#SO real honestly you summed him up so well

[straykeedz]

Can I request a chan smut where you’re dating and he’s a virgin and has never done anything sexual before so you guys take it slow. You start off with giving him a handjob from the back and kissing his neck as well sometimes even light choking to see if he likes it and he becomes a sub and he cums hard. -🦋

thank you so much for your request, hope you like this! 🦋, i added you to the anon list!

part 2, kinda 🤓

cw: chan’s kind of insecure ; talking about virginity ; virgin!bang chan ; kinda sub!bang chan ; soft-dom!reader ; corruption kink (reader) if you reeaaaally squint ; a soft handjob ; cum eating ; ♡

“Are you sure you don’t mind me wearing your pajamas?” Chan stands there, in the middle of your bedroom, with your pink, fluffy pajama bottoms and an oversized white t-shirt in his hands. 

It’s two a.m. - the two of you fell asleep on your couch while watching a movie together, with your legs entangled under the blanket and Chan’s head on your shoulder. When you eventually woke up, you absolutely refused to let him drive back home this late - he was still pretty sleepy, and it wouldn’t be safe for him to drive in such conditions, so it only made sense he stayed the night at your place. 

The problem is - it’s the first time he sleeps over, and of course he doesn’t have any spare clothes he could possibly wear to sleep. The only option available therefore are - your pink, fluffy pajamas. 

“Of course I don’t mind,” you giggle, kissing the tip of his nose. “You can change here, I’ll just grab my pajamas and go change in the bathroom,” you tell him, and then disappear out of the room. 

You still haven’t slept together - in that way. 

Mainly because with college and work you really don’t have that much free time to spend together, sadly; but also because, well, Chan’s a virgin. You were beyond shocked when he confessed it to you because he’s hot - like, really hot. You couldn’t believe it honestly, how is it possible? You’ve wanted to jump his bones since he asked you out! Not that there’s something wrong with being a virgin, of course, you just found it surprising since he’s attractive and really fucking hot.  

So, to sum it up, you’ve been taking it real slow. The furthest you’ve gone so far is dry humping, and you’ve touched each other over the clothes, but that’s it. You still haven’t seen him naked and neither has he. Chan knows he shouldn’t, but he feels extremely self-conscious about his virginity because he really wants to have sex with you and touch you and experience all of his firsts with you, but what if he’s just… bad at it? What if his lack of experience won’t make it pleasurable or even enjoyable for you? What if his dick is not enough for you - what if it’s too short? Or not thick enough? What if he won’t find your g-spot or your clit? What if, what if, what if… 

Chan shakes his head, beginning to pull his jeans down his legs. Why is he even thinking about this? It’s not like you’re gonna have sex tonight, there’s no point for him to worry about all of this stuff right now. You’re just going to sleep together - like, innocently sleeping, lying next-to-each-other-with-your-eyes-closed sleeping. He chuckles to himself as he puts the pajamas on, feeling kind of silly. 

A knock on your door. Then, your sweet voice. 

“Are you dressed? Can I come in?”

He puts the t-shirt on in a literal second. “Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m decent. You can come in,” he mumbles, cheeks turning pink as he looks at himself in the mirror, dressed in your clothes. 

When you come back inside the room, his breath hitches because how can someone be so beautiful? You’re not wearing any make-up, your hair is not styled and you’re wearing nothing but your oversized pajamas and fluffy socks, but Chan has never felt more in love with you than right now. The thought of you being so comfortable around him to show yourself like this makes his heart swell up in his chest. 

“Wow, they look good on you,” you giggle, looking at him, pointing at the pajama bottoms. “Actually, they look better on you. You should keep ‘em.”

“I, uh… they’re… they’re pretty comfy. And fluffy too.” 

“You’re so cute,” you peck his cheek, “come on, let’s go to bed.”

It’s an innocent thing to say, you intended for it to be innocent, so why is Chan’s heart beating so fast inside his chest as he slips under the covers next to you. It’s the furthest he’s ever been with a woman - with anyone, actually. It’s soft, it’s intimate, it’s… domestic. He kinda wants to do it again and again and again. It feels nice, you laying next to him with your head on his chest, fingers intertwined with his. 

“I’m happy you’re staying the night,” you murmur quietly, circling his waist with your arm. 

He chuckles. “’T’s not like you gave me any choice.”

You giggle as well. “Oops, my bad,” you lift your head to peck his lips. Chan kisses you back, pecking your lips two, three, four, five times until he eventually runs his tongue over your lower lip, deepening the kiss. He cups your cheek with his hand, brushing it using his thumb as you practically suck each other’s faces off until you pull away, leaving him kinda confused. “Let’s… let’s sleep now. Want to cuddle?”

Chan blinks, lips still puffy and swollen from the intense make-out session. “Oh, uhm… yeah, sure. Sure,” he stutters a bit, still kind of overwhelmed by the way your lips felt on his. 

Chan panics as soon as he realizes he’s the big spoon because, well, he has a problem, let’s call it that. 

As soon as you snuggle closer to his body and your ass brushes his cock, you feel it. Chan’s cock. Rock hard. His whole body freezes and his breath hitches - you can clearly hear his heartbeat, so loud in his chest. He’s so fucking embarrassed, he feels mortified. It’s the first time he sleeps at your place and his fucking dick isn’t cooperating. Why isn’t it cooperating? 

Think of something ugly, Chan thinks to himself, hoping to get his cock to soften. It doesn’t. 

It just sits there - perfectly hard, balls kind of tightening from time to time as he swallows the lump in his throat. Maybe you’re already asleep. It’s highly unlikely, he knows it, but hey, you never know. But you’re not, because he feels you fidgeting with the hem of your t-shirt. Peachy. You’re gonna think he’s a complete loser and won’t want to sleep with him, like, ever. At the speed of light, he tosses and turns on his other side, thinking it’d be less embarrassing this way, but clearly - he’s not the best at thinking under pressure, let’s face it. 

But then you turn on your side as well, and you’re now the big spoon. “Why’d you move? I was so comfy,” you whisper in the still of the night, and Chan shivers when you place a kiss on his nape, your nose brushes his hair softly. And then you hug him, circling his waist with your arm, and he tenses under your touch, breath hitching. 

“Was… was it because of… this?” With the tip of your fingers, you brush the outline of his clothed cock over the fabric of his pajamas. He’s… very hard. 

Chan nearly chokes. “Oh, God,” he mumbles, burying his face in the pillow out of embarrassment. “‘M sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay, Channie,” you place a kiss on his shoulder, over his t-shirt. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. God, you’re so cute,” you bite your lip, feeling him twitch under your touch. 

“I, uh… it’s because we, uh, kissed. And also because you were… pressed against me,” he mumbles, “I’m sorry,” he repeats. 

“Don’t be,” you nuzzle his shirt, breathing in his the scent of his skin. “I mean, I could… help, if you want.” 

When you palm and squeeze his erection over his clothes, Chan feels like he could cum from that only. Your touch is delicate and foreign, and it makes him twitch in anticipation. “Yeah, I… I mean, uh, only… only if you want to.”

And of course you want to. 

Leaving soft pecks on Chan’s shoulders and arms, you slowly allow your hand to slip past the waistband of Chan’s pajamas, deciding to tease him over his boxers for a bit before touching him properly. His cock is hard under your touch, and even though you can’t see it, you’re sure it’s a nice cock - at least, it feels nice. It’s not super long - above average, you’d say, but it’s thick and heavy. You really can’t believe you’re having the privilege of being the first person who’s about to wrap their hand around it - besides Chan, naturally. 

“Does it feel nice?” you ask him, cupping his balls, and Chris whimpers, shutting his eyes. 

“Mh, yeah, it… it does,” he whines, breathing faster. “Feels really good.”

You’re touching him over his boxers and he’s squirming already, thinking it can’t possibly get better than this - until it does, until your hand finally slips inside his boxers too and you touch him, wrapping your fingers around his length. His cock is hot and heavy, and it’s twitching, yearning to be stimulated more. 

“Is this better?” You tease, already knowing the answer. 

Chan muffles an embarrassing sound in your pillow when you swipe your thumb over his sensitive tip. “S-So much better. Your hand feels so good. God, ‘m not… ‘m not gonna last long,” he mumbles, embarrassed. He feels as if his whole body was on fire, and he’s pretty sure he’s red in the face, blushing like crazy until it reaches the tips of his ears. 

“Don’t worry about that,” you kiss his bicep, “tonight’s about you. Just relax, baby.”

You entangle your legs together under the covers, starting to move your hand up and down his length slowly, listening carefully to every single sound that escapes his mouth. It’s heavy breaths at first, which then turn into soft, almost inaudible whimpers when you focus on the tip, gripping the pillow tighter as he clenches his teeth. 

You want to make this first experience even more pleasurable for him, though, since it’s his first time receiving a handjob. Chan whines when you remove your hand from his boxers, already missing the warm feeling of your hand on his cock, he’s addicted already. And then, he feels your fingers tap on his mouth. “Spit, baby. Make my fingers wet,” you whisper in his ear, and he shivers. He nods, not fully understanding what’s going on, but he still does what you asked him to do, and before you know it, his saliva is coating your fingers and palm. “Good boy,” you praise him, and Chan blushes even more. 

When you touch him again, it feels entirely different. It’s much wetter, and your hand slides up and down his length effortlessly, which causes Chan to turn into a whimpering mess under your touch. “Oh, God,” he whines with his eyes squeezed shut. With a trembling hand, he hooks his finger in the waistband of his underwear, and pulls it down the curve of his ass, freeing his cock and balls.

“Mhh, much better now, yeah?” You bite on his earlobe, then lick the sensitive spot behind his ear, the one that has his toe curling. “Shh, listen,” you say, allowing him to fully focus on the slick sound your hand is making each time it pumps his hard cock. It’s dirty, it’s obscene, and Chan absolutely loves it. 

“Ba-Baby,” Chan whimpers, his fingernails digging in your mattress as he feels suddenly much closer to finding his release. 

“Been wanting to touch you for so long, Channie,” you confess, kissing his neck from behind. He gets goosebumps. “Was always scared to overstep your boundaries, though. Scared to pressure you into something.”

Chan shakes his head as a no. “You’re not. I want this, I’ve wanted this, too. Was embarrassed, tho,” he admits.

“Why?” 

It’s pretty funny, how you’re having this heartfelt conversation while you’re jerking him off. 

“‘Cause I’m inexperienced. Thought it’d… dunno, turn you off?” 

A mixture of his own spit and pre-cum is dribbling onto his whole shaft, coating his pubic hair and balls as well. It’s incredibly hot, you wish you could lick him clean. Maybe later. 

“Oh, Channie. I’m with you because I like you. I don’t care if you’re inexperienced, my sweet baby.”

“Yeah?” Chan asks, sounding pained. He’s close, so close. 

You nod against his skin. “Yeah, I… I think I might love you, actually.”

“Oh, fuck. Baby, baby… I’m so- close, fuck,” he pants, abdomen clenching, whole body shaking, ready to orgasm. “I might love you, too, baby. Wanna- wanna experience everything with you, baby. Wan’… wan’ you to take my virginity, wan’ you to be my first.” 

“Channie-“ you clench your thighs together. 

“‘M about to fucking cum, baby. ‘M-“

He quickly flips to rest on his back, so that he wouldn’t stain your sheets with his release. Always so thoughtful, your Chan. He even lifts his t-shirt, exposing his abs and torso, and this time watches carefully the movements of your hand on his cock as you pump him faster. 

“Cum for me, Channie.”

With a high-pitched sound, he spills his seed all over himself, hiding his face in his hands as you milk him dry, making sure he gives you everything. He cums so intensely that his body just won’t stop shaking, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. You let go of his limp cock, not wanting to overstimulate him. 

“You were so good to me, Channie,” you murmur, kissing his temple tenderly. “Did you like it?”

Chan takes a deep breath, and then he finally removes his hands from his face and looks at you. “Like it? My soul just left my body, I think,” he chuckles, but he’s still embarrassed. “’t was so good, really.”

“‘M happy you enjoyed it. Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

With a towel or some tissues, Chan thinks, and he’s about to turn the light on to grab some from your nightstand when he feels you shift under the covers. Then, your hot tongue on his skin, starting to lick him clean. 

“Oh. Oh.”

#bang chan smut #bangchan smut #bang chan hard thoughts #bang chan hard hours #bangchan hard thoughts #bangchan hard hours #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader #bangchan fanfic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #bang chan drabbles #📨: 🦋 anon

[vaguely-concerned]

Ever since watching The Wire for the first time, my brain has doggedly kept working away at the Especially the lies of it all, and specifically at how much the structure beneath the different stories Garak tells contributes to the overall meaning of what he’s trying to say. While the contradicting narratives of course expertly obscure the factual circumstances of his getting exiled, using them also allows him to tell aspects and facets of the emotional truth I don’t think he ever could have, if he’d simply told the actual story of what happened. (It’s very Varric-core of him honestly.)

The first story — the ‘oh, you think you know me?’ story — says I have done things that would sicken you if you knew any detail of it. It’s clearly meant to scare Bashir away so he’ll leave him to die shamefully in peace already lol. But it’s also one of his (probably much-needed lbr) little lessons to Julian that are so frequent in the beginning, given while Garak still has some hold on himself — “Don’t be so quick to forgive me if you don’t even know what I’ve done; what would you do if this really were the sum total of what I am?” (And Julian seems to surprise him by going ‘Well, exactly the same thing, because no matter who you are I am a doctor. But I sort of take your point.’)

The second story — the letting the orphans go story — says I have failed to smother my soul in its cradle when it was required of me, and I regret that more than anything I’ve done. To my ears this is the one most shot through with active self-loathing too, which is interesting. He’s officially lost the control he’s been clinging to and it’s about to get ugly. His TL;DR is ‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all’, even all the way back here. (Which is the one lesson Julian steadfastly refuses to learn, which I think in turn does some serious rearrangement of Garak’s soul over the course of the show haha. Get uno reversed into the process of loving and being loved without shame asshole.)  This is also where he builds up to admitting to having any sort of need for companionship or closeness at all and — so much worse — that Julian’s role in his life actually has fulfilled some of that need, and he’s DRIPPING with defensive venom over it b/c well I get it Garak vulnerability is scary it can take a person like that. 

(I also feel there’s something honest and forbidden in ‘Suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless’. I suspect ‘actually… why the fuck are we even doing this???’ is not a welcome sentiment in an Obsidian Order water cooler environment, no matter what you’re saying it about lmao. The very first seeds of him deconstructing the things he’s been taught about Cardassia and his work might be hinted at here, though they of course take a looong time to come to any real fruition.)   

The third story — the ‘Elim was my best friend’ story — says hey, remember that thing you said once, about how sometimes, you have to be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anything else? Well. guess what. I couldn’t even be that lmao. It also furthers that thread of being divided from yourself, split, that having ‘Elim’ as a separate person around in all versions of the story brings in. He’s in control of himself again, but he essentially hands his life and soul over to Julian to decide what should be done with them. 

I’ve done horrible things and it finally caught up with me, I’m getting what I deserve → I let sentiment master me and the fact that I’m too weak to do what’s needed of me shames me more than the evil I’ve done → I fucked up. I betrayed myself and everything I held to, all for nothing, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. But it’s very nice that you’re here anyway, Doctor. (Wow. I didn’t realize quite how isolated and lonely that last one was before right now. The way Tain has shaped him really has just… locked him completely into himself, huh.) We can also see a movement through from a completely professional context in the first story, to an intensely interpersonal and internal context in the last one — even his fake stories spiral in towards intimacy, which I think is what he longs for here even if he can’t quite like. Touch that without the stories as a buffer yet, it’s clearly like touching a hot stove for him to interact with it too directly. 

And you know what I find incredibly interesting the whole way through? Even on his deathbed, where he’s dying from the thing Tain had put in his head, he’s protecting Tain. He puts all the blame for where he is on himself (‘My future was limitless, until I threw it away’), even if he has to employ a strange twisty logic where he’s split himself into two to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Garak has done horrific things all on his own haha, but it’s notable that he almost isolates Tain from that. ‘Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand.’ Tain in Garak’s stories is this infallible implacable weirdly distant figure, even now. Indeed, as will make a lot of sense with the revelations further down the line, more than anything it seems the gaze of an abused child desperate for recognition looking up at an idealized (if not in any way nurturing) parent.‘He was retired at that point; he couldn't protect me’, Garak says, as if what he’d need protection from in the first place isn’t Tain himself lmao, as if Tain had no active part in any of this. He never lets blame touch Tain at all. At this stage he would rather consider himself a broken flawed tool than accept that the hands that have wrought and wielded him have ever had any fault in them. AND in the middle of it all, with plausible deniability, on death’s door and knocking meekly to be let in before he must finish the mortifying ordeal of being known and test the even more daunting possibility of being loved, Garak at the same time manages to drop the breadcrumb trail of clues to make it possible for Julian to find Tain if he so chooses and gets in the ‘sons of Tain’ thing too for future dramatic irony purposes. Truly he is the Michelangelo of lying. Every falsehood a multifaceted masterpiece. Elim ‘achieving a state of intertextuality in real life is possible if you work hard and believe in yourself’ Garak. I love him so much. 

I think all of this is why “I forgive you. For whatever it is you did,” works so well, because it too works on a structural level. It’s such a deceptively multilayered response — it has the syntax of a joke, in a way, and it is kind of funny even under the circumstances, but delivered with such earnest warmth and fondness. It’s both recognition and acceptance (forgiveness!). It’s saying ‘I finally understand enough of what you’re trying to tell me beneath and through all that, in whatever way you’re capable of, I see you’ and ‘my answer hasn’t changed (bitch)’. The forgiveness Julian offers here is complete — on principle, and out of personal feeling and empathy (only one of which Garak deigns to respond to during the second story, where he calls it ‘smug Federation sympathy’, placing it more completely on the principle side than it probably is. ‘Dude you’re my friend please don’t just lie down and die in a completely avoidable way on me, who else is going to not only tolerate but actually gleefully enjoy me being annoying as fuck over lunch’ seems to be the subtext that’s a lot harder to acknowledge and invite in for both of them. And yet Tain seems perfectly clear on the fact that Julian is Garak’s friend, which, y’know. Must be fun living with the knowledge that Tain has eyes everywhere looming over you every day haha guess you’d just have to tune that out.) 

Most of all — ’Don’t give up on me now, Doctor’... and he didn’t! He didn’t. Augh. Ow.

#garashir #elim garak #julian bashir #star trek ds9 #ds9 #star trek #ds9 meta #S2EP22 The Wire #alternate title: baby's first brush with unconditional love through unreliable narration lol #I'm not sure I got to say everything I want to in this/found the exact right words in places or hit all the nuances #but god help me I so desperately need this out of my brain to free up some disc space so go forth little meta haha be free #I'm sure I'll come back to you in time #meta #enabran tain #(derogatory)

[jeansplaytoy]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

part two

conniexreader, playing with feelings (not readers), ex talks, cursing, alcohol, weed, aave usage, sexual references.

sorry that i took so long with this part y’alllll, and i know it’s honestly really short, it’s really a side chapter that i’m posting before all the good stuff happens.

⇦ part one here | part three here ⇨

you stared at connie from across the room. he was sitting in the kitchen again, and you were in the living room with mikasa and sasha now.

“they def’ fucked.” sasha whispered to mikasa as they both sat on different sides of you. mikasa nodded while staring back and forth from you and connie.

from the kitchen, ony did the same thing.

“bruh what is y’all doin, bro? y’all been staring at each other for bout five minutes.” ony glanced at connie from his phone. connie smacked his lips and looked down at his drink. “nothing.” he muttered while shaking his head.

“yall i hate that nigga.” you frowned, realizing that connie’s gaze had been off of you for a few seconds. “girl you say that about every dude that beat them doonies down real bad.” mikasa mumbled, leaning up to get her cup. “okay but i really hate that one. nigga took full control over me like i was his bitch or sum.”

“so you fucked him?” sasha muttered. you hummed. “he fucked me.”

“disgusting.” mikasa scoffed with a small smile before swallowing the rest of her drink.

you stared at the ground, shaking your head before looking at connie again, who looked at you after a seconds. he chuckled a little before standing up, putting his phone in his pocket while walking through the crowd, towards the front door.

“hold up.” you said before standing up and following him through the crowd. some seconds passed before you finally made it outside, instantly seeing him stand beside the door.

“you obsessed, huh?” he shook his head, putting a blunt to his lips and lighting it. you stood in front of him, not saying anything before rolling your eyes. “not wit’ you. who you think you is?” you tilted your head. connie laughed. “girl i’m connie fuckin’ springer. hoes love me.”

“well i ain’t no hoe, so ion love you.” you rolled your eyes. connie hummed. “oh, but you loved me an hour ago.” he said, tilting his head at you while exhaling smoke in your face, making you move your head to the side a little.

“i don’t like nothing about you. you prolly got hoes anyway.” you muttered. connie slowly smiled. “hell yeah. and i know you got some too, so we both equal, huh.”

“i guess so.” you exhaled, glancing over to the side. you saw a group of girls glaring at you and whispering things to each other. “i got yo hoes mad. forgive me if they don’t want you no more.” you said, smiling to yourself as they walked off.

“we aint together, i can have em back whenever. i saw some muh’fuckas lookin at me too. ian gon trip tho.” connie whispered the last part, passing you his blunt.

you grabbed it, putting it to your lips and inhaling deeply before exhaling through your nose.

“i see you stuck to me now.” he raised his eyebrows, putting his hands on his sweatpants pockets. you tilted your head, shaking it and staring at the ground, flicking the ash beside you. “not really. i just wanna see what you bout. is that a bad thing?” you raised your eyebrows, looking back up at connie, who just shrugged.

“nah, not completely.” connie mumbled. “i just wanna make sure you ain’t one of them hoes that go around fucking everybody.”

“so i’m a hoe to you, now?” you squint at him. “nahhh, no, ion mean it like that.” connie lazily laughed. “i mean, an actual hoe. im just tryna make sure you ain’t for everybody.” he admitted, making you purse your lips together. “and you ain’t? you talking to me like you tryna fuck wit me.”

“i fuck on girls when i feel like i’m gon like it, not when a girl feel like she like me. i really just be staying to myself most of the time.” he muttered.

before you could say something back, someone tapped your shoulder once. “excuse me.” a girl raised her eyebrow at you before wrapping her arms around connie’s neck. “heyyy, baby. what you doin here?” she tilted her head, completely ignoring your presence.

“excuse you.” you muttered, watching her. she glanced back at you for a second. “who she posed to be?” she pointed back at you with her thumb while looking up at connie with a slick look on her face.

“we was just talkin.” connie mumbled, patting her waist a little. when she got off of him, she looked back at you, once more. “i’ll see you at home tonight.” she smiled, softly squeezing his hand before walking off.

you watched her, looking her up and down. “so that’s the hoe you cheated on for me? and multiple other bitches?” you pointed at her, giving connie back his blunt as he sighed.

“we together, but we on and off. she just be doing that shit when she see me wit somebody else, don’t worry bout her.”

“i promise you i ain’t worried.” you scoffed before shaking your head, reaching towards the front door to open it. “wait, where you goin?” connie frowned. “home. this party lame as hell. and all i got tonight was some ran through, good dick.” you muttered to connie as he slowly smiled.

“you liked it.” he whispered to you. you bit your lip softly before shaking your head.

“for now.”

#aot x reader #connie springer #connie x reader #aot connie #connie x black reader #aot x black reader #aot x y/n #connie springer x black reader #connie springer x reader #connie springer x y/n #connie x you #connie aot #connie x black y/n

[hockeymenarehot]

Hii, this may sound a little weird but could you do a bill smut with blood kink? Maybe also overstimulation and edging, like make him a vampire or sum? Thank you if you do mwah <3

Bloody Mary feat. Bill Kaulitz

guess whos back! thank u sm for requesting! not weird at all ml, im always happy to make ur fantasies come true! <3 also with saltburn being popular rn it felt so fitting...

summary: i desperately wanted to make a good plot w/ this one, but this is honestly just straight porn w/ vampire Bill kaulitz...

!!warnings!!: dark content!!!, blood kink!!, depictions of blood, he drinks your blood, gonna say sort of dub-con b/c reader does agree but shes sort of in a trance, porn no plot, lots of oral sex (fem. receiving), fem. reader, edging, overstimulation, cum eating, reader passes out, territorial/primal bill, he has a tongue piercing, not proofread!!!, overall just nasty nasty filth LMAO

You think it's so stupid, the people in your new town seem to be so so scared of whatever (or whoever) is living in the castle upon to highest hill. It looks luxurious, and you chalk it up to being someone greedily keeping it for themselves. After all, there is absolutely no way vampires exist. And even if there is a vampire up there, you hoped it was at least a hot one. You were a brave bitch, so you walked up to that castle and banged on the door yourself.

Okay, so vampires are definitely real. And this one is definitely fuckin' hot. Well how could you not think he was hot? He currently had you bare and splayed out for him on his dark red sheets, the black walls of the room blocking out all light except the light radiating off his pale face. He was hovering over you, his black locks loose over his face. He was delicately running his open mouth over your skin, inhaling your sweet scent.

It all started when you entered his castle, his territory. As soon as you stepped foot in this place you also became his territory. Having been caged up in this place for decades, his body was overcome with an insatiable hunger as soon as his primal eyes met yours. You were swiftly brought up to his bedroom, leaving little time to chat. It was then you decided your next hours alive (or maybe not) were going to spent getting your brains fucked out by this vampire.

Your legs were folded back at the knees, your legs spread as he huffed in your scent. He trailed down your abdomen, stopping once he reached your clothed pussy. He inhaled with a sultry groan, shivering as he did so. It was then he looked up at you, locking eyes with you once more. "You want this, don't you? Stepping inside my territory like a little whore, you must want to slut yourself out for me, no?" You had in fact been pretty well covered when you stepped in, but you assumed his touch starved self didn't have the brain power to comprehend that. "Y-yes..." you whined. This felt so out of character for you, almost as if you had been put under some sort of hypnotic spell by his eyes. They felt like a portal to another dimension, one where only lust for him existed. He barely let you finished your stuttered word before he ripped your panties off, leaving your bare pussy exposed to his hungry eyes. You shivered at how he looked at your cunt like it was a meal, one he was getting ready to ravished.

And he did. Before you knew it, you were at the mercy of his relentless tongue, prodding into you and lapping at your clit. His fangs ever so often brushed against your sensitive folds, and you were reminded that at any moment he might actually take a bite out of you. This fact only seemed to make you leak even more, getting wetter by the second. He drank up your juices like they were the last drops of water he would ever receive. As you looked down at him you could see his heavily dilated pupils, staring into your eyes like he was a wolf devouring prey.

You tried to contain your moans, instead opting to whine and make choked out sounds ever once in a while. In the back of your almost-thoughtless head you were afraid that if you moaned for him, shamelessly letting your voice echo, he would mark you as his. And you weren't all sure what that would entail.

You could feel your orgasm impending by the way his nose would ever so often nudge onto your clit. As he used his tongue to reach deeper and deeper inside of your cunt, it was then you released his tongue piercing. The cold metal contrasting against the warmth of his tongue made you shudder, making it impossibly hard to contain your noises. His moans vibrated into your cunt, making your back arch off the sheets like a black cat, blending perfectly into the decor of his black & red room.

Right as you were about to cum all over his tongue, he swiftly pulled away. The loss of stimulation left you a whining mess. It was then you made the dire mistake of biting deeper into your lip to contain your noises, breaking the skin and letting small drops of blood flood down your chin. He had no self control to hold back as he leapt for your chin, licking up the blood that left your lip with only the tip of his tongue before sucking onto your bottom lip. You could feel his length grow against your stomach, and you blushed madly at feeling him get turned on at the sight of your blood.

He let out a small breathy chuckle "Did you honestly think I would let you cum? After you contained your noises? The noises that belong to me?" You finally let out a moan at his words "Please!" You weren't exactly sure what you were begging for, but all of your senses were being overwhelmed. It truly felt as if you were in a trance as you stared up at the glittering ceiling of the bedroom. "Please what? You want more?" He mocked as he ran his tongue down your jaw, laughing slightly at your desperation. You nodded your head frantically, wanting to feel more of him. "If that's what you want, say my name. Let everyone know who's making you feel good." You looked at him with blown eyes, awaiting him to reveal his name to you. "Bill," You didn't hesitate to scream out his name as he dove back into your pussy.

Your cunt was aching, your thighs begging to close in around his head at the merciless pleasure you were receiving. The room was filled with your mewls bouncing off the walls, echoing into Bill's ears and fueling his lust. Your noises drove him to work your poor pussy harder, adding fingers into your hole as he toying with your clit using his tongue. Your hands reached down to his scalp to pull at his hair.

"M-ah!" The pleasure you were receiving was almost unbearable, his long fingers pressing just the right spots within you. You were once more teetering towards the edge of bliss, you pussy clenching around his fingers. It's only taken him the time since you entered his castle to learn you like the back of his hand, memorizing the inside of your cunt with his fingers and the sounds of your moans with his ears. Your cunt was puffy and pulsing with desire, and you let out a moan of his name. "Bill! Gonna cum-!"

Right as those words left your mouth he pulled away again, leaving you a sobbing mess. He payed no mind to you, merely admiring his work of your glistening folds. He inhaled your scent as you wept at the loss of another orgasm, tears streaming down your cheeks. He ran his nose against your thigh, inhaling your scent once again.

His cock was hard, impossibly hard. It was aching at your scent, and your sweet noises weren't helping his situation. He decided to indulge in a little pleasure for himself, smelling of your inner thighs until he picked up on a scent he desired. He blocked out your cries and pleas as he sunk his fangs down into the plush of your thigh, drawing blood to the air before sucking it back in with his mouth. You screamed with pleasure filled pain as he moaned against your thigh. He sucked at your thigh some more before rubbing the flat part of his tongue against it, moaning out once more before releasing his load onto the sheets. Your mind was too hazy and under a hypnotic-like state to register much of another besides the feeling of his tongue, the pleasure it brought, and the pain.

You chanted out his name "Bill, Bill, Bill," anything at all to try and get him to give more attention to your aching core. Once Bill had finished releasing and pleasuring himself, he decided you had been good enough and deserved some pleasure of your own. Most women he had tried this with had screamed with agony, doing anything at all to get away from him. His sharp teeth just weren't for them.

"Good fucking girl" He spoke out in a low, groggy tone. He focused his eyes onto your cunt again, before attacking it with his mouth again. He slurped up your juices before bringing his fingers up to pump in and our of you at a brutal pace, his mouth latching onto your clit and sucking on it. You screamed out his name, egging him on. You used your hands to claw at his sheets, the pleasure being brought by his tongue completely encompassing you. He made sure you felt completely owned by him, totally below him. He had decided that if cumming around his tongue is what you wanted, you would get just that and more. Who was he to leave you unsatisfied when you had been so good for him?

Your legs were trembling, completely at his mercy as you felt your orgasm building up yet another time. This time it felt much faster, the heat in your core heating up your entire body. His fingers were hitting ever spot in you just right, and your entire body was succumbing to pleasurable pain as you sprayed all over his face, your back arching impossibly higher. Your back ached and your entire body shook with the intensity of your delayed orgasm.

You were moaning choked out screams as Bill didn't lessen his brutal, inhumane pace into your cunt. It was almost as if your noises and squirt only made him want to go faster. No human would be able to move their fingers in and out of you at the pace he was. Your eyes looked up at the ceiling, dots invading your vision. You felt like at any moment you might pass out as you released against him once more. He hungrily lapped up all you had to offer, groans bouncing off against your folds. His hands came up to press against your waist as you continued to moan, and he only continued to get faster. "T-too much! Slower!" You were barely able to form those simple words, your mind turned to mush as the lines blurred between your orgasms, slowly being unable to tell when one started and one ended. The bliss and pain you were receiving were unbearable.

It seems he didn't take into account the fragile nature of the human mind and body, as you passed out. Collapsing from the overstimulation, your body fell against the plush comforter of his bed. He looked up at you to study your face, his lower face covered in blood from your thigh and slick from your spent pussy.

He crawled over you, hovering over your body taking in the scent of your sleeping form. He reached your face, huffing in your scent like it was a drug. He moved his nose down to your neck before latching onto it, a zap of electricity being sent down his spine as he did so. He left the signature dots against your neck, his eyes closing as he inhaled the smell of your blood, marking his territory.

"Mine."

a/n: sorry for the long break, been getting back into doing schoolwork.. i do hope this was to your liking! requests are being closed for now as im still trying to get caught up on them, but feel free to send in quick drabble ideas or just to chat! I love talking to u guys! <3

#smut #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader #fanfic #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz fanfic #x reader #bill kaulitz imagine #vampire smut #vampire Bill kaulitz

[heich0e]

BEG, BORROW, & STEAL - levi ackerman/f!reader (aot) NSFW 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT wc: 13k tags: enemies to lovers, neighbours to begrudging friends to lovers, food and wine writer!Levi, catsitter!Levi, Pancakes is the Real Star of this show, frequent and gratuitous descriptions of food and drink, frequent mention and consumption of alcohol, singular mention of loud domestic argument, smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, sensory deprivation play, blindfolds, hair pulling, no mention of condoms, honestly i'm not sure if fire escapes are actually safe to hang out on so tw for that too crossposted to ao3

Nestled in a quiet corner of Mitras’ budding east end, there’s a little five-storey building. 

It’s stout, brick, and decorated with ivy that creeps up along the mortar and underneath its windows. Along the side of the building not facing the two lane street, running just above a narrow back alley, there’s a labyrinthine set of old metal fire escapes—rusted and weathered but still sturdy, a standing testament to bygone craftsmanship. It all comes together in stark juxtaposition to the design of the towering structures of concrete, steel, and glass that have been steadily cropping up in the neighbourhood as of late. 

The architecture feels almost out of place among these new developments, understated and old among all the shiny and new, but it certainly has a lot of character.

The residents who inhabit the apartments inside are respectful, polite people, who mostly tend to keep to themselves—though they’re as a eclectic of a bunch as any, to be sure. Most have lived in their rent-controlled units for decades, made homes for themselves that they never plan to leave. 

Since moving into the little brick building two years ago, you haven’t had any notable issues with any of your neighbours.

Well, except for one.

The miserable guy in apartment 304—one unit down and slightly to the left of your own, 405. He’d nearly chewed your god damn head off for using his trash can one time when you’d first moved in. His trash can of all things. It had been an honest mistake on your part, and you’d sincerely apologized for it when he all-but cornered you in the mail room off the lobby a few days after the fact. But after the unpleasant exchange, the curmudgeon bought himself a padlock for his trashcan and has sent withering glares your way ever since. 

It’s been well over a year since then, but the chill has never quite broken between the two of you. 

The dark haired man, who seems to be perpetually suit-clad—or at least he has been in all the times you’ve spotted him—is easy enough to avoid given the floor’s difference between your units. But sometimes ill-fated meetings are inevitable in such close quarters. 

Your building (regrettably) only has one rickety old elevator. It’s an original feature from when the complex was first built, and it’s undergone minimal maintenance and sum total zero upgrades since it was installed decades prior. 

All of which is to say: it merits nothing less than being called a complete and utter death trap. 

And, as though the sluggardly descent from your apartment on the fourth floor down to the lobby isn’t harrowing enough, your ill-tempered neighbour standing less than a metre away from you in a tightly confined space surely makes it worse.

The elevator is old enough that it has two doors—an automatic door that opens on each floor, as well as a manual interior door that the passengers in the elevator are responsible for opening and closing themselves. Initially you’d found the antique system charming, quaint even, but after realizing that the interior door weighs about thirty pounds and only likes to open half of the time, it quickly lost its charm. You stare pointedly at the cursed iron grate of the aforementioned interior door as the elevator makes its slow downward journey to the lobby, cursing yourself for not just taking the fucking stairs. 

The lights on the side panel tell you you’re only one single floor away from your destination. If you just hold your breath and pray hard enough maybe everything will be fi—

“If you and your boyfriend plan to continue going at it like animals until four in the morning without any consideration for your neighbours, you should at least have the basic human decency to close your bedroom window.”

The elevator makes it to the ground floor just as his eviscerating remark draws to a close, the car dipping slightly upon arrival and sending your stomach sinking with it. Without missing a beat, your sour-faced neighbour pulls the confounded metal door open like it weighs nothing. You, in contrast, are frozen stock-still in shock, reeling in the wake of his words with a singeing heat flooding your cheeks. He steps off in the lobby without so much as a momentary glance in your direction, and you watch his back (in a crisp navy blue suit jacket) as he walks away.

You’re so completely stunned that you almost forget to get out too. 

Oh, you hate him.

You swear that you’ll forsake the cursed elevator entirely for the rest of your life, if only to avoid ever crossing paths with that bastard again.

Or, so you may have thought.

Weeks later, you find yourself on the fire escape outside your living room with tears drying on your cheeks. You sit quietly in the wake of a long, heated argument with your boyfriend. A loud argument. A relationship ending argument. 

Things have been bad for a few months. Maybe even longer, if you’re being honest. He’s always been a bit mean, a little careless, a little wrong—and you knew he probably wasn’t the one. But that doesn’t make the sting of yet another relationship crumbling in your hands any more bearable.

And so, not for the first time, you find yourself drowning your sorrows in a bottle of cheap, overly saccharine white wine and hiccuping in breaths of the fresh air as you try to soothe the ache while the sting of alcohol sears down your throat.

“Your boyfriend sucks.”

You jump a little, looking down the stairs to your right only to see your most loathed neighbour on his own fire escape with a glass of red wine in his hand. 

You’re not sure how long he’s been there, but you’re sure he heard most (if not all) of what had transpired in your living room if he had been home at the time. Your windows had been open, you realize too late to do anything about it.

“Yeah,” you scrub at your swollen eyes with the back of your knuckles, “he kinda does—”

You take a long, inelegant swig from the bottle of wine in your hand at the same time your neighbour lifts his own glass. This mouthful tastes more bitter than the last.

“—and he’s not my boyfriend anymore, in case it needs to be said.”

Your neighbour pauses with his glass at his lips. Based on the fact that your window had been open to the world at large, and your conversation with your now-ex had been less that even-toned, you doubt the point really stands to be highlighted.

“It doesn’t,” he replies, confirming your suspicions. “But sorry to hear that.” 

You snort mirthlessly. “Are you really?”

The man tuts, a little click of his tongue behind his teeth. But it’s not a sound that implies that he cares, just one that says he’s been found out. 

“No.”

You can’t help but laugh at his candour. It’s a nice reprieve from the tears.

And, strangely, things are almost… amicable after that. 

Now in the evenings when both of you sit quietly on your fire escapes, where once you’d skitter back inside to avoid his cold glare and oppressive aura, neither of you moves to silently retreat. 

Sometimes you even chat, as unlikely an occurrence as it once would have seemed to you. You talk about basically nothing—the weather, a new building that’s cropped up a few streets away, a noisy neighbour, the moon—and it’s usually just for a few minutes before you head to sleep. You tend to be early to bed and early to rise, but Apartment 304’s lights seem to be on at all hours.

Part of you wonders just how long he stays out on his balcony after you retire for the night. But, it’s sort of nice—this unlikely armistice you seem to have unspokenly signed.

You stick your head out the window one evening, a few months in to your ill-begotten amity, a little earlier than you normally would since you got home from work ahead of your usual return.

He’s already there. 

“Hey—” 

Your neighbour lifts his head to peer up from the pad of notebook paper he’s scribbling away on. He’s wearing glasses today. You’ve never seen those before. 

“—what are you having for dinner?” 

304 looks at you with a quirk of his brow. 

“A 2001 Cabernet Sauvignon.” 

You lean your elbows on the windowsill, angling yourself a little further out of it. “I just made a fuckload of food. If you split that red with me, I’ve got a plate for you.”

He eyes you, and seems to be considering your proposal. 

“What is it?”

“Roast chicken, some vegetables. Nothing fancy.”

“This wine pairs better with red meat.”

“Yeah? Well my last bottle of wine cost me 8 dollars and a 2-day hangover. Do you want the food or not?” you ask him, rolling your eyes lightly at his comment.

There’s a long pause. 

A sigh.

“Fine.”

You meet on the metal stairs halfway between your respective fire escape landings on the third and fourth floor; you're perched a few steps higher than your neighbour closer to your home, and he to his. 

He pours you a serving of wine into a spotless glass that he must have retrieved while you were inside plating up the meal, having evidently tucked his eyeglasses away at the same time as they’re nowhere to be seen. He accepts the plate of food you offer him and hands you the drink in exchange. Your plates are mismatched, so is your cutlery, and they clash with the delicate wine glasses he’s brought to your unexpected soiree. 

You watch cautiously as he takes his first bite, silently scrutinizing the way his brow furrows as he chews. After a moment the crease in his brow softens, and he seems content—or at the very least not repulsed. You almost laugh into the brim of your wine glass as you quietly read the expressions on his face. 

You tip your glass back and take your first sip.

“Holy shit, this is great,” you say, the flavour of the wine lingering on your tongue even after you’ve swallowed it down. It’s neither too dry nor too sweet, evenly balanced, and it doesn’t have the lingering tannic bitterness of the reds that you’ve tried before. Theres something rich but not heavy in the notes that first touch your palate, fruity but on the right side of neutral. You reach a hand out for the bottle and he passes it to you—albeit hesitantly. Reading the label, all you’re able to surmise is that it’s french. “This must not be cheap.”

“It certainly cost more than eight dollars,” your third floor neighbour snorts. He catches the flat look you shoot him, and suddenly is very preoccupied with cutting into his next bite of chicken.

And so from that point on you continue your evening chats, and even eat dinner together on a semi-regular basis. Apartment 304 has yet to turn down your offer of a free meal—and he always supplies the wine.

You’re not friends per se, but you’re certainly no longer mortal nemeses either. 

“Oi! 405!”

You hear your neighbour call to you late one afternoon, the sun rapidly slipping away along the city skyline outside, and rush towards your open window. You stick your head out onto the fire escape curiously. 

Your neighbour is standing on his landing, staring up at you with a quirked brow.

“Did you lose something?” 

That’s when you notice the bra dangling off his outstretched finger. Your eyes shoot to your laundry rack where that very bra had been previously pinned to dry, as though you really need to confirm where it had come from. There’s a clothespin resting on the grated metal deck of the fire escape beside the wire rack, having clearly blown off in the wind. 

You swallow a mortified groan. 

“How do you know that’s not Misses Miller’s from upstairs?” You sniff, unduly defensive. The argument is weak and you know it; Misses Miller occupies apartment 506, the unit at the top of the fire escape stairs connected to your own—she’s nearly 80 and likely requires a bit more support than what the dainty lace bra looped around your neighbour's index finger offers. 

The dark-haired man’s lips quirk into something you might think vaguely reminiscent of a smirk if you believed him capable of it.

“I’m happy to go ask-“ 

“You’re a real jerk, y’know that, Third?” you cut him off before he can finish the thought, pulling yourself out through the window clumsily in your newfound haste.

He seems to be contemplating what you’ve said as you make your way down the fire escape stairs towards him, footfalls heavy with your indignation.

“Third?” he asks, peering up at you with his head titled inquisitively to the side.

“Third floor,” you explain, like it should be obvious.

“I don’t own the entire third floor.” 

You lean down from your place on the stairs and snatch your bra from his hand. “Well you sure act like it.”

You turn and stomp your way back up the fire escape towards your own apartment, bra clutched in a tightly clenched fist.

“So, should I let Misses Miller know you’re returning that to her, or—“

You slam your window shut behind you before you can hear the end of his comment.

A few nights following The Bra Incident—or the deBRAcle as you’ve come to refer to it in your mortified inner monologue—you wake to the unpleasant sound of toppling aluminium in the back alley. Sleepily, you shuffle out into your living room and lift your window, peeking your head out into the cool night.

A quick glance to your right tells you that 304’s lights are off. It’s late, admittedly, and this should be normal—but you can’t recall a night you’ve peeked down towards his apartment and seen the window dark. It’s all a bit unusual.

What you hear next even more so. 

“God fucking damn it—shit, fuck—mother of—“

“You alright down there?” You approach the railing of the fire escape and lean over the edge to peer down towards the ground.

Below you, beyond all odds or reasonable explanation, is your third floor neighbour. He’s dressed in a nice suit as usual, with his hair neatly slicked back, and he’s standing beside a knocked over garbage can with trash strewn about.

He blinks up at you owlishly.

It’s quiet for a moment as the two of you hold eye contact.

He speaks first.

“I forgot my house keys in my office.”

You raise a brow, propping your chin in your hand as you lean against the metal railing. “And so you picked a fight with an innocent trash can?” 

304 narrows his eyes up at you, a resentful squint. The sharp line of his jaw becomes even more pronounced as he grits his teeth. “I’m trying to reach the fire escape.”

The ladder that connects the fire escape to the ground is retractable, and has to be pulled from the second floor. He’d clearly been trying to use the garbage cans as leverage to reach the lowest rung of the ladder and yank it down—a security measure that had clearly done its job.

You purse your lips, fighting back a laugh. “Are you drunk?” 

Silence befalls the two of you once more, and your neighbours eyes only narrow further. 

“A bit.” Reluctance weighs heavily in his monotonous words.

You push yourself off from the railing, heading back towards your window. 

“Where are you going?” 304 calls indignantly after you, like now that you’ve spotted him you’re somehow obligated to come to his aid.

“I gotta grab something!” you chirp dismissively as you crawl back inside over the edge of the frame.

Something being your cellphone. Specifically to take a picture and commemorate the ordeal.

“You’re cruel,” your neighbour snarls from his place on the ground as you gleefully snap a few photos with flash, quickly turning his back to you in an attempt to preserve whatever remaining shred of pride he has left.

“And if you want me to drop this fire escape ladder then you’re at my mercy—so smile!” you cajole with a giggle as you lean precariously over the railing, pinching the screen of your cellphone to zoom in on his figure.

He flips you off over his suit-clad shoulder and it makes you laugh again. 

Once you’ve had your fun, and taken (conservative estimate) 400 photos, you climb down the stairs all the way to the second floor balcony—creeping across the grated deck as to not startle your unsuspecting lower-level neighbours—and finally push down the fire escape ladder. 

304 makes short work of clambering up the rungs, pulling himself onto the balcony with a heaving sigh. He stumbles slightly, and you grab him by the lapels of his suit to steady him.

“Take it easy, Third,” you say quietly, letting your hands unfurl from his suit jacket once you’re sure he’s regained his balance.

He rolls his eyes and pulls the creaky fire escape ladder up behind him once more. You both wait with bated breath, pulse spiking, to see if the lights inside the second floor apartment turn on. Mercifully the windows stay dark.

The two of you make your way back up to the third floor, and you’re just about to step onto the stairs towards your own apartment and return to the call of your bed as 304 move towards his window. He places both hands flat against the glass and pushes up.

Nothing happens.

It’s locked. 

“Oh my god,” your neighbour groans miserably, letting his forehead rest against the fingerprint-smudged glass, his dark hair hanging around his eyes.

“Holy shit, did something just move in there?” You gasp in fright, spotting something streaking through the darkness of his apartment through the pane.

“Yes, the fucking beast that’s taken over my home.”

You tilt your head. “I’m lost.”

The man before you sighs, turning over so instead of resting with his forehead against the glass his shoulders are pressed to the brick just beside the window frame. He tilts his head back, and a strand of hair falls from his slicked back style and curls in front of his eyes. He breathes out frustratedly into the night. “I’m currently babysitting my acquaintance’s evil cat.”

“You have a cat?” you ask excitedly. 

“No,”—he shoots you a pointed, irritated look—“it’s my acquaintance’s cat. And it’s the weirdest creature on earth. She can open windows and eats all of my bread.”

You press a hand to your mouth to try and hold back your giggles.

“Bread?” you ask him incredulously.

He nods solemnly.

“Well,”—you drag the toe of your fluffy slipper idly against the grating beneath your feet—“what’s her name?”

He stares at you blankly. Utterly unenthused. “Pancakes.”

And at that you have no choice but to openly and unreservedly laugh.

When you finally manage to get your giggles in check—exceedingly conscious of how the sound of your laughter seems to ricochet down the narrow, brick-lined alley you find yourself in—you manage to ask him a pertinent question.

“Does anyone have a spare key to your place?”

“My colleague, Erwin,” the man in front of you mumbles.

Acquaintance. Colleague. You’re starting to wonder if 304 has no friends, or just refuses to refer to them as such.

“Ok, so call him,” you encourage.

He shuts his eyes, his head still pressed back against the wall of brick behind him.

“…My phone is dead.”

You wince. 

“Christ, third strike you’re out.”

Your neighbour looks ready to pitch himself clear off the edge of the fire escape. 

“Get it? because you’re—“

“I got it.” 304 finally opens his eyes to shoot you a glare.

You do him the favour of not openly laughing in the face of his misfortune again, wracking your brain for something that may actually be helpful.

“Er, do you wanna come up to my place?” you ask. “I probably have a charger you can use for your phone, or you could just use mine to call. What kind do you have?” 

The man in front of you rifles through the inside pocket of his suit jacket and hands you the dead device. 

You survey it for a moment, turning the bottom of the phone up towards you to squint at the charging port in the dim night. It’s different from yours but all hope isn’t yet lost. “I think that ex of mine you liked so much had the same one, he left a charger up there. It’s all yours if you want it.”

It’s not like he really has any other choice.

As 304 follows you up the narrow fire-escape stairs towards your window on the fourth floor, you realize it’s the first time your neighbour has ever been to your apartment. Or even crossed the halfway point on the stairs, for that matter. You turn just before you get to the window, and suddenly realize how close you are on the narrow balcony outside of your home. 

You pause.

“You know, I really shouldn’t be inviting a stranger into my apartment.”

Third tuts admonishingly. “We eat dinner together once or twice a week.”

“I don’t even know your na-“

“Levi.”

You’re a little taken aback in the wake of his offering, your eyes widening slightly.

“Levi,” you test the name over in your mouth like the wine the two of you so often share, and then you shrug. “Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as Third, but I guess it’ll do.”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” he huffs.

You turn to crawl through your living room window when you feel a gentle touch on your hip calling for your attention. You look back, and Levi pulls his hand away quickly, like he’s realized what he’s done.

You can’t help but think he doesn’t need to seem so suddenly abashed.

He clears his throat a little as you look to him inquisitively. 

“Your name?” 

You smile a bit, your nose scrunching up at how shyly he poses the question, and you tell him.

He nods curtly, like he accepts it, and it almost makes you laugh.

You go about making two cups of tea while you wait for the phone to power back on once he’s plugged it into the charger—which you dug out of a box you keep shoved in the back of your coat closet full of things your various exes have left in your apartment over the years. Thankfully it is the right fit for the device.

A quick glance at the time on your stove clock as you’re boiling the kettle tells you it’s already well past two AM—far later than your usual bedtime, though you don’t feel particularly sleepy.

Once the tea has been prepared, you tote the steaming mugs into the living room where Levi is waiting. You sit curled in an armchair, while your unexpected guest rests perched on the very edge of your sofa closer to the outlet where his phone is plugged into the wall.

“So, what had you out so late tonight, Thir-Levi?” you ask, correcting yourself last minute from using the nickname you’re so used to. You blow over the surface of your very hot tea as you wait for his reply.

“Work thing,” he grunts dismissively, his knee jiggling impatiently while he cradles the still-dark cellphone in his hands. He picks up his own cup of tea and takes a sip. He seems pleasantly surprised by the taste.

“Okay,” you draw out the word, “and what exactly do you do for work?”

Levi looks at you over the brim of his mug, an almost skeptical expression on his face.

“I’m a writer.”

Your eyes widen. “No shit! Like a novelist?”

“Journalist,” he corrects you, his lips pursing forward like he’s contemplating whether or not to divulge any more. He decides to indulge you, evidently, when he further supplies: “I’m a food and wine writer.”

“Really?” You lean forward in your seat, suddenly very interested. “A critic?”

He looks like he wants to correct you, but doesn’t. “I write reviews among other things, yes.”

You slump back in your chair a little bit, kicking your legs up to loop over one armrest. 

“Wow, a guy who writes about food and can’t even cook.”

“I can cook, I just choose not to,” Levi says defensively, his tone sharp.

“Sounds like something someone who can’t cook would say,” you say, punctuating the statement with a long sip of tea.

“I’ve eaten at some of the nicest restaurants in the world—there’s nothing I can make myself that could compare, so why try?”

“How fatalistic of you,” you say with a snuffle of a laugh against the edge of your mug. “You know, if I’d known you had such a refined palate I might have been a bit more self-conscious about serving you my cooking.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “You’re a decent cook.”

Your brows lift in surprise. A compliment?

“But you use too much salt.”

You bark out a defensive laugh. “I do not!”

You hear a subtle buzz of vibration and a soft chime as Levi’s phone, left momentarily forgotten on the arm rest of the couch, powers on. It seems to take you both by surprise.

“Well then, time to call your colleague in shining armour,” you say with an encouraging wave of your hand.

Levi leans forward to set his cup of tea down on the table in front of him.

“Coasters?” He pauses, looking around the room. 

“I found this coffee table on the curb outside my dorm in college, I promise you it’s seen worse than a hot mug.”

Levi’s face pinches slightly before he sets the mug gently down atop the table’s edge.

You watch as he picks up his phone, tapping around the lit screen for a moment before holding the device up to his ear. He’s curved a little awkwardly towards the end of the sofa due to the power cord connecting the phone to the outlet, the material of his dress shirt pulling taught around his frame. His suit jacket hangs on the back of a chair at your kitchen counter, the knot of his tie is loosened at his throat. 

It’s quiet for a moment, and then Levi pulls his phone away from his face and ends the call.

“He’s not answering,” he says with a frustrated huff, as though not answering a phone call in the dead of night is somehow unreasonable. He dials the number again.

“Well,” you say slowly, watching as the same series of events plays out once more, “it’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“Oh, fuck,” he groans quietly, slumping back into your sofa. 

“Do you think the building Super would be awake?” you ask. The Superintendent has keys to every unit, so he’s the next most viable option. He’s a nice, helpful man, and only lives down on the first floor, but you suspect a knock at the door in the dead of night would be worse than an impromptu phone call.

“No, but he’d probably wake up if I called him,” Levi mumbles. He clicks his tongue behind his teeth in irritation. “How humiliating.”

He looks miserable at the mere prospect, but still reaches for his phone.

And maybe it’s because of how late it is. Maybe it’s how warm and dozy and pliantly agreeable the tea that you’d prepared for the two of you has made you feel. Maybe it’s just because there’s something inexplicably comfortable about being around Levi that has your guard lowered.

“You could always crash on my couch,” you find yourself saying before you really think it through. He looks up at you, clearly taken aback by the offer. “Then you can call your coworker in the morning and get your spare key.”

Levi appears uncertain. “You’d let a stranger crash on your couch?” 

“We eat dinner together once or twice a week, Levi,” you remind him with a little smirk, using his own words from earlier in your defence.

You bring out a pillow from your own bed covered in a fresh pillow case, and a blanket from your linen closet. You hand them to Levi, still seated in the same place on your sofa though a bit more at ease, and he dips his head in thanks while holding both items atop his lap.

“I have some clothes my ex left here that I would offer you, but he was a bit, uh…”—you make a vague gesture in roughly the same stature as your last boyfriend—“he had a different build than you.”

Levi looks at you flatly. 

“You’ve already done enough,” he says, though not altogether unkindly. 

“Alright, well… g’night,” you say with an awkward little wave, shuffling off in the direction of your bedroom. 

Levi calls your name just as you step across the threshold, and you peek back through the doorway towards him. His face is illuminated only by the glow of the lamp atop the table next to the sofa, and he’s looking at you with an unexpectedly earnest expression as he undoes the top button of his dress shirt, his tie resting undone around his collar. 

“Thank you.”

You smile, dipping your head in a little nod, and shut your bedroom door behind you.

When you wake the next morning, it takes a few languid blinks against the morning sunlight streaming in through the curtains and a couple moments more of proper consciousness to remember the events that had transpired the night before.

Well, that and the distant shuffling outside your bedroom door. 

You pull on a sweatshirt, pat your hair down into something you think (hope) is a little less dishevelled, and amble sleepily out to your living room. It’s empty, but Levi’s suit jacket is still hanging on your counter stool, his tie neatly rolled up on the corner of your coffee table, and your window is open. You can see the edge of his back seated just beyond the open pane. 

You poke your head out to see Levi on the fire escape. His button up shirt is undone to reveal the tight white t-shirt he wears underneath it, and his slacks are slightly creased from sleeping in them. His hair is messy—a hybrid between the loose hanging style you’re accustomed to, and the slicked back fashion he’d had it in the night before. He must hear you coming, because he turns to face you as you arrive. You look at him curiously as if to ask why he’s sitting outside.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he explains without you even vocalizing the question on your mind. His voice is still a bit hoarse from sleep, deeper and rougher than its usual smooth tone.

You crawl through the window, yawning a little as you take a seat cross-legged on the little balcony behind him. Levi turns to face you properly, shifting his whole body in your direction where he sits at the top of the stairs leading down to his own apartment. 

“Any word from your spare key courier?” You blink through the tears that sprang to your eyes in your yawn, rubbing them away with your fist.

“He’ll be here in half an hour,” Levi replies.

You nod, a little tug at the corner of your mouth. “Thank God. Pancakes must be so worried all alone in there.” 

Levi’s lip curls in an unhappy sneer. “I watched her eat half a loaf of three-day-old brioche through the window this morning. I’m sure she’s having the time of her life.”

There’s no choice but to giggle at the image of a cat ransacking your excessively type-A neighbour’s home, even if he can’t see the humour in it.

“D’ya want some coffee?” you ask, pushing yourself up towards the window again.

“I’d take another cup of that tea from last night,” Levi replies, his tone almost hopeful, and you nod before pulling yourself back inside.

You return to your place on the fire escape a few minutes later, this time with two mugs in hand.

It’s quiet while you sip your drinks, listening to the building hum of the city waking up around you. 

���You always up this early?” you finally shatter the stillness with a question, but it’s not intrusive—slipping easily into the comfortable air around you.

“Yeah, usually,” Levi says, peeking over at you. He holds his mug a little strangely, you can’t help put notice—fingertips gripping the brim rather than the handle. It seems unduly precarious. “You wake up early too, huh?” 

You tilt your head, wondering how he might know that. 

“You sing a lot in the morning,” he explains, looking away by turning his gaze back towards the alley. “You’ve got terrible pitch.”

“Hey!” You reach out and swat at his shoulder. He’s warm to the touch, and even though it’s so basically human it still feels almost unexpected.

He huffs a little, neither a laugh nor far enough from one to discredit it; the sound is smug and indulgent.

“Yeah well you stay up too late,” you counter his observation with one of your own.

This time it’s his turn to be curious, lifting a dark brow as he peeks back at you over his shoulder.

“Your light’s always on,”—you tilt your head in the direction of his apartment down the stairs he’s seated at the top of—“and I don’t really take you for the nightlight type.”

“I don’t sleep much,” he admits.

You scoff. “What do you to with all those extra hours in the day?” 

“Writing, editing, researching, emailing my editor,” he explains with a shrug.

You roll your eyes a bit, taking a sip of your coffee. “So you’re a real workaholic, huh?” 

Levi drains the last mouthful of his tea, setting the mug down with a little clink as the porcelain meets metal. “There are worse things to spend your time doing.”

“There are better things too,” you counter. 

“Such as?” 

“I don’t know, socializing? Relaxing? Going out on a date?” You gesticulate with the hand not holding your mug as though to say ‘so on and so forth.'

“You think dating in this day and age is a fun way to pass the time?” Levi remarks flatly.

“Fine,” you concede, a sudden memory of your last ex coming to mind unwelcomely. You can’t help but note he doesn’t make mention of any partners of his own. “Don’t you have hobbies?”

Levi purses his lips, and seems to be wracking his brain. It takes a while. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “When was the last time you went to a museum? An art gallery? A play? The movies? Anywhere that wasn’t work related?”

“I went to the National Gallery downtown a while ago,” he offers.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, disbelievingly. “When?” 

“A class trip in ninth grade.”

Your laughter echoes through the alley as it spills from your lips.

“You know they’ve always got new exhibits on display,” you say, gathering your composure. You lean forward, knees pressing into your chest. “You should visit again, I’m sure something has changed in the past eighty years since you were there last.”

Levi watches you curiously, a little too intently to be considered casual.

His phone jingles.

He blinks, and there’s a brief delay before he looks down at the device in his hand.

“That’s my key,” he says quietly. 

You nod, standing. Somewhere in the distance, a car horn blares. You hadn’t even noticed how noisy it’s gotten in the time the two of you have been sitting together, but the city is well and truly awake now.

One at a time, you both climb back in through the window—him letting you go first—and once you make it back into your living room you take Levi’s empty cup from his hand to take it to your kitchen sink and wash while he collects his belongings. 

Levi steps towards your front door as you dry your hands off on a towel hanging from the handle of your oven. You watch as he buttons up his dress shirt—though he leaves it untucked from his wrinkled trousers.

“Thanks again for… y’know”—he stops buttoning once he gets about half-way up the row and gestures vaguely—“all of this.”

You lean your hip against your kitchen counter. “I’ll slip a bill under your door for room and board.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a soft sort of exasperation to his expression as he does it. 

“You could just knock.”

You smile, and you feel a pinch in your cheeks from how wide it spreads. “Well, where’s the fun in that?”

You don’t see Levi again in the week that follows, as you’re stuck working late each night as you slog towards a project deadline. 

You leave for the office in the morning when the sun has barely crested, and come home long after it’s set. You’ve been eating mainly takeout from restaurants near your work, and whatever happens to be hiding at the back of your pantry since you haven’t had the opportunity to grocery shop—all interspersed with whatever mediocre, half-stale baked goods your coworkers have brought in and left in the staff kitchen for everyone to share.

After one particularly brutal day, you shuffle in the door with nothing but a day-old donut and three coffees in your stomach, though the clock has ticked past eleven. You drop your belongings on your kitchen counter and wonder if you still have that old bag of microwave popcorn kicking around in the back of your cupboard. You ponder this question as you cross your living room to crack the window and let in a bit of fresh air.

Outside, perched unexpectedly just below the window frame on the fire escape, is a brown paper gift bag.

You glance to the right and see Levi’s lights are still on, as usual, but his window is closed. 

Hm.

You pick up the bag and retreat inside, peeking at its contents as you go.

Inside you find a bottle of white wine—a nice bottle of white wine—along with a little piece of notebook paper, ripped along the edge and folded twice in half. You peel the edges of the page back to reveal neat scrawl in black ink. 

This didn’t cost 8 dollars. 

Thanks again for putting me up.

—3rd. 

(Levi)

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, what with all the late nights you’ve been pulling at the office, and you realize that your last encounter was the morning after he spent the night at your place.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head, and tuck the note back into the bag.

The next Saturday morning, mercifully freed from the project you've been slaving away at, you have every intention of sleeping in to makeup of the overtime you've been banking. Instead, you wake to a strange rustling sound.

It takes a moment for it to register to your hazy, barely conscious mind—a sound so gentle you hardly process that it’s unusual until it’s been going on for just a few minutes too long.

“Mrrrrphm!”

Your eyes shoot open.

Now that noise, you immediately know is out of the ordinary.

You creep out into your kitchen on your tiptoes, towards where the rustling seems to be originating from.

Perched atop your kitchen counter, you see the tail end of a four-legged, ginger-furred little creature—with its head tucked into the rumpled paper bag containing the croissant you’d been planning to eat for breakfast. Its long, bushy tail sways back and forth happily as it rustles around inside.

“Hey!” 

The beast—soon revealed to be a cat once it pulls its head from the bag—has the remnants of your (now mostly-shredded) croissant hanging out of its little pink mouth. One of its ears is folded unnaturally, the fur around its neck is scruffy, and you realize upon closer inspection of your half-eaten breakfast that it has a snaggletooth. 

The cat seems fairly sociable though, as it makes no move to run as you slowly approach.

“I’m guessing you’re the illustrious Pancakes, huh?” you say as you reach up to scratch gently behind her ears. “I’m a huge fan of your work.”

The cat lets out a cheerful little chirp, your ill-fated croissant still hanging from her maw, bumping her head against your wrist. You pluck the bit of bread from her mouth and quickly scoop her up in your arms, heading towards your door as she squirms unhappily—you don’t quite trust yourself to descend the fire escape with such precious cargo in-hand.

Down on the third floor, you rap sharply against a door.

It swings open moments later to reveal Levi’s perplexed face. Glasses on.

“Your demon cat ate my croissant,” you say, holding the offender out towards him.

She meows innocently. 

“Not my cat,” he replies flatly, taking Pancakes from your hands and setting her down on the floor just behind him. She hits the ground on all fours with a little thump, and trots off happily into the apartment out of sight.

“But you two look so much alike.”

Levi responds only with a narrow-eyed glare.

Then he sighs.

“Sorry… she must have crawled out through the window when I wasn’t looking,”—Levi reaches up under the lenses of his glasses, pressing the tips of his fingers against his shut eyes as though they’re aching—“I’ll buy you another croissant.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him with a little laugh, and his fingers splay under the metal frames of his eyeglasses to peek at you through the gaps. You wave your hand dismissively. “It’s my own fault for leaving my window open last night.”

“That’s a good way to be home invaded,” the dark-haired man chides you sternly, a little furrow of disapproval making itself known between his brows. His hands drop from his face, only for his arms to cross over his t-shirt clad chest.

“Yeah, well they’d have to pass your window first—and it’s not like you wouldn’t spot them Mr. Sleep-When-I’m-Dead,” you say, shooting him a bemused look. “At least you’d have a description to give the cops.”

“All you care about is the killer being caught? Not avoiding being murdered in the first place?” Levi drawls.

“Well, at least I could end up on a true crime podcast, so long as you agree to be a good samaritan and assist the authorities in their investigation,” you joke. You peek over Levi’s shoulder to where his curtain is ruffling in the morning breeze. “Hey, do you mind if I just go out through the window?” 

He shrugs, pulling his apartment door open a little wider to let you through. “Be my guest.”

Levi’s apartment is tidy and sparsely decorated, but it’s nearly identical to your own in terms of general construction. Your eyes can’t help flitter around the space as you shuffle through it towards the open window, your nosiness getting the best of you. There’s a steaming mug on the edge of his kitchen counter that he must have set aside when you came knocking at his door, a closed laptop resting on the edge of his coffee table next to a notebook, and there are bookcases lining the walls as you walk through the living room. You can’t resist pausing to take a closer look as you pass by one, and find a diverse variety of cookbooks and reference books on food, as well as beer, wine and spirits on the shelves. 

Your fingertip traces the gold lettering adorning the thick spine of an immense tome—V I N.

“May I?” you ask, peeking over your shoulder as you pry the book from its place on the shelf.

“You already are,” Levi replies from the kitchen where he’s retrieved his mug, taking a sip. “But sure.”

You let out a little laugh, cracking open the inordinately heavy book. 

“You speak french?” you ask, your tone lilting in surprise as your eyes trail over the language on the page in front of you—foreign, but distinguishable enough thanks to a few words you recognize from classes you took back in high school. The book seems old, antique possibly, and evidently well loved.

“Only a little,” Levi says noncommittally, but judging by the notes scribbled in the margins of the pages (in the same neat script scrawled on the scrap of notebook paper tucked into the gift bag on your kitchen counter) you suspect he’s underplaying his abilities. 

You close the book and slot it back into its place on the shelf.

“Thanks for the wine by the way.”

“Did you enjoy it?” he asks.

“I haven’t cracked into it yet,” you admit, making the last few steps towards the open window. You tap your hand idly against the spotless frame, turning back to look at where Levi is leaning against his kitchen counter. “I had a big deadline this week at work so I’ve been staying late every day. By the time I got home it was all I could do to force myself to eat something before I’d pass out on my couch.”

Levi’s brows lift, though the rest of his body seems to untense a bit for reasons you can’t quite place.

“I’ll be sure to give you a full and comprehensive review of its bouquet—or whatever—once I finally get the chance to enjoy it,” you remark, half-teasing, and he rolls his eyes. 

He takes another sip from his mug. He’s still holding it in that peculiar way he held your mug the morning after he slept on your couch. There’s something about it that you find almost endearing.

You lift your hand in a little wave, he nods in acknowledgement of the gesture, and then you crawl out through the window without another word.

You’re on the second step up the fire escape when Levi pokes his head out after you.

“Do you have breakfast plans?”

You pause, turning back to look at him.

You find him peeking up at you with an unexpectedly hopeful look on his face, if not a little guarded.

“Well, my plans are currently partially digested in your feline ward’s stomach, so... no.”

Levi blinks.

“Can I take you out for breakfast to make up for it, then?” 

You tilt your head to the side, a flutter of something keen and eager tickling the pit of your empty stomach.

“Fine,” you concede, feigning as though you’re hard done by. “But I get to choose the place.”

Levi’s lips pull down in an unsubtle expression of his displeasure. “You know that it’s literally my job to—“

“I don’t care,” you interrupt him, waving your hand as though batting his interjection out of the very air into which he spoke it before it has the chance to reach your ears. “I don’t want some fancy micro-meal from whatever masters of gastronomy you write about. I want waffles. A lot of ‘em.”

Levi huffs, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath before replying a single, reluctant: “Fine.”

“Meet you in the lobby in 10 minutes?” you ask, your lips stretching in a grin.

His own lips purse, and you almost think it might be halfway to a smile. “Sure.”

The two of you wind up at an old greasy spoon diner two blocks away that you’ve been going to since college, where the staff always make sure to give you an extra perfectly golden-brown waffle. Levi sits across from you in a dark green knit sweater that looks incredibly cozy and, to your utter surprise, a pair of jeans. He looks more comfortable and casual than you’ve ever seen him.

“It’s good, huh?” you ask over the table as Levi bites into his own breakfast: 2 eggs, over easy, bacon and toast. You notice he’s carefully separated all three components of the meal on his plate so none of them are touching, and has liberally applied black pepper to the semi-firm yolks of his eggs.

He swallows the bite he has in his mouth, wiping the corners with his white paper napkin. “It’s food.”

You snort a little, shoving another piece of waffle into your mouth. “Are your reviews always so inspired?”

Levi shoots you an unamused look. 

“C’mon, don’t tell me you only eat at fancy fine dining places?” you say, waving your fork around demonstrably. “This is what real food’s all about; little family run joints like this.”

Levi purses his lips.

“Have you ever even been to a fine dining restaurant?” he asks you skeptically.

“No,” you admit, drowning your plate in more of the cheap table syrup. Levi’s nose crinkles in disdain at the sight. The waffles are the same as always: just the right crispiness on the outside to not grow soggy too quickly under the river of syrup you douse them in, perfectly fluffy on the inside.

Fine dining, irrespective of being well outside your budget, has just never been your style.

“So who are you to judge?” 

Now it’s your turn to purse your lips. 

You stab your fork through a piece of waffle and syrup drips, slow and sticky, as you hold it up above your plate. You lift a brow challengingly as you stare him down across the table. “If you want to take me out to a fancy dinner so bad, all you have to do is ask.”

Levi’s expression doesn’t change.

“Fine.”

“Huh?” you nearly choke, though you haven’t yet put your next bite in your mouth.

“Go out to dinner with me,” he says.

“That’s not a question,” you remark, shoving your waiting forkful into your mouth just to give yourself something else to focus on.

Levi huffs exasperatedly. “Will you go out to dinner with me?”

You take your time to chew, the syrup making everything in your mouth indistinguishably cloying, and then swallow. “I’ll think about it.”

Levi’s jaw gapes, a look of betrayal flittering across his usually impassive features.

You laugh. 

“Fine, fine. But only if we can go to the national gallery first,” you say, enjoying every moment of Levi’s palpable misery, setting your fork down and reaching for your mug and taking a sip of coffee. It’s tempered down to a drinkable heat, a little bitter and burnt tasting just like it always is, and there’s something nostalgic in that.

Levi fiddles with his fork, cutting into his egg so the sunny yellow yolk runs across his white ceramic plate. “…I already went.” 

“Huh?” You place your cup back down atop the table, on the edge of your paper placemat.

“I went,” Levi repeats himself, though nothing is made clearer through the repetition. 

“When?” 

“A couple days after you mentioned it. I was reviewing a bistro down the road—terrible by the way—“ he interjects, though you didn’t ask, “and I had some time to kill afterwards.”

“So… what was your verdict?” 

“Boring.”

“Oh, come on!” you say with a warm, pealing laugh, throwing yourself back in your seat. “You’re so uncultured! Didn’t you like their new installation on expressionism?”

“It was a mess.”

“That’s the point, it’s abstract!”

“If I wanted to see a disaster on canvas I’d look at those sneakers you’ve got on,” Levi says with a click of his tongue, but his eyes are bright and mirthful.

You peek under the table at your well-loved tennis shoes, gaping but still laughing. “You are so—!”

“Can I get you two some top-ups on those coffees?” The waitress who has been serving the two of you steps up to the table, coffee pot in hand, but she seems almost apologetic for interrupting. 

It’s the first time you remember you’re in public, and you settle down a bit, covering your mouth to clear your throat bashfully. 

“I’m alright, thank you,” Levi declines politely with a dip of his head.

“I’ll take a little extra please,” you say, and the waitress smiles and adds another bit of steaming, bitter coffee to your cup. It darkens the last few mouthfuls left from your already milk-and-sugared first drink; the deep brown of the fresh brew swirling into the tawny room-temperature remnants of the last.

Your eyes meet Levi’s over the table, and both of you quickly look away, fighting back your smiles.

The two of you walk back home once your meal has concluded and your bills have been paid—split at your insistence, though Levi seemed prepared to physically fight you on it. 

Back at your building Levi gets out on the third floor after a brief goodbye, but before the door to the elevator can slide closed behind him, and you can close the steel grate of the interior door, his hand shoots out to keep them open.

You look up in surprise at the sudden gesture.

“I’m not kidding about dinner,” Levi says, standing just beyond the threshold to the ancient elevator, staring at you with an almost unnerving sincerity. 

You blink, taken aback by how serious he is.

“What’s your cell number?” he asks when you can’t seem to find anything to reply.

You relay the digits to him and he scribbles them down into a little pocket sized, softcover notebook he produces from his jacket pocket. You’ve seen him scribbling in it before out on the fire escape, and realize he must take it with him everywhere he goes. Given the shape and size of it—only a little larger than the palm of his hand—you don’t doubt it’s the very book that the note he’d left with your bottle of wine had been torn from.

“I’ll send you a message and we can make a plan,” Levi says, tucking the notebook back into his pocket.

“Alright,” you agree and finally Levi lets his hand fall from where he’s keeping the doors open. 

He steps away in the direction of his apartment.

“Be careful, Levi,” you say to his retreating back as you pull the grated metal door on the inside of the elevator car closed, “or I might think this is a date.”

He pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. Your eyes meet through the gaps in the metal, and in spite of the distance you can see the mirth in his gaze. “That’s exactly what it is, and it’s what breakfast was too.”

And with that, the door slides shut between you.

One week to the day later, you find yourself sitting across from Levi in a restaurant that feels almost too nice for you to be patronizing. Levi is dressed in a nice suit, as ever, and you’re wearing in the only truly nice dress you own—one you’d bought for a friend’s wedding a few years prior and never had the occasion to wear again. 

Until now.

It’s nothing like the meals you’ve shared on your fire escape, or the boisterous breakfast at the diner on that Saturday morning. There’s no bitter coffee or table syrup to be seen, no mismatched plates and cutlery. It’s quiet, ambient even. All hushed conversation and warm candle light.

But you still enjoy yourself all the same.

And the food is really fucking good. 

“I’m devastated,” you breathe out miserably into the cool night air as the two of you walk side-by-side along the quiet sidewalk in the direction of your little brick building. 

Levi had offered to flag the two of you down a cab, but the evening weather was actually quite nice and the restaurant wasn’t far from home so you’d instead suggested to walk. Your heels are starting to hurt your feet a little bit, a pinch in your toes and the early-makings of a blister forming at the back of your ankle where the strap of your shoe rubs against your skin, but you still can’t quite bring yourself to regret anything about the evening.

Not the walk, not the dinner, not the company.

“You didn’t like it?” Levi asks, a lilt of concern in his voice.

You shake your head emphatically, turning to look at him with a grave expression. “It was too good.”

“That’s a new complaint,” he muses, his mouth pulling at the corner in thinly-veiled triumph.

“How am I ever supposed to enjoy any food again now that I know it can taste like that?” you complain, tossing your head back to look up at the night sky and passing streetlights overhead. Your shoes click against the pavement with every step, but otherwise it’s refreshingly quiet.

Levi laughs into his closed fist. “Now you see my problem.”

“Hey,” you say suddenly, bringing your chin back down so you can look at him, “can you bring me home your leftovers when you go write your little reviews for places like that?” 

“No,” Levi replies immediately, decisively shaking his head. 

You pout, sucking in a sharp breath as you prepare to plead your case.

“But I’d like to take you out again, if you’ll let me.”

He’s not looking at you, his eyes fixed ahead on the pavement as the two of you walk side by side, but you can tell he’s anxiously awaiting your reply with the way his hand is flexing and unflexing at his side.

You feel heat climb in your cheeks.

“Well, if it’s the only way to keep access to that kind of food, I guess I’d be stupid to say no.”

Levi hums, his gaze sliding to meet yours from the corner of his eye. 

“Yeah, I guess you would.”

The elevator ride up to the third floor is quiet but not uncomfortable, though you both seem to be keeping your distance in the confined space—relegated to opposite sides, not dissimilarly to so many months ago when he was calling you out for fucking your atrocious ex-boyfriend too loudly. You could almost laugh at how much things have changed since then. 

He says goodnight as he pulls open the grated door, sending you a brief look as he steps out.

“Goodnight, Levi,” you return the sentiment, hesitating to close the inside door between the two of you once more. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, and there’s an almost disappointing finality to his words, though you don’t dwell too long on it. 

And then he’s gone.

Upstairs in your apartment, you kick off your heels as soon as you step through the door. You stretch your toes against the cool hardwood floor to let the blood flow back into them before padding into your kitchen. You drape your coat across the back of a barstool, and drop your purse on counter, pausing momentarily to eye the gift bag with the wine Levi had given you tucked away in the corner.

Maybe it’s time to crack it open—if for no other reason than to try and drown the niggling feeling of dissatisfaction you have squirming in your chest. 

But first, you pad across your living room to open up your window.

At the very same time that Levi opens his, a floor away.

You pull yourself through without thinking, shivering a little bit against the cool breeze as it meets your exposed skin. Levi—his suit jacket shed, his tie loosened and collar unbuttoned—does the same.

You kneel at the top of the stairs, the metal of the fire-escape digging into your knees, and peer down at him.

“Y’know, I still haven’t opened that bottle of white wine.”

Your fingers fidget with the hem of your dress—it’s crept a bit further up your thighs thanks to the way you’re sitting. Levi’s eyes have caught the subtle rise, and through you see his gaze on your exposed skin, it soon flickers up to meet yours. 

“It’s not really a nightcap,” he says quietly.

You huff, half frustrated and half amused, but the sound is entirely too fond. 

“Are you coming up here or not?” 

Levi climbs the stairs slowly towards where you’re seated at the top. That same feeling underneath your ribs that had once been dissatisfied blooms into something else entirely, crackling like a flame inside your chest as you catch his tie between your fingers.

You pull him down with your grip on the dark green silk—slowly, slowly, slowly—to press your mouths together. 

The kiss is sweet. Unhurried. Decadent.

Levi cranes down a little further, his hands settling on the landing behind you, caging you underneath him. His proximity is more intoxicating than any of the wine you’ve ever shared. The feeling of his lips parting against yours and the gentle imploring sweep of his tongue is more satisfying than any food on earth could hope to be.

One of his hands trails up along your thigh, across that same skin you’d caught him eyeing moments prior. His touch is cold but still it burns. He gives your flesh a firm squeeze.

“Inside now,” he murmurs insistently against your mouth, “unless you want the neighbourhood to hear this.”

You pull away, peeking up at him through your lashes innocently.

“And what if I do?”

He swallows visibly, his tongue darting out to lave across his rosy lips before it disappears once more to click behind his teeth.

“Knew you were an exhibitionist.”

There’s a graceless, frenetic climb back through the window—with Levi’s hand cradling the top of your head all the while so you don’t knock it against the frame—and then the two of you are toppling down onto the soft cushions of your couch.

Levi’s body weight presses into yours as he hovers over you, mouths rapacious, your hips flush and hands greedy. You’re grabbing anything and everything that falls within your reaches: his hands on your waist, your thighs, your heaving chest; your own hands in his hair, cupping his jaw, fisting the fine cotton of his dress shirt. Your dress has rucked up around your waist in the excitement, and after a few moments of exploration Levi slowly breaks your kiss. 

He sinks to the floor on his knees, and your thighs part for him without thinking.

His eyes trace the dark spot on the centre of the delicate lace over your aching cunt, his thumb soon stroking against it with the exact same eagerness as his eyes. 

“Levi,” you say his name pleadingly as your hips wriggle to get closer to his touch, squirming further down the couch cushion towards him. “Please… more.”

Levi huffs a little; not a laugh, but something a little more chiding—a little more mocking. He leans forward so you feel every hot breath break against your skin on his exhales, his eyes still fixed to that little patch of wetness that’s caught his attention, the spot only growing larger the longer he toys with you. “Let me savour this.”

“Like a nightcap?” you ask him, aiming for levity but toeing the wrong side of breathless as his fingers follow the lace trim of your panties up along the curve of your thigh.

“An aperitif,” he rasps as he snaps the elasticated band against your hip, a sharp crack as it hits your tender skin, and his eyes flicker up to meet yours when you hiss. He smirks. “It makes you hungrier.”

Not once in all the time you’ve known him would you have denied the truth that Levi’s tongue is quick and vicious, but never would you have imagined its sedulity between your legs. 

The flimsy material of your panties tugged swiftly down and kicked away, it’s as though the meal the two of you had shared that evening has been forgotten, a thing of the past.

Levi devours you like he’s been starved.

“Fuck, oh—“ 

Your hips jump on the sofa but his strong forearm slings across your lower abdomen to pin them down and keep you at his mercy. Levi glances up at you from his position on his knees, his head bracketed by your thighs, his eyelids hanging low over his hungry gaze. The tip of his tongue flicks against your twitching entrance, laving back up to your clit. The cycle repeats. It’s filthy and fascinating to watch.

“—Levi, nggh—oh my god.”

You grab for anything, borderline delirious. Your nails on one hand dig into the throw pillow at the end of your sofa while the other knots itself through Levi’s dark hair. You grip both with an equal roughness, but Levi doesn’t seem to mind—suckling with a renewed insistence at the swollen bundle of nerves between his lips.

He reaches up and pries your hand away from the strands of his hair, twining your fingers with his own as he pins it down to the sofa beside your hip. Levi pulls away from your pussy with a string of saliva keeping you connected, slick smeared along his mouth catching in the light of the lamp.

“Be gentle, would you?” he rasps, “I’d like to keep my hair for the foreseeable future.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, your chest heaving from the way your breaths come ragged. “It feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, slipping two fingers into his mouth. They shine with his spit when he pulls them from between his swollen lips. He leans back down towards your cunt. “How good?”

“So good,” you whine, his two saliva-slicked fingers slipping inside of you at the same time.

“God,” you toss your head back and gasp, those two fingers inside of you crooking in a way that makes you feel so good. 

“You’re close,” Levi hums, not a question but rather a factual observation, before dragging his tongue up towards your clit again. His fingers keep curling against your walls with an almost unfair degree of skill, leaving you shaking and breathless.

“Y-yeah, gonna cum,” you whimper. 

“You’re gonna cum for me?” he mumbles against your clit, goading you as he carefully watches the expressions on your face.

It's not as though you have any other choice with the way he’s playing you like an instrument he’s long-mastered.

“Yes, fuck Levi, there.”

One last gasp and the lewd, pointed suck with his lips wrapped around your clit has you melting, your thighs clamping against his ears as your back bows up off the sofa. A strangled, desperate little sound tears out of the back of your throat, and your fingers tighten around his own—still entwined beside you on the sofa.

As you come down from your high, you drag his hand up with yours to your chest, pressing his palm flat against your sternum so he can feel how fast your heart is knocking against your ribs underneath the fabric of your dress. 

Your heart rate has nowhere near returned to normal when Levi stands from his place on the ground, wiping at his wet mouth with the back of his hand as he takes in your spent, trembling state. In one fell—impossibly deft—swoop, he picks you up and carries you off towards your bedroom.

“How the fuck are you so strong?” you gasp as you wriggle in his hold—but his grip is tight and he doesn’t waver.

He drops you down onto your bed, and you bounce lightly as you come in contact with the springy surface. You fall back, staring up at him as he peers at you with affront.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You giggle a little as he crawls over your splayed form, his body warm as his lips find their way back to yours.

He kisses you again. And again. And again.

Your pretty dress comes off, finally—left discarded in a hapless puddle on your bedroom floor to be dealt with later. It's an end unbefitting of the nicest garment you own, though you can’t begin to bring yourself to care.

Levi’s fingers trace along the delicate lace of your newly revealed bra and you feel his lips curl up into a smirk against your own. He inches away, peeking down at your chest.

He dips down to mouth along the swell of your breast, his eyes still impossibly trained on yours, and your fingers tangle into the soft strands at his crown as you moan lightly at the gentle touch. 

He sucks against the soft flesh, before pulling off with a little pop!

“Does poor Misses Miller know you kept her bra?” 

You laugh in response to his teasing words, a reference to the early days of what you’d now call a friendship (if not something else entirely), tugging him away from your chest by your grip on his hair.

He quirks a brow at you with his head tilted back in your hold. 

You pout playfully, slackening your grip on his hair and letting your hand slip down along the front of his dress shirt, petting over his chest. “You know, I think I liked you better with your mouth full.”

Levi clicks his tongue behind his teeth, watching raptly at the flash of pink as your own tongue peeks out to moisten your swollen lips. Something shifts behind his gaze, and he leans back on his haunches beside you, reaching up and fingering the loosened knot of his tie.

“Do you trust me?”

The question is a little bit out of the blue, and relatively unwarranted considering only moments prior he’d been three knuckles deep inside of you, but you entertain it nonetheless.

Your head lolls to the side on your bedspread as you look at him curiously. “I let you spend the night on my couch when we barely knew each other.”

He rolls his eyes at your intentionally indirect response, leaning forward until your entire field of vision is filled with nothing but him once more. 

“Do you,”—Levi pauses with his lips ghosting over yours, soft as they brush—“trust me?”

A beat of tense silence stretches between you.

“Yeah.” You swallow lightly after murmuring the word. “I do.”

Levi pulls back again, and reaches up and tugs on the knot of his tie until it comes completely undone, hanging in two separated halves against his chest. Slowly he draws it out from under the fold of his collar.

“There was a trend in food criticism years ago,” he says, his grey eyes tracking up, up, up along your exposed body while you wait like eager prey beneath his gaze, “where critics used to think that you could taste better in the dark. Like the dulling of one sense would somehow improve the others.”

You swallow hard as he leans forward, moving slowly up the mattress towards you.

His tie is still in his hand.

He dips down and kisses you. 

Brief. Teasing.

“They thought you could taste more…”

Levi loops his tie around your eyes, and your breath hitches. You feel the soft slip of silk against your skin, the pressure tightening (though not unpleasantly) as he knots it at the crown of your head to keep it in place. You see only darkness.

“…hear more…” Levi’s lips are right next to your ear; just a ghost of warm breath and his rich, deep voice that seems a little more strained than it had before. 

You’re breathing heavier now, or maybe you’re just more painfully aware of the rhythm of your own respiration.

“…feel more.” 

Warm fingers dance up along your ribs and you gasp aloud, not expecting the sensation. But as quickly as it appears, that feeling of his skin on yours, it’s gone again. You swallow. His touch continues in much the same way, fingers disappearing and then reappearing somewhere else, leaving you guessing. Leaving you wanting.

You feel goosebumps prickle up along your skin.

“Is that true?” you whisper as you push yourself upright and reach out blindly in search of Levi, though you aren’t quite sure where to find him.

“I don’t know—” Levi admits airily from somewhere before you, both nearer and further than you expect him to be. He takes your outstretched hand in his, pressing it to his cheek. It’s warm to the touch, and he turns his face towards your palm, pressing a barely there kiss to it.

Unexpectedly your bra falls forward, cool air kissing heated skin as the straps fall down your shoulders, thanks to a talented hand that had slipped behind your back unnoticed. You feel Levi’s lips curl into a smirk against your palm. 

“—but let’s find out.”

Next is an obscured, indecipherable blur of hot, open mouthed kisses; of gentle grazes and rougher gropes; of moans, and groans, and needy whines that you aren’t sure are even yours anymore. Your pussy’s left a wet patch on the thigh of Levi’s slacks that you can’t see but that you can feel as the sticky fabric ruts against your clit, your hips grinding desperately against it as he consumes you and whatever senses he’s left you. 

It’s infuriating. 

It’s immolating. 

It’s divine.

“Are you ready for me?” Levi pants against your stinging lips, his hand cupping your chin to keep your face tilted towards his even if you can’t see him. 

“Yes,” you mewl debauchedly, rolling your hips against that same crease in his pant leg that’s been tantalizing you for what feels like hours. You should be ashamed—of your words, of your tone, of your actions—but you aren’t.

You feel every second of the stretch as the head of his cock presses inside.

You wonder what it looks like, what he must look like right now, but you’re left only to feel.

“Oh,” he groans, the deep sound sodden and drunk with pleasure. “Amazing. Fuck, you’re taking me so well. You’re perfect.”

The first proper thrust—the in and the out—almost pulls you under like the currents of a tide. You’re fighting a losing battle to keep your head above water, to keep air in your lungs.

The springs of your mattress creak as Levi picks up the pace and mercilessly fucks you down into it, your breaths coming in pants broken by moans. You feel your sheets against your sticky skin, his hands twining with yours, his breath against your lips.

“Is it good?” he asks, mouthing clumsily along your jaw as his hips rail down against yours.

“So good,” you babble in agreement, nodding dumbly as much as you can with such little control over your own body. “Feels so good.”

“I love hearing you say that,” Levi rasps, tucking his face into the crook of your neck and letting his teeth graze over your racing pulse. “I don’t think I could ever get tired of it."

He groans as you clamp down on him involuntarily.

You’re close, and think he must be too when you feel the way his cock throbs inside of you.

“Please,” you murmur, voice breaking pathetically as you beg. It sounds like you’re near tears but with the silk still covering your eyes it’s impossible to tell whether or not it’s true. “I wanna see you.”

“Make a deal with me,” Levi grunts, his pace suddenly slowing to a torturous grind. You’re sure that you must be crying now with how devastating the change in pace is—still deep, but just languid enough that the cresting pleasure in the pit of your stomach threatens to recede. 

“A deal?” you ask, gasping as your nails drag along the musculature of his back.

“I’ll take it off,”—Levi’s touch trails up to your face, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your spit-slicked chin and searing cheeks—“but only if you let me take you out to breakfast.”

You’re in no position to be making counter-demands, or returning repartee.

“Anything,” you sob, clinging to him desperately. Your hips tilt up in a fruitless search for friction, your nails scrabble along his skin. “I’ll do anything. Please, Levi.”

He tugs the tie down, and your bleary eyes sting as they adjust to the light. 

Finally, you see him.

Levi is practically glowing, bathed in a sheen of perspiration that you can feel when your skin slips against his own. His dark hair is pushed back, away from the lines of his devastatingly handsome face; his strong cheekbones and the sharp line of his tensed jaw. His abs flex as he carves his way inside of you in that impossibly slow grind, a little trail of dark, coarse hair spanning from his navel to his cock, where you see a glossy ring around the base from you. 

He’s a feast to behold. To taste. To feel. 

“S-so?” he stutters, half-hissing from how viciously your core has tightened around him. His eyes search yours, avaricious and wild. “How does it compare?”

“Better,” you moan, a tear tracking back towards your hairline as you throwing your head back into your pillows, fighting as much as you can to keep your eyes open, “this is better.”

Levi laughs, breathy and wanton as the sound might be, and his hands grip behind your knees before peeling them away from their vice against his waist and pressing them back into your chest. 

He kisses you again—your mouths meeting desperately though they haven't long been parted—first chaste but then sloppily, bullying his way into your mouth like he wants to taste how sweet the words you’ve just said are off your own tongue.

He pulls back, a string of saliva stitching from his mouth to yours.

The corner of his lip ticks up in a smirk as his hips draw back, not in punishment but in preparation.

“Good.”

You wake the next morning with an ache humming in your bones and an effervescence sizzling in your chest. It takes you a moment to rouse, properly anyway, but when you do you feel the unmistakable weight of an arm curled around your bare waist, and a warm pressure perched atop your feet.

You open your eyes, blinking against the light that streams in through the curtains over your bedroom window—billowing gently in the morning breeze. You peek down towards the end of your bed, and see a little fluff of ginger fur sprawled out across your ankles. When you listen closely you can hear the little rumble of a purr.

Finally, you glance over to your side, and find Levi blinking back at you.

He looks sleepy and dishevelled, a sort of pleasant exhaustion in the rings beneath his eyes that you’re sure is mirrored in the shadows of your own skin. His hair is sticking up unkemptly at his temple, and there’s a line imprinted into his cheek from where it's been resting against your pillow. It’s a version of himself that you suspect Levi rarely shows to anyone, and right now it’s all deliriously, deliciously yours.

“Good morning,” your voice is so quiet when you finally risk shattering the stillness of your bedroom with a greeting.

“Good morning,” Levi rasps with a commensurate tenderness, even through the hoarseness of his groggy morning voice.

The city is waking up outside your window, the steady build of noise that will crescendo to a dull hum once the world gets underway. But for now it’s still quiet. For now you can still hear Pancakes’ slightly-wheezy purr.

Levi’s arm around your waist tightens, shifting you a little bit closer to him under the soft cover of your blankets. The gesture is hesitant. Half-committed. Like he’s still leaving himself open to be rebuked.

You smile, and close the rest of the distance yourself like crossing that final step along the fire escape. Traversing that halfway point. You curl into him and tuck your head underneath his chin as you rest your cheek against his chest.

Levi seems to soften slightly. To ease. To welcome your intrusion.

If it was ever that at all.

“So… breakfast?”

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #levi x you #aot fic #aot writing

[bomber-grl]

Hiro Hamada + Artist reader

Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x Gn!reader (no pronouns used)

He definitely asks you to draw him

Mostly to just get on your nerves but still-

He’d still want you to draw him even if it’s mostly all jokes and stuff

And if ur here reading this then ur most likely the artist of the family )

I see u

Anyway, he loves all your drawings

He’s always complimenting them and stuff

And if you’re into painting and stuff then he loves it even more

Honestly I kinda hc him as an artist too

And not like a young art prodigy way

But in a cringe 2012 tumblr art way

Just cuz he’s smart doesn’t mean he’s good at art 😭)

He mostly just draws mecha suits and his projects and stuff

He also just draws u and him with that one anime art style everyone had in the beginning of their art journey

Beautiful 😍/s

He always leaves these drawings in ur backpack/bag man

U just wanna open up ur binder or notebook? Well jumpscare cuz of the whiplash those horrendous ass drawing broski be making.

Most cursed thing ever…

U can never escape

Anyway

Going back to him wanting to be drawn

U do draw him at some point, just not w much effort

Atleast that’s the one you actually give him

And he put it in his phone case to display it😍

True romance guys

Anyway, he ended up finding out you actually draw him /srs and not /j

And bc he’s super nosey once he sees ur sketchbook he just open that shi up

So when he skips through a few pages

Low and behold those beautiful ass masterpieces

Either that or u unknowingly accidentally left a drawing of hiro behind and cass saw them

She was so proud and impressed by u that she showed hiro

Regardless of either scenario,

Hiro never thought he could be perceived as good looking but he’s not complainin

Then here comes living hell

He gets a huge ass ego and starts teasing u

Stops cuz u started ignoring him 😭

Eventually apologizes but only agrees to fully drop it if u give him one of those scrumptious drawings of him

He’s so annoying 😤(cute 🤭)

Eventually tries to casually bring it up but when u press behind his and knees and trip him randomly he knows to drop it

Embarrassing 🤭

But yea pookie bear loves your drawings

Real message sent to you by hiro, said in the third person)

Extra - def the type to draw cursed drawings of him as super buff or sum carrying u or vise versa w u as super buff and him all kawaii and shi

Timbers and shivered ✅

———————————————————————————

A/n: hope you liked :))

#gn reader #female reader #male reader #hiro hamada #big hero six #big hero 6 #bh6 #bh6 x reader #bh6 fanfiction #bh6 hiro #bh6 fandom #hiro bh6 #hiro x reader #hiro hamada x reader #bh6 the series #gn!reader

[crazychaoticizzy]

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship Part 2

feat. Levi, Erwin, Hange, Reiner

Part 1

Continuation of that one trend that was popular forever ago because why not

WARNINGS: fluffy, Hange is written with they/them pronouns

Word Count: 683

Navigation

AOT Masterlist

LEVI ACKERMAN

He will literally just stare at you with a straight face

Let’s be real he probably doesn’t care (I’M SORRY-)

And it ends and there’s no more audio and your phone is still recording as you just kind of stare back at him

You hold intense eye contact for what feels like literal hours before you grab your phone from the kitchen counter and stop

You awkwardly apologize and play it off as wanting to do a funny video before running off to the bathroom and beating yourself up over this

When you finally calm down you walk out and tell Levi that your roommate called and they need help with something

He most likely will never bring it up again and if/when one of you ask the other out. he’s gonna pretend that’s the first time anything feeling related had been done

But in theory if he does care, don’t be surprised when the next day there’s flowers on your counter that your roommate brought in

Theres a handwritten note hidden in the blossoms that has the kind beautiful poetic writing that people dream of getting (he asked Hange what to write and they found something on Pinterest)

It practically summed up that he would like to be more than friends as well, and asked you out to dinner

Of course, it was fron Levi

And of course you accepted his dinner date

ERWIN SMITH

He had zero clue what you’re doing

Honestly I don’t even think he noticed cause he was working on paperwork or something

He probably heard the sound but didn’t register it and just said “Y/n, I’m working”

It’s a lesson to not bother him while he’s working and actually talk to him when you have his attention 💀

So the trend didn’t work but hey you actually talked to him about it later!

And hey he probably returns those feelings and starts slacking off a tiny bit for you 🤷🏻‍♀️

But yes afterwards you actually confess to him and he is appalled

But he does like you back and so he kisses your hand and asks you out like the gentleman he is

HANGE ZOË

Hange was actually escatic

Like jumping off the walls escatic

Y’all were on a walk in the park and you suddenly stopped and told them you wanted to film a cute video because the scenery was nice

They were kind of confused at first but then the sound played more and they jumped up and wrapped their arms around you so tight you swear you saw Jesus for a moment

They gave you a big, sloppy smooch so close to your mouth they almost kissed your lips

And then they kind of lifted you off the ground and yelled that they like you, too

You got some weird looks but it doesn’t matter because they kissed your cheek again and said “you’re my significant other now” with the cheekiest smile it was so cute

And y’all turned your walk into a cute date and lived happily ever after

REINER BRAUN

You guys were making pumpkin bread (mostly because I’m craving that right now but that’s unimportant)

You literally got your phone out while you were stirring the batter and started to set it up

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

And then you told him immediately after you wanted to make a tiktok and he just let you

He was listening to the sound in case it was one of those traps where you played the pornhub theme to get his reaction

And he watched as you set it up directly in front of where he was making the sugar topping for the loaf

A smile crossed his face when he recognized the audio and he glanced down at you when you wrapped your arms around him

He brushed the sugar off his fingers and put his hand under your chin, tilting your head up

You were immediately flustered and almost regretted doing it because oh my god-

And then he kissed you

Right on camera

#izzy’s imagines ❀ #attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi x reader #erwin x reader #hange x reader #reiner x reader #aot fluff #levi fluff #erwin fluff #hange fluff #reiner fluff #levi ackerman #erwin smith #hange zöe #reiner braun #levi ackerman x reader #erwin smith x reader #hange zoe x reader #reiner braun x reader

[roosterbruiser]

Hi, could I request a Bob x Reader blurb that's a mafia themed one? I leave the plot up to you but I would love it if there was something smutty about it, thank you!

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐛 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

"C'mere, doll."

Who are you to deny him?

Oh, that's right. You're the woman he's obsessed with, the one who keeps him reeling all night long at just the thought of your lips around his cock, the one who is always game, the one who's actually not very happy with him right now.

So you don't c'mere, doll. You stay put right where you are across the library, leaving all that mahogany and leather between the tow of you, your eyes swimming with annoyance and your lips frowning.

Bob's raising his brows at you expectantly, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his cashmere trousers while the other holds a fat cigar up to his lips. He's not used to people not listening to him right away; what he's used to is people scrambling to follow his direction before he's even given it.

But you aren't biting. He can tell from that indignant expression on your pretty, pretty face that you aren't even thinking about obeying.

And dammit if that doesn't make all the blood in his thighs rush to the head of his cock.

You stare at him. You're annoyed, honestly, but not angry. You two had a date scheduled, one you bought a slinky new dress for, one that had you watching hair tutorials and buying a new foundation. But at the last minute, Bob had called--claiming duty calls--and effectively cancelled your date in a phone call that lasted less than 5 minutes. Usually, you understood. Usually, you were much more forgiving. He was a well-respected man, a man people feared--but he was your Bobby. And because he was your Bobby, you let yourself get worked into a huff about him cancelling your date. You really wanted to go to that new restaurant, the one he claimed is impossible to get reservations for (except for the Bob Floyd, who would do anything to please his lady and also happens to be the son of Danny Floyd--like the Danny Floyd, don of the mafia). Really, you just wanted to put on your pretty dress and be complimented and doted on. Really, you just wanted to eat filet mignon with the man you love and then go home and fuck his brains out. And then maybe open up a bottle of that nice red wine you like so much.

But he hadn't even come home until ten minutes ago, well into the wee hours of the morning. And when he came through the heavy French doors of the library where you've been perched on the sofa waiting for him, he merely pressed a chaste kiss to your head and slumped on the couch to light up a Cuban stogie.

"Thought I said c'mere," Bob says, blowing that thick white smoke from his bitten lips as he tilts his head at you. "Deaf or somethin', baby doll?"

He stares at you. He knows you're upset--you're not exactly one that can hide your emotions, especially when they're because of him. You're in a fantastic dress, one that he would love to run his hands over and then promptly rip off your body, and there are still heels strapped to your feet. You've even painted your nails and done your hair up real nice. He knows, just from looking at you, that you put time and effort into getting ready for the date that he cancelled on a short phone call. He really didn't want to--it was something that was out of his control--but duty really did call.

"Make me," you taunt, completely serious. You're not smiling, there is no playful glint in your eyes. You mean it. You won't come to him unless he makes you.

And boy if that doesn't make his heart rate speed up.

But Bob can play it cool, even if he knows the night will end with him between your legs, coaxing you into summing one more time, doll, c'mon--I know you can do it. So he leans back further into the couch, not breaking his eyes from yours.

Even at the end of the day, a day that dotted his shirtsleeves with blood and caused a whole lot of trouble for his family, he still looks fucking gorgeous. His hair mussed from his fingers running through it, his eyes drooping with exhaustion, his cheeks sunken in slightly. There's that delicious amount of scruff on his cheeks, which he usually keeps well-groomed.

He finishes his entire cigar, stubbing it out when it's merely a butt. And you stand there, watching him watching you, neither of you speaking.

But then he stands up, rolling the sleeves of his button-up to his elbows, and fixes you with a look that makes your knees weak.

"Want me to make you, doll? Or you wanna listen real good so we can both get what we want?"

You shiver, but hold strong.

"What I wanted was to eat steak tonight and have you take this dress off me," you snark.

He smiles.

"I can make one of those things happen," he says.

You bite a smirk, refusing to give in.

"Freezer's empty," you say absently, raising your brows.

"Shame," he says lowly, slowly crossing the room to where you're standing with wobbling knees. "Guess I'll just have to do the other thing, then, huh?"

here is my tag list!!

#bobfucks #it is bob #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun bob #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd smut #bob floyd fanfiction #bob top gun #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fic #bob floyd drabble #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd mafia au #bob floyd headcanons #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd fanfiction #m answers #200 follower celebration #bob fucks #bob fluff #bob fic

[letshaikyuu]

can i um request sugar daddy au with kuroo bokuto ushi and iwa 😔👉👈

> haikyuu's sugar daddies.

a/n: i love this request and the amount of comments my friends and i make about wanting sugar daddies, this request is right up my alley AND APPARENTLY, there are 7 types of sugar daddy relationships so let's get started

warnings: if you don't like money or sugar daddies, do scroll past and i do mention sex a few times so under the cut ✂

×××

> kuroo tetsurou

"Sugar dating - combines the intertwined life of companionship with sex"

i can't see Kuroo as only being a behind the scenes man and sending you large amounts of cash out of the blue. nu uh, he's too interested in other people's lives, especially the life of his sugar baby.

the relationship will quickly developed if kuroo finds you interesting and his interest shows with him sending larger and larger sums of cash with each transaction.

as written above, sex does end up becoming a staple of this situation of yours. mind you, he is very upfront about his desires, so he immediately tells you that this situationship might turn sexual, giving you the opportunity to back out.

he does bribe you into doing things like: "if you give me a kiss, i'll give you 10€" or "give me a blow job and i'll buy you that new phone you've wanted"

> bokuto kotarou

"Compensated dating - monetary or material compensation for grabbing a coffee, a meal or attending a specific event together"

i don't think he'd have time or think much about having a partner, especially with a life as busy as his. so, that's where a sugar baby would come in! honestly, questions this possibility very frequently, but gives in in the end.

i feel like he'd ask you first how much money you'd like to be sent and if you need the number to be raised. will splurge on you all the time if you don't tell him to stop.

if he takes you out for coffee, it's a super pleasant experience because he's super nice and interesting to be around, and if he sees you reacting well to him, his behaviour and jokes, you bet your bank account is going to be singing as you finish your cup of coffee.

takes you to volleyball events as his "partner" and boy, the money you get afterwards is unbelievable. never pushes you too far and only does PG-13 things.

> ushijima wakatoshi

"Compensated companionship” includes a wider range of activities and often involves the person becoming more intertwined in the man’s life.

he'd want his sugar baby to be more of a partner to him, but without being labeled such? that sounds like such an asshole move, but oh well. also, this type of companionship rarely includes sex, like in this case.

he just wants someone who is willing to come to his games, greet him afterwards and go back to his place for a nice celebratory meal - no strings attached.

also the one who splurges unbelievable amounts of money and still thinks he's giving you too little. texts you quite often and asks of you to accompany him to the store, go buy some new gear for him and so on...always ends up buying you some stuff as well.

very very open about this situationship and isn't afraid to talk to anyone about it. it's his money and time he's spending with you, so why would anyone care about what he does?

> iwaizumi hajime

"Pragmatic love - the sugar baby is more than happy to let a sugar daddy care for them, and hopes eventually to be in a romantic, long-term relationship with him."

come on, who wouldn't want to end up with this man? he's like the epitome of all that's sexy, manly and appealing to the eye AND he's super cute and nice, so totally understandable. at first, he doesn't even know the effect he has on you.

out of the four, i believe he's the one who'd most likely convert or "upgrade" your situationship into a real relationship because iwaizumi seems like an emotional person - he loves love.

he also loves taking care of people, so besides giving you money for everything you need, he frequently invites you over to his place for a nice home cooked meal, movie marathon, some good sex if it's his birthday and such...it hits him pretty quickly that he's fallen for his sugar baby.

you don't have to wait long for him to properly ask you and start referring to you as his partner and not just someone he spends his money on because it feels nice to care for others.

×××

ending note: i forgot how annoying it is to tag things here...

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #hq x reader #haikyuu!! #kuroo x you #kuroo hcs #kuroo haikyuu #bokuto x reader #hq bokuto #bokuto headcanons #hq ushijima #ushijima hcs #ushijima x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi headcanons #iwaizumi x reader

[haeryna]

i feel like reader (especially after being called princess and the two working together to tear down her walls) would be in a dilemma— like a few things came out of them abandoning her but one being just this indescribable feeling of rage and hurt

so upon being in their hold and touch and suguru endearingly calling for her to hear them out, part of her wants to fold SO bad but the other part of her wants to stay unreasonable and not hear them out because it’s just so much easier to be angry at them and paint them as the villains in her life, if she does accept their apology she knows that feeling won’t go away— she’d have to come to terms with how bitter of a person she really was (i mean rightfully so, they did screw her over)

also bless u and ur writing— i don’t see many poly! satosugu x reader stories with a plot that has me biting my finger in absolute investment LMAO love uuuuuu 🫶🏾✨

ANON THANK YOU you perfectly summed it up !! i wanted to write a story where there was a difficult decision that had to be made, with several catalysts involving how everything went down. (splitting this so that it doesn't invade people's feeds with a wall of text LOL)

satoru's "coming out" to his parents: mine were so homophobic that i didn't come to terms with my own sexuality for a long, long time, so i empathized with the sheer panic and trauma that gave him. you don't make rational decisions when your parents are beating the shit out of you, and you also don't make rational decisions when you're 16 years old.

suguru choosing to leave reader behind: they could only withdraw so much money with the limits satoru's parents had placed on his bank account. they had to have enough to eat, to rent an apartment, to actually get away. they had to choose a place far enough so that satoru's parents wouldn't follow, which brings me to

retaliation: there's a unique kind of fear, when you're unsure if someone is hunting you down. there's a kind of terror in realizing they can track you. it's why they got rid of their phones, and immediately upon signing to the same company, received heavily protected ones. only people who had their number could reach them, or even respond.

"they could have said something:" again, they were panicked, satoru had just been beaten by his literal parents, and they were trying to flee as fast as possible. in the moment, they could not have and would not have been able to do that. as alluded to before, they did not live a comfortable life in asia. the beginning was rough as they scraped by. it wasn't until satoru began auditioning that things started looking up for them, and if you're into the kpop scene, you know how brutal training is. suguru ultimately spent all his time caring for satoru and working on the side until he also made it big.

"and what about after?:" honestly sometimes, when you know you fuck up, but you feel like you can't do anything about it anymore? that was them. and you can be upset with it all you want, but it had gotten to the point where they genuinely thought you would never be a part of their lives again. yet the chasm in their chest grew larger and larger, until they realized they couldn't continue on unless they know they at least tried.

that's not to say reader isn't in a predicament as well, like you mentioned nonnie. leaving hurts, and abandonment is worse, so it would be far easier to paint them as the bad guys. it doesn't matter what their intentions were. to reader, they left her alone, and now they're suddenly back for unknown reasons? reader is also not the most stable of mind right now (real); she's working two jobs on top of taking care of her sick parents. for the past five years, she's had to be the one taking care of herself. now satosugu need to prove that they WANT to be the ones taking care of her. i've been in this situation before, as the left party (who eventually ended up forgiving the leaver), so i hope that will help to incorporate realism into the situation.

and i'm glad you like the plot/understood the nuance of the situation! i'm grateful to you and your ask anon, thank you for allowing me to go in depth into the situation <33 i love you too!

#strawberry picking🍓⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ #idol!satoru gojo #rockstar!suguru geto #thank you nonnie #you deserve a bit smooch #me when i get to yap: i'm in love

[1moreff-creator]

Matching the DRDT Characters with their Roman Numeral Quote (LGI MV)

So, I immediately fell in love with newest Literature Girl Insane MV, and I have to drop everything I’m doing just so I can talk about it. Although there is so much to discuss I don’t even know where to begin, one thing which immediately caught my eye was the crosswords which flashes on the screen for a moment.

As many have figured out, it’s made up of the names of everyone in the cast, plus Mai Akasaki, minus David. As the footnote on “Now” says, it’s better to use full names instead of nicknames (such as Julia instead of J) and to exclude the protagonist of the MV.

Here’s the solution by raspbeyes, who I believe may have been the first person to upload it to Tumblr.

However, what’s really interesting is that, by the nature of a crosswords, it connects all characters with a Roman numeral. And these Roman numerals show up throughout the video, attached to different sentences. That way, you can connect the characters to these sentences. And so, you get some pretty interesting stuff. With that in mind, I went through and collected all the Roman numerals (it’s not very difficult, apart from one exception), and I wanted to share my thoughts on them.

Now, the numbers don’t actually show up chronologically for the most part, and the only real logic they seem to follow is “they show up after the crossword flashed on screen”. I’ve decided to list them in the order of the actual number instead of the chronological order, as I don’t find the latter to be very important (apart from one case).

That said, I will actually start by number two, since number one is a bit of a special case. You’ll see. For now:

II - Rose ~ Ego cogito ergo (turbatus) sum

We have some latin to kick things off! “Ego cogito ergo sum” is the ever famous “I think therefore I am” philosophy, but in latin! This phrase (from what I understand) claims that the only thing we can be truly and absolutely sure exists, is our own reasoning and consciousness. This fits Rose decently well, as she’s established her photographic memory causes her trouble separating what’s real, what’s a memory, what’s a dream, etc. Even more so, it sorta fits with the song “Cartoons” from the now vanished character playlist, which some theories placed as Rose’s.

However, there is also the addition of “turbatus” to the saying. Turbatus, from a quick Google search, means something like “disturbed”. Thus, the full meaning is something like “I think, therefore I am disturbed”. This fits Rose even better, considering her scene with Teruko and Nico in the dress-up room. Don’t think I have to go too far in explaining this one.

III - Charles ~ If you doubt brittle things are broken

So, is this about his dead brother he doesn’t remember? As in, “if you doubt your memories, as they’re brittle, they’ll break? Or is this talking about the relationships between the cast? “Distrust will lead to our collapse”, sorta fits the talk he had with Teruko early in chapter 2.

However, I actually lean more towards the brother thing, because of the blue, long quote which is flipped upside down on top of the image.

“And now here’s my secret, a very simple secret. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye”

So, here’s where the Roman numerals become sorta weird. Does this count as part of Charles’ quote or not? I assume it’s at least related, especially seeing some of the other stuff we’ll see in the background.

Now, to the actual quote. I recognize it as a quote from the fox in “The Little Prince”, a book which if you have not read, you should honestly read. It’s a surprisingly sweet book to attach to Charles, but I can honestly see him blushing while talking about it, so it fits.

The quote itself is simple to understand; the material things in the world are not as important as our feelings, relationships, hopes, dreams, all that which can only be seen with the heart. This could be talking about the group’s relationships like I mentioned, but I lean more on thinking it’s referring to the memories of our loved ones, aka, Charles’ memories of his brother. Yes, the fact the quote starts by talking about secrets influences this interpretation.

IV - Arei ~ Right now, why do you cry?

Not much to talk about here. Arei’s the victim of this chapter, that’s why she cries. You can read into it a bit more and claim it has to do with Arei’s bullying of other people (“why are you crying, you wimp?” is something which could conceivably come out of her mouth), or more optimistically, it’s talking about how Arei used to only cry crocodile tears, but as she’s grown more empathetic, she now cries for her friends. Or some sappy shit like that.

Yeah, it’s still probably just about being the CH 2 victim.

V - Ace ~ Right now, why do you go insane? [flipped]

I’m not gonna lie, I kinda laughed a bit when I checked which character this one belonged to. Yeah, it’s pretty fitting, Ace is always going off for the most inane stuff.

More interesting is perhaps the background quote, “a cat has 9 additional lives”. Considering we’re talking about one of two people who’ve survived murder attempts so far, it makes sense, though I wonder if it’s going to come into play again later.

… Also, this just confirms in my mind the song from the playlist which belonged to Ace was “Yesman”. Undead, undead! and all that. I swear I’ll make a post about it eventually, I’m just more focused on this at the moment.

VI - Arturo ~ mind exercise 1 2 3 4

… Uh, well, as a surgeon, he do be exercising that mind though? Or something like that. Yeah, frankly I got nothing. This is just another moment where we Arturo enjoyers gotta take the L.

(Yes, I did just come out as an Arturo enjoyer-)

VII - J ~ Do it like that, let’s live together!

Another one I have no answer for. Like, what do you want me to say, this implies J’s the mastermind? Because it sort of does, seeing as she’s telling everyone to live together. But I really don’t see anything too interesting in the main quote.

However, the background quote may be more noteworthy. Anything in brackets is covered by something else but can be guessed with context.

“The Moral La[w] causes the people to be in com[plete accord] with their ruler, so that they wi[ll f]ollo[w] [him] regard[less of] their lives, undis[mayed] by any danger”

Had to look this one up. J’s quote is from Sun Tzu’s “Art of War” of all goddamn things. The Moral Law the quote is talking about is, from basic research in Google, some sort of unity of purpose; the idea that if the followers and the rules have the same interests, their side will have an advantage in war.

… What?

Yeah, this one’s a bit odd too. For now, my best answer is that it may have to do more with Mariabella than J herself. If you see Mariabella as a sort of leader, and her fans as the followers, it could be talking about how the combined pressure of Mariabella and the media overwhelm J, the “other side” of the “war”.

But if you’re really into the mastermind J idea, you can read it as “she’s the leader of the killing game, with the followers being the people at home that have the same purpose of wanting to see despair and keep the show running by watching”. But I really doubt we’d be getting this sort of mastermind allusions in an MV from chapter 2 of all things.

If anyone has better ideas on this quote or any other, I’d love to hear them.

VIII - Nico ~ even if i try to think, idk!

Another one I can’t talk too much about. My best guess as to what this means is “Nico tries to think about social cues, but doesn’t get it”. Relatable, but also nothing new. Maybe I’m missing something big, but it’s what I got for now.

IX - Levi ~ look, aside from the usual, give me that medicine

Disclaimer, the words don’t actually appear in that order in the MV, but this phrase makes a lot more sense than “look aside from that the usual medicine give me”.

I really don’t know what this means. I mean, I can guess Levi might take some medicine? Whit did say some people took prescriptions apparently. But I really don’t quite understand why this is the first time we’ve had his character associated with medicine.

EDIT: The last few paragraphs about Levi are dead wrong, I’m just leaving by them up so you can laugh at how stupid I was. Here’s a correction with a better analysis.

The background quote doesn’t make it much better. It’s just talking about the orbit of a thing, something something representative trajectory… something something Jupiter… something something 1930…

Oh shit, it’s about the discovery of Pluto! That’s what Google seems to think when I put those keywords in, anyways. Well, as fun an astronomy tale as that one is, I actually have no idea what it means for Levi’s character. I guess it’s something we’ll see in the future.

… Or maybe, crazy idea. You know how Pluto was first thought to be a “planet” but then got reclassified as”dwarf planet”? Maybe this means my theory is right: Levi will get “discovered” as the blackened of the second trial, but then “reclassified” as an accomplice when they find out Eden is actually-

Alright, I’ll stop. I’m joking, obviously… (unless?)

X - Min ~ Democratic-ly

Wait, hold on a second, you may say. That is an X, but it doesn’t really look like the rest of roman numerals font-wise. There are plenty of times X’s appear in the video aside from here, such as… well, the blank death portrait that’s always in the background.

And yes. To my joy, Min got given a bit of special treatment, since the roman numeral for ten, being an X and all, can be seen all throughout the video. However, there is one reason I believe this is absolutely Min’s X.

You see that tiny little 10 next to the X? That’s a footnote. And footnote number 10 is “The Roman numeral for 10 is X”. Of course, the reason we’re reminded of it here is because that X isn’t just a bunch of blood, it’s a Roman numeral.

Of course, Min gets the biggest numeral because she is just that much of a girlboss.

Anyways, numeral oddity aside, it’s pretty obvious why this is Min’s. The background text is just the description of the rules of a class trial, a trial where the outcome is decided democratically, and the reason Min died. This scene is directly followed by more references to class trials, which although they have some interesting implications for the MV as a whole, only help to solidify Min’s connection to her line.

As for other footnotes, footnote seventeen on the word “democratic-ly” is just an objective fact (“Not a real word. Can’t be found on any dictionary”), though the fact “democratically” is spelt wrong could be a reference to Min’s execution, where she was forced to get a lot of things wrong before dying.

Final note is footnote 12, on the class trial definition, which talks about majority rule and how, because it’s the fairest way to make decisions in a group, “murderers never complained when we voted for them to die”. There are implications here about the fact Teruko also received votes in the first trial, but for Min, there isn’t anything new here.

And yes, Min got three footnotes. As she should.

XI - Mai ~ God is dead

Honestly, I guessed who got this line before even checking the crossword. It just fits what we know of Mai too much. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s enough to know she would get a line as dramatic as this. If you want a proper interpretation, Mai is sometimes treated like a god by the others considering the secret quotes, but now she’s dead or gone or something.

Of course, that’s the literal meaning of that phrase. When you look at it through the lens of Nietzsche (and Wikipedia to make sure I didn’t fuck up anything), the phrase “God is dead” refers to the idea that as christianity became increasingly non-universal, the ethical and sociocultural elements of society which had been built on it would be questioned and revised. So, “growing lack of faith causes shifts in the status quo”, or something like that. It’s something which, again, may fit Mai from what we know of her backstory. Someone everyone had unquestioned faith on, who did something which had consequences, so maybe that caused a breakdown of that original faith, or something? Anything involving this character is always extremely speculative, but I frankly think the more literal interpretation works better in this context.

In any case, this phrase is about as cryptic and dramatic as everything involving Mai, so it fits.

XII - Eden ~ ???: But you’re in my way, aren’t you?

… Alright, Eden, I know I believe you to be the CH 2 killer and all that, but you gotta at least try to defend yourself against the allegations! The hell is this?

In case anyone was wondering, I think she’s the killer who wants to get out to meet back up with the girl she kissed (who I’m starting to get convinced is Mai but I’m not ready for that conversation), so this line reads like something she’d say to Arei in that theory. However, it’d be kind of a weird thing to put in the MV before the chapter ends, and besides, there’s an interpretation I like more.

You see how there’s a triple question question mark there? There’s a chance someone is saying this to Eden. I’ll actually get back to this later, because I have to talk about XVI before I cover my theory on this. Apologies.

CW for XIII: Suicide

XIII - Teruko ~ or

… He. Alright, out of context, this is kinda funny. But if you let the MV play, it’s “… or not to be?”, from “To be or not to be?” Shakespeare and all that. That said, the video does, in fact, only keep the number on screen while it says “or”, so I choose to notate Teruko’s quote as just that. Also, as raspbeyes noted in their original post, the number thirteen is considered unlucky, so Teruko.

With that, I have to talk about how insanely dark it is to cut that phrase off at the “…or not to be” section. For anyone who hasn’t read this speech from Hamlet (which I hadn’t either, btw, had to look it up), the phrase “to be or not to be” is actually about suicidal ideation, with the word ‘be’ serving as a synonym for ‘live’. Therefore, cutting the phrase off at just this section leaves behind only suicide as the option.

It had already been implied Teruko has attempted suicide before (see: her telling Arei that failed hangings hurt a lot), and that her luck is the only thing keeping her alive. This just seems to imply it’s a much more present issue than we believed.

Then there’s the background text. From my research, the one on the left is a quote from “Murder on the Orient Express” and the one across the bottom is from “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”.

“Murder on the Orient Express” is easy to tie in, as it’s literally a murder mystery novel. Uh, spoilers for the novel, I guess, but it ends with the main detective, Poirot, concluding that the murderer was either no one in the train or everyone there. That sort of ties into Teruko’s hidden quote of “It is an equal failing to trust everybody, and to trust no one at all”, I guess? For the line itself, it seems to be about a character hatefully looking at the detective. You can take Poirot to be Teruko because she’s decent at class trials (as opposed to everyone else being horrible at them), and the person looking at her to be… any blackened, or anyone, or David, take a pick.

“The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” is a bit weirder. It’s a short story about Omelas, an utopia which is the perfect life for everyone there, except for a young child who is forced to live in mysery for the sake of the others. The quote in the video expresses this pretty succinctly. I guess it’s talking about class trials? How the happiness of everyone hinges on one person being very unhappy? Teruko’s the protag, so it makes sense she gets a line like this. There could be other interpretations, but I think that’s the most straightforward one.

XIV - Veronika ~ Things like substance of the arts

I mean, it fits. Veronika’s talent is artistic in nature. It seems a bit… non-dramatic for Veronika? But I guess there’s nothing wrong here.

… Well, there may be, but I’ll get there in a moment.

XV - Whit ~ Remaining ignorant, isn’t that “happiness”?

(Trust me, that’s the order the words show up on screen)

This one’s also easy. Whit’s secret is “Your mother is dead. You omit this truth”. This, combined with his behavior in the killing game, characterizes Whit as someone who prefers to ignore tragedy rather than process it, remaining “ignorant” in a way. The footnote attached, 15, just talks about the phrase “ignorance is bliss”, which is pretty much what the quote is.

…

The problem is the background text.

Thinking Time: “Subtract 4 due to tetraphobia”

That’s the phrase in the background, which appears as both Veronika’s and Whit’s lines are there. This is noteworthy because this is the only time in the MV that two different Roman numerals appear on screen at the same time. The phrase is also attached to footnote 4, which defines tetraphobia:

“The practice of avoiding the number four; it is most common in Eastern Asia. This superstition arises from the fact that the number 4 can be read similar to the word ‘death’ in several languages”

This connection is further implied because the character with the Roman numeral IV is Arei, who died this chapter. There is special attention brought over and over again to the number four, and this phrase asks us to “subtract” it.

And of course, this phrase chooses to appear when two “characters” are on screen, to make sure we can’t figure it out definitively.

Let’s start with Veronika: If you substract four from fourteen you get ten (astounding maths, I know). That connects her to Min and “democratic-ly”… which is the part of the MV most related to class trials and the killing game. Because if there’s a way to look like the mastermind, you bet Veronika’s hopping right on that train!

Other than being “Veronika playing mastermind footsies” for the fiftieth time, and the fact she sorta enjoys class trials, I don’t see any other connection between her and Min’s section, so.

I should address, too, you can remove 4 from 14 in a more literal way, and end up with 1 (doing it with Roman numerals just gets you ten again). This would connect her to Xander, whose line I’ve yet to cover, but trust me on this, I don’t think it connects to Veronika.

However, that’s for the line itself. Veronika might actually have a connection to Xander himself, because of their lines about Mai. Xander’s is “she couldn’t stand to do nothing” and Veronika’s is “a girl who didn’t foresee the consequences”. These are the only lines which allude to whatever big thing Mai may have done. If Xander and Veronika have a connection, it is likely through Mai.

And then there’s Whit, who is also on-screen at the time. Or, well, his Roman numeral is.

Alright, Whit. Veronika’s being super suspicious, so the tetraphobia line has a good chance of being about her. All you gotta do is be normal about this “subtract four” thing, alright? Good.

When you subtract 4 from Whit’s 15, you get 11, which is Mai’s “God is dead”-

For fuck’s sake.

He really just can’t dodge these mastermind allegations, can he? Anyways, if this is about him, he killed Mai, or something, and thus is likely the mastermind.

I’m joking- well, kinda. There are other interpretations, like maybe he… was the first to lose faith in her, in the Nietzsche interpretation of Mai’s line? I don’t know, but the murder is the more straightforward answer for this, if you ask me.

The problem, of course, is that there’s no way to tell which character the “subtract four” thing applies to. Well, the use of the word “tetraphobia” feels more Veronika leaning, what with phobias being related with horror and psychology, but to counterbalance, the line only appears when Whit’s numeral shows up, so it’s even again.

Anyways, back to the last numeral in sequence.

XVI: Hu ~ ???: Go and cry

Alright, you don’t have to be so mean-

In all seriousness, I believe this relates to Hu’s reaction to David’s reveal. And possibly her secret if it’s the one Veronika has.

However, what’s interesting about this line is that it seems to be a direct quote from a character, because of the triple question mark at the beginning. And this is where my theory comes in.

I believe triple question marks is David. This would fit perfectly with this line, as it’s totally something David would say post-magical girl transformation. And with him being the protagonist of the MV, it makes sense for him to be involved.

And that takes me back to XII. If you remember, I said I would talk about Eden’s line a bit more after talking about XVI.

Well, it’s pretty simple, really. Eden’s line comes right after Hu’s in the video, so it’s reasonable to assume ??? is the same person for both of them. In other words, I believe it’s David who tells Eden “but you’re in my way, aren’t you?” This still implies Eden’s the CH2 blackened, by the way. As in, “you’re getting in my way because now I need to figure out a murder”, or something like that. There really isn’t any other thing it could be referring to. Unless it’s like, “you’re getting in my way because you’re so nice you’re preventing murders from happening” or “you’re getting in my way of manipulating Arei by befriending her”, but the first one is too abstract and the second one doesn’t work since David didn’t know about their friendship until after Arei died. So don’t go thinking I’m giving up on that theory. It just changes the context a bit.

-

And with that, we’ve successfully gone through the sixteen numbers. Except, wait! Don’t think I forgot about the funny British boy!

Well, to be frank with you, there is a reason why I chose to save Xander for last. And that is… I didn’t want to start the list with disappointment.

I - Xander ~ Inconclusive

See, the problem is that Xander runs into much the same issue as Min, but without a footnote to help solve the problem. The Roman numeral for 1 is just “I”, so any time the word I appears, Xander’s Roman numeral appears.

Now, maybe you think this is stupid. Obviously any time “I” appears as an actual word, it’s not meant to be Xander’s numeral! We just need to look for the time it’s not a part of the lyrics or a phrase in the text!

This is obviously the most intuitive solution, and it does arrive at… an answer. So, I present, the First Possibility.

First Possibility

I - Xander ~ (the world of abnormal sentiment dances)

Now, at first glance, this works! You have the numeral next to a phrase, and there’s nothing else it could be!

Except, the problem is that that only extends to the screenshot. In this part of the video, the same phrase is on the screen for a good few seconds, but the “I” disappears and gets replaced by several numbers, then the “&” symbol, more numbers, and what seems to be a “=“ sign, maybe? But could be II sideways. Don’t know, looks like code, not my expertise.

The issue here is that this would be the only time a character’s phrase lingers longer than their numeral. This is pretty inconsistent with the other phrases we’ve seen, which is what gets me to hesitate and wonder if that “I” is actually made to be part of the code and not the crossword thing.

That, combined with the line itself. Because what does “the world of abnormal sentiment dances” have to do with Xander? I looked it up, but it’s not the name of a book or anything. Maybe I’m missing something, but I really don’t think this is related to Xander in any way.

So, I looked for other possibilities. The problem is that, like I said, all other possibilities are part of lyrics or phrases, not a standalone numeral.

And yet, there is one which stands out to me as a good candidate. This has a high chance of being wrong, but I’ll bring it up anyways because I think it’s cool.

Second Possibility

I - Xander ~ I hate the things that I love, and I love the things that I hate

… Well, I know it’s hard to read it in that clusterfuck, but that is what the red text says.

This line has a bit more to do with Xander, or at least, David’s feelings towards Xander. We know he probably did like him based on some scenes from the MV, but he’s sad about his death. He hates him for leaving, but his heart loves him anyways. That could be read as romantic or platonic… hesitant on the platonic-

That said, the problem is explaining why I believe this is the Xander line. And that comes down to the background text.

… Yes, that background text.

You see, in the MV, it slowly fills out in a way which lets you read it somewhat. I’ll tell you what each part of the text means, but if you want visuals, I’ll ask you go to the video.

What first appears is white text on top and the right. The white text on top is Big Clue #1, as it’s a definition of electrocution. You know, that thing Xander died from.

The text on the right, meanwhile, seems to be an excerpt from “Alice in Wonderland”. The specific passage seems to feature Alice lamenting how much “pleasenter” [sic] things were “back home”. And well, for everyone but Teruko, their homes were likelier “pleasenter” than the killing game. However, in this context, it could be an analogy to David missing the past, when Xander was still alive.

Then, more white text appears on the bottom as yellow text appears under the white text on top. The bottom text is, again, more talk of electrocution, but the yellow text is a bit more complex. This is the line (from Google, exact wording may vary):

“To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world...”

Another “The Little Prince” quote, another straight banger (I love that book). Imma need the hornier of you to not focus too much on the “taming” wording and focus on the important part. This one speaks of the beautiful simplicity of relationships; everyone is “just some dude” until you meet them and establish a relationship, and then, they become unique.

This is an especially wonderful quote for Xander and David’s relationship. David truly wanted nothing more than to be “a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes” instead of the idol Xander saw him as. He wanted a genuine relationship with him, where they were not just each other’s idols, but something bigger; each other’s boyfriends :D

Alright, sappy stuff aside, this quote is related to Xander, that’s what you need to know.

Then there’s the big pink text. It says “note: can’t read”. Yeah, fair.

But before that note appears, some cyan text begins sprawling out. It’s not a quote from anything as far as I can tell, so here’s a transcript:

“…man crushed by reality puts on a s[how]…

…[of end]urance. If that’s beyond your

[com]prehension, dear reader, then you a[nd]…

[I’ll n]ever understand each other. Life’s…

[short?] so we might as well make it…

[count?] real life is a realm th…”

So, yeah, I’m sort of guessing half the words here, and I can’t even tell what the last line is, but I think we can get the gist from this. Reading this with the context that Xander’s probably connected, it’s easy to figure out. David was crushed by reality when Xander died, and he put on a show of endurance after that. The insult to the reader is a bit uncalled for, but I don’t particularly care, it fits David.

So, with the idea that this little breakdown is related to Xander, it’s safe to say the line “I hate the things that I love, and I love the things that I hate” (not a quote from anywhere I could find btw) is linked with Xander as well.

And, well. There are other references to Xander, but they’re never paired with an “I”. And there are other instances of the word “I”, but never in relation to Xander, at least not as much as this little breakdown.

This clusterfuck of text also forms directly after the crosswords shows up. And while most of these aren’t in chronological order, number II through V do. Wouldn’t it make sense for I to appear right after the crosswords and make I through V in chronological order?

In any case, I believe this is a decent alternative to the “world of abnormal sentiment dances”, whatever that means.

Conclusion

This was really fun! I am satiated for now, the content drop was awesome, I loved it a lot. There’s so much more I want to talk about in this MV, but this was priority number one in my mind.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading! If you made it this far, you deserve your own Roman numeral, all for yourself! Take care!

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #fanganronpa #drdt spoilers #drdt mv #drdt theory #god i love this mv so much #i am already going insane #this is not good #teruko tawaki #arei nageishi #arturo giles #david chiem #eden tobisa #veronika grebenshchikova #xander matthews #whit young #rose lacroix #charles cuevas #ace markey #nico hakobyan #levi fontana #min jueng #hu jing #mai akasaki

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Best of QL 2023: Favorite Lines

Okay well, I was going to spare everyone (and myself) from having to choose between all the pre-2023 shows I binged this year, but @twig-tea wanted more pain and suffering so here it goes:

Top Five Pre-2023 Lines that Lived Rent-Free In My Brain This Year:

"I don't want to see him sad." -Oh'Aew, I Told Sunset About You, Ep. 5

Okay so you see, my real problem here is that my favorite parts of ITSAY, the things that stay in my head rent free. No. The things I pay to stay in my head because I love them so much are the things that happen in the silence. Beginning of Ep 3, end of Ep 3, the kiss in Ep 4, the wrestling at the end of Ep 2. Those aspects, those moments are what absolutely destroyed me with this show. But I am gonna be real with you all, when Bas let Oh go like that? I wept. And I do love what it says about Oh that despite how much he has been hurt by Teh, he loves Teh enough to know how utterly devasted Teh is right now, and he cannot bear the pain of seeing someone he loves so hurt. Especially when he and Teh haven't spoken since Teh gave up his seat.

"You're tired, aren't you?" -Mork, My Ride, Ep. 5

If you saw my Favorite Lines 2023 post you would notice that this line is very very similar to my favorite line in Moonlight Chicken. And that is because loving and caring for people is super fucking exhausting. Meeting the world with kindness and grace and radical empathy in the face of horrible things, in the face of people who think you are weak for your kindness, or who seek to take advantage of it is fucking exhausting. And it is honestly quite rare that I see kind characters being asked this question, so I always go feral when they do because it is such a testament to love to say 'i see you' but to grant people enough space and autonomy to decide how honest and vulnerable they are going to let themselves be. I was talking with @ginnymoonbeam about this line a little so I am going to steal a line from her: "have you eaten" = I love and care for you

"are you tired" = I see how much you love and care for me/others

Of course the fact that Tawan absolutely just melts in to a puddle of tears because yes, yes he is tired, so so fucking tired does absolutely nothing to help me stop thinking about this scene. I love my boys!

"Because you raised me this way, that's why I'm not like other kids" || "I had to hate Pran, to compete against him, because of you? That's the reason? -Pran || Pat, Bad Buddy, Ep. 10

I cheated here. I do not care. These lines come almost one right after another and are just the same level of one-two gut punch that makes Bad Buddy so fucking incredible. Pat and Pran have been through so much because their parents were trying to save face. All the pain they have suffered, the lies they've had to tell, the caution, the fear, the secrecy in their relationship. How long Pran has had to keep his feelings for Pat at bay, how much Pat is sacrificing to let Pran maintain a good relationship with his mother, is all because their parents have decades old beef. There are so many good lines in this show, if I were to pick another one it would be "do you want to be friends?" "no" from Episode 5, but I feel like no lines sum up the conflict of Bad Buddy better than Pran and Pat confronting their parents.

"You must be disappointed in me." -Wang, 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us, Ep 7

Ok so I lied about this one, the line that absolutely stays in my head rent free is the line "Mom." Wang sobs after his fight with In in Episode 8 but I had a legitimate 30 minute melt-down over that singular line and moment so I am picking one of the next most painful lines for me. And if it wasn't this it would be the entirety of the 52 Hertz Whale monologue that In gives in Episode 3 because that is the saddest gayest monologue for the saddest gayest man. And if it wasn't those it would be the boy in boarding school monologue Wang gives in Episode 5. Honestly this entire script, and this entire show is with me always.

BUT what absolutely kills me about this line in particular is that Swasimol tries to shake her head no, and can't bring herself to lie, and Wang watches his mother nod in confirmation that she is disappointed in him when he tells her he is in love with In. And that's the part that is truly crushing.

"I know you're hurting," -Shiro, What Did You Eat Yesterday?

GOD. THEY MAKE ME SO. AGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH. Honestly a huge fuck you to @bengiyo for introducing this show to me, this brain rot is 1000% his fault.

There is something just so fascinating to me about Kenji and Shiro's dynamic especially around how they handle and navigate their queerness. Kenji is loud and out and proud and while we don't know if there was time his mother had to work up to it, we know that Kenji's mother is pretty accepting of Kenji being gay. But Shiro didn't have that same experience, and he is quiet, and struggling with internalized homophobia, and decently rooted in the closet. And I think when you have a character like Kenji who rarely seems to take the insults and the jabs to heart, who is just the human embodiment of sunshine you can forget that Kenji is human, and Kenji uses his sunshine as armor the way that Shiro uses his silence.

Shiro never says I love you to Kenji, in the first season he rarely engaged in any level of physical affection, and kept a distance from Kenji if they were walking together in public. But Shiro loves Kenji so goddamn much, so so fucking much, and while he can't bring himself to say the words it is in moments like this one, where Shiro knows despite the fact that Kenji hasn't given any indication, that Kenji is hurt by the fact that Shiro's mother rescinded his New Year's invitation.

Shiro and Kenji mean everything to me.

If anyone is curious about any other favorites (shows, cinematography, pain, etc) from this year, feel free to drop an ask!

#i told sunset about you #bad buddy #bad buddy series #180 degree #180 degree longitude passes through us #what did you eat yesterday? #kinou nani tabeta? #my ride the series #best of ql 2023

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[thatdeadaquarius]

This is riding off the language stuff in sagau but I just cant get it out of my head a reader who uses tumblr slang every once in a while. like they meet the Traveller and they're like "Omg I'm so cheesed to meet you!!" And the Traveller is just like "???" meanwhile Paimon integrates that into her vocabulary. And then maybe at some point, if the reader has a vision they're like "MAIMING AND BITING YOU" "THAT'S IT! I'M SENDING YOU TO EEBY DEEBY!" while their poor teammates are so confused. Just imagine going over to ppl like Razor, Klee, Chongyun and going "Awwww my lil scrunglos"

Just a very chaotic reader in general lmao

HEY WASSUP ANON

MY BRO THIS IS SO OLD BY NOW IM SO SORRY LMAO- SO ANYWAY HELLO!!! A DESSERT FOR UR PATIENCE 🍨🍧🛐

FOR WAITING SO LONG HERE IS SUM ASS WRITINF MY FRIEND HOPE U GET SMTH OUTTA IT

Bro imma be honest i missed out on some slang on tumblr bc i was off of it for awhile before i refreshed this old blog 

So my reaction to these slang words (except for scrunglies/scrunglos ik that one) is just as confused but also its rlly funny that im in the same situation as them LMAO 😭

☆

I would think honestly, even if ur doin it on purpose, 

I feel like some slang or refs r too ingrained into my soul to not make

So i would just accidentally use slang/memes, esp around funny ppl like Kaeya or Beidou, and then just give up eventually 💀

♤

So i stg everytime Xiao shows up in a event or smth it surprises me everytime lol

With his teleporting ability i would guess that if ur just chillin around Liyue anytime, Xiao just… shows up lol

Tea with Zhongli? Oh jesus Xiao’s here now.

Watching Xinyan and Yunjin play? Hes on the roof.

Picking ingredients with Xiangling to help her cook yall some amazing food?

Hes in the tree u were just picking Sunsettias in-

◇

So ur in Mondstadt, and ur like,

“oh well no Xiao here, huh kinda feels weird now”

eventually ur dumbass trips over nothing and goes tumbling down a hill, u know, as u do

Ur at the bottom like, 💀 

And its kinda hot and ur tired, and r selfaware of ur own goofiness so u just-

“I can see the end of the horizon, is this an internal dialouge-”

Xiao comes around the hill ur splayed at the bottom of.

UR STARTLED BC WTF MONDSTADT?? XIAO??? SO U JUST

“HATSUNE MIKU-”

CRYING-

AND XIAOS LIKE-

“??? No. It’s me. Xiao. The Yaksha Adeptus, my liege?”

HAHFLAHHAHA

AND HE KEEPS ASKING U WHO HATSUNE MIKU IS THE WHOLE WAY BACK TO THE CITY AS HE ESCORTS U LFMAO

♧

U see those scary ruin machines the ones with the fucking legs in Sumeru,

Cyno is ur bodyguard for the day, 

And at first he doesn’t see it, like its behind him, but it just like came around a corner, so it hasnt locked in on yall yet

(i headcanon that even if u r the Creator, these are machines, and dont have the sentience to even be self-aware let alone process wtf u are, ig if Khaeynriah made hella AI that is aware maybe it could fathom u)

◇

And u try to warn him but not scare him, so

“CYNO.

CYNO, THE HORSE IS HERE-”

Cue Cyno like

“A horse??? In the desert, Greatest Lord what the fu-”

Almost gets stomped on 😭 rip.

♡

U see Scara for the first time and u befriend him

Ur the only god besides Nahida he’s ok with aw

and one day he’s bodyguarding u around Sumeru 

He gets a little too into it and goes ham on several ruin machines

Like full on elmo burning anarchy meme, he's literally cackling floating above the pile of flaming metal-

And ur just clapping like: “that’s my skrunkly :) <3"

He literally interrupts his own cackle, its the most expressive youve ever seen him 

😶 😑 😶 ?????¿¿¿??¡¡?!!

HE WILL NOT STOP HARASSING U ABOUT WHAT IT MEANT LMAO

U usually define the words/memes as best u can but u specifically just call him that and never explain LOL

☆

🎵 HI. ITS ME. IM THE PROBLEM ITS ME. 🎵

SO SORRY ANON MY BEAUTY- I HOPE U CAN FORGIVE ME FOR TAKING SO LONG 🙏

I dont even mean just replying with a real thing^

I probably couldve posted ur ask w/o even adding onto it tbh

I dont think its anywhere near as chaotic as what u described but ya boy isnt the good at writing 😔

so i just focused on the memes 🤲

Have a good week anon :O !!

♡

Cheers,

🌒🌧🌊 💀Aquarius ♒️🌌🌘

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

#bless u anon #srsly this couldve been a standalone ask and i coulda just been like hey guys ^^^ #check it #but i wanted to try to repay u for the idea #and the wait for the reply lol #🙏 luv ya anon #genshin impact #genshin sagau #my asks #sagau #genshin imagines #genshin sagau ideas #gender neutral reader #genshin isekai #genshin god reader #genshin cyno #genshin xiao #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #ask box open #genshin skrunkly #i mean what

[mukamibabe]

Hi!

I saw you write for Karlheinz and wanted to ask if you can write a one-shot on Karlheinz overstimulating his wife as a punishment who tried to escape him,like she was forced by Karl to marry him.

So maybe a lemon of him catching her and the "aftermath"?

I CAN'T ON HOW AMAZING YOUR BLOG IS!!! 💜💜💜

hi! thanks for asking!! <3 and thank you for saying that about my blog!! 

onto content warnings, uhh. usual diabolik lovers stuff with like. horrible relationships and such. 

also, with the nature of this request, i think this would probably be considered dubious consent? the relationship isn’t entirely clear, i wanted it to be somewhat ambiguous but to sum it up, i guess you could say the reader? s/o? is attracted to karlheinz but has extremely mixed feelings regarding him? or even like.. a one sided relationship but the wife is not as.. infatuated with karl as he is with her, if that makes sense? honestly it might even be seen as hate sex??  it gets more dubcon-ish near the end.

and omg bc i can’t stop talking lmao i also made it so it’s unclear whether or not his wife was a human or not. just for more.. like. oc-insert/ self-insert purposes? idk . and because i still can’t shut up, does anyone wanna like?? let me know if these are too long?? i feel like everything is just long and it’s like. .ok?? i mean it is my personal preference when reading stuff like this but like? ? idk ok anywyas

don’t read if any of this may make you uncomfortable, and also please don’t read this if you shouldn’t be because there will be nsfw content under the cut. 

oh,,, and like the last scenario/drabble i wrote,, i still feel like my writing is kind of all over the place so i hope this is ok 😳 idk why im always changing povs and whatnot but i don’t think i did for this one? um anyways go easy on me im insecure ok lmao

A game. That’s all this relationship seemed to be. To Karlheinz, at least.

Like the snake the vampire lord was, he would strike at his prey without any warning, and that is exactly what he had done to the new woman he had called his wife. 

It was bold of her, honestly- to escape the way she did. Karlheinz could almost laugh at the audacity, or the fact that she actually believed she could get away from him.

Being the sadistic vampire he was, seemingly something his sons had inherited from him, he found amusement in playing with his food, so to speak. While his prey, in this instance, wasn’t entirely just a meal, holding more importance than that considering he has already chosen to be wedded to her. He wished he could say he knew she wasn’t stupid, but considering her choice to run from him, he wasn’t so sure.

So, he allowed her to run. Like a wolf, testing it’s prey. He tailed her discreetly, and, both to his disappointment as well as satisfaction, she was completely unaware. So, when she finally let her guard down? Karlheinz went in for the kill.

It was silent, and his wife breathed heavily, slouched over as she finally got the opportunity to rest, at least for a bit. She couldn’t deny that it was almost suspicious that her husband seemed to have not trailed her at all, but the thought of being free of him outweighed anything else. 

“What brings you here, my love?”

Upon hearing his voice, she looked up immediately, blinking rapidly to confirm whether or not what she was seeing was real. 

Her mouth had dropped open, after seeing that, and after a couple more blinks, he was not gone, and was instead, getting closer.

“Worry not, my dear. I know this might be a surprise but I assure you, it’s alright. Lets just get you back to where you belong and we can discuss this later.”

Not allowing room for any protests or excuses, Karlheinz, after stopping within an arm’s length, quickly grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer to him before whisking her away. 

Despite her having many moments with Karlheinz, including teleportation, it was still something she could never get used to. Hell, she was barely processing the fact that she had been utterly fooled by Karlheinz, thinking she was safe. It didn’t really help that she was already exhausted from constantly being on the move, as well as her own shock at the situation. Really, she couldn’t even think about defying him, as all she really sought was a rest.

After a quick second, within a flash, both were back at the place Karlheinz called home. For his wife, she would never call it her home, but alas, it mattered little to Karl. 

Setting the woman down on their large, plush bed, truly fit for a king like Karl, he fixed his hair, letting the locks fall down after pulling it from his bun. His wife only sat on their bed, refusing to look at her so-called husband, tears gathering from the corners of her eyes. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. Unfortunately for her, Karl noticed immediately, stepping closer to her before cupping her cheek with a gloved hand. 

“Shhh, shh, you’re alright. I’m not going to harm you, darling.”

Lies.

Sure, the woman could agree that he had never physically harmed her, but she knew who he was. She knew how easy it was for him to slither his way into your mind, to have you bend under his will. Perhaps that was why she felt complied to apologize, but it would be a lie. Escaping from him, albeit temporarily, was one of the best feelings she’d felt since being married to the man. 

Regardless, she had to stop herself from moving away from him, or pushing his hand away. Or maybe both.

“Go ahead and get some rest. You’ll be safe here, I assure you.” Karlheinz spoke up once again, looking at his wife with a look of faux concern, but she didn’t know that. The woman only stared at him in response, just hoping he’d leave her alone, at least for a moment. Maybe she’d be lucky enough to get some shut eye before facing the consequences of running away from a vampire lord. The lack of trust was clear here, but what else could she do? Surely he had used some sort of magic to prevent her from escaping once more. The windows, that revealed a shining night sky, were nearly impossible to escape from, at least without causing a complete mess. Accepting defeat, for now at least, the woman let herself relax onto the mattress, though not entirely. Not long after, her so called husband left the room after gathering some scrolls that sat on his desk, allowing her to finally drift off to sleep, after fighting it for a moment- being on the run is definitely exhausting, more so than she would’ve thought.

About an hour or two had passed until Karlheinz returned once more. His wife still slept soundly, unaware of his presence. He had no plans of sleeping, really, but had stripped himself of his heavier clothes, leaving him in a loose, thin dress shirt and a simple pair of breeches. Unusual for him, sure, but he quite literally was trying to climb into bed and start showing his affections for his wife. 

Before Karlheinz could actually get settled into their bed, his wife’s eyes opened upon feeling the shift in the mattress. Groggy, she squinted, looking up at the pale man though not having the energy to shrink away from him. Instead, she averted her gaze, laying her head back against the pillow. She really did want to go back to sleep, or at least her body did, but doing so wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do, per se. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t have at least a slight fear of how Karlheinz was going to treat her after escaping.

As Karl made himself more comfortable, inching closer to the woman who had given up on worrying and once again found herself trying to fall back asleep, turning around, her back facing the man. This was cut short, however, instantaneously upon feeling an icicle for a hand graze lightly against her neck, making her stiffen immediately. Karlheinz definitely noticed the way she had to prevent herself from recoiling, but only hushed her, his cold body only getting closer to her, chest pressed up against her back. His lips moved towards her neck after pushing away any obstacles, peppering her neck with delicate kisses. It didn’t surprise either of them that this only made her stiffen up more, but the man did not stop, only speaking quietly after kissing her neck for a bit longer.

“Forgive me for waking you, but can you blame me after all? Chasing after you has made me parched, my dear little wife.” He spoke, before going back to attacking her neck.

The woman felt no need to speak. He was going to bite her anyways, and not putting up a fight would only make it worse for herself. Besides, she had literally just woken from her slumber only moments ago. The vampire took his wife’s silence as permission, not that he needed it anyways, and bit down into her skin, sucking up the sanguine liquid that he’d craved since his wife’s little escapade. As he drank from her, he nudged his knee gently in-between the woman’s bare legs. Which, once she thought about it, she had no recalling of ever changing out of her clothes, but didn’t feel like feeding into that trail of thought. She knew the culprit, regardless of whether or not he did it directly. Letting out a shaky exhale, she squeezed her legs together, to which Karl only pressed his hips against her own. It was to her relief she hadn’t felt anything yet, but knowing him, it wouldn’t be for much longer. To add, Karl had also snaked his arm around her, fingertips playing with the hem of her shirt. 

“Karl..” The woman mumbled, eyes clasped shut as she, to her dismay, leaned into his touch, focusing on the movement of his tongue, lapping up her blood, to the cold calf that rested against her own, intertwining their legs, not to mention the icy hand that slivered slowly up and down her waist. That hand was quick to start moving downwards, tickling at her hips before she stopped him, pulling her arm from underneath her to grasp his own. She was thankful that doing so made him pause, at least from getting any lower. It was bad enough his bites already made her feel some type of way, and his other affectionate touches did not help the conflict she felt from actually enjoying the feeling of his fangs biting into her. 

Luckily, or at least she wanted to think so, Karlheinz pulled away from her neck, to which the woman then shifted, laying on her back looking at Karl, who was currently licking up the remnant off of his lips. 

“Don’t deny yourself, darling. You know you want me to make you feel good.” He said, almost teasingly- and it was true. Partially. It wouldn’t be her first time getting intimate with the man, and even just thinking about the mind-blowing orgasms he’s brought her to makes her shiver, as much as she hated it. Letting out a slight whine, the woman huffed in denial, watching, and feeling, his every move. “But-”, is what escaped her lips before Karlheinz moved in for a kiss, prodding his tongue into her mouth, allowing her to get a faint taste of her own blood. Her hand moved to push against Karl’s chest, but both of them knew it really wouldn’t have an effect. In fact, she was barely pushing at all, slowly succumbing to all of his touch, which seemed to make her body melt. 

Karlheinz pulled away from the kiss, leaving a few marks against her collarbone before scooting himself lower.

“I know you’re still tired. Let me take care of you, and just relax in the meantime.” The vampire said softly, moving her shirt upwards to reveal her stomach, allowing him to plant a gentle kiss against the soft skin. She did not at all anticipate the feeling of his fangs pierce into her once more, in such a sensitive place, no less. Truth be told, the king wasn’t even thirsty any more- he saw pain as a fair enough punishment for her actions, despite it being mixed with pleasure as well. After biting her again, his lips then moved downwards as her blood dripped down her stomach. He lapped it up, stopping at the hem of her undergarments and looking up at his wife, who shivered at the touch of his fingers that attempted to pull the underwear down. Raising her hand, she impulsively pushed his head away as she stuttered a protest. He only looked up at her for a few seconds, savoring the conflicted look smeared on her face. Ignoring her words, Karl removed the pair, with her hesitant assistance to shimmy out of them and kicking them off so they could get lost somewhere within the comforter.

A primal glint flashed in the man’s honey colored eyes, smirking at the sight of her, wet and clenching around nothing, again, to her dismay. He wasted no time, sitting up as he ran one finger along her folds, getting his fingertip wet with her slick. 

“Please,” his wife cried out, though she really didn’t know what specifically she was pleading for. She wished nothing more for him to both leave her alone as well as to fill her up. This confusion was exactly what Karlheinz loved most. 

Letting out a quiet chuckle, Karlheinz, without warning, pushed two fingers into her hole, curving them upwards, thumb lightly pressing against her clit. 

“Ah, you’re so spoiled, my dear. Even after running away from me, you still get treated like a queen.. You have it lucky, don’t you think?”

“Fuck you.” Was her response, squirming a bit as she tried to block out the feeling his fingers were making her feel. In retort of her hostile reply, the man inserted a third digit, admittedly getting a bit rougher with her, pressing harder onto her clit. As he thrusted his fingers into her, she felt his fangs graze the flat of her thigh for a second before he bit her. Again. Though the vampire had never mentioned anything about ‘punishing’ his wife, it was starting to become clear that the bites were intentional. Then, after marking her once again, he moved his body back up, still fingering her as he claimed her lips for a second time. His fingers continued to work her up, using his thumb to play with her clit the way he recalled. Although both of them were caught in each other’s mouths, he could hear her breaths growing heavier, trying so hard to not let out any sound. 

Abruptly, his fingers came to a halt after he pulled away from her lips, to which she let out an audible whine. Looking at the woman intently, he slid back down giving a tiny nip against her thigh before moving his mouth towards her pubis, biting down there as well. It was quick, and no blood had spilled, but it only added to her theory that this was indeed her consequence for running. Then, he moved down to her cunt and with no hesitation, started to eat her out, lapping up every bit of her juices, nose pressed against her sensitive clit. 

Biting back a moan, his wife intertwined her fingers in Karl’s hair, tugging at it slightly but it was no use. 

“Enough..!” She spat, though unable to help the way her hips raised against his mouth that continued to explore her entirety, occasionally moving upwards to suck at her clit. As she could have expected, Karlheinz showed no resistance and was completely ignorant against her words as well as the slight tug at his scalp. Bringing her closer to the edge, the pull on his hair only got tighter, hearing a string of curses come from his wife who was eagerly awaiting that sweet release. Following that shortly after was a loud moan of his name, chasing that release like a starved animal. 

“Hah...! Karl, I’m close,” 

Her words came out breathy, almost like a whisper, and Karlheinz’ mouth only got more and more relentless until she came undone beneath his mouth. Back arched, the woman cried out as Karl continued to lap up everything flowing from her.

“Nngh..! Please, it hurts..!” Letting out a choked cry, she tried to squirm away from the mouth that still attacked at her folds, but he had only held her down, bringing tears to her eyes just at the feeling of the overwhelming sensitivity, to the point where it was uncomfortable.

The vampire did not stop, though continued for only a little longer, savoring every cry and squirm, and every little touch she did against him, trying to push him away and struggling to shove him, fists balled. He let go of her hips, letting her fall back down against the bed, legs shaking slightly as she squeezed her eyes shut, doing her best to catch her breath. 

At that point, her mind felt almost blank, not even noticing that Karlheinz had swiftly pulled down his pants, releasing his strained length that throbbed at the sight of his wife who had been brought to tears. 

Unfortunately for his poor little wife, her so called punishment wasn’t over with yet. Karl had interrupted her time in which she tried to recover, lifting her up effortlessly, pulling him onto his lap. His hardened cock brushed against her, and before she could even manage to protest, both physically and verbally, he thrusted into her sensitive, sopping core, making her cry out, tears falling from the corner of her eyes that remained tightly shut. A few thrusts into her, the vampire laid her back down against the bed, pressing his forehead against her own as he harshly ground his hips against her. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t get any words out of her mouth. The only thing she could focus on was her husband pounding into her, his pace growing faster with every second. Any words that she was actually managing to form only came out slurred, and were then interrupted by Karl’s lips that resorted to kissing her as fondly as before. 

His hips began to stutter after a while, feeling her cunt contract around him, moans and cries being muffled by one another’s mouths. The woman turned her head to the side, pulling away from the kiss as she felt that familiar buildup at her core, squeezing her thighs together but it was no use. Karlheinz was ramming into her roughly, making her toes curl and fingers holding onto the sheets for dear life. Just before Karlheinz was chasing his high, the woman gushed against him, and as she came down, her squeezing walls only encouraging the man’s growingly erratic pace, to which he came inside of her not long after. 

He stayed inside of her for a short while before pulling out, watching his seed seep out onto the blankets, from her hole. Karlheinz was quick to catch his breath, at least in comparison of the girl who’s tears continued to fall, mouth agape. 

“Hah.. There you go, my love.. Let it all out.” Karlheinz cooed, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek.

“Perhaps this will make you reconsider even thinking about running from me again.”

#karlheinz x reader #karlheinz sakamaki #karlheinz sakamaki x reader #karlheinz #Diabolik Lovers #diabolik lovers smut #diabolik lovers x reader #once again pls be easy on me. im insecure and i hate my own writing ;; naturally so SHhhh

[writeforfandoms]

Welcome to New York 4

Find the series masterlist

Here we are, folks. The official introduction to the larger Spider Society! Things won’t go badly.

Yet.

Warning: Swearing, shock and awe, I think Lyla is awesome so now you do too, Miguel is still Mr. Grumpypants.

Word count: 2.5k

You’d kind of figured you were off the hook by now. You hadn’t seen Spiderman since he’d threatened you (although you’d caught glimpses of other Spider-people). You had stopped investigating, as you were told. 

You’d given up your primary hobby. Which sucked. But you liked not vanishing. 

And you figured something else would catch your attention. Eventually.

You did not expect to hear your window slide open nearly a month after your last meeting with Spiderman. You froze, in the middle of putting together a little snack, and then grabbed a knife before turning to look. 

Spiderman in your living room was no less intimidating, standing taller than life. Even though you knew he was real, had been close enough to feel the heat of him. 

You swallowed hard and very pointedly put the knife back away. 

“Good choice.” He didn’t move towards you, letting you approach him. Which you did. Slowly. 

“I haven’t done anything.” You eyed him, a little more emotionally prepared this time. Not to say you weren’t nervous - your heart was attempting to gallop out of your chest. 

“No. You haven’t.” And he sounded somehow displeased about that. Like he wouldn’t mind having an excuse to throw you into some dark cell somewhere. 

You licked your lips, shifting your weight, gaze darting around the room. But there were no hints, no clues. Just Spiderman standing, arms at his sides, calm as anything, in the light of your living room. Which did give you a practically unprecedented chance to study the design of his suit. “Okay. Well. Uh. Why are you here?” 

He was quiet for a few more moments, a few of the longest of your life. Then he sighed softly, so softly you almost didn’t hear, and lifted his hands. A few taps on the device strapped to his wrist, and he pulled up a document. A flick of his fingers sent the document to your pad, which chimed softly at the incoming message. You hurried to open it, scanning through the first paragraph. 

Everything screeched to a halt.

“What…?” You went back and read it more carefully. There was your legal name, and “offer of employment”, and a sum of money greater than any other job you’d had. You lifted your gaze slowly from the glowing document to Spiderman. “I don’t understand.” 

“The work you put in on your research was solid,” he admitted, sounding like it physically pained him to admit as much. “Some of my colleagues think it’s a good idea to bring you on board to help with some… organizational needs.” 

Meaning he didn’t think so. Somehow, you were both hurt and not surprised. You dropped your gaze to the contract again, hiding behind it. 

“So you’re offering me a job.”

He muttered something that sounded like a curse. “Yes. Read through it. You’ve got until Friday to decide. Meet me at 7pm, same building you poked around in.”

“Okay,” you agreed almost mindlessly, brain still rebooting from the sheer shock of it all. “Friday at 7.” You looked up to thank him.

But he was gone.

You breathed out slowly. Well. He was a bit of a dramatic one. Did that come with the territory of being a Spider-person, or was it just him? 

Shaking your head, you finally actually sat on the couch, settling in to read through the contract. It sounded… good. Too good, really. On property medical. Higher salary. Negotiable time off. 

Honestly, it made you suspicious. A job offer, out of the blue, tempting enough to be hard to resist? Yup. You were suspicious now. 

“The fuck is this about,” you muttered, reading through the job duties again. Which were not actually that helpful. Organizing and filing, both digital and physical. Retrieval of data upon request. Assisting with research. Sounded a bit like a librarian position, but you honestly had no idea how they could need a librarian. 

You made a few notes, highlighted a few things, and then shoved it aside so you could actually sleep. Or at least try. 

Of course, you couldn’t really leave it alone all week. 

It could be some kind of trap, part of you argued. A very elaborate one.

But totally unnecessary, the less paranoid and more logical part of you pointed out. He could have just hauled you off if he wanted to. You knew he was strong enough.

Which meant it was probably an actual, legitimate job offer. 

And that? Just the possibility of that got you excited and a little jittery. 

You might have arrived fifteen minutes early on Friday. You weren’t sure if you were meant to meet him down on the ground floor or the floor where you’d met Mayday and her dad. Going on a hunch, you went up to that floor. 

The view from up here was still beautiful, with lots of green around. Up here, the buildings weren’t so close together, letting evening sunlight through. Which was almost certainly how they maintained the green spaces. You weren’t so high up that you were quite above the traffic, not here, but you could see where the rest of the building was. 

Actually, this building was kind of ridiculously tall. Much, much taller than all the surrounding buildings, for sure. 

“Who even needs that many floors?” you mumbled to yourself, bracing your hands against the railing to look up. 

“We do.”

You jumped, whipping around to stare at Spiderman. He hadn’t quite joined you outside, standing in the doorway so the shadow of the building kept him half-hidden, the red on his suit almost startling. 

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack,” you accused, pressing one hand to your chest. 

He didn’t apologize, watching you. At least, you assumed he was, as his mask was on. As always. “What’s your decision?” 

You breathed in slowly, trying to calm your heartbeat. “I accept.”

He nodded once, short and sharp. “Be here on Monday, then.”

“I need to give my previous job a bit of warning,” you protested, frowning. “I can’t just vanish on them.” 

“You’re a security risk,” he ground out. “Either you start immediately, or this all goes away.”

You huffed. Well. He was not doing great on improving your opinion of him. Then again, he clearly wasn’t trying. “Alright, fine.”

“Smart choice.” He straightened a little. 

“I do have some questions.”

He waved you off. “Monday. Be here early.” He took a step back, melding into the darkness of the building. 

And then he was gone, leaving you alone on the balcony. 

You spent a few more minutes up there thinking over the interaction before you left. You picked up dinner on the way home and then settled in for the weekend. 

Honestly, you had no idea what to expect Monday morning. The bottom part of the building, the part you had access to, was bustling with business people. It looked like businesses rented out the office spaces. Which was a smart way for the Spider-people to generate money, honestly. 

Nobody even gave you a second look as you took the elevator up to the top floor you could get to. You found an out of the way spot to sit and wait, humming a bit to yourself. This part of the hallway was quiet, office doors closed and only the occasional person walking past. 

So when someone called your name, you looked up, a little surprised. A beautiful black woman stood in front of you, hand on her hip. But she looked… different, somehow. You blinked twice, tipping your head a little. 

“That’s me,” you said, standing and smiling. 

“Come with me.” She turned and started walking. You hurried a bit to catch up. 

“Are we going upstairs?” You couldn’t help it if you sounded a bit hopeful, and maybe a tiny bit apprehensive. 

Her lips quirked in a smile. “Yup,” she agreed, one hand resting over her belly, and you couldn’t help but be a bit curious. “I’m gonna be giving you the welcome tour today.” 

An elevator opened in the very back, one you hadn’t noticed before. Your eyebrows shot up your forehead and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Feels a bit like an old spy movie,” you murmured, stepping in after her. 

“Here, wear this. You’ll need it to get access to the different parts of the building.” She held out a slim bracelet-thing, which you examined for a moment before you slipped it on. It looked like the one she wore, but slimmer. 

“Is that what yours does as well?” 

She chuckled. “Mine does a bit more than that,” she admitted, even as the elevator suddenly brightened, glass between you and the rest of Nueva York. You looked out at the view with wide eyes. 

“Oh wow. Do you ever get used to this?” 

She paused, tipping her head a little as she followed your gaze. “I don’t have much time for sightseeing.” 

You hummed, turning back away from the glass when you heard a door open. 

“Welcome to Spider Society.” She shot you a smile, amused at your reaction. Your eyes had gone very wide and you were trying to look everywhere all at once. 

There were Spider-people literally everywhere. Everywhere. Upside-down on the ceiling, standing horizontally on the walls, walking ahead of you and your guide. All heights, all sizes. Pretty much all of them were in costume, so many variations on red and blue that you were nearly dizzy with it. 

“Wow.” You turned in a slow circle, managing to not stumble over your own feet, overwhelmed. This space was huge and open, with criss-crossing support beams and walkways. 

“This way.” She had paused to look back at you, and you hurried to catch up. 

“And this is just the entry way, huh?” You grinned, sticking closer to her while still looking around. 

“Uh huh.” She nodded to a couple passing Spiders. “There’s a cafeteria just up here, you’re welcome to come eat here.” 

“Awesome.” You made sure to make note of the turn to get to the cafeteria, taking a quick look around. A whole variety of Spider-people, mostly with coffee and pastries at this time of the morning. Very cool. 

“You don’t need to worry about most of the rest of this place.” She went down another hallway and to another elevator. “You’ll be working in the archives.” 

“Physical or digital?” 

“Mostly digital.” The elevator went down a few floors and she led the way into the space. This entire floor seemed to be the archives, cool air blowing across your skin. (Note to self: bring a sweater.) 

“Wow.” You looked at the sheer volume of computers in the room. “I’m guessing this is for your whole… base of operations.”

“Uh huh.” She took a step back. “Lyla, say hi.”

A little glowing golden person appeared at about eye-level, coat draped dramatically over her shoulders. “Hi! I’m Lyla, the best and most important part of HQ.” 

“Hi.” You blinked. “Are you an AI?”

“Mmhm! The one and only.” 

“Oh wow, I’ve never actually seen an AI. Met? What even is the correct terminology?” 

“Either way, just depends on how friendly you want to be.” Lyla grinned at you. “I’ll show you where to get started!”

“Thanks for the tour,” you said to the woman, turning to give her a little smile and slightly awkward wave. 

“Sure thing. Name’s Jess, by the way. In case you need to find me later.” She nodded once more to you and sauntered out of the room. 

“Okay. Little overwhelmed.” You turned a slow circle, taking in the room. It had that unused feeling - there was no dust, but it felt like nobody came here often. 

“That’s pretty normal,” Lyla agreed, filing her nails. “Takes most of the Spiders a bit of time to calm down.” 

“Fair.” You breathed in deep. Okay. You were here to do a job, not to freak out. “Right. What are we looking at?” 

Screens popped up, dozens of them. Hundreds possibly. Your eyes went wide in despair. 

“Some of it has been done,” Lyla told you, standing near your shoulder to look out at the sea of gently-glowing orange-ish screens. “But we just kinda threw it together back at the beginning, before we knew there would be this many.” 

You sucked in another deep breath. Okay. Yeah, this would be a lot of work, but you could do it. “Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got so far.” 

The first day was not quite a wash, but you did spend the entire time learning the original tagging system and deciding how best to move forward. This wasn’t exactly something you were trained in, but, well… You could organize things. You liked to. You even liked to keep track of data. 

So it wasn’t a hardship. It wasn’t even necessarily hard. Just time consuming. 

Nobody kicked you out, but you still finished up and left the room. Taking the elevator back up was a little odd, and Spider Society seemed to be even busier now. You had to do a quick side-step to avoid someone swinging past you. 

“Incredible,” you murmured, taking a few moments to just look. 

“It is, huh?” 

You jumped a little and turned to look at the man in the pink bathrobe. “Oh! Hi again.” 

“Hi.” He grinned at you, tired but happy. 

“Where’s Mayday?” You motioned to the empty baby carrier. 

“Hobie’s got her for a few minutes. I wanted to check in and see how your first day was.” 

You shrugged. “Fine. Quiet. It’s gonna take some time to get everything updated and sorted properly, but I can do it.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He smiled at you, clapping a hand to your shoulder. “Who gave you the tour this morning?”

“Uh, Jess showed me around a little bit?” 

“I bet she didn’t show you any of the fun stuff, though.” 

“Define fun stuff.” You spoke a little cautiously, eyeing him. 

“She definitely didn’t show you the fun stuff.” He grinned. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter B. Parker. There are a lot of Peters around, so be aware.” 

“Really?” You looked at him curiously even as he gently herded you along. 

“Oh yeah. I forget what percentage it is, but it’s a high percentage of Spiders are Peter, or some derivation.” 

“Interesting.” You shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll learn all about that sooner or later.”

“I bet you will.” He shot you a friendly grin before he sat you in front of a counter. “Now, you have got to try this shake. I don’t even know what’s in it, but it’s amazing.” 

“Um.” You blinked at him, not quite sure where this was going. Food, apparently. 

But you were admittedly distracted when you spotted your universe’s Spiderman walking through the cafeteria. His mask was off, leaving you blinking at thick dark hair. Brown-red eyes met yours across the room and you froze. 

He looked away first, turning and walking in a different direction. You breathed in again.

You’d had no idea he was such a handsome jerk. 

“Oh, Miguel?” Peter chuckled, patting your shoulder and jerking your attention back to him. “Don’t worry about my friend! He’s all bark and no bite.” 

Somehow you doubted that.

#welcome to new york #miguel o'hara x reader #f!reader

[rayeee10101]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐮 𝐑𝐃𝐑𝟐 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

(might do another one for the girls in the gang idk and if this doesn't exactly match the characters were going to pretend it does so don't come for me)

Characters ~ Arthur, John, Javier, Dutch, Hosea, Sean, Charles, and Kieran (this is not in order lol)

Arthur Morgan

Ok, as we said in another post he's definitely a truck driver.

He always has his dog with him no matter where he goes and he most likely has one of those giant bloodhound dogs or a bird dog. Maybe even a stray cat he found in a parking lot, who knows with him?

He probably pulls over on the side of the road to sketch some of the scenery he sees and it most likely causes him to be late to places he needs to be but oh well.

LOVES to put different stickers on his truck and to blow the horn for little kids that wave at him sometimes.

His dog is absolutely spoiled, having a giant bed in the passenger seat and probably over 20+ toys because Arthur can't help himself when he sees new toys or treats.

He's always uploading poorly taken selfies of him and his dog onto facebook (lets be real he's almost 40, he's most def uses facebook)

Dutch Vanderlinde

Let's be real, Dutch owns one of those fake gold shops that try to scam you and sell you fake jewelry, I don't make the rules that's just how it is.

But Dutch is good at his job, even if what he's selling you is fake he'd probably be able to convince you it was real by the end of the conversation.

Takes major pride in his business

Actually makes pretty good money considering he's a good liar lmao.

He def talked John into buying a fake diamond necklace for Abigail, John didn't realize he'd been scammed until Arthur pointed it out lol

Probably would give his S/O fake jewelry from his shop because he is cheap

"It's the thought that counts," he would tell his S/O when they point out that the ring he gave them wasn't real.

Somehow has managed to avoid countless law suits, no one really knows how though

He probably uses his shop as a cover up for money laundering ngl

Hosea Matthews

This ones difficult

lowkey feel like he'd work in a bank

Doesn't question where the large sums of money Dutch deposits comes from because he doesn't want to know lol

Has a picture of John and Arthur hanging up in his office

always having to lecture John on not falling for internet scams because this is like the 5th time he's had to freeze his bank account for fraud.

Always turning Dutch away because he tries to take out loans for stupid things that he doesn't need

Has to help John get back the money Dutch scammed from him ofc

Hosea likes his job though, it pays well and he gets his own office so what is there to complain about? 

John Marston

I wanna say he works in a zoo and has to deal without wolves just to be funny but I honestly see him being a mechanic

Always working on Arthur's truck when something happens to it.

Likes to teach Jack how to work on cars also, he considers it their "father, son bonding time"

Buys Jack the nicest truck when Jack is old enough to drive.

Has had to fix Sean's car after he drove it into a tree because he thought it was a good idea to drink and drive.

Drives around a classic car that no one else is allowed to touch or he'll have a stroke right there and then.

Everyone in the town comes to him when they need work done on their car, he even opened up his own show eventually

Javier Escuella

Ok, so I see him working as a singer in a bar, like with a cover band or something

he even performs his own songs that he wrote some nights

people love him

he actually has a lot of followers on social media from posting his music and videos of him playing guitar

if him and his s/o have a kid he definitely teaches them how to play guitar from a young age.

writes songs for his s/o

all the guys come and watch him perform some nights when they are all in town at the same time.

makes youtube tutorials on how to play songs on the guitar.

the other guys are convinced that he's going to become famous one day

Charles Smith

I see him working in an animal sanctuary for endangered animals or hurt animals

Definitely becomes best friends with a literal bear and treats it like your everyday normal pet.

Forms strong bonds with every animals he works with, something about his aurora is calming to be around

Doesn't allow John near the wolves when he visits.

Has had to stop Sean from trying to climb into the lion enclosure more times than he can count

He lets Dutch, Arthur, and Kieran come to visit some of the horses he takes care of.

He does volunteer work with animal shelters and other things like that.

Major animal lover in general, probably dog sits Arthur's dog whenever Arthur can't bring him somewhere

Sean Mcguire

This man CANNOT hold a job

Its not that he's lazy (he is) he just gets bored quickly and hops from job to job.

No one actually knows how he affords his apartment, Hosea is convinced he's selling drugs

He usually works in fast food places for a little bit just to make some quick cash.

Has shown up to work drunk a few times ngl

if he has an s/o he probably shows up to their job whenever their working to annoy them

Tried to get hired at a bar but that most definitely didn't last long considering he got plastered on the first night of the job

He probably is selling drugs but I mean, money is money?

Kieran Duffy

We already know the answer to this, he works at a stable

Tried to get a job with Charles but they didn't hire him :(

LOVES working at the stable, he basically gets to play with horses for most of the day

If him and his s/o have a kid he's definitely teaching them how to ride a horse before they can even walk

is always showing his s/o pictures of different horses he gets to work with

probably is in facebook groups for horses

he's a horsegirl

he owns his own horses too and always makes sure they look pristine and perfect

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption two #van der linde gang #red dead fanfic #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #charles smith #kieran duffy #john marston #red dead redemption fanfic