from his fucking, his warm cum filled you and soothed your stings. 

As you both came to, Levi lingered inside, patiently waiting until each of your waves crashed - savoring them. With a deep swallow and a delicate nod, he ensured he would handle your aftercare. Kleenex from the nightstand folded and padded against your sex. You sat up in panic, worried about the clean freak’s reaction, but he seemed particularly satisfied. Maybe it wasn’t that he hated filth, but that he loved clean-up. You bit your lip and bit back a smile, believing that the sex tonight had evidenced that.

Though his aftercare was doing much for your affection, it did pathetically little when it came to cleanliness. Both of you realized, not even the entire box would be enough. Levi looked at the wad of tissues in his hand, shook his head, and scowled, nearly laughing at the ineffectiveness. “We’re filthy.” 

Slowly, you made your way to his side. Carefully, you reached your arms around his back. Wrapped within your grasp, you leaned him back against your chest and whispered into his ear, “Good thing there’s a shower.”

Levi spun just enough to meet your eye contact, once again checking to see if he had heard you right. Three hours ago, he would have defaulted towards the no, always having believed one could not be let down if they did not get their hopes up. Over the years and especially tonight, your optimism was swaying that opinion. Your sound smile and unafraid stare confirmed: after all that mess, you were also keen for cleanliness. In post-coital clarity, he saw how stupid he had been to wait this long, and Levi almost said those three sacred words right then and there. 

But this was only the first night of the trip.

And the first day of the rest of your lives.

// masterlist //

[penkura]

Plz do a Husband corazon + child Law for mother's day 💐💛

Y E S omg I love Corazon, he'd be such a great husband and father. 🥺 On par or even better than Sanji imo.

I hope you don't mind that Corazon and the Reader have a biological daughter as well, I just thought it would be cute!! I also made this a modern AU one, because damn it, Corazon deserved to be happy. :'(

(Note: This is out of order from all requests simply due to the theme. I have made progress on the others!)

Corazon would have a whole plan, partly put together by thirteen-year-old Law and your toddler, Evangeline. Your daughter would draw you a card, while Corazon and Law focused on making you breakfast and of course, it would go all kinds of wrong.

You wake up to hushed shouting between your husband and adoptive son, Law telling Corazon he's going to burn the bacon and to stop smoking while he cooks. Your husband retorts that it's fine, nothing bad is going to happen. He's not going to set anything on fire, unlike at Christmas. For a few minutes you lay there on your phone, listening to your family down the hall. Evangeline eventually comes into your bedroom, pulling on your blanket and calling for you to pay attention to her.

“Mommy, mommy!”

You roll over and lift her up into your bed, giving her a tight hug while she laughs and returns it. What a joy she is, that last nearly three years have been a blessing with her and Law around, you wouldn’t change it for the world. Yes, some people have given your small family odd looks—what are two twenty-six-year-olds doing with a toddler and a teenager?—but you’ve learned to tune them out and ignore them. It didn’t matter what others thought, they could assume you’d had a teen pregnancy all they wanted. It wasn’t the truth, but some wouldn’t even listen or believe you. After all, you’d tried to explain it to your coworkers when you and Corazon adopted Law just before Evangeline was born, but even those close to you didn’t understand it.

“What’ve you got there, Evie?”

“Your gift!” She beams at you and holds the card she’d made out, the biggest grin on her little face. Just as planned, it’s a card she scribbled together, you can recognize your husband’s handwriting to make the words legible, but it’s still adorable that she tried so hard to make you something. There’s a cute little drawing of your family in the card, making you smile and hug her again,

“Thank you, Evie! I—” you’re stopped by the smell of smoke before the smoke detector goes off and kick off your blanket, running down the hall with your daughter in your arms and hearing Law yell that everything is fine, though you’re at the kitchen doorway before he finishes speaking. “What is happening?!”

Law turns to you and points at Corazon, who is waving a towel over the completely burnt bacon to try and get the smoke and smell out the window. “He burned breakfast again!”

“Not like you were helping, little shi—” Corazon stops himself when you send him a glare and cover Evangeline’s ears, shaking your head at him. After the one time she said ‘bastard’, you’d been very watchful of what words were said in your house, “Look, it’s fine! We can salvage it!”

“No, we can’t! It’s burnt black!”

Corazon ignores Law’s complaints for the moment, coming over to kiss your forehead and smile at Evangeline. “Did you give mommy her card?”

“I did!”

“That’s my girl!” Evangeline giggles while Corazon turns back to kiss you as a proper good morning. “Happy Mother’s Day.”

“Thank you, beloved.”

You’re briefly interrupted by a fancy bouquet of flowers being shoved between the two of you, Law looking away shyly as he holds them there for you, his own gift for you for the day that makes you almost cry and heart ache. He’d been with you as your son for the last three years, but this was the first time he’d given you anything on this day. You’ll never truly take the place of his mother, like Corazon won’t really take his father’s place and Evangeline his sister’s, but you’re glad for the smallest bit of progress that has him viewing you all as his family, and you hope for him to continuing viewing you all in that light, even as he grows up and out of your home one day.

“…Happy Mother’s Day.”

Crouching down enough to be eye level with him, you give Law a kiss on the forehead and a smile.

“Thank you so much, Law. I love them.”

[chuuya-fan-page]

Between Dazai and the Flags they probably managed to introduce Chuuya to Dumb Teenager Shit™ right? Because I doubt the sheep did all that much kid shit, sure they had the arcade but other than that?

Dazai dragging Chuuya to the movie theater and pausing outside and saying something like "Oh no they don't allow dogs, too bad let's go home" and Chuuya being like "Fuck that, we are watching this movie"

Albatross telling Chuuya that it is necessary for Mafia members to know how to play Go Fish and Spoons and Old Maid and Garbage and other dumb card games.

The Flags playing Never Have I Ever with Chuuya and then Albatross dragging him out the next night to "give him a fair shot at winning next time"

Parkour attempts. Chuuya getting told using his ability i cheating. Chuuya telling them they're just mad they suck.

Sticking Chuuya on a skateboard, handing him a jumprope and pulling him down a street in a car. Letting Chuuya drive next and pull someone else.

The Flags piling into the back of a truck and fucking gunning it down a road bc one of them knows a spot. They come back smelling like weed and having learned Chuuya gets drunk very fast.

Them playing Mario Cart with shopping carts in a parking lot. Chuuya being told if he keeps making people lighter they're gonna make him play with Dazai.

Chuuya picking up random skills because his dumbass friends coworkers kept getting him into situations where he needed it.

Chuuya finding out that a lot of the flags know how to play at least one instrument and deciding to learn how to play two. Drums and guitar.

Of course now most of the city is covered in memories that make Chuuya remember that his friends are gone.

-E

[bridgetoesoteria]

☕👀Messy Tarot: Who wishes they could be you?

Ever wondered if you had your very own Stan? Well, now you get to know that and more for the very low price of "picking a picture and scrolling down to your pileee" *cue Price is Right song*

Left to right as per us. See you at your pile. May the odds ever be in your favor (aka I hope it resonates lol).

I am using multiple decks so I won't be listing the cards like usual.

**TW: Substance use/abuse**

Pile 1

Off the bat: You may be aware of this person already. For some of you it is a blonde woman or man. They feel a little shady like they aren't fully trustworthy. Like the kind of person to be secretly competing with you and trying to sabotage you. You could work or go to school together.

Who wishes they could be you?

I am getting a lot of masculine energy from the first few cards I've pulled. I'm saying this because I pulled the King of Wands, the King of Swords is a few cards under the bottom of the deck, and a lot of the other cards have guys on them.

This person feels kind of bitter. This could be a scorned lover of some kind like either your ex or the person you are with's ex. I also think this person could have a bit of a temper or be quite defensive and have a fragile ego. You may have had an argument with them. I'm already getting some of the "why" but I'm still trying to describe who they are lol.

This is so weird lol. Like...the question is who wishes they could be you, not be with you, and yet I'm getting heavy ex energy. If this isn't an ex, this is someone that feels rejected by you in some way. Do people really date and person and wish to be them? I've never heard of that but I have heard of partner's who are jealous of the other partner's success and other things.

For some of you, this could be someone that envies your dating life. So in some way, they would be aware of what is going on in your love life. You could be confiding in them or they could be in a position that allows them to "eavesdrop." For example, they could be in the next cubicle over and listen when you and a coworker gossip, they could follow your social media, or they could be part of your friend group.

Finally, this could be someone that is either actively trying to get you to reconcile with them or they are trying to manifest that. They really want to reach out to you and if they haven't, its because of their stubbornness.

Why?...

I pulled some cards from a nontarot deck I got from amazon and 💀.

"If you could be in a one-sided relationship, would you?"

I don't know why that one is sending me but it was on the bottom of the deck and I just could not. Like what did y'all do to this person. They feel salty and scorned af lol. Cause wtf kind of question is that. Or on the other hand, this could be what they tried to do with you. I did pull the King of Wands which can be a manipulative, man hoeish type.

So when I mentioned that I was already getting a "why," this is kind of what I was picking up on. These cards are repeating it more clearly. One, I still think this person envies how you are able to date and move about socially. You could be outspoken and passionate and they wish they were that bold. Also, if this is an ex, its not so much that they want to be you, its more like they want to be in control of you. Like say they did propose some bs like the above, "hey babe, why don't you be monogamous with me, while I run the streets?😃" You may have peaced out and now they wish they could get inside your head and be able to influence your decisions. Think of like transformers or something, where you can just hop in a robot and move it around. For the record, I think this is fucked. No one should be anyone's puppet so if you recognize this person, you def made the right choice when you rejected them.

For others, you could be really good with animals and envy that. Say you are a vet or volunteer and a shelter and you seem to just be such a natural. I'm definitely picking up the energy of somebody that envies your work ethic and material success. I also keep hearing "you're solid." So you could have a pretty stable life in some way. Maybe a good family background, a supportive social circle, and financial security. I think even if you did fall on hard times, you would bounce back. This person wishes they had the same. You may also travel a lot. They really admire that. I think this person really just wants your life. This particular energy doesn't feel as malicious, more kind of sad. Its this kind of vibe:

Last but not least, I am also getting that they want to be like you because of how much you love yourself. You have strong boundaries and self-respect. Other people probably respect you as well. You are confident and you choose happiness and peace.

TL;DR: This could be a salty ex, someone that feels rejected by you, or a person that is observing your life/love life. The ex or rejected person is a control freak that wants to "be" you just so they can turn you into a yesman. They want to be able to control your decision making. The other people envy your life, your success, and your self love. From the outside, it seems like you have all the things most people dream of.

Pile 2

Off the bat: Either you or this person could be a busy bee. You are always on the go with a ton of things on your to-do list. Some of you could be this jumpy and hyperactive because of a mental illness, specifically I'm getting OCD, anxiety, or ADD/ADHD. This could be someone that is uptight and tends to be very curt when you speak to them. They could hold a high position like an executive director, principal, or supervisor. For others, this is younger person, may adolescent up to early 20s.

And this is so weird but for some of you...this could literally be your therapist or possibly your client.

Who wishes they could be you?

This could be someone who, in some way, is on the opposite side of whatever your current life experience is. Specifically, they could be experiencing a breakup or divorce while you are still in a relationship or you are happily single. If they are single, I don't think they are happy like that. They could be quite standoffish.

I feel the last piles energy coming through and uh uh lol nope.

But speaking of the last pile, this could be that one energy I was getting of someone that is observing their love life. It feels like that. Maybe this person has a partner that does not respect them or their boundaries.

For some of you this episode of Bob's Burgers could be significant. Gene dresses up as Bob, after Linda compares the two of them. He has a "mid-childhood crisis." He worries about turning into his dad. So for some of you this could be someone that is under you in some way and expected to "become" you. So it could be a person that gets compared to you often, your child or younger sibling, a more junior colleague.

This person could have gone through some kind of loss or betrayal recently. For a very small amount of you, they think you took their person or they were trying to do that to you.

Why?...

This mistress story line is popping back up. So this person could want to be you in order to have whoever your with. Whether they are the current or ex partner or they are a wannabe third party.

This could also be someone that feels like you have the affection of some that hates them. I think they may need to work on their self-esteem because why would you seek approval from a person who isn't nice to you. So they could be kind of broken and need to work on themselves. They could wish they had your luck or your ability to move on and be resilient.

This person could feel like you are more interesting and that you live a more interesting life. Some of them envy your youth, because they feel like you have more options that they do. This could be talking about love but it could also talk about opportunities. Going back to the executive energy that came through. Say you are a young professional so maybe you recently graduated from college or grad school. You start a new company. This would be a higher up that could feel kind of complacent in their position, have a marriage that is falling apart, and they look at you as having less that is holding you back. You could easily up and leave this job, you may even be able to choose a whole new career path without greatly upsetting your life. They could see a lot of people flirting with you or just generally flocking to you.

This person tries not to compare themselves to you but they can't help it. I think they are just in a bad place in their life and look at you wistfully and imagine how much better it must be. They could say positive affirmations and try to build themselves up. They may even attend counseling. They could bring you up a lot.

TL;DR: This is someone who is going through a rough patch in their life and looks at you life and imagines that it is much better than theirs. People like you better, you have more opportunities, you have more freedom. Its like you are living an alternate reality from their perspective. I do think they are working on healing themselves but they still have a long way to go. They try not to sabotage their process by comparing themselves to you but they can't help.

Pile 3

Off the bat: Ooo this much lighter energy than the previous piles. I immediately got a goofball/class clown energy. This person could also be a stoner. I am getting boyish energy like a tomboy, an adolescent male, or a childhood friend. Some of you may have rode bikes with this person before. So maybe you grew up on the same street or your parents were friends. Could also be a cousin. I'm just feeling happier and happier, like I smoked but I didn't lol so I know its not me. So they could make you happy or you could make each other happy. They could come have a sad family history

Who wishes they could be you?

So you may have had to cut this person off. You may have grown up together but gone down two different paths in life and you drifted apart. I think they envy your family life or something about your foundation. They could seem to be unlucky. They could get into a lot of legal trouble. They could struggle with some form of addiction or mental illness.

You could know them to always be in the center of some kind of drama. They could instigate fights or be someone that has a hard time walking away from an argument. The sort of person who can't ignore when someone brushes past them in the club. They can't just let it go, they have to confront the person. It doesn't matter whether it was intentional or just because its packed.

They are not respectful and could have a sharp, critical tongue. You may not trust them. People could find them untrustworthy. They may not even trust themselves tbh. For others, this person isn't that toxic. They may have made bad decision but they are trying to get back on their feet. People may have given up on them but I don't think they wanted it to be that way. They may struggle with maintaining progress.

I do think this could be family. You could have them on Facebook. Specifically, I am getting father, grandfather, a mother (so doesn't have to be your mom but they have kids), a female cousin. They could have gone away for some time to get better. For example, going on a social media detox, going to rehab, going to a women's shelter. If this is father figure or patriarch, they are quite overbearing. Probably more traditional and chauvinistic. If this is a female cousin, this person could have to deal with a rigid, or traditional family or society.

Why?...

I'm hearing songs from the Little Mermaid. So I don't every one of these people have bad feelings towards you. I think they just think you have more freedom and fun than them. I am specifically getting for some of you, you could be of South Asian descent. You or your family may have relocated to a North American or European country. This could be a family member that has you on social media. They could see you doing things that they are not allowed to do where they are. If you don't resonate with some of your family being overseas, this could be that your cousins parents are strict but your parents are more lax.

You may have already figured this out because of the last pile, but this person could wish their lives were on track like yours. They could wish they had made better choices when they were younger, or sometime in the past, so they could be a different person now.

This person really admires you. They find you fearless and unstoppable. If you did struggle with something like an addiction, eating disorder, or something else, you may overcame it. This could also be someone that you are "sponsoring," I think that's what its called. You know how in support groups, you take someone new under your wing?

They could think you are really beautiful inside out. If you post pictures, you always look good. You always seem to be glowing. You have a definite lust for life. Word to Lana

TL;DR: This could be someone you grew up with or a family member. This could be friend that has faced a lot of challenges. This could be a family member who has to deal with much more restrictive societal expectations. This person mostly feels like they really admire you. You are a forced to be reckoned with. You are everything they wish they could be. They want to be able to overcome challenges and be powerful like you. They also think you are gorgeous and have the best social media page.

Pile 4

Off the bat: I felt the need to play the Bing Bong remix with Sexyy Red. So I feel like this person be a little ratchet lol. Or they could be a rapper or musician of some kind. If this isn't them, it could be describing you. They could be a stripper, camgirl or city girl type. I do think this person is fun too. They have a quiet strength to them. This could also be someone's baby momma.

Who wishes they could be you?

This could be multiple feminine energies or women. Its reminding me of this messyyy ass situation I was in irl lolz. So you could be have been with someone that was a player. You may or may not have known that about them. I guess some of you could still be with this person. I don't think its them that wishes they were you. I think its the people they were talking to simultaneously that wish they were you.

There is one person who is coming through stronger than the others. There could be a specific ex that you know does not like you. They could have wanted to built something with this person.

I think this is a person who works in some kind of piscean sort of field. They are selling dreams/fantasies in some way. They could be a fashion designer or artists. They could be some kind of sex worker. They could work in nightlife as a promoter or bartender. They could sell goodies bags *wink wink*.

They could have involvement with the law or be going through a custody battle. You could have exchanged words through text or over social media. You may not be speaking right now. They may have tried to contact you or they want to extend an olive branch. I'm not sure why I am picking up on attraction. It does feel like a feminine energy. If you are a girl then this would be a girl that's high key obsessed with you and doesn't know if they want to be you or be with you.

Why?...

For those of you who were resonating with the baby mama drama storyline, they think if they were you, then they could have their family back. Like that would be the cheatcode for fixing the third party situation. I'm not sure if it even is a true third party situation anymore or if it ever was. Your partner could have totally moved on from them and this person won't fully grieve the ending of their relationship. So its definitely giving delulu...

For the people resonating with the same sex story line, may not realize that they are attracted to you. Even if they do, they may be trying to keep that to themselves. They think you are cool. It feels like a combination of admiration and infatuation. Some of them wish they could have your life. Not in a creepy way, unless you know this person is weird. But its more like, they would like to be "cookie cutter" perfect. They mean that in the best way. They want to be conventionally attractive, have a perfect family, have a socially acceptable sexuality, be talented and well liked. You may not interact with this person much because, one, it feels like they kind of blend into the background or like they are on the periphery of your social circle. Two, no one's life is picture perfect like this. Unless they are just someone who struggles with idolizing people, they must not be close enough to you to see the flaws.

On the flipside, you could be viewing someone else like this. You could think they have it all together but really they wish they could stop caring about the shackles that bind them. They want to be free and to explore something else.

This person also wishes they were you because they think you are more loveable than them. If they were you they would feel more worthy and deserving of love. Especially, unconditional love. So they may struggle to forgive themselves for past decisions. Being you would give them a clean slate.

TL;DR: This could be your current or past partner's ex. They may have had children together. This person could work in nightlife, sex work, or something that you don't exactly report on your taxes iykwim. They could also be an artist of some kind. Lastly, they may be someone who is observing your life. They aren't close enough to you to see the imperfections. So they have a much more idealized view of who you are. They believe that being you would allow them to have a clean slate and the perfect life.

Pile 5

Off the bat: You could have a lot of self-discipline. This could be someone that lacks that. This could be a previous workout buddy or accountability partner of some sort. You could be in college or have known them in college. Winter could be a significant season. Someone's name could be Jason. If you play sports this could be someone else that plays sports, they could be on a rival team also.

Who wishes they could be you?

There could be something notable about the way this person smells. They could be toxic or attracted to toxic people. They could be obsessed with gaining approval from the opposite sex. So maybe you know them to be kind of a pickme, a simp, or a little thirsty. If this is a girl, she could be insecure and view other women as competitors.

This person probably uses unhealthy coping mechanisms to process their emotions. They could be a cheerleader or someone who tries to come across bubbly. They feel like they have to earn love. Again, I don't think they choose the healthiest partnerships. They could care a lot about their outer appearance. So, they could be kind of vain or hypercritical.

I think this person is apart of your social group. I think you know this person and may interact with them often. They kind of give me mean girl vibes. They could have been cut off by you or others for playing dirty. They could throw people under the bus, "steal" boyfriends, and/or say nasty things about others. Even if this is a guy, they could behave in a similar manner. Whoever they are, they are not all the way trustworthy. I wouldn't trust them at all just going off this energy.

I'm also being reminded of this girl I went to high school with. She had the same vibe. Kind of vain, a mean girl, always talking to a guy. I always felt like there was something off about her but she was "popular," so everyone was kind of dismissive about that. Well, later, my sister ends up befriending her sister and I find out that she is actually a diagnosed sociopath... So yeah, maybe that resonates. She also was bipolar. So this person could possibly struggle with their mental health and/or their ability to empathize with others.

Why?...

I think they respect you as a "competitor." You know what they say, if you can't beat 'em join 'em. But its more like, you join them. If they could get you to join their clique and be a follower of theirs, it would make them so happy. It would really validate them. It kind of reminds me of one of the other piles. That person did not necessarily want to be that person, they wanted to be in control of them. I'm kind of getting the same vibe here. If they could get in your head, they could either take credit for your successes or they could get you to self-sabotage. Like they are kind of plotting on you.

There could be something about them wanting your romantic option(s). If there was some kind of drama, you may have come out on the winning side. This person really feels like they don't like you. They envy the things you have and see becoming you as a shortcut. They could even consider adopting some of your traits. If they are trying to get into your good graces, I think they may actually be trying to get at your partner.

You could have more opportunities in life than this person. Or they think you have better opportunities. Like they may have a "grass is greener on the other side" view of your life. For some of you this person may have no real reason to envy your life, they just aren't grateful for what they have. For others, they don't want to work to achieve those things (going back to the former accountability partner). They also think you have more people that love you for you. You are a trendsetter.

TL;DR: This could be someone that is a mean girl type. They could be a former gym buddy or accountability partner. They could also be an athlete or a player on a rival team. This person chases approval of the opposite gender and may be willing to betray others to get it. They envy the opportunities you have in life and love. They could want your partner. They wish people loved them, the way they love you.

The next reading I'll post will be the last one on the poll, "Toxicity: What would have happened if you stayed?" That reading will be great for anyone that is second guessing walking away from a situation.

TTYL 💖

~ K

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Mafia!Kol Yandere NSFW A-Z

A stands for AFFECTION: how would they show affection?

•Kol’s affection is very physical which sometimes causes you problems since you’re a bartender

•His hands are almost constantly on you in some fashion and while the Mikaelson’s are all gift givers, Kol goes for less of the fancy jewelry and more of the cards and flowers, always wanting the people you work with, especially the men, to see that you’re taken

B stands for BLOODY: how bloody are they willing to get for their object of obsession?

•Any chance that Kol has to get bloody is a good time for him, but for you, that’s different

•While he enjoys his work, when it comes to getting rid of a ‘rival’ or a drunk asshole who thinks his girl is free game, he takes extra pride and extra time in making it hurt

C stands for CRUELTY: would they ever hurt their object of obsession?

•Never seriously, no

•Kol doesn’t enjoy seeing you in pain unless it’s the good kind😉, however he will ensure his point gets across whether that means spanking your ass or on one scary occasion, tightening his hand around your throat to make sure he’s being heard the way he needs to be

D stands for DARLING: would they cross their object of obsession’s limits?

•Never sexually, while Kol enjoys your kinky relationship and how adventurous you are in bed, he would never do anything you say ‘no’ to, even in play. The Mikaelsons all take sexual assault very seriously and they’ve killed men for it hundreds of times by now, he refuses to hurt you like that

•If he’s ensuring your cooperation however, he might just cross a few lines…he’ll do whatever he has to to make you see reason even if that means canceling credit cards, having you evicted or threatening your boss to have you fired from your job

E stands for EXPOSED: how much do they expose their own feelings to their object of obsession?

•Kol is quite open about how he feels for you, he is a flirt if ever there was one and he knew as a bartender you saw men like that every day but he was the most persistent

•He is the only man to make you genuinely believe that he cares for you after the first 2 weeks of him showing up and chatting you up (through your entire shift most days)

F stands for FIGHT: how would they react to their object of obsession fighting back?

•Kol thinks you’re adorable when you get all tough

•He knew you were the girl for him when you first fought back against a drunk ass who refused to leave or to stop touching your ass but before Kol could step in you were swinging a baseball bat around like a crazy person

•He knows he has his hands full with you, but he likes it and he’s ready, it will only make your submission that much more sweet

G stands for GAME: do they think this is just a game?

•While he may view some of your interactions as a game, or playful banter you are Not a game to the youngest Mikaelson brother

•Kol loves to play and tease you all the live long day, but make no mistake…You Are His

H stands for HELL: what would be their object of obsession’s worst experience with them?

•The worst experience happened upon leaving work one night. Kol was walking you to your car and you had been bitching at him for flirting with a coworker (though Kol’s personality is 97% flirt)

•You told him you would just have to find someone more serious about you to date, the next thing you knew you were pinned to the brick wall of the bar beside the parking lot with his hand tightening around your throat

•You learned that if there’s one thing you don’t tease Kol about, it’s being with another man. He doesn’t take it lightly

I stands for IDEAL: what are their plans for their object of obsession?

•Kol wants you to be his

•Just his, whatever that means to you and to him is your personal beliefs and ideals, if you want to get married he’ll get you the biggest diamond there is, if you want to elope that’s fine, if you don’t believe in marriage and you just want to dedicate yourselves to each other and live like that it completely fine with him

•Kol just needs you to know that you’re his

J stands for JEALOUSY: how they react when jealous? Do they get jealous?

•Kol’s jealousy is no joke, a guy making eye contact with you enrages him

•You always know when you’re never going to see a man again by the look on your boyfriends face, you’ve just asked that he leaves your regulars alone, and the old men that drink in your bar who flirt in a ‘sweet old man’ kind of way

•You’re sure he’s killed at least 40 men throughout his 6 months coming to see you at work before he forces you to live with him

K stands for KINDNESS: how they act around their object of obsession?

•Kol is a teasing, funny guy and most people love him upon meeting him

•His entertaining attitude puts people at ease but you know it’s a front and that the belief in it gets many people dead

L stands for LOVE LETTER: how would they approach their object of obsession?

•He visited you at work every shift for 2 weeks before you believed he was serious, he knew it would take time since you get flirty guys at work all the time but he stuck with it

•On the nights he couldn’t be there because of work he would send you a bouquet of flowers and a card with some kind of sweet note in them

•The one time he needed to work for a week straight your house looked like a florist shop with all the different assorted bouquets and several times a night you would get a flower or stuffed animal delivered just to ensure any men there when he couldn’t be would be sure you were already spoken for

M stands for MASK: how different are their public persona from their true selves?

•Kol is, for the most part, the same

•Hes a massive joker and he teases people all the time and he does that in every aspect of his life

•When he’s angry however it’s different, he’s serious and vengeful, straight up terrifying for people who have never seen the real pissed off Kol Mikaelson

N stands for NAUGHTY: how would they punish their object of obsession?

•Kol would prefer to spank you for the most part

•You also learned very quickly that your actions can get other men killed, deserving or not and while a part of you found it hot that he would kill to protect you, he would also kill to punish you so you quickly stopped ‘flirting’ with men at your job to get tips since you realized it pissed him off and he would kill anyone who gave you attention beyond what a bartender should get

•Once you moved in with him and he stopped you from working he would punish you by locking you in his room since he knew it drove you mad, he usually lets you walk freely around the house knowing you can’t get out passed the guards so locking you in his room was the perfect punishment for you

O stands for OPPRESSION: how many rights would they take from their object of obsession?

•Your life as you knew it is gone along with your normal freedoms, but that doesn’t mean you have nothing in your new life

•Kol found (and often rubbed it in his brothers faces) that you were more behaved than his brothers girls quicker which allowed you more freedoms, which is why you ‘behaved yourself’ in the first place

•You we’re allowed to roam the house freely several weeks before Klaus’ fiancée got the same privilege and she had been here 4 months before that happened which had only been 2 weeks for you

P stands for PATIENCE: how patient are they with their object of obsession?

•Kol isn’t known for his patience but thankfully you are a quick learner

•You figured out how fucked up Kol was long before he kidnapped you, but you had fallen for him by then and suddenly his crazy just didn’t matter as much to you, which is why you adapt quicker in your opinion…his crazy actually turned you on…

Q stands for QUIT: if their object of obsession died or escaped, would they ever be able to move on?

•Died: If you died that means someone hurt you and if someone hurt you Kol will not rest until he finds out and punishes the person or people responsible and everyone they’ve ever cared for, it is the only time his siblings actually worry for him when he ‘goes off the deep end’…Kol would never be the same again, he doesn’t love often and to give it so freely to you…he’s dead inside…he died right beside you that day

•Escaped: If you did ever try to escape, which you personally didn’t see the point to knowing your boyfriend/fiancée (or whatever TF you are) as well as you do, he would find you before the days end, both the type and amount of people on the Mikaelson’s payroll is frightening and you would be lucky to make it off the property

R stands for REGRET: would they ever regret harming their object of obsession? Would they ever let them go?

•The idea of letting you go is laughable to the youngest Mikaelson brother, literally, you told him he could let you go once and he giggled in a way one could only describe as…maniacally…

•Harming you however, if Kol ever truly hurt you then it was an accident and he would regret it, punishing you though, no never, you should have behaved yourself like he told you to do

S stands for STIGMA: what made their yandere tendencies bloom?

•The moment he saw you behind that bar and you laughed at a man’s pickup line for the first time, that was when he decided you were to be his

•Kol doesn’t take things like that lightly, you belong to him, always and forever, there’s no way around it

•He was possessive of you instantly, sitting at your bar and flirting with you, threatening men who tried to take your attention with grievous bodily harm if they didn’t scram and Fast! He committed himself to getting your attention which took him 2 weeks of coming back over and over again. The loss of sleep and the work he put on others was completely worth it once he truly had your attention and that gorgeous smile directed at him

T stands for TEARS: how would they react to their object of obsession crying/breaking?

•It depends on the type of crying

•If you’re crying during sex it turns him on, not to actually hurt you, but to see you so overwhelmed with pleasure is his favorite thing

•If you’re crying in pain or upset he will comfort you and hurt whoever dared to make you feel like this, Kol doesn’t want you to be broken, just dependent on him which is exactly what he’s going to get

U stands for UNIQUE: something different they would do compared to others yanderes.

•Kol didn’t lock you up the same way Elijah and Klaus had, he gave you little freedoms until you proved you weren’t worthy of them

•Kol believed you would behave more if you knew what kind of life you could have and how comfortable it could be if you just behave which prompted you to do so

V stands for VICE: what weakness their object of obsession could use against them?

•If you wanted someone dead, especially a man, you made it happen

•The 3 men that had hassled you at work for nearly a year, all you had to do was subtlety tell Kol one night that they made you ‘uncomfortable’ with their advances, and they never showed up again…it turns out there are perks to dating a psychopath

W stands for WIT’S END: would they hurt their object of obsession?

•Never in a lasting way, he would never beat you or scar you, the only physical pain he caused you (besides bruises while playing) was when you were so bad he needed to spank you, which was not often

X stands for XOANON: would they worship their object of obsession?

•Kol loves you more than anyone has ever loved you in your entire life

•He is happy to treat you like his perfect Princess or his naughty Kitten whenever you need/want

•He loves you in the type of way Kol equates people loving their religion, you are absolutely Everything in his world

Y stands for YEARN: how long would they pine after their object of obsession before they snap?

•It takes 2 weeks for him to really grasp your attention

•After that he visits you and takes you on dates for about 3 months before he takes you home and doesn’t let you leave again

Z stands for ZENITH: would they ever break their object of obsession?

•You give into his wants and needs, but breaking wouldn’t really be the right word

•You fall in love with Kol just as deeply and passionately as he does for you, it just takes you a bit more time

•If there’s ever a moment that someone could call the ‘Breaking Point’ maybe it would be the day you decide to try for a baby?

Kol Mikaelson Masterlist

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Sugar Daddy Chronicles, Part One/?

pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller/dave york/marcus pike x sex worker/sugar baby!reader

rating: E (18+ only, this is just filth, sex work, unprotected piv, foursome, anal, oral (f & m receiving), the boys use their words)

wc: 2k

a/n: i wrote this for the SWEETEST ANGEL IN THE WORLD @emilianamason and her birthday. te amo hermanita y feliz cumple !!! 🫶🏼

You’d met Dave by chance. During a short stint working as a bartender at an upscale bar, Dave came in looking as serious as ever in his expensive coat and suit—a prime target for a solid tip if you played your cards right. Thankfully, Dave turned out to be quite handsome and charming, his dark eyes and deep voice drawing you in until you no longer cared about the tip you were working for. All you wanted was him. When he took you home that night, he explained his recent divorce and inability to carry on something serious at the moment, and you accepted the fact that this would be a one night thing. But Dave had something else in mind.

“You come and see me when I call,” he said, dragging his lips down the line of your neck as he undid your bra. “I make it worth your while.”

“How?” you asked, your voice breathy and dazed.

“Anything you want,” he said. “Anything. Ask for it, and it’s yours.”

“Like…sexually?” you asked, earning a chuckle.

“Anything. Sex, money, jewelry, whatever,” he said.

And that was how your new career began.

It was just Dave for a while, but during a particularly long business trip of his, you found yourself wondering what it would be like to open your clientele up a bit, still keeping things incredibly selective, of course.

That’s how you met Joel, a gruff, single dad who owned a contracting company that had only just taken off after his fortieth birthday. Joel was an easy client. He knew exactly what he wanted from you, never pushed your boundaries, and always compensated you handsomely for your time together���not that the payment was even on your mind by the time he was through with you. Joel liked things rough most of the time—not so rough that he ever hurt you, but rough enough to leave a satisfying ache between your legs for a day or two after. And though he was rough, he loved taking the time to work up to it, telling you that he’d happily keep his head between your thighs for hours if he could, and you’d often let him.

Once Dave came back, he introduced you to a distant coworker and friend he met at a conference, Marcus, another government agent of some sort—he kept the specifics of his job discreet and separated from your arrangement, just like Dave. Marcus came to you for stress relief, and his favorite form of stress relief involved near-torturous teasing and edging until he couldn’t remember his own name. But Marcus was unlike Dave and Joel in that he liked the extra stuff that they didn’t: cuddling, kissing, conversation. He wanted to be your friend as well as your client, and who were you to deny those sweet eyes of his?

One night after a particularly athletic session, Dave had asked you who your favorite client was and why. Judging by the confidence in his voice, you knew he expected you to tell him that he was your favorite by a long shot, but truthfully, it was hard to compare them all. Dave was passionate and kinky, Joel was rough and giving, and Marcus was attentive and precise. All of them were your favorite, you thought.

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging as you tugged your jeans over your hips. “Hard to choose. I’d need to…I don’t know.”

“Need to what?” he probed, watching you from his spot on the bed.

“Need to have you all in one place to judge,” you said, giving him a mildly embarrassed smile. “But that—“

“That’s a good idea,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “I’ll win.”

You laughed at his confidence and shook your head. “Too bad we’ll never find out,” you said, pulling on your shoes.

“Why not?” You gave Dave a quirked brow. “I’m in.”

“I don’t think they’d be into it.”

“Why not ask? Worst thing they could say is no,” he said. You felt yourself start to melt at the idea of being surrounded by the three of them in bed, each of them competing to win you over and make you feel good. It was a good idea, but could you ever convince the other two?

Turns out, you could. And now you were laying spread eagle on a hotel bed recovering from two orgasms brought on by Dave and Marcus’ tongues. Dave now laid on your right, Marcus on your left, while Joel laid on his stomach between your thighs, pushing you over another peak.

“Fuck,” you cried, tossing your head back to give Dave access to his favorite spot on your neck, his hand cupping the weight of your breast while Marcus mouthed at the other, his hand on your thigh keeping you spread open for Joel. “You win,” you breathed, pushing his tongue away as you shook with every swirl of his tongue against you. “God, I don’t know if—“

“Uh-uh,” Dave tutted in your ear, sliding his hand down your stomach to circle your clit as Marcus and Joel switched positions. “We’re just getting started.”

“Mmhm,” Joel agreed, turning your chin to draw your eyes to his. “Still wanna show you how good I fuck you.”

“Not until I’m done,” Marcus said, pulling your eyes to him as he sat between your thighs, his fist wrapped around his cock as he dragged it up and down your seam. You shivered at the feeling of him against you, somehow feeling needy again already. “Can I? Can I fuck you, baby?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your head falling back against the pillows as he nodded and pressed inside you slowly, making you feel every inch. “Fuck, Marcus.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed, smiling down at you as his hands moved to the back of your thighs to push them up to your chest. “Feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your face wrecked with pleasure as he methodically found the perfect pace and angle to fuck you just how you liked, his natural attention to detail on display. “It’s so good, Marcus. Fuck.”

“Making me jealous,” Dave purred against your shoulder, leaving a love bite there. “Have I showed you how I fuck when I’m jealous?”

His words made you whine and arch your back, drawing Marcus even deeper.

“Shit,” Marcus moaned, his fingers gripping your thighs. “So good, baby.”

“You ready to share yet?” Dave asked, clearly growing impatient.

“You want Dave, baby?” Marcus asked, slowing his thrusts into a deep grind.

“Mmhm,” you nodded eagerly, biting your lip as you looked down at where Dave was stroking his thick length. “Fuck, yeah, I do.”

“You want both of us?” Dave asked, circling your clit as Marcus kept fucking into you slowly. “Marcus fucking your pussy, me in your ass.”

You whined and nodded, choosing to shove your nerves aside in favor of Dave’s sinful plan.

Marcus helped you up and took your place on the bed, guiding you onto his lap so that you could sit on his dick while Dave got comfortable behind you, coating his head with lube he must’ve brought along with this very thing in mind before pressing against your tighter hole gently.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, whispering in your ear as he kept you still on Marcus’s lap while he eased himself inside.

“Shit, it’s so much,” you sighed, trying to relax into the feeling rather than fight it.

“Need a distraction?” Joel asked, standing up on the bed at your side, his fist working his cock until it was leaking.

“You’re definitely the biggest,” you noted in a pant, earning scoffs from the two men inside of you. “What? You told me to be honest.”

Joel smirked down at you as you reached over and wrapped your fist around him only to find that your fingertips couldn’t touch.

“See?” you said, earning a grunt from Dave as he finally bottomed out inside of you.

“That’s not really what I care about looking at here,” Marcus said, his hands smoothing up your sides until he was cupping the weight of your breasts. “How about I watch you ride instead?”

You smiled and nodded, licking your lips and leaning in to take Joel into your mouth before lifting your hips to rock against both Dave and Marcus, all three men moaning in unison at your affect on them. It was intoxicating, being desired this much by these gorgeous men. So intoxicating, you thought, you might just have to make this a normal thing.

“‘at’s it,” Joel purred, cupping your cheek as you took him in deep enough to sputter. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

“You like that, baby?” Dave asked, leaning over to whisper in your ear as he started to match your bounces with thrusts of his own. “You like how being told how good you are?”

“Yeah, she does,” Marcus chimed in, smiling at you as he watched you take Joel down your throat.

Your mind was mush, nothing but a string of muffled cries and whines and the lewd sounds of Joel fucking your throat coming out of you.

“Baby, I’m so close,” Marcus announced, his hands gripping at your waist to keep you still while he and Dave alternated sharp, quick thrusts into you, the pleasure trickling down into your thighs until your legs felt like jelly.

“Need you to cum for us,” Dave purred in your ear.

“Be a good fuckin’ girl and cum,” Joel ordered, his southern drawl deep and dark and delicious.

You pulled off of Joel right before you felt yourself slipping off into bliss, your hand stroking his slick shaft as you cried out, leaning back against Dave until it felt like you were on solid ground again.

“Can I cum inside you, baby?” Marcus asked, his voice as sweet and sinful as ever. “Look so pretty full of me, yeah?”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, thanking the heavens that birth control exists. “Cum inside me, Marcus, baby.”

“Shit,” Marcus hissed, his brows screwing together as he fucked into you selfishly, chasing his pleasure until it hit him like a truck. “Jesus.”

“Look at me,” Joel ordered, using a finger to tilt your chin up at him. “Wanna paint that pretty fuckin’ face.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, licking your lips. “Go ahead, paint it.”

Joel took his cock in his hand and stroked it, it’s slick sound filling the room along with the slap of Dave’s hips into your ass and his whispered promises of how he’s going to fill you up because you were “so fucking good for me”.

“Shit,” Joel grunted, his chest heaving and muscles flexing as he reached his peak. His tense jaw went slack as he watched his release paint your face, a moan slipping from his lips when you poked your tongue out to swipe over your lips to get a taste of him. “Fuck me.”

“You ready, baby?” Dave nipped at your shoulder before leaning back to watch himself cum inside of you with a satisfied sigh, as if this had been all he ever wanted in his whole life. “I don’t think it matters which one of us is best in bed. You’re clearly the winner here, baby.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, sated and sleepy as Joel grabbed a washcloth for your face.

“I knew that from the start,” Marcus said, combing his fingers up and down your thighs.

“So, how much is this meeting gonna cost us?” Dave asked, always one to get right to the point.

“This one’s on the house,” you said, letting Joel clean your face free of his mess.

“Not gonna happen,” Joel muttered, something equally strict and affectionate in his tone. “You earned it.”

[yanverse]

I have to see my husband, show me Yuri. Please.

bbg i GOT chu husband incoming <33 i present to you my yuri magnum opus !!

"Mr. Maeda"

(cws: gn pronouns, work meet cute, office romance, a bit of petty theft, work-inappropriate kisses, obsessive & overprotective behavior, yuri's a lil secret creep)

wc: 3.3k

Here it is. The starting point of the rest of your life. You worried it might be some big, huge corporate building that you'd sooner get lost in than find your way to the office written on your little sheet of paper, but it was small enough to fit its two-story self smack dab on the corner of the avenue. Easy to access, walkable from where you just moved…and still terrifying. This was the only place that would hire you and the first job you'd had that was actually in your field, so to screw this up would ruin years of potential prospects if you ever decided to move upwards and onwards. There was a whole lot riding on this, but all you could do was swallow those doubts and keep your chin up as you pushed through the door and took your first step into the future. 

Ting-ing. A bell chimed overhead to signal your arrival, all other noise from the street growing muffled as the door closed behind you. It was…elegant. Even for an interior decorating office, it seemed lavish. The floors were shiny with fresh wax and the furniture was all arranged so delicately you wouldn't even want to sit, the waiting room off to your left and a showroom to your right while a long hallway extended past the front desk on the far side of the wall. It was all decorated in deep red and white tones for the most part along with some other complementary hues, all save for the bored-looking young woman at the desk who wore a baby-blue top and torn jeans. If nothing else, at least the dress code seemed pleasantly loose. 

"H..." You squeaked out your greeting like a shy mouse as you approached her, her eyes stuck to the pages of a book that laid open by her keyboard. “..H-Hello.”

"Yuri's by appointment only, please book online."

Her instructions came out as bland and monotone as you could ever imagine, a business card with the URL slapped down on the upper counter of her desk to stare right back at you. She hadn't peeled her eyes away from her reading for even a second, but when she did, it was because you'd cleared your throat and mustered up the courage to say that you were actually here for the job. 

"Here for the–oh!" The mere sight of you had her flipping her novel shut and getting up from her seat, her hand stuck out to greet yours as a look of embarrassment overtook her features. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were–e-er, never mind. Welcome! I'm Angel." 

Despite her relatively gentle appearance, the squeeze of her hand was strong–you had little space to dwell on those minor details though, as she briskly skirted around her desk to wave you towards the hall. "I'll take you back to meet Yuri, right this way." 

Clack. Clack. Clack. It wasn't her flats but your polished shoes clicking loudly on the tile, echoing your nerves in the silence that was only peppered by the distant hum of computers and occasional chatter. You'd no idea exactly how many agents worked here, just that it was a small agency. Less people to impress, but more intense scrutiny if you happened to disappoint them with your skills….or lack thereof. God, please let your heart stop beating so loud. Angel reached for a door near the very end of the corridor and you took a deep breath, one that was probably noticeable since she reassured you with a look and a curt smile as it opened. 

"Yuri! Your protégé is here," Her grin grew wider as you balked at her introduction, she patted your shoulder in parting and slipped away as you forced yourself through the doorway and into the brightly-lit office crammed with desks. Chairs had been tucked in tight to allow more room to manoeuvre since it was oddly cramped, but that was mostly because nobody sat in them; your coworkers either leaned against the desks or by the huge bay windows letting in the midday sun, and each and every one of their heads turned to face you once you took a step into their domain. Not one of them commanded your attention like he did, though. 

"Oh, please, Angel. Try not to embarrass me, would you?" His voice, airy and smooth, reached you where you stood and nearly buckled your knees before you even got a glimpse of him. The assembly that loosely surrounded him made way for his lithe frame to step around the furniture and head towards you, smiles creeping across their faces and whispers exchanged between them–it almost distracted you long enough not to look up once he finally stood in front of you. 

Oh no.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Ah…" His eyes darted down from your feet to roam their way back up to your eyes in a single pass, so brief you might've thought it never even happened. "...A real pleasure, my sweet." Yuri's cool, soft hands clamped around yours in a gentle handshake, though he barely moved it and rather just held you there like he needed an excuse to stare longer. 

Oh, god. Your boss is too attractive to get anything done. 

"Y-You too, sir. I've really been looking forward to this." You tried not to stutter out your answer, though Yuri seemed endeared nonetheless and urged you to forget the honours, his grip just barely brushing you once more as he finally managed to drop your hand. 

"Let's…oh, what was I saying?" He blinked with an absent gaze, attention fixated on something over your shoulder before he came back down to earth. A quick glance in your peripheral betrayed nothing of note, aside from your own hair. But to think anything of that would be odd, and far be it from you to put your foot in your mouth in front of a boss that actually seemed to like you. "Oh! Right, right–why don't I show you around? We'll get you settled in a minute, but I'll give you a tour first." 

He extended an arm out elegantly towards the office, your new coworkers clamouring to get their introductions in to the fresh meat in their presence–yet in all the time he spent showing you around, Yuri didn't seem to take his eyes off you for more than a moment or two. 

Which was either a terrible omen of things to come, or a very, very good sign. 

The first three days of a new job were usually the most difficult, but a week had passed now and you could swear the hard part just wasn't coming. Every task you'd been given had been a breeze, and with no real assignments yet since you were still in the learning phase, you were practically getting paid to sit around, experiment with your room designs in the decorator software, and chat with your coworkers in between group lunches and the occasional outing to visit potential clients. 

The man that had now established himself as your boss was nothing at all like what you expected. Sure, your expectations were certainly lower after your last job plummeted you into financial hell and mental anguish, but you expected the top agent of the city's biggest interior design conglomerate to be somewhat prudish, egotistical, and impossible to please.

But Yuri Maeda was nearly the complete opposite of that. He was by no means lackadaisical, and he did carry a certain air of class about him in the way he walked and talked, but he was not at all like other bosses you'd worked for before. He remembered your name when you walked in the door, and he welcomed you with open arms. He was kind to you and spoke gently of your mistakes, and no matter what, he'd never raised his voice or talked down to anyone about anything. 

And he was so, so easy on the eyes. His age showed in nothing but his white hair and even that was more of a fashion statement than anything else–you wouldn't assume a man that barely crested 30 would be so rife with grays under normal circumstances. He didn't even dress like a boss; he'd foregone a suit and tie in exchange for loose, flowing clothing, his shirt hung low to show off his pronounced collarbones while his pants hugged tight to his hips and accentuated those long legs that just kept on going. You'd once asked about his background, and the way his face lit up at the chance to talk about his infancy in Morocco and adolescence in Japan had been the highlight of your day, no doubt. You'd rarely seen such a professional and well-bred man talk so excitedly of his roots while brewing you some coffee and pulling out old photos of his home countries. It was an almost childlike interest, and it endeared him to you even more if that was even possible. 

Yuri had a strange habit, however. At first you thought you were getting hazed by the frequency with which your office supplies was going missing, but soon you started noticing that whatever item you had lost would magically appear in Yuri's hands. You'd caught him with your pencil behind his ear, your colourful paperclips attached to his files, once you could've sworn that someone had taken a sip from the drink you'd left on your desk, though there was no way for you to prove that was even the case. 

Whatever was going on with that, it took a backseat to the unbelievably good treatment you were getting at the office. You couldn't make yourself mess this up on purpose–you had to try as hard as you ever had to make this work and make it last. Where else were you going to get such a nice boss that called you cute nicknames and bought you lunch on a whim? 

But soon came the day that you'd been scheduled to help your first client. You'd been excited leading up to it, eagerly absorbing every ounce of advice that Yuri provided as you prepared to flex your skills.

When you came back to the office in tears, however, that dream had clearly been shattered. Angel at the front desk could barely catch you before you dashed into the bathroom to hide, and even when she followed you in to see what was the matter she herself couldn't believe her ears.

“They hated it,” You sniffled from within the stall, your feet pulled up to press your knees to your chest as if the echoes of your sobs off the walls wasn't enough to tell that you were there. 

“Hated what?”

“Everything! They hated the colours, and my d-designs, they said they were terrible–the worst they've ever seen! They made fun of me!” You sobbed, the events of the morning sending fresh pains into your heart as you heard your own voice repeating them. Angel heaved a sigh from the other side of the bathroom door.

“I'm getting Yuri. Hold on.” 

“No, please, I–I can't let him see me like this, I-” Despite your pleas, the sounds of Angel's shoes pattering away left you feeling defeated, and you slumped your head between your knees. The shame and embarrassment of having such confidence, only to have it ruined in one fell swoop, felt like too much to bear. You wanted to run and hide forever, dig a hole deep enough and jump in. 

You wanted to quit, but you couldn't bear it if Yuri fired you–and after several minutes, hearing a sudden barrage of shouting that sounded like his voice outside the bathroom, you had a feeling that was exactly what was coming. You knew it was too good to be true. Deep down Yuri desired perfection, and you were not that–not even close enough to have tried. 

Just when you started to consider slipping out of the bathroom and facing the music rather than stay inside and keep sobbing pathetically, the door creaked open. Taut footsteps hesitantly stepped inside, and by the soft breathing, you knew exactly who it was. He rapped gently on the stall door with his knuckles. It took you a moment to slide off the closed lid of the toilet seat, the lock jiggling loudly in the eerie quiet as you slowly opened the door.

At first glance, he looked flushed and out of sorts. His hair was mussed, and his breathing was uneven. He had his inhaler in the hand at his side, but whether he had taken a puff or not already, you couldn't tell. The silence, save for that, was painful. 

Unsure of what to say, you looked back at him as he did the same to you. Your eyes were puffy and your cheeks tearstained and still wet, while his chest heaved hard enough that the quiet was finally broken decidedly by a click, and then a deep inhale of breath as he pressed his inhaler to his mouth. 

“Mr. Maeda? Are you…okay?” 

“How many times…” He trailed off, only to cough slightly into his arm, and take another deep puff of his medicine. With that, his lungs finally seemed to clear, and he could take deeper, longer breaths while slipping the inhaler into his pocket. “...I told you, don't have to call me that.”

“You're my boss.”

“I'm also your friend.”

“...Am I fired?” Your question twisted itself out, because it was inevitable to come off your lips, but it was so soft and meek you felt shameful yourself just asking it. Yuri shook his head.

“No, no you're not–you’re not fired, sweetheart. You're invaluable to my team. You're not going anywhere.” He seemed convinced beyond belief, but you weren't quite there yet. Despite his earnestness, despite his friendliness and charm that was distinctly Yuri, you couldn't quite bring yourself to trust that you were really that special in his eyes.

“Th-They hated my designs,” You sniffled, and brought your fingers up to smudge the tears that ran fresh down your cheek. You couldn't yet bring yourself to meet his eyes. “All of them. They said they were worthless, Yuri. They didn't like them.”

“I know.” He shook his head again, a twinge of something fierce coming over his expression. “They were wrong. Just so you know, I told them so over the phone.” He looked a bit sheepish, quietly rubbing the back of his neck. So that must have been the yelling you heard…

“Wh-What? Yuri, they were part of a big account, their main client-” 

“Listen, sweetheart.” He leaned in suddenly, using his height to his advantage as he loomed over you. Not in a menacing way, but more…almost protective, in a sense. “They were worthless. Don't think about them anymore. They weren't worth your designs, nor your time.”

It shocked you to hear him speak so callously of a client, when he had always shown nothing but utmost professionalism in dealing with even the most snobbish of customers. It seemed like there was almost a shift inside him, like something had snapped to make him shout those people down over the phone, and now had him nearly cornering you in the stall as he got closer and closer to you. Only your wide, nervous eyes managed to snap him out of his trance, and at your trembling he stepped back and brushed some hair out of his face as he cleared his throat. 

“You…value my professional opinion, don't you?”

You nodded with little hesitation, yet a lump in your throat forced you to swallow. “Yes, of–of course, Yuri.” 

“Then believe me when I say that you are far better than you think. You're smart, and very talented, and…kind, and…very, very lovely. You're a treasure to work with. I…” Even though he trailed off, his true intentions glimmered in those clear, pale eyes. “...I want you to forget everything they said to you, everything that made you cry today. They are but a speck on your life–not worth the slightest mention.”

You opened your mouth to protest on instinct; why did you deserve to feel better about it at all? Surely you must've done something wrong. You can't imagine your meager skills being worth such praise. But something was telling you that this was far deeper than the surface level of work, and Yuri just about confirmed it as he cut you off before you could get down on yourself further. 

“Believe me,” He took your cheeks into his soft, sweet-smelling hands, and brushed a stray tear away with his thumb. The gesture, as gentle as it was, almost brought you to more tears with how touching it was. “People that behave in such an…uncouth way don't deserve your attention. They don't deserve your love. Your affection. Your…” 

Only then did you realize how close Yuri's lips had drifted to yours. Your mouths were nearly closing in on each other, and but for any resistance on your part he would make no move to stop what was happening. This was not in your job description. 

But would you really stop him from kissing you when that's all you had fantasized of until now? A small, shy smile slowly made its way across your lips, and Yuri's followed soon after as he smoothly leaned in to claim a warm, firm kiss, with a more eager introduction to his tongue than you anticipated. 

A moment passed, then another, and in what seemed like ages but at the same time only a second he broke it off, his expression aghast–perhaps at realizing what he'd just done. Probably realizing that it was a terrible, terrible mistake. You stood meekly and on the cusp of a panicked fit as he brought the back of his hand to his lips, but soon the warmth in his cheeks tipped you off to what was truly stirring in his heart. 

“That was…unprofessional. I didn't mean to-”

“I-It's okay, Yuri-”

“-Not in the bathroom, gods.” He seemed preoccupied, your words barely registering. He ran his fingers back through his soft, white strands of hair and took on a look of sheepish delight. “You deserve better than that. Come, let's–to my office, let's go.” He ushered you out of the stall, his grip firm on your wrist like he was too nervous to try and hold your hand. 

“Yuri?” You called out, but he seemed in a daze. His breath was catching on every inhale like he was drowning in excitement, yet he was holding himself together just barely in your presence. He wouldn't make much eye contact with you, but when you did spot that look in his eyes…it seemed like he was in the midst of a calm frenzy, his exterior composed but his mind and heart all stirred up, roused, jumbled into a mess of feelings that he was trying desperately not to get lost in. He tilted his body away from you too, as if trying not to let you see him front-facing as if he had something he was nervously hiding. 

“T-Take these,” He suddenly piped up, and thrusted a set of delicate keys into your palm while he turned completely away from you. It was all he could not to just hide his flushed face completely in his hands. “Go wait in my office, I'll–I just need a moment to compose myself. Please.” Yuri whined, and at his behest you agreed and stepped out of the bathroom to give him some privacy. Hearing the lock click behind you made you a bit nervous, but as you made your way out and down the hall you fiddled with the keys and thought about all that Yuri had said. 

…What a strange, alluring boss he was indeed. But even so, even now, you wouldn't know even half of what Yuri was really capable of, nor what he had been planning for you since the day you walked into the office and captured his heart in your soft, beautiful hands.

[good-beanswrites]

"Prisoner @archivalofsins ! Milgramblrgram has judged you guilty for your crimes! It is time to meet your judgement. As the wardens' fang, I take that responsibility upon myself! 👊" (Aka, a little Mikoto angst scene coming at ya!)

Even if he wasn’t strictly superstitious, Mikoto loved good luck charms. There was something about them that had always appealed to him. 

He had a pen from his sister – he claimed it’s what got him into design school, much to her giggly denials. He had a lighter he’d picked up in school, which was shiny and simple and he liked to thank it for keeping him out of any trouble with his grades. There was a polaroid of the ocean that he just knew would set off his photography career someday. There was a playing card from a night out with coworkers; its energy had won him many friends that night of laughing and opening up. Most of his little trinkets were tucked into pockets here and there, and had made their way to Milgram with him. He wouldn’t have been too broken up about their absence, but he certainly enjoyed having them around.

And why shouldn’t he enjoy some silly superstition, when it worked so well? He didn’t know anyone as lucky as himself. He’d landed a prestigious job. He had the good fortune to keep it, even when the going got rough. He had his health – biking and baseball kept him fit, and his e-cigarettes put him a step above real smokers. His coworkers liked him. His sister called to check up on him. He was taking care of his family. What more could a guy want? Sure, he’d gotten a bad break in the middle of it all, but even that couldn’t hold him down for long. He hadn’t undergone half the pain the others had, and in no time at all, he’d been declared innocent. So, then…

“Why?”

Fuuta just narrowed his eyes at him. “The fuck are you talking about…?”

“Why is everyone acting like this?”

He didn’t feel the need to elaborate. Today alone, it was clear how the others avoided his side of the table at breakfast. The only reason Fuuta sat next to him was because the main area had been taken over by the younger prisoners’ activities. At least everyone else had been tactful when choosing a further seat, always with a smile and a pleasant excuse. Mikoto had no such luck with Fuuta’s more… expressive nature.  He pretended he hadn’t seen those exaggerated looks of disgust and reluctance as he sat down and began to eat.

Instead, he’d finished his tarot spread in silence. They had power too, though not necessarily good or bad luck. It was more like something larger than him, guiding him along. Maybe that’s why he indulged in his charms, without necessarily believing too hard. The idea of something helpful like that is comforting to imagine, isn’t it?

It wasn’t until now, that he fanned through the cards absently, that he’d finally built up enough courage to say something.

Fuuta rolled his eyes as if he’d blurted something utterly stupid. 

“Why is everyone… You mean, why does everyone stay away from you? Because you can hurt them.” He said it casually. Flippantly.

Mikoto was feeling far less flippant. “But I won’t.”

“Tell that to Kotoko.” 

The prisoners often brought up this alleged altercation between them. It didn’t matter that they both came out unscathed. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember any of it, or that Kotoko hardly spoke about it. It didn’t matter that – even if it was true – Mikoto had only acted in self-defense. There were always whispers, always comments about it. The strangest ones, however, were the ones he’d overheard about having a little extra help during the fight. He struggled to understand what they meant, feeling like they weren’t talking about lucky spirits. 

“But why me?” he asked, only half expecting an answer. “Anyone can hurt anyone else. Each one of us has hurt someone – has killed someone. Even Amane-chan can!”

Fuuta’s exasperation didn’t change. “Tch, and they’re scared of her, too. They just treat her differently because she’s young, and they think they have time to fix her, or whatever. You should be grateful no one’s doing the same to you.”

Mikoto supposed he had a point. All his life, he’d witnessed teachers and bosses do their best to fix his peers: reprimanding them for every little thing they did until they behaved properly. Mikoto was fortunate enough to avoid such treatment. He’d always had a knack for picking up on the right ways to do things. He always figured out exactly what to do to make others happy, no discipline necessary. 

“I guess… it’s just… I’ve been feeling…”

How does one say “lonely” without sounding like a kid?

It didn’t matter, because Fuuta could see through his childishness anyway. He scoffed. “Here you are moping, it’s pathetic. I work so hard to be taken seriously like that, and for nothing. Without respect, you get the shit beat outta you.” 

He picked up his empty plate and stood. “Meanwhile, you hardly do a thing and everyone just loves talking about how dangerous you are. You have all their respect – you’re damned lucky.” 

He stormed away, leaving that side of the table empty once again.

That night, back in his cell, Mikoto gathered up his things. He rolled his sister’s pen in his fingers, picturing the way she’d smiled when she gave it to him. He studied the ocean photo, remembering the freshness of that day and how well he felt he’d captured it on film. He pinched the playing card at the edges, bending it gently in the middle. He wondered how those coworkers were doing now. Had they been thinking of him? He placed it with the other charms piled on the floor. He ran his thumb along the lighter. Then, he squinted at it. It looked used, though he’d never had anything to light. Maybe it was no longer the pristine charm he thought it was. 

All the more reason to follow through, he thought. With a flick and a sigh, he lit the whole collection ablaze.

[d1ana-m0nd]

╭─► ❝The Servant: Umbrella Academy's Servant❞

Five Hargreeves × Female! Reader || Written by Diana (d1ana-m0nd)

➢ Description : A Q&A video with Y/R/N and Aidan Ghallagher featuring a special guest that no one expected.

➢ Word Count : 2,390

➢ Links : Masterlist && Character Profile

➢ Note : Not gonna lie, I am uncomfortable about writing a real person 😭, well, real people in general. That's why in this fanfic, Mr. Gallagher may come off as OOC. So please don't be surprised that I focused more on the reader's chaotic energy to contrast with Mr. Gallagher's tame personality. For the record, Y/R/N means your real name.

Q&A with Aidan Gallagher and Y/R/N ft. Special Guest

Aidan Gallagher smiled, his dimples defining his cheeks, and smiled, “Hey guys! So today we will be having a Q&A again with Y/R/N.”

The actress beside Aidan wore a big smile, she raised her hands and her limbs while the stool she sat on was unbalanced which ended up with her falling on her back. “Ow! Ow!”

“I already warned you, so I’m not even gonna bother saying it.” The brunette chuckled lightly, as he assisted his fellow co-actor to stand up.

“Shut it, Gallagher.” Y/R/N rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the camera, “Anywho, the Q&A will be brief since there were only two questions sent to us.”

The actor noticed the co-actor wore a slightly disappointed look, prompting an amused look to settle on his face. “I thought you didn’t want to stay in the studio that long.”

“I mean, yeah, I don’t wanna stay that long,” She rolled her eyes along with the card she was reading, “But, why does my manager get a lot of questions!?”

“It's not my fault, I’m more interesting than you.” A voice behind the camera called in, prompting the actress to flip off the bird at her manager. Conveniently, the camera cuts off.

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

The brown-haired male read the question out loud, “So the first question is from @groovydazephantom - My question for both Aidan and Y/R/N is whether they have played any pranks on each other or have they played a prank together on an unsuspecting victim?”

“This doesn’t count as a prank. One time, my manager and I were making maruya, it is called ‘banana barbeque’ in English, and well, Aidan walked in on us making them. He asked what we were making. And at the time, I was not paying attention to the conversation because I was watching over the bananas, though my manager had a brain fart at the time. After all, she forgot what maruya was called in English so she just said ‘vegan barbeque’.” The girl recounted as she struggled to bite back a laugh.

“Imagine my surprise when I found out that the barbeque was very sweet.”

The actors laughed in unison, Y/RN was leaning her arm on Aidan’s shoulder as she was laughing as the boy covered the lower part of his face and used his free hand to settle on his thigh. Once they both calmed down, the actress retracted her arm from her friend’s shoulder.

Aidan answered, “Though to answer that question, we have never played any pranks on one another. Well, not intentionally, at least.”

The (your hair color) haired girl read it loudly. “Moving onto the second question, the second question is from @inkedeye2345 - I have a question for Y/R/N and Aidan, do you guys romantically like each other, or just in a friendly kind of way? Cause I kinda ship-”

With a confused expression on her face, the actress turned to the co-star. “Am I too affectionate on camera, enough for them to misinterpret it?”

“Well, I can see why they would misinterpret it but,” The actor grinned at his friend, “You're just physically affectionate. Behind the scenes, Y/R/N is very affectionate with the other actors and staff, she gives surprise hugs from behind or tackles them with hugs. That’s why most of the posts with Y/R/N are just her holding onto someone or hugging them.”

“Well, besides me being physically affectionate to my co-workers and my friends. Please remember that we are friends first, and coworkers second, who are working in the same show, so we would appreciate it if you did not ship us so our working environment isn’t affected. You can ship the characters we play as because, obviously, they are meant to be each other’s love interests but, please don’t let your shipping be overwhelming to the point that it affects our careers.”

The brunette looked at the actress mildly surprised though he seemed proud but, instead took advantage of the situation to tease her. “Oh wow, I didn’t think you had a brain in there-” The girl got off her stool and was ready to wrestle him then, the cameras cut.

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

A girl with a light blue pixie bob cut comes into the frame and sits on the stool. She straightened herself and fixed her bangs a bit even though it still covered her eyes. Several hair accessories decorated her hair as she wore a black long-sleeved shirt underneath, layered with a graphic t-shirt and a pair of green cargo pants.

She shyly waves at the camera and then speaks, “Hi! I’m Diana, Y/R/N’s manager and today I’m here to answer the questions that were sent to me.”

“For this special chapter- And yes, I am breaking the fourth wall because, at the moment I am drained from writing the fifth chapter.” Diana ‘looks’ away with a strained expression as she covers the lower half of her face, “I don’t think my brain and back can handle another writing session. That’s pretty much why this chapter is very scuffed.”

“Besides, I wanted to spoil you guys for my eight-month absence so I went out of my way to write a long chapter and a bonus chapter for you guys. So here you go! And just for clarification, I would have done a Q&A between Aidan and Y/R/N for this chapter special but I didn’t receive enough questions from the last chapter so I decided to just make a chapter special focused on (what I believe to be) questions the readers have in mind.”

QUESTIONS ABOUT WRITING:

Q1: What’s your writing process?

This is rather complicated since I have two writing processes. However, I took the time to make two flowcharts just to show the process with a brief explanation included. By the way, the flow chart templates used in this post do not belong to me, I used the free templates that were available in Canva.

If you want an in-depth explanation regarding the process, just ask me in the comments or send an ask regarding it because I’m willing to delve further into the process. I’m not going to go into detail here because I don’t think some people are interested in that but, I am allowing you guys to reach out to me if you want writing advice or want to learn more about writing.

Q2: Why do you take so long to publish a chapter?

Firstly, I have ADHD. For the record, I am not using it as an excuse, just dropping it off because you guys need context. Due to my late discovery of the disability, I started with a messy life with me struggling with school, my hobbies, and my mental health. Thus, led me to keep pushing off my passion projects, like this writing blog.

Secondly, I had a boyfriend at one point, and now he’s my ex-boyfriend. Before I discovered my ADHD, I made an unwise decision to confess to that jerk, then, later on, dedicate my 6 months to that jackass, only to realize how it was one-sided, only to find out that he accepted my confession out of pity then, and then found out from him that he cheated on me. Besides that unwise decision, at the time, I thought I would dedicate more of my time to him if I stopped my hobbies to spend more time with him.

And lastly, I am in college, like everyone else I was cursed with growing up, and I am taking a lot of time to adjust to this new environment. It doesn’t help either that I am still trying to organize my life with the help of professionals and a lot of research on my end. At the moment, I want to focus on adjusting to this environment before I integrate my hobby.

In conclusion, external factors like my disability and my new environment are the reasons why I take so long to publish. We do not talk about thy ‘boyfriend ’ since he doesn’t exist in Ba Sing Se.

Q3: What do you use for your writing?

Applications:

Google Document / Notes - auto-save, on the phone you can write offline

Google Translate - read the text(s) out loud to analyze if it sounds natural

Tumblr / Pinterest - prompts, dialogues, ideas

Extensions:

Grammarly - edit

Wordtune / Quillbot - paraphrase

Power Thesaurus - gives definition and synonyms

Q4: Do you plan on making another fanfic series in the future?

I plan to make two more fanfic series for ‘One Piece’ and ‘Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse’.

If you have any questions regarding making fanfic or writing in general, feel free to drop them in my ask box or the comments in this post! I’ll answer them to the best of my ability but, I cannot promise I will respond on time though. So I apologize in advance for the late response.

QUESTIONS ABOUT FANFICTION:

Q1: Why did you discontinue ‘The Servant’ fanfic series? Do you plan to pick it up and finish it in the future?

If you missed the announcement, here's the post. And I responded to the second question in this ask. If I do change my mind in the near future, I will make an announcement regarding it.

Q2: What are the things you wanted to add in the fanfic but never got to?

➢ In season 2, I was debating whether Y/N would be a bartender or a pole dancer. I couldn’t really decide so I planned to make a poll once I finished writing season 1.

➢ In season 2, I was thinking of giving Y/N a scythe. However, I dismissed the idea since I was not sure how the fight scene with Lila worked, the final battle I mean.

➢ In season 3, Y/N is a bellgirl assisting around the hotel, and a girl tries to flirt with her but the girl is awkward about it and ends up asking her friend (in their native language) what she should do. Y/N understands their conversation and misinterprets it as the girl being unable to speak English so she speaks to them in their native tongue. You can imagine how that ends lol.

➢ In season 3, when Victor comes out, Y/N is supportive but is awkward and unsure about what to do. Kinda acts like those parents who try too hard to be supportive.

Q3: Who is Y/N Rosseweisse based on?

The Servant is based on Rita Rosseweisse (HI3), Noelle (GI), and Baam 25th (TOG).

I don’t recall why I based Y/N on Rita Rosseweisse but, I think my decision was influenced by the fact that I was playing HI3 at the time. I liked how elegant and graceful she was, and how she held herself. As for Noelle and Baam 25th (S1), most of their personality influenced her character, the same can be applied to Baam 25th (S2) and Rita but it will only become more apparent in the TUA S2 though.

Here are the traits that Y/N got from the mentioned characters: humble, polite, obedient, will do any means to attain the goal (in S2), commendable work ethic, eager to learn, hard worker, empathetic, calculating (in S2), put the academy’s needs first before her’s (more will be revealed on S1 Chapter 8 or 9), naive, socially awkward, inexperienced, perfectionist, detached from society, distant.

Baam 25th’s ability to master things at first glance / Technique Replication / Instant Learn is one of the powers I gave her. In season 1, I don’t get to focus on this but, in season 2 when she gains more experience in the real world and learns new things, she will start to use it more often though it’s more treated like something she can’t control, since she was never trained properly by Reginald Hargreeves.

Q4: What is your biggest struggles when writing the series?

You guys won’t believe this but my biggest struggle is actually writing a chapter. It’s a common struggle for writers but, I think this is a common struggle for any creative individual. It sounds so bloody ridiculous but, I can’t bring myself to sit my ass down and pull out my google docs. I always end up getting distracted with things that aren’t related to the task at hand. One minute I’m researching adrenaline, then the next thing I know I’m looking up ‘Which side of the body hurts the most when stabbed? ’ If you're curious, the answer is front because that’s where most of the organs and pain receptors are, you can still survive if stabbed from the back though your lungs and spine will be the main target, and there is a slim chance of you surviving if your spine got bye-bye.

If you have any questions regarding the fanfic, feel free to drop them in my ask box or the comments in this post! I’ll answer them to the best of my ability but, I cannot promise I will respond on time though. So I apologize in advance for the late response.

BONUS (ALTERNATIVE ANSWER):

The (your hair color) haired girl read it loudly. “Moving onto the second question, the second question is from @inkedeye2345 - I have a question for Y/R/N and Aidan, do you guys romantically like each other, or just in a friendly kind of way? Cause I kinda ship-”

Y/R/N looks at Aidan excitedly, to which the boy nods. “Well, I and Aidan weren't sure when to share this but, we are seeing each other. At the moment, we are still in the courting stage.”

The brunette grabs her hand and begins drawing circles on the back of her hand, “I'll be honest, I didn't think she was old-fashioned.”

His girlfriend puffed out her cheeks at him then blew a raspberry as she averted her gaze, and covered the lower half of her face as she spoke in a muffled tone. “I'm an old-fashioned romantic, you're lucky I didn't force you to sing something cheesy.”

“Why are you covering your face? You know I'd willingly do that.” He laughed.

“CUT THE CAMS BEFORE YOU START FEELING EVEN MORE SINGLE!” Diana screamed from behind the camera.

( Note : This bonus scene isn't real or canon in the behind-the-scenes AU, I just made it for fun so please don't take it seriously. )

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[glassconfined]

saw headcanons, pre saw

featured characters: adam stanheight, amanda young, lawrence gordon, mark hoffman, peter strahm. mentions of scott tibbs & cecil adams

adam stanheight

his eighth birthday party was at chuck e cheese, but he was scared shitless by the animatronics. while he hid away in the tunnels, scott tibbs blew out his birthday candles.

briefly played bass in a band. not wrath of the gods, though he badly wanted to (scott insisted all the roles were full, and besides that, he needed adam as a photographer).

a mediocre grasp on basic spanish. it was one of the few classes he actually did well in when he was in school. in addition, his interest in kaiju & japanese horror films has helped him pick up a couple japanese words and phrases. granted, for both languages he has a rather apparent american accent.

… technically this was several years after his death, but since it’s in the context of him not having been in a trap, let me have this—he would’ve thrived in the eras of scene kids, myspace, facebook flair, and yolo.

amanda young

she owns an australian shepherd named carrie! carrie was adopted by cecil for guard dog purposes when amanda’s drug-induced paranoia was at an all time high. she’s well-loved and spoiled to bits, though, with her own half of the bed that amanda sleeps in.

on a night she can hardly remember, amanda got a trampstamp tattoo. a cliché heart with wings that she used to boast above low-rise jeans and juicy sweatpants (though, now she can’t help but feel a little embarrassed).

lawrence gordon

nicknamed a walking computer by his coworkers, a human encyclopedia on account of his wide array of knowledge. he’s a trivia buff and a mastermind at strategy games, you’d be hard pressed to find someone better than him at cards or board games.

mark hoffman

he comes from a long line of detectives. his father, his father before him. frankly, when he was younger, mark didn’t want to be a detective—he wanted to be an english professor. with his father, though, there was really no other choice than go follow in his footsteps.

he wants a dog so goddamn bad. for a man who barely has enough time to take care of himself, however, it’s just not possible. if he could have his way, he’d have a french bulldog.

peter strahm

studied french in college.

i mentioned it in my music headcanons, but i’ll touch on it again—peter can play the saxophone, as well as the piano. he took a couple gigs at a jazz club to make a quick buck while he was in school.

also in the college era . . . though he’d never admit to it, he wound up in a sugar baby relationship with an older woman for a few months.

for an undercover mission, he had to take flamenco classes. add that to the tango and waltz knowledge he has under his belt, and he’s not too shabby on his feet.